Author: Amy Diaz

The women of a rural fundamentalist community must decide to stay or leave in Women Talking, a captivating exercise of storytelling through conversation directed by Sarah Polley and based on the novel by Miriam Toews.

After years of the women of the colony, as they call their settlement, waking up to find themselves bruised and bleeding, the rapists who had been drugging and violently assaulting female community members (ranging in age from little girls to their grandmothers) have been arrested. They are imprisoned in the nearby town and all the men of the colony have gone to bail them out. The leaders have told the women that when the men — rapists included — return, the women must forgive them. The alternative is to be cast out — of the colony, of the religion, of the eternal kingdom of God.

Before the men return, the women all decide to vote on what to do. Their options, as laid out with sketches for these women and girls who have never been allowed to learn to read and write, are to do nothing, to stay and fight or to go. “Do nothing” is a first-round loser but “stay and fight” and “go” are in a dead heat with a smaller committee of women being tasked with discussing the two options and deciding for all the women of the town.

All of the women are angry, a deep full-body anger. Salome (Claire Foy), mother of a 4-year-old girl who had recently been attacked, attempted to kill the accused men and vows that she will finish the job if she stays. Ona (Rooney Mara), pregnant from her attack, has some elaborate ideas about what a post-colony egalitarian community could look like but her ideas sound very pie-in-the-sky to Mariche (Jessie Buckley), who is stuck in an abusive marriage. Mariche is so rage-filled that she’s sort of firing indiscriminately at the other women and girls gathered in the barn, as likely to yell at a woman having a panic attack or wonder about whether really all the accused men are guilty as she is to rail against the injustice of what’s been done to them all.

At the beginning of the movie, a title card describes the story as a product of “female imagination,” which I think you can kind of take how you want in this movie written and directed by a woman based on a book by a woman and performed almost entirely by women — the only two non-female characters with significant roles are August (Ben Whishaw), the school teacher asked to take minutes of the meeting, and Melvin (August Winter), a young trans man who was also attacked. The discussion spreads out to all the edges of dealing with gender violence and with the general oppression under which the women have lived their lives. They come from a place of very strong core faith and an organization of their lives around God and it’s from that point of view that they argue about the right decision, what their duty is in terms of forgiveness, their duty to keep their children safe, their place in the community and what they deserve as humans. They worry about their sons — how do they keep them from becoming these kinds of men. In some ways it is a very stagy discussion and I feel like you have to decide to go with the conceit of what’s happening — what and how these women are arguing, August’s role as meeting note taker, the way we learn everybody’s stories. I could see this movie not working for some people (I read some commentary on Jezebel that seemed to suggest the staginess got in the way of the writer’s really enjoying it). But for me, this sort of bottle-episode thought-experiment worked — and was boosted by some extremely strong acting talent. Not only is Foy absolutely magnetic throughout, Mara gives what could be a drippy character some roundness and humanity. Judith Ivey and Sheila McCarthy, playing the mothers of Ona and Mariche respectively, are also great, showing us how these two people who haven’t been given much can use the tools that they have to fight for themselves and their children. And, for all that it dives in to some awful places, Women Talking is filled with some lovely imagery of the farmland where these women live and shot with faded colors that help to put you in this alternate reality.

Women Talking received Oscar nominations for Best Picture and Adapted Screenplay, both well deserved but I would have added more — a few supporting actress nods, definitely a directing nomination — to that list. A

Rated PG-13 for mature content including sexual assault, bloody images, and some strong language, according to the MPA on filmratings.com. Directed by Sarah Polley, who also wrote the screenplay from the novel by Miriam Toews,Women Talking is an hour and 44 minutes long and is distributed in theaters by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Pictures.

Featured photo: Women Talking.

A teen uses location services, street cams and Colombian Taskrabbit to search for her mother in Missing, a lightweight thriller.

June (Storm Reid), 18, is on eyeroll-whatever terms with her mother, Grace (Nia Long), as Grace heads from their L.A.-area home to vacation in Colombia with her boyfriend Kevin (Ken Leung). The vacation falls on Father’s Day, a tough time as June’s dad James (Tim Griffin) died when she was little. June is no more interested in Kevin’s awkward beginnings of some discussion about his feelings for her mom than she is in Grace’s blah blah blah about safety. She just wants Grace out the door so her friend Veena (Megan Suri) can come over with a big box full of cheap booze purchased with the money Grace Venmo-ed June “for emergencies.” I guess needing booze for the friends hanging out at your parent-free house for a week, culminating in a rager the night before mom is slated to return, is, like, a hosting emergency. The only oversight June has is a brief visit from Heather (Amy Landecker), her mother’s friend, who seems a little too fond of Kevin.

The Sunday morning Grace is set to arrive, a hungover June wakes up late and rushes to the airport to meet her. She waits — and waits and waits but neither her mother nor Kevin get off the plane. When June calls the hotel in Colombia she is able, with some help from some quick Google translations, to figure out that while Kevin and Grace are no longer there, their suitcases and other items still are. June calls the embassy but finds it closed and the hotel won’t send her the security footage over the internet. Via the Colombian version of Taskrabbit, she hires Javi (Joaquim de Almeida) to go to the hotel to get the footage. He doesn’t find that but does find other clues to where the couple may have gone.

As Missing’s present-day scenes begin, June and her friends are watching Unfiction, a true crime show. Using some of the techniques of that show, Veena and June figure out how to find street footage that might give more information about her mother’s trip and even her relationship with Kevin. Against the advice of Agent Park (Daniel Henney) at the Embassy, who is all “evidence we can use in court,” June worms her way into Kevin’s Gmail account and starts to learn more about her mother’s boyfriend. She also gets access to the location services that give her more clues about where they really went.

Some of the same people involved in this movie were also involved in Searching, a 2018 movie seen almost entirely through a variety of screens (phone, computer, etc.) where John Cho searches for his teen daughter. Though this movie isn’t quite as stuck to screens, we are learning and searching and seeking largely through June’s computer searches and phone calls with occasional news reports and “live” scenes worked in. The movie edits these pieces together in a way that keeps things moving. I wouldn’t say this particular puzzle is super-complicated or all that twisty — there are several twists that the movie drops enough clues on that it feels a little pokey how long it takes June to figure them out. But Reid, who carries the action with her worried face, is a compelling enough lead character that the movie never really feels slow.

Missing maybe makes little nods toward saying something about our constant surveillance, our very unprivate notions of privacy and the true crime industrial complex. But mostly it is a fun enough thriller that moves along at a brisk enough pace. B

Rated PG-13 for some strong violence, language, teen drinking and thematic material, according to the MPA on filmratings.com. Directed by Nick Johnson and Will Merrick with a screenplay by Will Merrick & Nick Johnson, Missing is an hour and 51 minutes long and is distributed by Sony.

Featured photo: Missing

Plane (R)

Plane go crash in Plane — a movie that will never be criticized for being too complex.

Right from the jump, this movie won me over by letting Gerard Butler, who plays Trailblazer Airline pilot Brodie Torrance (I mean, HA! with that name), just be Scottish and not try to hide his accent. That always weighs these goofy action movies of his down; Plane keeps the story relatively light so we can focus on what really matters — an airplane doing crashy things.

Brodie and co-pilot Dele (Yoson An) are flying from Singapore to wherever, I forget, not important, with a small flight crew and 14 passengers, including Gaspare (Mike Colter), who is being returned to the U.S. in handcuffs. He was wanted for a homicide — something that happened when he was in his teens — and was finally caught after a decade and a half in the French Foreign Legion. Also, some corporate jerk tells the pilots not to worry about the big storm in their path, they should just fly above it — not around it, though, because that would cost slightly more in fuel.

The storm will not let itself be flown over and even at 40,000 feet the airplane gets tossed about and eventually struck by lightning. The electrical stuff goes out, the plane has to make an emergency landing and the Captain-Sully-esque Brodie manages to sort of crash-land it (with lots of sheared off trees and bumps and skids) onto an unknown island. Though, as Dele explains, probably not an uninhabited island — he’s pretty sure they’ve crashed down on a lawless island run by let’s just say Bad Guys.

With no way to radio out, Brodie decides to go in search of someplace with a telephone — and he takes Gaspare with him as a way to keep an eye on him. Thus are the rest of the crew and the complainy passengers left with the titular Plane to be found by the Bad Guys, who know ransom potential when they see it.

Meanwhile, in New York City, a room full of corporate people who I don’t think get names take direction from Scarsdale (Tony Goldwyn), a guy whose whole deal is handling crises by talking tough and having mercenaries on speed dial.

I won’t say this movie has no unnecessary details. We learn that Brodie has a daughter, we learn some details from his past, it’s New Year’s Eve — none of this matters at all. The movie could slice these bits out and it would be fine and might improve some of the draggy moments when the plane isn’t crashing or Brodie and Gaspare aren’t fighting the Bad Guys. I did enjoy the moments when this movie called Plane is basically doing Plane — Brodie and Dele say words like “thrust” and “landing gear” and “radar” to each other and we see the plane take off or climb in altitude. These moments don’t really get us any closer to the fireworks factory of airplane-centric action or Gerard Butler-centric violence, but they do underline the theme of this movie, which is, to be clear, “plane” and nothing more.

This movie is so just “plane” that it almost defies ranking. You absolutely get “plane” and absolutely nothing else. Do I wish it were maybe a little more fun, a little more self-aware about how it is a Gerard Butler movie called just “Plane”? Sure, but nevertheless this nonstop service to “movie your eyes can watch while your brain takes a rest” gets you where you need to go. B-

Rated R for violence and language, according to the MPA on filmratings.com. Directed by Jean-Francois Richet, Plane is an hour and 47 minutes long and distributed by Lionsgate in theaters.

A Man Called Otto (PG-13)

Tom Hanks plays the neighborhood grump in A Man Called Otto, a movie about a man lost in grief and depression.

But, like, whimsically!

After being forcibly retired from his decades-long job, Otto (Tom Hanks) now has more time to police neighborhood rules about parking and recycling and to grow increasingly despondent over the recent death of his wife, Sonya. (We see her in flashbacks as a young woman played by Rachel Keller; young Otto is played by Truman Hanks, son of Tom and Rita Wilson). He decides to “join you,” as he says, speaking to Sonya’s headstone, turning off the electricity and phone service to his tidy townhouse. But new neighbors, the very pregnant Marisol (Mariana Treviño) and her husband Tommy (Manuel Garcia-Rulfo), distract Otto from his plans with their terrible attempts at parking a trailer. He fusses at them and then grumps that he’ll do it himself, getting in their car and parallel parking it — which is how he meets their young daughters, Luna (Christiana Montoya) and Abbie (Alessandra Perez), who are strapped in the back and instantly amused by grumpy Otto. Marisol also seems to find Otto and his prickliness kind of amusing and she barges past it to give him food by way of saying thank you and asking for more neighborly favors — an allen wrench, a ladder, a ride to the hospital when Tommy falls off the ladder. Against Otto’s will at first, Marisol and her family befriend Otto and, because Marisol is a naturally outgoing person, she pulls Otto back into the life of his neighborhood. She makes him part of a cat rescue, and thus does Otto end up with a cat. She seems to inspire his reaching out to Malcolm (Mack Bayda), a neighborhood teen who turns out to have been a student of Sonya’s. And even though Otto seems to continue seeking ways to “join Sonya” he also seems, little by little, more tethered to the wider world.

Whimsical suicidal ideation and performative grumpiness — sounds fun, right? There are moments when this movie feels right on the edge of “yikes, really?” and I think it’s only the American Treasure Tom Hanks-iness of Tom Hanks that keeps it from sliding over. Even so, there’s a lack of nuance and a flatness to the characters that really gets in the way of this movie reaching the emotional depths it’s shooting for. Hanks (actually, Hankses, because I’d include Truman’s portrayal) never really seems to calibrate Otto exactly right. There is often a collection of quirks and brow furrows standing in for a multi-dimensional person.

So, on the one hand, there’s a really too-sweet, too-greasy overall uneasy quality to this. But there are still some genuine moments and some nice scenes of relationships — Otto and Marisol, particularly the way he helps to build her up at the right moments but also Otto and Malcolm (those scenes do a better job filling in one of Otto’s big life disappointments than the eventual exposition about it do), Otto and the cat, and Otto and Reuben (Peter Lawson Jones) and Anita (Juanita Jennings), a neighborhood couple that had been longtime friends but from whom he had been estranged.

I’ve never seen the Oscar-nominated 2012 Swedish original A Man Called Ove on which this movie is based so I can’t offer a comparison. I think this variation is probably fine, offering some emotionally satisfying moments even, if you don’t think too hard about what’s actually going on. B-

Rated PG-13 for mature thematic material involving suicide attempts, and language, according to the MPA on filmratings.com. Directed by Marc Forester with a screenplay by David Magee (based on the screenplay of A Man Called Ove by Hannes Holmes, which was based on the book by Fredrik Backman), A Man Called Otto is two hours and six minutes long and distributed by Sony in theaters.

The Whale (R)

Brendan Fraser gives a legitimately very good performance — for which he has received awards nods including Golden Globe and SAG nominations — in the very frustrating The Whale, a Darren Aronofsky movie based on a play.

Charlie (Fraser) teaches English remotely to college students. Because his laptop camera is “broken” they hear his voice but don’t see him in his apartment, where he is nearly immobile on his couch, breaking out in sweats and suffering from wheezing and sudden pains in his chest. As Liz (Hong Chau), his friend and a nurse who regularly checks on him, explains, Charlie has dangerously high blood pressure and congestive heart failure and will likely not live beyond the week. He has gotten to this state from extreme weight gain, which we learn has happened since the death of Charlie’s longtime boyfriend. Realizing he’s at the end of his life, Charlie reaches out to Ellie (Sadie Sink), his teenage daughter whom he hasn’t really seen since the breakup of his marriage to her mom, Mary (Samantha Morton). He basically bribes Ellie, with money and the promise of doing her English homework, to hang out with him so he can get to know her.

As the days tick down, Thomas (Ty Simpkins), an eager little missionary with connections to a church Liz’s family belongs to, regularly stops by Charlie’s house, hoping to “save” him, even if Thomas doesn’t seem entirely sure what that would mean. Liz meanwhile seems to both hope she can convince Charlie to go to a hospital and be somewhat resigned to the fact that Charlie isn’t going to stop his rapid decline.

If you’ve heard about this movie at all, it’s probably because Fraser is sort of wrapped in prosthetics to make himself appear extremely obese and there has been, you know, discourse about that whole thing. This movie’s approach to Charlie and his weight does not, as Roxanne Gay in her New York Times article and others have pointed out, exactly radiate respect for Charlie as a fully worthy human. Fraser will have some moment of heartbreaking sweetness where Charlie talks about his love for his daughter, but then the movie lingers on Charlie in the shower in a way that made me want to tell the movie to knock it off.

And yet, this, the sort of body horror aspect infused into the story, is not the movie’s only, or even its biggest, problem. Fraser’s performance really does come through but it occasionally gets crowded out by the stageyness of the movie. There are times when you can all but hear someone reading a stage direction as a character unnaturally walks to a door or stares out a window. Samantha Morton’s lines are so play-ish, so not-how-people-talk that it frequently pulled me out of her scenes. Because Fraser and Chau (who also got a SAG nod) are pretty capable at sounding like humans, it is even more noticeable when Simpkins’ Thomas sounds like he’s doing a chunk of dialogue as part of an audition. The religion aspect of the story and the way he fits into it is just not smoothly integrated and sticks out as nuggets of “bigger meaning” — much in the way the news reports about the 2016 presidential primaries do (just no, movies, to using 2016 as thematic shorthand).

And then there’s Sink, making Ellie a teenager sort of vibrating with rage — at the father who left her, at the mother with whom she’s in constant struggle, at the school where she’s not thriving. It can be good and get to the part of Charlie’s choices that he hasn’t really dealt with. But it can also be “angry Rory Gilmore,” which just pulls the whole man’s-struggle-with-depression into a place of thin melodrama.

Fraser and Chau deserve their accolades from this movie. They did good work, but The Whale is exhausting. C+

Rated R for language, some drug use and sexual content, according to the MPA on filmratings.com. Directed by Darren Aronofsky with a screenplay by Samuel D. Hunter, The Whale is an hour and 57 minutes long and is distributed by A24 in theaters.

Featured photo: Plane

A terrifying giant doll becomes even more terrifying thanks to some A.I. programming in M3gan, a lively thriller coming in at a brisk hour and 42 minutes.

Gemma (Allison Williams) is a toy designer who becomes the guardian for her tween-ish-aged niece Cady (Violet McGraw) after Gemma’s sister and brother-in-law die in a car accident. Cady, who was in the car with her parents at the time, is understandably distraught about both the traumatic accident and their deaths. Gemma, who is unsure about this whole parenting thing, decides that she can cross two tasks off her to-do list — cheer up Cady and beta test a new toy — by introducing Cady to M3gan, a 4-foot-tall doll who will bond with its primary user and learn how to relate with that particular child. Previously, Gemma had helped develop toy company Funki’s Purrpetual Petz, a sort of toothy-Sonic-plus-Furby creation that looks nightmarish but has impressive tech (we later learn that Gemma has programmed it to listen to its kid owners and collect data — but of course). It is also sort of chef’s-kiss perfect in how annoying it is portrayed as — it makes realistically parent-aggravating noises and has all of these dumb app-based features.

M3gan (voice by Jenna Davis; Amie Donald does the doll action, according to Wikipedia), which will be a kid’s best friend, surrogate parent and gentle nag about teeth brushing all rolled into one, also seems like a just awful product and one of the great aspects of this movie is that most people’s reaction to seeing the doll for the first time is to be instantly creeped out by it. For some reason, though, it isn’t until a therapist points out that Cady is transferring all of the grief-bonding that should be happening with Gemma to the doll, that Gemma starts to get a little concerned. She tries to get Cady to take some breaks from M3gan, but by then her silicone creation has started to get sassy.

Again, it is really quite delightful that this movie never tries to get us to think maybe M3gan is a good idea. From the first moment we meet the first prototype (whose face melts! It’s great!), the movie makes it clear that this poorly-thought-out toy will be some kind of horror show, even if we don’t know at first what kind. When I first saw the trailer for this movie, I probably thought something like “ugh, what ridiculous nonsense.” After seeing it, though, my reaction is “What ridiculous nonsense! 10 out of 10! Four stars! No notes!” Like the brutal artificial intelligence it portrays, it feels like this movie guessed the potential response to it and absolutely leaned all the way in. Is it all intentional, what a snort-laugh hilarious movie this frequently is? I think probably. Williams has such a great “ha! What?” energy the whole time and everyone is so appropriately, un-horror-movie wigged out by M3gan that I feel like M3gan knows it’s chosen gothicly silly over scary and that that choice was correct. B+

Rated PG-13 for violent content and terror, some strong language and a suggestive reference, according to the MPA on filmratings.com. Directed by Gerard Johnstone with a screenplay by Akela Cooper and a story by Akela Cooper and James Wan, M3gan is a delightful hour and 42 minutes long and is distributed by Universal Studios.

Featured photo: M3ghan