The Staircase (2022) s01e02 – Chiroptera

So the person who looks the most like Rosemarie DeWitt but can’t be Rosemarie DeWitt is Sophie Turner. I then thought Maria Dizzia was Rosemarie DeWitt, but no, also not Rosemarie DeWitt. This episode of “The Staircase” has opening titles, which the first episode did not, and they’re a who’s who of actors I hadn’t recognized. At least, you know, Rosemarie DeWitt (she’s got blonde hair, sorry).

Also, apparently, Trini Alvarado’s going to be in the show. I think I know who she’s playing in this episode, but I also could be wrong. I’ll find out next time, which seems to be the theme.

DeWitt and Dizzia play Toni Collette’s sisters, who district attorneys Cullen Moss and Parker Posey pretty quickly convince was murdered. By husband Colin Firth, who says things like, “we’ve got to keep everyone’s story straight,” and totally innocent stuff along those lines. They’re not in the episode much because they’re avoiding him, obviously, as Moss tries to shave off family member support. It’s not hard; he and Posey are going to release Collette’s autopsy photos (they’re public domain, nothing to be done about it) and give wary family members the heads up. In this episode, they’re going after daughter Olivia DeJonge, who’s Collette’s biological daughter. The show still hasn’t laid out whatever Brady Bunch plus adopting orphans situation is going on, but DeJonge’s getting suspicious and sick of step-brother Patrick Schwarzenegger’s weak excuses for Firth’s exceptionally suspicious story.

DeWitt gets the really big “eureka” moment at the end, though.

This episode drops another giant truth bomb—Firth’s bisexual and having an affair (which he lies to everyone about after the murder) with some guy we haven’t met yet. He leaves it up to brother Tim Guinee to tell his kids he’s gay, raising the “is he guilty or just socially awkward” question. Complicating matters… did Collette know he was bi? He says, yes, and she was fine with it, while everyone else is kind of like, we’re North Carolina white Republicans, no way she was fine with it. When Posey’s pressing people, no one argues with her assessment: Collette would’ve been mortified. So Firth might be the bad guy, but he’s being vilified for bigot reasons.

And the evidence he smashed Collette’s head into a wall over and over, which defense attorney Michael Stuhlbarg’s team can only explain if Collette took a tumble down the stairs and slipped and slid in her blood for a long time. It’s an exceptionally rough sequence, punctuated by the team acknowledging they left out a bunch of other wounds she couldn’t have gotten except from someone attacking her.

Firth’s also being really suspicious with defense attorney Stuhlbarg, who shares a lot of knowing looks with his team. Even more alarming is when the French documentarians who come to town to tell his story can’t get him not to act incredibly guilty in interviews.

Collette—in the flashbacks, obviously—gets a lot more to do this episode and is excellent. Firth’s entirely suspicious now (and sometimes for the wrong reasons), which seems like it will limit his potential. DeJonge’s pretty good as the current canary in the coal mine, but the episode heavily implies her siblings are starting to question Firth too. Again, not for great reasons.

“Staircase” is compelling (manipulatively—I wonder how the show would play if they laid it out start to finish instead of the time jumps for effect) and well-acted.

The Staircase (2022) s01e01 – 911

I don't know anything about the actual "Staircase" case. My wife offered to tell me, and I said I'll wait until after the show; the only information I did get was the parents at the center of the story—Colin Firth and Toni Collette—adopted orphaned neighbor kids, which doesn't seem to matter yet. This episode quickly introduces the family—two parents, five kids, no pets—in an Ordinary People-esque montage where we find out son Dane DeHaan has a troubled history they don't talk about, and daughter Olivia DeJonge is jealous of at least one of her (presumably adoptive) siblings.

The episode—and presumably the series—uses a fractured narrative device to reveal various things about the case and the family, including how 9/11 will figure into the story. While the episode starts with old man makeup Firth putting on a tie nearer the present (2017), the main action occurs in fall 2001. Firth and Collette are sending youngest daughter Odessa Young off to college (here's where DeJonge's jealous), then later—after multiple flash aheads—Collette hurts herself at their empty nesters' party. Instead of being worried about her at the hospital, Firth mansplains 9/11 to her.

Because it's based on a true story, "The Staircase" is about whether Firth killed Collette one night in December 2001 or if she really did just get drunk and fall down a treacherous staircase in their Durham, North Carolina home. Shockingly good Patrick Schwarzenegger gets home from a Christmas party to find the cops all over and Firth freaking out. Schwarzenegger immediately believes Firth's story, though the cops are already talking about how Collette'd been long dead before Firth's 911 call (hence the episode title), where he says she's still alive.

The episode will then be Firth acting exceptionally mysterious and guilty, even before the episode reveals he's having an affair, even before we find out he lied in a mayoral campaign about getting a Purple Heart in Vietnam. There's the additional problem Firth's playing a Southern white guy and is immediately believable as a wife-killer. Hell, his lawyer brother Tim Guinee seems like he could've killed his wife, ditto district attorney with a vendetta (writer Firth is nasty to the cops in his newspaper column) Cullen Moss, ditto Firth's own defense attorney Michael Stuhlbarg, who's a Yankee transplant.

But Firth's excellent. Collette's really good too, but she doesn't get anywhere near as much, which is why I was really hoping she wouldn't be the victim. Instead, it's all about Firth straddling awkward and murderous.

The supporting cast is all good, with Parker Posey coming in at the end to knock it out of the park as a member of the D.A.'s team. Guinee's rote but okay; he's mostly just there for exposition dumps about how it's got to be a witch-hunt and to introduce Stuhlbarg to the plot.

The direction from Antonio Campos is fine. The draw's the large cast, who seem like they'll all eventually get more to do as the series progresses.

The Full Monty (1997, Peter Cattaneo)

During The Full Monty’s opening titles, an old promotional film plays, establishing the setting. Sheffield during its glory days, when they produced the best steel in the world. Or at least could make a promotional film saying they did. In the present, the steel mills have closed—and been closed about six months—and the former employees are either on the dole or working lousy jobs. The first scene is former steelworkers Robert Carlyle and Mark Addy breaking into the mill to steal metal; divorced dad Carlyle brings along his son, Wim Snape, who’s more embarrassed than scared.

Carlyle and Addy share the film’s protagonist spot. Carlyle’s got the active plot: trying to put together a male strip routine and make some fast cash. Addy’s got the more passive: he’s worried he’s losing with Lesley Sharp and becomes fixated on being overweight once the strip routine talk starts.

They get the stripping idea when they find out how much the visiting Chippendales made. There are several problems, starting with them not knowing how to dance, not being able to afford a venue, not having enough dancers. But once they cajole former mill foreman Tom Wilkinson into helping them (he can dance and has basic organizational skills), things start coming together. Thanks to new friend Steve Huison—a former mill worker who ended up as security guard to the empty buildings—they’ve got a place to rehearse and a fourth dancer. They find a couple more reasonably quick—Paul Barber and Hugo Speer—and then they just need to learn how to dance.

Along the way, in addition to Addy’s self-fulfilling problems with Sharp, Carlyle butts heads with ex-wife Emily Woof over child support, and Wilkinson’s got a subplot about lying to wife Deirdre Costello. She thinks he’s still got a job (after six months). Presumably, she doesn’t think he still works at the closed mill, but it’s never explained. Monty doesn’t delve too much into its characters’ personal lives (other than Addy). Huison’s most significant scene is his introduction, while Barber and Speer get little moments but not much substance. It’s all ensemble for the supporting players.

And it works. Because no one gets too much time, everyone gets to have a reveal or two. Sometimes the reveals are just to keep the plot going, but there are character development ones too. Even without character development arcs, the actors do a great job implying.

Of the three leads—Carlyle, Addy, and Wilkinson—the best arc is Addy’s; it’s also the most consequential. The best-acted one is Wilkinson’s. Carlyle and Addy are both good, especially given how long it takes the film to get to Addy, but Wilkinson’s performance is transfixing from his first scene. The part could be a caricature. Instead, Wilkinson gives it immediate depth, which isn’t easy since he starts the movie as a comic foil for Carlyle and Addy’s buffoonery. The film uses the first act, “getting the team together,” arc to humanize Carlyle and Addy past initial sympathy. And that arc hinges on Wilkinson. Snape’s important as well—Snape’s kind of Carlyle’s conscience because tween boys are more emotionally aware than Monty’s adult men.

At the core of all the men’s problems—including supporting players like Barber and Speer—is their inability to express themselves to anyone. Not to each other, not to their partners, not to themselves. For Addy and Wilkinson, it might not be too late, whereas Carlyle’s already lost wife Woof to new dude Paul Butterworth, who’s a complete prick. But Carlyle might still have a shot at being a good dad to Snape.

Monty’s technically solid. Director Cattaneo balances the comedy and drama well; since the film is so terse, he can maintain a considerable narrative distance, so the situations never seem too dire. Or never seem too dire too long. They’re usually able to navigate hurdles in a couple scenes.

Lovely photography from John de Borman, whose lighting finds the warmth in the grimy, permanently overcast Sheffield. The scenery is drab; the characters’ experience of it is not.

Then Anne Dudley’s score brings a lot of personality to the film. It’s one of Monty’s essential elements; Dudley’s music, Addy, Carlyle, Wilkinson, Snape. It wouldn’t work without them. Plus Simon Beaufoy’s script. The script contrasts humor and tragedy, introducing the characters’ humanity in that mix, then the actors run with that sketch.

The film’s also got a great soundtrack—as the boys try to select their music—utilizing Donna Summer’s Hot Stuff to fantastic effect.

The Full Monty’s good stuff.

Aliens (1986, James Cameron)

Thirty-six years after its release, recreating the original Aliens (albeit on home media) experience is difficult. Not only has there been a direct sequel, there have been multiple reboot sequels, and the extended, “special edition” version has been readily available for nineteen years now. I’m not ready for an Aliens canon deep-dive, but when did a much later sequel, they did it with details from the special edition.

So it’s entirely possible to watch Aliens, the theatrical version—running a spry 137 minutes (the extended edition adds seventeen minutes)–in the context of what’s changed for the franchise since it was the traditional version of Aliens. Probably starting with thinking of Aliens as a franchise entry, not a sequel. I should also preface—I’ve seen Aliens a dozen times; I’ve seen the theatrical version thrice, including this time. “My” version is the special edition version.

And I was worried it’d be hard to watch Aliens without that perspective getting in the way.

Luckily, Aliens is not a vacillating memory, it’s a movie; once I stopped thinking about how the film works as a proto-old [man or woman] franchise—like Sigourney Weaver as a (mentally) more mature action hero, I was able to just let it play. Because Aliens is less about Weaver’s arc than I remembered. There’s one big missing character motivator in the theatrical version and it only changes the impact. Instead of Aliens leaning in on the motherhood allegory in the theatrical version, it’s about Weaver proving herself in an entirely different context than before. She’s still got a great arc with Carrie Henn, it’s just less the focus of the film. The focus is, of course, survival in extremely hostile, constantly worsening conditions.

Aliens starts with an Alien epilogue. Weaver gets in trouble for blowing up her spaceship; they fire her. She ends up back on Earth in a shitty apartment, hanging out with the cat (the only other returning character), working a crap (compared to her previous position) job, and smoking too many cigarettes. She can’t convince the Company stooges to investigate her story, though she’s got an ally in self-described “okay guy” Company man Paul Reiser. Writer and director Cameron and Weaver do a very quick job setting up Weaver’s character, post-resolution. They start the development arc once Weaver wakes up—almost sixty years after she expected—when it’s unclear she’s going to get scapegoated, which runs one character development arc under another, not letting the subtle one through until the plot requires it.

Then one day, Reiser shows up at Weaver’s door with a Marine lieutenant, William Hope. That planet no one believed Weaver about? They’ve lost contact with the colony. Reiser wants Weaver to come with him and Hope (and Hope’s Marines); just an observer, though. The Marines will have it. After some cajoling (and because otherwise it’s a very different movie), Weaver agrees and now Aliens proper is underway.

For most of the runtime, Aliens never looks, sounds, or feels like an Alien sequel. Not in terms of the filmmaking. If it weren’t for the three hyper sleep scenes, it wouldn’t at all. There’s the opening, where Weaver—asleep in her pod—gets rescued. Then there’s the Marines waking up from their hyper sleep, which goes from feeling vaguely Alien to being very much Aliens. And then there’s another hyper sleep sequence where Cameron ties it back to the original even more. Though, stylistically—even when he’s doing the Alien reference—he often adds something to it. Something more akin to a 2001 reference, actually. There are a number of 2001 homages in the first act, but also Cameron doing something of his own. Aliens is a very thoughtful, thorough film. A verisimilitude achievement, requiring a lot of subtleties to navigate the film’s constraints. Even if the budget had been bigger, for instance, there were technological limits as far as creating the omnipresent special effects; Aliens is a special effects bonanza. And it’s all from scratch.

The film occasionally will let Weaver’s observations determine a scene’s narrative distance. She’s seeing it new, the audience is seeing it new, also now the characters (the Marines) who are not seeing it new… they then get othered enough to become subjects. It’s one of Cameron’s neat narrative moves. He has a number of them, in addition to his neat directorial moves. The film’s chockfull of good moves.

Aliens proper is the story of the Marines mission. They wake up, they banter and bicker, they find out in a briefing it’s an Alien sequel, then it’s basically down to the planet and the film never takes a break until the denouement. Aliens’s biggest chunk of runtime has a present action of maybe twenty-four hours, and short segues between the contiguous scenes. The film introduces ten supporting characters at the same time and requires you track them for the next two hours. It’s rushed but they’re rushed too. Got to get down to the planet.

Once they’re on the planet and at the colony, the film changes gears again. Cameron’s done his take on Alien-style space travel, he’s done a back to Earth bit, but the colony’s something again. It’s a little bit of a Western, just one where they’re in high tech future rooms instead of an Old West town with a false front. And they’re on an alien world, which gives the characters no pause. With one exception—the space station in the first act—Cameron’s utterly devoid of wonderment when musing about the future and its strange new worlds. He never forces it to be grim and gritty though; it’s simply unimaginable it could be any other way.

There’s some more setup in the second act with Weaver, Reiser, and the Marines finding out what’s going on with the aliens. They’ve also got to pick up Henn—a little girl who survives for weeks, hiding from the monsters in the vents. Aliens is all about the vents. Henn’s character started the still strong entertainment trope of lone survivor kid showing up to give some necessary exposition—the not-always Feral Kid—but Cameron isn’t craven here. He never treats Henn as functional, because he never makes any bad moves in the script. It’s such a good script.

The Marines. There’s Hope as the lieutenant, but he’s new and doesn’t have any combat experience. One of the “funny” things about Aliens is realizing, even with third act twists, most of the problems are because Hope’s bad at his job. Al Matthews plays the sergeant. He’s more likable and memorable than good, but also he doesn’t have much he’s got to do. When he does have bigger moments, it’s usually to support someone else’s character development, like Michael Biehn. Biehn’s the corporal, he’s succinct not laconic, and kind of a Western hero. Biehn’s got the most interesting performance in the film because he’s the only one who defaults to trusting Weaver’s judgment. The movie’s often about the two of them problem-solving.

In between shooting at alien monsters with acid blood.

There are nine more Marines, but Bill Paxton and Jenette Goldstein are the most important ones. Paxton’s the wiseass who breaks under pressure and Goldstein’s the badass who doesn’t. Cameron’s got a really interesting approach with Paxton—he makes the other characters rein him in when he spirals and turns it into character development for all involved. It’s really effective.

Of the Marines, only Biehn and Hope really get arcs. Paxton’s panicking always plays out in active scenes. Goldstein gets a little more character work than most but it’s about thirty seconds worth. Aliens is an action movie, after all.

There aren’t any bad performances. Paxton gets the most tiring (but just imagine being under siege by aliens and stuck with him), but it’s never bad. Best performances are Weaver, Biehn, Reiser, Henn, and Lance Henriksen. Henriksen is the ship android who Weaver doesn’t trust because of the last movie. Cameron’s very obvious about their arc, which is the least of Weaver’s four character relationship arcs—Henn, Reiser, Biehn, then Henriksen–and makes sure every scene is excellent. The scenes are good showcases for Henriksen too.

The whole movie’s a showcase for Weaver. Going back and fighting the monsters from her nightmare strips her to the id. It’s a great performance in what’s really just an action hero part. Weaver and Cameron make it seem like more, but it’s the performance and the direction.

Lots of technical greats. James Horner’s music, Ray Lovejoy’s cutting, Peter Lamont’s production design, Emma Porteous’s costume design. Adrian Biddle’s photography is successful, competent, and good, but when Aliens betrays itself as a very grim, very gritty Flash Gordon serial, it’s usually because of Biddle’s lighting.

The special effects are usually outstanding. There’s one bad composite shot—though Cameron directs the heck out of it—and some of the alien planet exteriors look too soundstage (Biddle’s lights). Otherwise, the effects are stellar. Including the slimy aliens, which is the most important part. Stan Winston does a singular job with the aliens.

After the first act, Cameron’s direction tries to be more functional than flashy. It works. He asks a lot from the actors and they always deliver; it’s masterful action suspense.

Thanks to Cameron, Weaver, and everyone else, Aliens is a resounding success. Special edition or theatrical version, it’s always spectacular.

Superman & Lois (2021) s01e15 – Last Sons of Krypton

Since I never got comfortable recommending the show, it’s fitting “Superman and Lois: Season One” finish on something of a fail. It’s not terrible. I don’t think it’s the worst episode, but it’s definitely in the bottom three. Not because there’s anything particularly wrong with it; there’s just nothing particularly right with it.

It’s a paint-by-the-numbers conclusion to all the unresolved plot threads, dispassionately directed by Tom Cavanagh. Cavanagh stars on “The Flash,” which must take place on another Earth for sure since none of the superheroes are helping with the end of the world as we know it. So his directing is like a vanity thing? Because it’s not because he’s got some intense connection with the material (the show has that director in its pool with producer Gregory Smith) or because Cavanagh’s good at full episodes. Once the middling action resolves, the episode’s a more and more tedious series of epilogues for each character.

There’s nothing good in any of said epilogues. Like, there’s no actual resolution for Alex Garfin and Inde Navarrette. We don’t see them reuniting when she thinks he is dead. Instead, they’re just hanging out at her parents’ latest barbecue, where everyone goes to have a good time. Narratively it’d make so much more sense to have it on the Kent farm, but why bother. Credited to Brent Fletcher and Todd Helbing, the script is just as unambitious as Cavanagh’s direction.

The episode ends with a big surprise for season two, but it’s predictable and not just because it’s the same season finale surprise as “Supergirl”’s first season ended with. Given how understaffed the episode appears to be, they could’ve used a surprise guest star or two. Over-stuffed but empty describes the episode overall, which is a bummer since the season had otherwise been doing a good conclusion arc. They just didn’t have an ending. Or not enough of one.

Especially for poor season villain Adam Rayner, whose most memorable scene where he’s got a medium shot and probably isn’t a CGI model is him doing jazz hands. “Superman and Lois” entirely copped out on a good villain. The less said about A.C. Peterson, the better. He’s easily the worst casting of the series, and they’ve had some iffy moves.

None of the special effects sequences are very good. The energy plasma stuff is fine. But they cheap out in other places, like having all the bad guys this episode be nameless, brainwashed, super-powered soldiers in full uniform, including helmets. Seems cheap.

I also just realized, given the setup for next season, they wasted at least one of the epilogues in the episode and instead could’ve wrapped it all up together. Or maybe just plotted it differently. With a good script and good direction, there are a couple episodes worth of plot points here.

With this script, with this direction, they went on about five minutes too long. Especially since there’s no pay-off at all for the regular cast.

Some better music than usual from Dan Romer. Not with the action stuff, but in the epilogues and only because he plays with the themes. Hoechlin gets two big monologues, and neither of them land because they’re so poorly contextualized.

The episode seems intentionally neutered. Creatively speaking, the only reason seems to be that they had Cavanagh directing and knew he couldn’t do anything else. It’s disappointing as heck, especially since I thought it’d be a banger.

This episode is very much not a banger.

It is a bummer. And it shouldn’t be one.

Annette (2021, Leos Carax)

Right up until the end, it seems like Annette will maintain some level of success solely due to the audacity of the project. It’s a musical set in Hollywood, where an edge lord white male comedian (Adam Driver) marries a beloved singer (Marion Cotillard). Only he’s got a shelf life because he’s always trying to offend, and she doesn’t really want to play Hollywood mom. The movie’s terrible about delineating the present action, but basically, they get married right away because he’s knocked her up.

Their child, titular Annette is mostly a puppet, so you don’t see Driver and Cotillard being shitty rich and famous people to a real toddler. The puppetry is fine but never great. Kind of like the film at its best; it’s sometimes fine, never great. Well, except the opening musical number, which has the entire cast walking down the street singing, and it’s actually good. People don’t just seem to be enjoying themselves, they seem to enjoy being part of an ensemble.

Annette’s got a lot of problems. It’s a long and tedious melodrama, Simon Helberg is terrible as the second act foil, the songs are entirely naturalistic, Driver’s middling, Cotillard’s underwhelming and deceptively presented, the script’s craven, but the worst problem is how little anyone interacts. It’s a musical where–outside people singing at each other every fifteen minutes–everyone’s doing solos. Cotillard’s got the voice for it, but the songs are wanting. Driver could probably get away with it if the writing were better, but it’s not, so he’s just a bore.

Not to mention he’s a bore of a comedian too. Annette can present Cotillard as a good singer because she’s, you know, singing well. Driver’s comedy bits? He abuses the audience, they cheer, he moons them, they cheer, he does a ten-minute set and bounces, they cheer. When he has his eventual fall, he can’t figure out why they didn’t like his shitty new material, and it’s a valid question; it’s no worse than his other material. In fact, even if it’s misogynistic, it’s at least ambitious. But writers Ron Mael and Russell Mael have no idea how to write funny stand-up or even potentially funny stand-up. Director Carax tries to stylize the sequences to cover for the conceit requiring such a leap, but there’s no way to cover for it.

Then when it turns out part of the plot involves Driver actually being an abusive white male edge lord comic? It just seems mercenary and exploitative. Given the second act is all about Driver and Cotillard discovering their kid has a fantastic ability—other than being an animate puppet—and Driver wants to exploit her too… I mean, join the club. There’s nothing not exploitative in Annette.

The finale tries hard for a big, revelatory moment, but Carax completely whiffs it. Sort of understandably, it’s a terrible scene, but it drags Annette down the rest of the way. It’d been teetering for over an hour, and it’s the final drop. Maybe if Helberg were even mildly okay, but part of the script involves no one acting with any sense while singing about why they should be acting with sense; Cotillard only does it once; Helberg does it for every single one of his scenes. So it goes from disappointing to annoying to appalling.

Though the film does make its ickiest swing with Helberg. At first, it seems so icky it couldn’t possibly be intentional, then everyone starts singing about the icky, and it’s hard not to sympathize with Driver. And Driver’s profoundly unsympathetic. Like, the movie’s unsympathetic because it’s so craven and cheap in the narrative, but Driver’s always an apparent bastard. But even a bastard can be sympathetic, apparently.

Mostly good photography from Caroline Champetier. Sometimes she and Carax run afoul of digital video constraints, but they’ve also got some good-looking sequences. Otherwise, it’s not technically notable. Carax’s direction is fine, but he’s got a wide berth.

Annette’s interesting but not for any good reasons.

If I Were You (2012, Joan Carr-Wiggin)

At the halfway point in If I Were You, it seems like the film’s biggest problem is going to be Joseph Kell being charmless. Close second is Valerie Mahaffey’s small part being a waste of Mahaffey. Director Carr-Wiggin’s script is a tad plodding in the plotting, but it’s because she’s thorough and it does just mean more great acting from lead Marcia Gay Harden. Then, somewhere in the second hour… they change film or video “stock” and cinematographer Bruce Worrall cannot shoot it. Especially not in the finale. It’s stunningly bad lighting, especially given the first half or whatever looks really good. Carr-Wiggin’s composition is fairly standard, but they’re fine shots.

And then… we get to the third act and the resolve. There are problems with the movie jumping ahead three weeks, hiding important things from the viewer, and coping out getting through all the drama. But they end up not mattering because also find out second lead Leonor Watling is great. Can give a great performance and act the hell out of anything and Carr-Wiggin doesn’t have her do it. Carr-Wiggin lets Watling stay solvent opposite Harden—who knocks over everyone else in the cast, especially Kell and Gary Piquer, until Aidan Quinn shows up to show off how good it can be when Harden’s got someone with the same ability class in a scene. But it could’ve been Watling for the whole movie.

Only they didn’t do it. There wasn’t even a reason for it with the time job and the way they do the resolve.

It’s really disappointing.

Especially since, just before the time jump, If I Were You has never been better or had more potential. Well, sort of it. I’ll get there.

The movie opens with seemingly happily married Harden discovering Kell is cheating on her with Watling. When Watling turns out to be in need of a wellness check, Harden ends up being the one to do it and starts hanging out with her to find out about the affair. For this portion of their relationship—and most of the first act of the film—Harden’s blotto. She plays a great drunk. Like, masterclass in drunk acting. When she stumbles around you can feel it because you’ve felt it. Also Harden doesn’t tell Watling she’s the wife. But she does tell Watling she’s got a cheating husband.

Eventually Harden and Watling come up with this plan where Harden’s going to tell Watling what to do, Watling is going to tell Harden what to do. It’s a middling but effective scene. It’s got a lot to do and it takes a while but it gets it done but now, having finished the film, I know it could’ve been so much better because Watling could’ve been amazing in it.

The movie runs almost two hours—and is missing at least another ten minutes of story—and there’s a very clear first and second act. Second act is about Harden’s mom being close to death, Harden and Watling teaming up to star in a play together, coworker Piquer (who’s good and funny just not able to stay afloat opposite Harden) pursuing her post-affair discovery, and then Quinn as another son of a patient at the mom’s care facility.

There are only a couple scenes with Quinn and Harden but they’re so good together. He’s so good. It might be an hour before he shows up (“and” credit, after all) but when he and Harden have their meet cute in bad circumstances? It’s killer. You could watch a whole movie of them smiling at each other. Longer than even If I Were You should run. Just excellent acting. Two performances of it instead of just one and, I don’t know, forty percent and lower ability-wise.

Except, of course, Watling could’ve done more. Carr-Wiggin just didn’t bother with it. And then completely copped out with the conclusion. Skipped all the important character development. Movie goes from four days being thoroughly inspect to three weeks not being important at all.

The kicker is the play-in-the-movie implies this exceptional potential project, far more promising than the film itself. And even with that highlight—albeit a poorly lighted one—Carr-Wiggin’s still cops out. It’s very weird to see such an… elaborately plotted film very clearly not have an ending. It’s disappointing. But Harden and Quinn give exceptional performances, admittedly in not-heavy-lifting parts (partially because not even the movie asks you to take Kell seriously opposite Harden), and Watling can probably be great in stuff and got very awkwardly wasted.

Oh, and strangely great support from Bethany Jillard. Only strange because she’s just in the play and doesn’t even have a real character name, but she’s always doing something awesome. Much of If I Were You is waiting to see excellent acting, usually from Harden, then Quinn, and then—if you’re playing attention—Jillard. And, you know, Watling when she gets to do it.

Masters of Horror (2005) s02e05 – Pro-Life

I’m not sure John Carpenter’s The Thing was a pinnacle of realistic practical special effects—I think it must’ve been one, but I’m not sure; I am confident, however, he and Dean Cundey pioneered SteadiCam (at least according to them) with Escape from New York. So watching his second (and, thankfully, final) “Masters of Horror” entry, it’s sad to see Carpenter contending with Attila Szalay’s profoundly incompetent photography and the garbage special effects from Greg Nicotero and Howard Berger. While Pro-Life is certainly better than the previous episode Carpenter directed—also written by Drew McWeeny and Rebecca Swan—it’s always in trying to find a way to get worse.

The episode opens with Mark Feuerstein and Emmanuelle Vaugier talking about how they might work together but it’s okay they just slept together. This scene will be the most dialogue Vaugier gets in the hour, with the rest of her performance quick reaction shots. They’re driving in to work and they almost hit teenager Caitlin Wachs running through the woods. Wachs was actually a teenager during Pro-Life, which makes the skimpy outfit and the graphic rape recollection even grosser than I’d assumed. That gross gets lost in the other gross when McWeeny and Swan show their edginess by disingenuously both-sidings abortion with lead Ron Perlman talking about clinic doctor Bill Dow being a baby killer. McWeeny and Swan then cop out on the whole thing with Perlman just being a pawn in Satan’s game.

Derek Mears plays the demonic Satan, walking around in a rubber suit thrown out from the original Swamp Thing movie for looking too cheesy. Despite being King of Hell, Mears can’t figure out how door handles work. Or maybe Pro-Life just thinks terrible slow motion breaking through door effects are good, actually. It certainly tries to do its gun porn but it just plays silly. This whole “Masters of Horror” big horror director who at best makes direct-to-video crap returning to their roots continues to instead suggest these guys shouldn’t be renowned because they can’t make movies anymore, not even hour long ones.

The story involves Wachs, raped by Satan, trying to get Feuerstein to abort the baby while dad Perlman shoots everyone dead to rescue her because he’s doing God’s work. He’s got three sons helping him; the nicest I’ll be is not noting their names when trying to determine the worst performance. Partially because, outside Dow as the clinic doctor, the worst performance is easily discount character actor Stephen Dimopoulos. He’s the shitty dad who brought his daughter to the clinic and gets caught up in the demonic siege.

Wachs is bad. It’s unclear how much of it’s her fault, how much of it’s the script, how much of it is Carpenter leering at her. Feuerstein’s less bad but far from good. Perlman’s decent. It’s a thin, bad part, poorly written, poorly directly, but his professionalism puts him ahead of the pack. Biski Gugushe tries the hardest as the clinic security guard.

Presumably Carpenter did this show for the easy paycheck and to get “composer” son Cody Carpenter some gigs with residuals (the music’s terrible).

But it’s insipid work and an objectively good reason to avoid giving anyone involved any attention in the future.

Masters of Horror (2005) s01e08 – Cigarette Burns

Did anyone read the script for Cigarette Burns before they started shooting? Udo Kier’s got a line about Norman Reedus following him, then Kier follows Reedus. Not to mention Reedus’s inability to open doors convincingly, much less regurgitate Drew McWeeny and Rebecca Swan’s startlingly insipid dialogue. It’s terrible when it’s Kier and Reedus delivering the lines, but it’s not truly godawful until Chris Gauthier shows up. Kier’s able to deliver terrible dialogue with no help from a director after decades of experience but watching Reedus and Gauthier try to hold a conversation with nothing but poorly written expository dialogue is something especially awful.

I’ve been avoiding Cigarette Burns for fifteen plus years, after hearing it was not a gem from director John Carpenter, but it’s not just a bad Carpenter outing… it’s a new low for him. He’s got a cinematographer—Attila Szalay—who can’t hold focus, he’s got an incompetent editor (Patrick McMahon), though I guess at least he was able to get his son Cody a gig doing the music. And the music’s the only thing not entirely terrible. Because even if Szalay’s lighting were all right—and the shots in focus—Carpenter’s composition is at best disinterested. He’s shooting for a 16:9 frame and has no idea how to compose the shots to make them interesting; it’s not just disappointing, it’s embarrassing to watch. If ever someone needed Alan Smithee….

Reedus is a revival movie theatre owner who’s going to hunt down a mythic lost film for Kier. How mythic? So mythic Kier’s got a de-winged angel who starred in it held captive, which doesn’t bug Reedus at all. He needs the money to pay off his dead girlfriend’s dad, Gary Hetherington. Zara Taylor plays the dead girlfriend in flashbacks. Presumably she got cast because they wanted someone who’d make Reedus look like an okay actor.

Hetherington’s terrible too. It ought to be a gimme of a small part, something any working actor could execute (and a great cameo spot for a Carpenter regular, though it’d just be humiliating for them too). It becomes obvious very soon into Cigarette Burns, it’s never getting better and it’s got a long way to go to hit bottom.

Is all of “Masters of Horror” so terrible? Cigarette Burns isn’t an encouragement to check out other Carpenter movies—quite the opposite—and it isn’t a celebration of his career (it’s McWeeny and Swan doing a worse-than-expected Kevin Smith does horror). But it’s also not like Carpenter’s trying with the script. There’d be some effort in the composition, the blocking would be better, Reedus might be able to open a door believably, every muddled frame of Cigarette Burns is another item on the list of its defects and incompetencies.

I wasn’t expecting Cigarette Burns to be any actual good, but I wasn’t expecting it to be worse than Carpenter’s previous lows by so much. Maybe they should’ve gotten someone to direct it who wanted to direct it (or anything). There’s not much missed opportunity in Cigarette Burns—the script’s garbage—but someone else might have some interest or enthusiasm for it.

Other than getting your kid a job.

I’m so glad I didn’t watch it at the time, when the disappointment (before it was for sure Carpenter was retired) would have be much more severe.

Michael Hayes (1997) s01e02

It makes sense they did another episode to run as the first episode instead of this pilot. What doesn’t make sense is CBS green-lighting the series based on this pilot episode. It’s also interesting to see who they got to come back for the previous episode after they clearly didn’t work out in the pilot; Sam Coppola as star David Caruso’s cop mentor has a surprise twist here, so maybe it was good to bring him in before… but they really could’ve used Dina Meyer. She’s an investigator at the U.S. Attorney’s office and has been dating Caruso for long enough other investigator Ruben Santiago-Hudson teases him about it them talking flirty over the radio, but apparently she was out of town two weeks before in the first episode.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting from the pilot—I’d forgotten the hook of the show is former cop Caruso becomes acting U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York and not just former cop Caruso becomes a deputy U.S. Attorney or whatever—but they really try to cram it all in here. The episode opens with a mob hit (so did the previous episode, sort of) and then we get Caruso meeting with dead guy’s attorney Donna Murphy, Meyer, and Philip Baker Hall. Hall takes Murphy’s car, which goes boom—leading to Caruso saving Hall from the burning car while a line of cops stand around and do nothing (again, it’s pre-9/11). Eventually Caruso gets the job, which would presumably cause some problems for Meyer, who doesn’t sleep with bosses. If only they can think of a way to exit her from the show while being low-key misogynist about it.

Caruso’s not initially on Murphy’s case because he’s busy getting Joe Grifasi in trouble. The episode’s got a handful of solid character actor guest stars—Murphy, Grifasi, Josef Sommer—and it’s scary to think how the show would play if it weren’t them. Tom Amandes is on as another deputy U.S. Attorney whose job it is to tell Caruso he’s going too far with the working class hero takes on the blue bloods stuff (Peter Outerbridge has a filler scene, presumably shot after they decided they needed him—or Amandes found steadier work). None of the previously mentioned guest stars appear on the IMDb page, apparently because none of their agents think anyone would care they were once on “Michael Hayes.”

Anyway.

Wouldn’t you know Grifasi’s case is going to end up having to do with Murphy’s case, but then it’s going to turn out there’s an even simpler explanation to it all so they can do a bad sirens-on cop car sequence and giving Caruso—at the time the acting U.S. Attorney—a burner handgun so he can be macho.

Along the way we get some more with Caruso’s family problems—nephew Jimmy Galeota needs recently released ex-con dad David Cubitt (credited as a guest star, which makes you wonder what’s going to happen to him in the series) to pay him some attention while the relationship between Caruso and suffering sister-in-law Mary B. Ward is different than in the previous episode. Especially since last time Caruso was trying to convince her to take Cubitt, hashtag family values, while this time he’s telling her to stay away from his deadbeat brother.

John Romano’s teleplay is fairly bad—the show has Romano and Nicholas Pileggi as creators but Pileggi doesn’t have a writing credit, just a story one, which is telling. Thomas Carter’s direction is fairly good for a nineties TV show (it’s interesting to be able to compare to the previous but subsequent episode just for Carter’s ability to compose for 4:3).

Maybe ten percent of Caruso’s performance is good and better. Most of it’s middling. Some of it’s “CSI: Miami.” All of the bad is Romano’s fault. He writes rather trite dialogue. The most important performance ends up being Mary Lou Rosato as Coppola’s wife and she doesn’t even get a credit in the opening titles.

Grifasi’s the biggest disappointment; not even he can accomplish Romano’s script. He’s only in it for a scene and doesn’t have the weird baked-in misogyny Murphy ends up with. She’s fine, just wasted. I was hoping for more obviously because what kind of shit stain wastes Donna Murphy.

I have no idea what to expect from “Michael Hayes” going forward, which must’ve done wonders for it back during original airings when you had a whole week to decide if you wanted to come back.