American Gothic (1995) s01e12 – Ring of Fire

Paige Turco has been one of “American Gothic”’s more unsteady actors to this point. She’s had some good moments, but she’s had more uneven ones, and the show doesn’t seem to know what to do with her in general. She vaguely flirts with Jake Weber, vaguely hate-flirts with Gary Cole, and vaguely hangs out with little cousin Lucas Black. But her whole arc about uncovering the secrets of her parents’ deaths? It’s been stalled for ages.

Until now.

For better but really just worse, “Gothic”’s resolving Turco’s history arc. Left unresolved will be relationships with Cole and Weber—though Turco’s first scene with Weber has her tracing his hands with her fingers, which is shockingly intimate. Especially when Weber later on makes fun of her dead parents.

After discovering she’s got repressed memories—which appear in “Gothic”’s established vision visual motif—caused by tweenage trauma. There’s also the Private Ryan thing where Turco’s recovered memories include events she wasn’t present for. Unless, of course, she’s psychic and could have connections to her family home.

CBS didn’t air Ring of Fire (at all, not even summer burn-off), which means Turco’s history story was left entirely unresolved. But it should’ve come about halfway through the season, which makes sense. They’ve explored some of the other characters; now it’s Turco’s turn.

Only she’s been in the creepy little town for months. This episode, we find out she hasn’t been back to her parents’ house since returning in the pilot. She also didn’t investigate whether or not her family’s summer cottage was still around. She hasn’t even asked the nice old lady at the newspaper any questions about her parents’ death. She just tells everyone she’s investigating Cole for it but hasn’t actually done anything.

Cole’s fed up with the slander and the crimes against property—Turco breaks into his house, marking the first time we’ve seen the police chief’s mansion, and it’s pretty impressive. However, Cole’s been talking about it since the pilot, so it’s also a little late. Turco can’t find any incriminating evidence sitting out in the open so Cole offers to tell her the truth if she asks nicely.

Fast forward through some visions and nightmares—and the episode male gazing at Turco, who’s spending the entire episode traumatized in one way or another. Director Lou Antonio does a terrible job this episode, but he’s also super duper sure to peep a glance at Turco whenever possible. Antonio’s composition is occasionally shudder-worthy and causes plenty of jarring cuts.

Michael R. Perry and Stephen Gaghan get the writing credit. Unfortunately, it’s not a good script. Not just because of the nothing-burger (except maybe some kissing cousins) of a reveal for Turco’s subplot but also how the episode characterizes everyone else on the show. Weber and Black are the worst, but Cole’s a little different too. Brenda Bakke and Nick Searcy show up for the episode’s “subplot,” which has Bakke jealous of Cole and Turco and Cole supposedly unaware of it. It’s two and a half scenes. It’s nothing.

On the one hand, CBS shouldn’t have messed up the air order… on the other, it’s a terrible episode.

American Gothic (1995) s01e04 – Damned If You Don’t

Even in 1995, “American Gothic” knew not to cast an actual teenager as the fifteen-year-old Brigid Brannagh plays. It just didn’t know not to still ogle early twenties Brannagh as she plays that teenager. While, sure, it’s Southern Gothic, it’s also contorting itself to allow objectifying Brannagh, even though she’s in constant danger of rape from Max Cady-lite ex-con Muse Watson. Watson’s just out of jail and surprised to find Brannagh grown up (though he never would’ve met her before); she’s the daughter of his former employee, Steve Rankin, who’s gone on to buy Watson’s junkyard and, presumably, move into his house.

While the episode shows off its crane multiple times for the junkyard location, it never shows Rankin’s house actually being near the junkyard. So there’s a little bit of a disconnect.

Rankin has to put Watson up a few days as a favor to town sheriff and likely demon Gary Cole. Cole did Rankin a favor in his youth when he was messing around with the boss’s daughter; first, Cole wanted Rankin to let Brannagh work at the sheriff’s station as an intern under Cole’s wing. When Rankin doesn’t go for it, and there’s a mysterious household accident, Cole comes up with the temporary halfway house favor. Now, presumably, someone had an idea why Cole would want Brannagh as a sidekick (he’s not creepy to her), but since Cole’s always an enigma (or limited by the writers), the episode often feels too constrained.

The A-plot with Cole and Rankin is basically just a guided “Twilight Zone” with occasional crossover to the B and C plots. B plot is Lucas Black wanting to make a tornado machine for his science fair; it’s fantastic. He gets different offers of help from Jake Weber and Cole while weighing his new friendship with cousin Paige Turco, as well as disappointing ghost sister Sarah Paulson. Black and his friends start the episode, actually, at the junkyard. The show does a great job sharing plot points and characters, like Turco questioning Rankin about her parents’ death. Of course, Watson knows something about it, but the script seems to forget. It also misplaces Watson’s family, who presumably still exist somewhere.

Turco’s town investigating plot is dawdling, so when it seemed like Watson may pay off, it got some energy back. The stuff with Turco and Black is good, the stuff with Black and Weber is good, Black and Cole—there are no problems with the B or C plots in this episode. Not when the A plot’s got so many different ways to be problematic. In addition to the objectifying, director Lou Antonio also goes for exaggerated angles. This episode has lots of bad video editing and montages; visually, “American Gothic” ages terribly.

Thank goodness for the actors and much of the writing (script credit to Michael R. Perry and Stephen Gaghan).

Punch-Drunk Love (2002, Paul Thomas Anderson)

There are probably better movies with seven-minute end credits than Punch-Drunk Love but I doubt there are any where those seven-minute end credits are padded to give the film a more respectable run time. Punch-Drunk Love is an approximately eighty-eight-minute marathon where writer and director Anderson hones in on his protagonist, played by Adam Sandler, and relates the chaos of his life.

Sandler’s a plumbing supply manufacturer in business with Luis Guzmán, his only friend. As close as Sandler has to a friend. Guzmán’s performance is profoundly, beautifully dry. He doesn’t have much to do, but when he gets something, he nails it. Guzmán is also the human side of Sandler. The film opens with Sandler alone at a desk in a corner—he has an office in the rest of the movie; it’s unclear why he’s using that phone—calling to confirm he’s read the fine print correctly on a Healthy Choice and American Airlines promotional deal; you get a five hundred mile credit for every ten items, but you can double it with a coupon, and there are no limits.

After that phone call, Sandler wanders out into his industrial park, looking at the early morning sky, and witnesses a bewildering car accident. Soon after, he meets a lady dropping off her car for a nearby mechanic; Emily Watson plays the lady. She’s the love interest. Sandler will change his entire life for Watson as the film progresses, conquering known and unknown fears.

The character definitely has OCD as well as some kind of anxiety disorder. He’s got seven sisters who call him at work to pester and berate him. They tell stories about how they bullied him to outbursts as a kid, joking about it as adults, all of them entirely indifferent to the turmoil it causes Sandler. Even when he acts out because of the teasing. All the sisters but one are only in the film’s first act. Mary Lynn Rajskub sticks around to antagonize Sander throughout.

So it’s never clear how the lifelong bullying has affected Sandler’s social behaviors, but the family’s not just indifferent to the effect of the teasing; they also don’t acknowledge the OCD. Sandler wants therapy but knows his sisters would mock him for seeking it, so it seems like he’s never been to see anyone for the OCD either. The party scene with the sisters is emotionally exhausting, both for the film and Sandler.

Home alone with no one to talk to–having been shut down by a brother-in-law Sandler mistakenly thought would be sympathetic—Sandler calls a phone sex line. Anderson shoots the scene continuous—lots of Punch-Drunk is long, complicated, moving scenes, sometimes with a single shot, often with multiple shots; great editing makes it seems like a single shot when it’s a dozen–and it’s exceptionally discomforting. Especially listening to the operator manipulate Sandler.

The next day, the operator calls back, demanding money. Sandler told her he had his own business, and she took it to mean he was wealthy; the phone sex operation is part of Philip Seymour Hoffman’s mattress and furniture sales store (important details later on), and Hoffman doesn’t take kindly to someone not wanting to be shook down.

Once Sandler starts getting the extortion calls, Punch-Drunk accelerates for the rest of the film. Jon Brion’s music initially ramps it up, seemingly the constant, relentless soundtrack in Sandler’s head. The music does slow down, but it’s set the pace, and Sandler soon finds reaching out for human connection is full of pitfalls. Particularly when his sisters, even off-screen, continue to mess with him.

But then there’s Watson, a calm amid all the chaos, even as it rages around her, even as she surprises Sandler. The plot with Hoffman and the extortion is tough, mean, absurd black comedy, and the romance with Watson, happening simultaneously, is a Technicolor romance. Albeit not in Technicolor. Sandler’s aloof but meticulous performance holds the two plots together, his intensity shared between them.

Also, obviously, Anderson doing a bunch of work to keep things synced, with lots of help from composer Brion, cinematographer Robert Elswit, and editor Leslie Jones. Punch-Drunk Love is fastidious to the extremis. So it stands out when they use some transition animation to get the third act done. It’s a jarring, wanting device, but Anderson manages to make up for it almost immediately. It’s probably the film’s most impressive accomplishment; to build off of literally nothing, rebounding from what ought to be a debilitating low. It’s exceptional.

And it’s not even over. As Sandler finally gets to the last stretch of his sprint, the last few minutes just get better and better, with a postscript lifting it even more.

Punch-Drunk Love is a singular success. Sandler grows his performance to greatness, and Watson’s a true enigma. The film marvels at her performance as it unfolds. Anderson directs the heck of it.

So incredibly, so unimaginably good.

Wayward Pines (2015) s01e09 – A Reckoning

Second-to-last episode of the season, and it turns out “Wayward Pines” has waited this long to introduce the fascist teenagers who want to shoot the normies. Tom Stevens plays the leader. He’s both too much and just the right amount of despicably intense. Unfortunately, the show doesn’t really know what to do with him—introducing him this late—but there is a great scene where sheriff’s secretary Siobhan Fallon Hogan stares him down. It’s nice for Fallon Hogan to finally get something to do on the show, despite the “terrorized woman” trope.

Thanks to Hope Davis riling up the teenagers—with Charlie Tahan’s help in shitting on his dad, Matt Dillon—Stevens and his bros are going to execute Carla Gugino and her friends. They’re all locked up in the police station, where they sit around moping; Gugino assures them Dillon isn’t going to execute them in town square, but we’ve already seen what happens a few hours later—Dillon’s going to execute them in the town square.

The episode starts with a recap (making sure to remind viewers Tim Griffin was on the show at one point so he can “appear” later on), which ends with the monsters about to breach the wall. The action then cuts to Dillon and his gallows, finally ready to embrace his position as killer sheriff. You’d think he’d have been more worried about the breached wall.

And he will be, after the opening titles, when the show turns back the clock a day. It’s a very traditional narrative device, but it’s a little weak for “Wayward Pines,” which spent the first four episodes spinning the narrative around from twist and gimmick to twist and gimmick. Also, there’s no “twenty-four hours earlier” title card, which would’ve helped. But, just to confirm, the show’s taking itself seriously enough.

Overall, it’s definitely one of the better episodes. Some of the moments are cheap, but there’s a lot of good acting in them. The show finally lets Gugino and Shannyn Sossamon in on the secret, which immensely helps their characters and performances. “Wayward Pines” has enough problem with a single narrative distance; trying to maintain a half dozen have been a disaster.

Credited to Duffer Brothers Matt and Ross, the script gets a lot done. It would’ve been better if they hadn’t had to do so much—the insurgency is only two episodes old, and they’re resolving that storyline, but they’ve also got to insert the teenage Neo-Nazis into it. Whoever wrote the season outline did a lousy job.

Speaking of significant immediate changes—Melissa Leo. She plays her part totally straight now, no more Southern Gothic Nurse Ratched, but given how she acts around Sossamon, there’s this implication she only acted so weird in front of Dillon at the beginning of the season. I mean, there were some other scenes, but it’s like someone finally told them to stop using M. Night Shyamalan’s performance direction guidelines.

Thank goodness.

There’s a lot more with Toby Jones getting even jerkier; he’s turned out to be an even worse Bond villain than it seemed like he’d be earlier, and he seemed like he was going to be bad.

Nimród Antal directs, which is a downgrade from his theatrical work, but okay. I was expecting a little more, however. Definitely not the gimmicky structure.

There’s a good cliffhanger, and the stage is set for an intense finale. It only took “Wayward Pines” three-quarters of its season to get compelling, but it’s finally arrived.

What If…? (2021) s01e09 – What If… The Watcher Broke His Oath?

During the first half of the fight scene, I felt bad this episode wouldn’t be any good because there was some genuinely inventive stuff in the fight. The creative material doesn’t last long, but there are some legitimately cool moments. The Watcher (Jeffrey Wright) has brought together a bunch of characters from throughout the season—including one who didn’t get an episode (or whose episode was cut)—and they all have to band together to fight Infinity-Ultron (Ross Marquand).

This ragtag team of big-name actors are the “Avengers of the Multiverse.” Wait, no. “Defenders of the Multiverse.” Wait, no. “DC’s Legends of the Multiverse.” Wait, wait, “Guardians of the Multiverse.”

Sigh.

The scene where Wright names them is one of those “wow, Academy Award nominations don’t mean shit,” do they, which is appropriate. There are multiple times throughout the episode the only amusing thing is wondering how episodes of “What If…?” land for all the acting coaches and drama teachers who thought they were training the good actors who’d do great things.

Not Marquand, though. He’s even worse than last time. If his old teachers stuck with “What If…?,” they’re probably just bad at their jobs.

There aren’t really any good performances. While it’s nice to hear Chadwick Boseman, he’s wasted. Ditto Michael B. Jordan. Hayley Atwill’s fine, but her part is forced—especially since her character now is just a riff on Winter Soldier Captain America who banters with Black Widow (still, not ScarJo, even with the lawsuit settling; like Marquand, Lake Bell’s worse than usual). Benedict Cumberbatch is way too comfortable phoning in his performance, and Chris Hemsworth’s wasted. It’s kind of surprising it’s Hemsworth. He gets plenty of bad lines and doesn’t bring any charm to their readings.

Though you’d need the power of the infinity stones to make the vapid dialogue charming. A.C. Bradley gets the script credit. To be fair, it’s not like it’s one of the better-directed episodes either. Bryan Andrews has the handful of good moments in the fight scene, and then it goes to pot.

But it’s actually sort of worth it when you get to the end and Wright monologues about why he’s so invested in the stories of the (animated) Marvel Cinematic Universe. He’s just a Marvel Zombie. He’s just a mindless stan. It’s super appropriate for this show, which is entirely about creating variants to sell as in-app purchases or action figures. Disney’s taken the MCU so well in hand, the comics seem soulful in comparison.

Also, did they mean to air this after “Loki,” which establishes an even greater meta-power than the multiverse? Or weren’t the “What If…?” people allowed to see the real shows.

Blow-Up (1966, Michelangelo Antonioni)

Blow-Up is a day in the life picture. It opens with protagonist David Hemmings on his way out of a flophouse; he’s not a tramp; he’s a wonder kid fashion photographer who’s been undercover all night to snap pics. The film reveals all those details gradually. It takes until about halfway through the picture to find out the photos are for a book he’s putting together with editor Peter Bowles. The book doesn’t seem to include fashion photographs, however. Hemmings seemingly hates his success at photographing models. Unfortunately, he takes out that resentment on his models, who he despises for falling for his Svengali tactics. He’s a right bastard.

The film never shows Hemmings’s perspective. It never asks the audience to identify with him, empathize or sympathize with him. Instead, director Antonioni establishes a close third-person perspective and never strays. There’s usually a brief establishing shot from Hemmings’s point of view—visually—and then the rest of the sequence is looking at Hemmings from the setting. The film takes place over roughly twenty-four hours, with Hemmings moving through a series of time-appropriate vignettes. Most of the vignettes are about him being a jackass, some are about him being an artist, some are about the culture he’s in, both big-scale mid-sixties London and then small scale artist culture.

Hemmings lives in his studio, where he’s got various people working. One of the first scenes has him giving rolls of film to an assistant for developing. After a few more scenes, the assistant delivers the photos. Blow-Up never forgets the linear structure. As fantastic as Hemmings’s day will get, it’s just a day, and he’s just one person amongst a million. He’s a solitary egotist, with his painter friend John Castle living on the same property. The living situation is a little unclear. Though Hemmings’s real estate pursuits are an essential but unexplored bit of the ground situation. Similarly important but mostly unexplored is Hemmings’s relationship with Castle’s wife, Sarah Miles. They have an intense flirtation. Miles is only in a few scenes, but Antonioni gives her the close third-person treatment as well. If Blow-Up were a bigger story, she’d obviously be part of it.

But it’s not a big story. It’s a tiny one.

In the course of his day, Hemmings finds himself with time to kill in near a park and, being a photographer, wanders while taking pictures. He comes upon a couple in the park—Ronan O’Casey and Vanessa Redgrave—and follows them. At least a third of the way through the film, this sequence is the first time Antonioni lets Hemmings just be. Every other moment he’s either conning or controlling someone, but at the park, he’s childish. It starts with him running and jumping for fun, enjoying tiring himself, then when photographing O’Casey and Redgrave, he turns it into an espionage adventure. He hops fences, hides behind trees, clearly entertaining himself because O’Casey and Redgrave aren’t fooled, and she comes over to confront him.

Their first encounter provides insight into how Hemmings responds when challenged. He’s used to people either fawning over him or at least being obedient to his whims. Later, when Redgrave tracks him down at the studio, she’s going to be more susceptible to the Svengali techniques. That sequence is the most character development Hemmings does onscreen, with him either lying at length to Redgrave (who may be lying at length right back at him) or being startlingly honest with a stranger. It’ll be an outside the everyday experience for Hemmings, whose entire life seems to be—but isn’t—a series of abnormal experiences.

Redgrave’s at the studio trying to get the pictures he took, which presents him with a problem. He’s got to magnanimously acquiesce to a beautiful damsel in distress, but not really because he wants the pictures for his book. Adding to the dilemma is Redgrave appears willing to go to extreme lengths to get them back, giving some more rare insight into Hemmings’s actual character. He’ll sort of roll it back soon after once he’s gotten the high of being not just a great photographer but an unintentionally great detective.

The film only shows a handful of Hemmings’s photographs and quickly. We never get to see his fashion photography. We know they’re good because he’s successful, whereas the photographs of Redgrave and O’Casey are good, but also Antonioni has baked regard into them. We saw Hemmings take the photographs, we briefly saw what he was photographing, and then there’s the pay-off. Antonioni’s got a whole approach to Hemmings as photographer, where Hemmings is often developing a photograph in real-time, but the audience doesn’t see that process. Blow-Up is full of photographic gadgetry and process, just without any fetishization. It’s about seeing what Hemmings is doing, not what Hemmings is doing. There’s never any voyeuristic aspect to it either, thanks to Antonioni’s constantly close third-person narrative distance.

It’s exceptional work.

The third act has Hemmings trying to work through the consequences of his discoveries and finding himself unable to control much of anything. It’s a phenomenal character study, especially since he’s gradually revealed to be far less narcissistic than initially implied. The finish, with Hemmings haggard from another sleepless day, stirs in all the themes for a fascinating vignette. So good.

Excellent direction from Antonioni, photography from Carlo Di Palma, editing by Frank Clarke. Clark’s cutting is stunning. The script—from Antonioni, Torino Guerra, and Edward Bond—is sharp while subtle. There’s a superb meta-bit where Hemmings comments on the unimportance of names, something few of the characters have spoken onscreen.

Excellent score from Herbie Hancock.

Blow-Up’s a remarkable success.

What If…? (2021) s01e08 – What If… Ultron Won?

Well. This episode’s mostly cheap, rather badly written (Matthew Chauncey gets the credit), rather badly acted, and the entire thing is just a setup for a cliffhanger with a very special guest star. The episode’s ostensibly about Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) and Black Widow (Lake Bell showing Scarlett Johansson is actually better at this part than some people would be) as the last two humans fighting all the Ultron drones. There’s no big do-over on Age of Ultron scene because it’s one of the cheap episodes. The entire Renner and Bell plot-line is cheap. There’s a more expensive subplot, but the main plot is back to the series’s inability to work well within its budget.

Now, if James Spader had come back and actually given a good performance as Ultron, who knows what the episode could’ve been. Unfortunately, Spader’s failure in the movie to chew it up—I mean, it’s Joss Whedon’s fault but still—dashed hopes the MCU would ever get a great villain. They did years later, but it was a long stretch of blah bad guys.

Anyway.

Spader does not appear. Ross Marquand fills in for the part. Marquand’s awful. He’s so bad he makes Jeffrey Wright seem good. The B-plot is Ultron discovering the multiverse because he reads about Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness in Variety and realizes the multiverse isn’t just Wright’s secret anymore. Okay, not really, but it’d have been better. And cover some significant plot holes. Though the episode quickly reveals itself to just be a giant plot hole, with the occasional substantive material going down the drain. There’s one good movie reference, thanks to the voice actor (no spoilers, it’s a cameo, well, sort of). However, there are multiple movie references in the episode, and the rest of them are terrible because Renner’s got no time for the script. He sounds distracted through the whole thing, whereas Bell over-exerts.

The bad performance isn’t even her fault. Even if she essayed the poorly written dialogue better, there’d still be director Bryan Andrews’s terrible decisions for the character.

It’s a tiring, tedious twenty-some minutes (I think it’s the shortest episode, but I’m not willing to put the time in to check). Though doing a crappy setup for a two-parter (or three-parter, since next episode is the last of the season) is not an un-comics thing to do.

As for Wright, who gets more to do this episode than ever before… he’s a lot worse in the middle than at the end. He’s not good at the end, but he definitely is weathering the bad episode better than anyone else. Except maybe Toby Jones.

Thank goodness “What If…?” slowed its improvement roll. I was getting worried I’d have to be more bullish about it.

What If…? (2021) s01e07 – What If… Thor Were an Only Child?

I was surprised when Chris Hemsworth showed up for this episode, but even more surprised when Academy Award winner Natalie Portman’s named came up on the titles next. Especially since the part is entirely a girlfriend role, even more than I remember her part being in the first Thor movie. They’ve also got Tom Hiddleston and a bunch of other actors. There are some very notable recasts, however. For example, the title just as well could be “What If… Thor Was an Only Child and His Mom Was an Afrikaner.” Josette Eales is in for Rene Russo, which is a bummer because the Mom role is prominent in the episode, and Russo and Hemsworth’s reuniting in Avengers: Endgame could’ve used a post-script. The other significant recast is Alexandra Daniels in for Academy Award winner Brie Larson. It’s a big deal because the episode’s about Thor wanting to party all the time and Captain Marvel being a serious Buzz Killington.

It turns out Odin not keeping Loki as a hostage child meant an entirely different Marvel Cinematic Universe. Not just one where Loki isn’t teaming up with Thanos, but a generally more peaceful, friendly intergalactic bunch of party animals. All thanks to Thor not having to deal with Loki’s conniving. It’s also unclear if there’s an Iron Man or whatever. But apparently, there’s not a Starlord, but it’s thousands of years of Earth history changed. The episode doesn’t acknowledge any of those changes, instead relying on sight gags, cameos, and general good humor.

And it works. I mean, Kat Dennings is a major supporting player for the first half. Right up until she, Portman, and Cobie Smulders get together for a girl talk and flush Bechdel down the toilet.

It’s unclear what’s up with Hydra because Frank Grillo’s guy is played for laughs here. So presumably, some aspects of World War II went differently in this reality.

Speaking of realities, Jeffrey Wright has very little narration this episode. It’s great.

There are some other amusing cameos and in-jokes. And it’s fun. Being fun helps. Hemsworth’s good at the humor, enough it helps Portman’s phoned-in performance. Literally phoned-in? Possibly, based on her differing audio quality. Maybe they told her Larson did these cartoons too, and then she found out they suckered her.

Oh, and Seth Green’s finally Howard the Duck long enough to confirm… he’s not good. Though the scenes are still funny tJhanks to the costars.

Maybe “What If” should just lean on its strengths, like being amiably sophomoric. The narrower its swings, the better.

The Longest Day (1962, Ken Annakin)

The Longest Day picks up when the Normandy beach invasion starts. It happens maybe ninety minutes into the three-hour film. There are the overnight paratrooper drops, which have such dull action scenes it seems like the film will never improve, but then it turns out the large-scale battle choreography is exceptional and could potentially make up for the rest. It doesn’t, however, because Robert Mitchum turns out to be terrible once he gets more to do—he’s playing the rah-rah American general who chews on stogies—and is the one who motivates the men to get off Omaha Beach, the only unsuccessful D-Day landing point. In the film, anyway. It’s been way too long since my World War II class in undergrad. I mean, I aced the blue book, but not a-plussed it. Not that one.

Anyway.

The actual history doesn’t matter. It should because Longest Day is an exhausting exposition dump through the first hour as actor after actor churns through facts and figures, but no one ever thinks to describe the plan. Even though it’s a war movie with a mission and working a plan description into it is literally the easiest thing in the world (Longest Day is great to see how subsequent war films succeeded its narrative failings). Instead, it’s just a variety of guest stars mugging through endless dialogue. The worst performances—for the dialogue dumps—Robert Ryan and Rod Steiger. John Wayne’s not good at them either, but he’s nowhere near as bad as those two. And Steiger’s just in it for a scene. Ryan’s at least got a briefing. There really aren’t many dialogue dumps from the Germans, except maybe Richard Münch. He gets to describe the D-Day invasion before it happens because it’s what he would do if he were Eisenhower, but Eisenhower’s got no stones.

According to The Longest Day, D-Day succeeded for a handful of simple reasons. First, Eisenhower manned up and acted recklessly with the invasion location and launching in lousy weather. Second, Adolf Hitler was a silly yelly milksop who needed his nap (his generals dismiss him as a “Bohemian corporal,” though that quote is from somewhere else). Third, a bunch of the German generals were just lazy or intentionally distracted. Again, I can’t remember my D-Day history, but it seems like if you’re doing a three-hour Army recruitment commercial, you should at least make the good guys deserve to win for something other than dumb luck. Because if it is just dumb luck….

There’s a nod to the futility of war, right at the very end, with Richard Burton acting opposite Richard Beymer. Burton’s bad in the movie but not risible. Beymer’s middling in the film but never better. Get them together, however, and they’re just godawful together. Especially with the dialogue. Especially since it takes place at sunset on June 6, after the film’s skipped ahead not a few hours, but something like ten. Because ten p.m. sunset on June 6, 1944. Thanks, Google. I’d have used military time, except the movie doesn’t for the first hour, so I kept wondering how Eisenhower was going to hold a meeting at 9:30 in the morning on June 6 when the invasion boats left already.

The invasion boat arrival scene with Hans Christian Blech is one of the best, not large-scale scenes. The film’s never good with its composite shots, from the second or third scene, and you think it’ll somehow not matter because of the gravitas, but it matters every single time, especially with Mitchum, who doesn’t need any more excuses to be checked out. At least Wayne’s engaged. Wayne’s not good, not at all, but he’s engaged in the film. Mitchum is phoning it in. Eddie Albert holds up their scenes together, which is concerning.

The film’s got three credited directors, but there are at least two more uncredited contributors, and then whoever orchestrated the battle sequences, which were shot from helicopters, it looks like. Those sequences are about the only time the lousy sound effects are okay. Otherwise, Longest Day’s editing, visually and aurally, is never impressive. Some of it's obvious lack of coverage and continuity—neither Annakin nor Marton establish their battle scenes well. Wicki doesn’t get any battle scenes. Maybe the marching scene, which ends up being better than the paratrooper stuff. And then the landing. Okay, so for actual action, Wicki does best. Then whoever did the French commando scene, which has some of the film’s best-acting courtesy Georges Rivière.

Longest Day has over a hundred speaking parts. It’s got a big name American, British, French, and German movie stars. It’s got like six good performances, a whole bunch of middling ones, then a dozen terrible ones. Best performances are—in alphabetical order—Blech, Münch, Edmond O'Brien, Wolfgang Preiss, Rivière, Robert Wagner. I’m not going through the worst, but Peter Lawford and Nicholas Stuart are on the list; Stuart doesn’t even have any lines. There are a handful of senseless cameos—Steiger, O’Brien, Henry Fonda—because no one can really figure out how to write the characters. They’re just star cameos, not people, not even caricatures. Jeffrey Hunter gets a big part in the last hour, but Marton directs him poorly. Red Buttons is better than most of the other guys he’s around. Mel Ferrer’s fine in his brief appearances. Sean Connery’s dull but better than some of the other Scots, particularly Kenneth More, who seems to have been churned out by the War Office.

If Mitchum or Wayne were good, Day’d have something. Or if Beymer were good. Or Sal Mineo. Burton’s not in it enough to matter. But the direction would still be wanting. The script—only five screenwriters—is a mess. The helicopter sequences are fantastic, though. Shame it’s profoundly shallow.

Even before you get to the Paul Anka theme song.

What If…? (2021) s01e06 – What If… Killmonger Rescued Tony Stark?

What is it with this show’s abject inability to land the foreboding epilogue? This episode is another series highlight—not just in terms of voice acting, but also budget (they don’t skimp on any of it, including a big battle scene in Wakanda)—but they somehow miss the most obvious ramifications of the change. The episode’s all about Michael B. Jordan’s Black Panther villain inserting himself into Iron Man 1 to take his revenge on Wakanda and the military-industrial complex to—theoretically, they glaze over it—break white supremacy and imperialism.

But they forget Iron Man 1 involved more than just Jeff Bridges being the villain; it also set up—sort of—the Infinity Saga, which apparently is no longer a thing in this universe. It’s okay; it’s just an obvious dodge. “What If … Killmonger Rescued Tony Stark (and the Sam Jackson Nick Fury cameo didn’t happen)?” is the better title.

Anyway.

The episode is Jordan inserting himself in Iron Man events to build a bunch of anime robots to fight battles. Tony Stark (Mick Wingert doing an adequate Robert Downey Jr.) loves him because dead father bros, but Pepper (Beth Hoyt in for Gwyneth Paltrow) isn’t sure. It doesn’t end up mattering because Don Cheadle and William Hurt (not William Hurt, but Michael Patrick McGill) trust Jordan because military bros. But can we really trust Michael B. Jordan? Is it possible for a guy named Killmonger to be a hero?

There are twists and turns as the episode goes straight from Iron Man 1 to Black Panther prologue, with a lovely but very heartbreakingly bittersweet Chadwick Boseman cameo. There are multiple movie stars contributing—Angela Bassett is the biggest surprise—and Jon Favreau, Danai Gurira, Andy Serkis, Paul Bettany (for like two lines, they really weren’t willing to pay for more), and John Kani. It’s concerning how easily Kani trusts Jordan; it’s almost like Captain America 3’s events did Wakanda a favor in the main universe.

But while someone like Leslie Bibb, who hasn’t been in a Marvel movie in ten plus years, gets opening titles credit, the actually important recast actors—Hoyt especially, but also McGill and Ozioma Akagha—get shoved to the end credits.

Plus, Jeffrey Wright’s annoying. Some of it’s the dialogue. Also, sitting through the poorly written opening titles monologue just to see what actors they got works against the viewing experience.

Jordan has a lot of fun, and the cartoon beefcakes him to good result and, thanks to the budget, it looks good throughout.

The epilogue’s a whiff, but what else is new. “What If…?” has a bunch of caveats, but I really wasn’t expecting such a successful outing. It’s like the better the source material to riff on, the better the episode. Sadly they’re running out of the good material.