Category: Directors Ra

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022, Sam Raimi)

Doctor Strange and the Maddening Mouthfuls of Multiverses is barely a sequel to the original Doctor Strange outing, which is fine; the original was six years ago, and star Benedict Cumberbatch has gotten more mileage out of his non-solo appearances. However, given it’s a sequel to the Disney Plus show, “WandaVision,” which was a deliberate, thoughtful examination of the trauma Elizabeth Olsen (second-billed in Multiverse) experienced as an MCU character… it’s not great they (they being screenwriter Michael Waldron, who did not write “WandaVision” because it was well-written) turn Olsen into a one-to-two note supervillain here. She’s a Disney villain, right down to how calling herself a “witch” means she’s bad now.

Olsen’s performance is, you know, excellent. No notes. She’s terrific. It’s a bad part, but it’s good acting.

Cumberbatch starts the movie dreaming about a ponytailed version of himself fighting a monster alongside teenager Xochitl Gomez. Then he goes to ex-girlfriend Rachel McAdams’s wedding to someone else, who the movie never actually introduces because it’d require too much writing. Instead, a giant one-eyed octopus monster invades New York City, and Cumberbatch has to save the day. In doing so, he discovers the monster’s after Gomez, who isn’t a figment of his unconscious, but rather a real teenage girl who’s spent her life accidentally jumping from universe to universe. And someone’s after her.

Benedict Wong, who’s taken over Cumberbatch’s job as Earth’s sorcerer supreme since the Avengers movies, also shows up to fight the monster. So pretty soon, they’re all sitting around to talk multiverses. Wong and Cumberbatch are funny together, and they decide they’re going to help Gomez with the demons pursuing her.

Cumberbatch has the great idea to ask Olsen for help, only to discover she’s actually the evil stepmother. Sorry, supervillain.

There are some big action set pieces, but then it’s off to the multiverse for Gomez and Cumberbatch while Wong’s trying to stop Olsen on Earth. Regular MCU Earth. Doesn’t go great for Wong.

Olsen’s trying to steal Gomez’s multiverse jumping power so she can find a universe where her sons are real (she made them out of magic on “WandaVision”). Also, dreams are views into other universes, which seems like it should be important but isn’t.

There are some big and not-so-big cameos along the way, but most of the movie is pragmatically setting up the finale to be as contained as possible. See, it turns out Gomez jumps to the universe most likely to quickly hurry plots along, so if you need to get to a universe populated by Marvel heroes from alternate realities (or franchises), Gomez’s on it. She and Cumberbatch also pick up a variation of McAdams along the way, so while McAdams has a lot to do in the movie, it’s all busy work and emotional labor for Cumberbatch (who she doesn’t even know, not really).

Of the action set pieces, only a few are inventive. Well, one, actually. There are some other okay ones, but only one is anything special. The rest are a combination of good CGI and decent humor. Primarily because of Gomez, Wong, and McAdams. Cumberbatch plays well off the actors who can do the humor better. Olsen doesn’t get any humor; she just gets to turn the internal turmoil and suffering to eleven with no payoff.

Despite all the cameos, Multiverse avoids bringing back anyone to give Olsen an arc. And since all the cameos are otherworldly—other-universey—they don’t carry any emotional heft, though there’s an excellent joke for one of the cameos. And the acting on them’s not bad, especially the most fantastic of them.

Raimi’s direction is fine. He’ll occasionally show more enthusiasm than the baseline, which is pretty rote. Of course, it doesn’t help he’s apparently disinterested in all the world-building in the second act, but considering it’s all fluff… he’s not wrong.

The movie doesn’t overstay its welcome, which is good, even if it means the finale just reveals they didn’t actually do an arc for Gomez (instead treating her as an accessory for Cumberbatch). Multiverse takes an incomplete on character development overall, promising next time maybe Cumberbatch will grow a little.

Okay music from Danny Elfman, decent photography from John Mathieson (except in the cameo-heavy part of act two, where some setting appears to be off with the cameras), and excellent production design from Charles Wood. Even when the setting’s incredibly obvious, Wood makes it unique.

Multiverse only runs a couple hours, but because it’s truncated. With an actual first act, it’d add on at least another twenty minutes. It’s almost like they should’ve just done it as a TV series, though more Waldron writing wouldn’t do anyone any favors.

It’s mostly middling, with some good performances and solid filmmaking. Given how much the film disses Olsen’s efforts for the overall franchise, hopefully, she can escape any sequels, prequels, sidequels, or spin-offs.

All Creatures Great and Small (2020) s02e04 – Many Happy Returns

“All Creatures” bounces back this episode, which isn’t a surprise, but this episode has the same director as last episode (Sasha Ransome). At some point between filming the last one and this one, Ransome figured out how to direct Nicholas Ralph and Rachel Shenton’s chemistry. The last episode took a dive because of the episode’s butterfingers handling of their first kiss, and this episode more than makes up for it. I was really expecting a different director; maybe it’s all the writers’ faults (and successes).

Anyway.

The A plot this episode is Callum Woodhouse out on his own. It’s his birthday, with brother Samuel West giving him the medical bag present (from the first episode this season) and then a day of assignments. Ralph’s going to be accompanying him, but not only to observe; Ralph’s got to go check in on Shenton’s farm—they’ve got a very important horse no one’s ever mentioned until now, so he’s got a full day.

Meanwhile, Anna Madeley is putting together a last-minute dinner party for Woodhouse—everyone assumed he’d want to go to the bar, but instead, he wants to be classy—and West is hanging around the house, trying to think of excuses to go out and check on Woodhouse.

Woodhouse has two veterinary cases, though the first is multiple patients. He’s doing maintenance work on numerous horses at an afore unmentioned estate, where he knows the fetching daughter, Jessica Clark, and wants to invite her to his dinner party. Since Ralph’s now coupled with Shenton, he’s got lots of advice to give—though their subplot is him not having told her about his Glasgow job offer even as he tells Madeley he’s going to talk to her about it immediately.

Steven Hartley plays the stablehand who’d prefer experienced West to take care of the horses and very drolly observes Woodhouse on his first solo assignment. It’s a fun outing for Woodhouse and Ralph, with lots of charm from Woodhouse. And Hartley’s a delight.

The second patient is one of Jon Furlong’s cows. She’s having a difficult labor (presumably knocked up by some bull other than Shenton’s, which was a season one plot thread). Again, it’s a charming outing for Woodhouse, who seems to be having trouble but refuses to give up. The episode never points it out, but Ralph had a similar first day when he started at the practice.

There’s some cute stuff for Shenton’s family—little sister Imogen Clawson is waiting for the horse to give birth to her very own pony, with dad Tony Pitts hanging around for the scene. He seems to be there just so Clawson can amusingly tease him. Ralph invites Shenton to the dinner party instead of telling her about the Glasgow job.

The dinner party will have some society drama and a lot of gentle doting for West and now officially returning girlfriend Dorothy Atkinson. It’s the most Atkinson’s had to do on the show so far; she’s delightful. Clark and Shenton have a history separate from their hosts, which proves tense, but the focus is on brothers West and Woodhouse. West’s finally proud of his little brother, and nothing can go wrong now.

Except, of course, this season’s all about the secrets, and all of them get aired here. Well, most of them. Any outstanding secrets are now qualified.

The episode does a great job working through it all. Debbie O’Malley gets the script credit. Shame she wasn’t around last episode.

The episode also gives Shenton some of her first real acting all season, and she ably handles it. But the stars are Woodhouse and West. They both get a wide range of emotions to essay, and they’re outstanding.

It’s not the most ambitious “All Creatures,” but I think it’s the most successful. Even if it weren’t rebounding from last episode’s pratfalls, this one does exceedingly well.

All Creatures Great and Small (2020) s02e03 – We Can But Hope

“All Creatures Great and Small” gets away with a certain amount of sentimentality and near saccharinity because it’s about people caring about their animals’ suffering. The show’s about folks at their most empathetic (right or wrong), and that emotionality can cover a whole bunch. However, this episode veers away from that comfort zone as Nicholas Ralph finds himself losing the Kobayashi Maru. New widow Amy Nuttall has a herd of sick cows, and there’s nothing to be done about it. So Ralph decides to advise Nuttall to sell her farm (to one of the other men in the village, who don’t think a woman can cut it) and spends the episode distressed over how to do so. He keeps hoping Nuttall will realize the seriousness of her predicament, and he won’t have to mention it.

Except Ralph does mention it to other people, specifically Rachel Shenton, which leads to an argument on their first dress-up date. They go to the very fancy restaurant (where Shenton used to go with her rich ex-fiancé), and the whole thing goes so wrong the episode skips the presumably terrible second half of the date. It’s peculiar since there’s an entire comic subplot about Ralph’s muddy shoes leading up to the dinner, with Shenton’s little sister, Imogen Clawson, and dad, Tony Pitts, getting involved. It’s a particularly nice scene for Clawson and Pitts, who haven’t had a lot of just family time, not in service of a plotline.

Skipping the second half of the date makes sense by the end of the episode, when Hope gins together a happy ending. The episode’s got a first-time scripter, Chloë Mi Lin Ewart, who’s charged with resolving a plot thread the show started in the first episode. Ewart’s also got the task of introducing Diana Rigg’s replacement, Patricia Hodge. Rigg passed away between seasons. The whole episode feels like it’s buried its lede, Hodge. Hodge’s part is far more verbose than Rigg’s; she plays it with an overabundance of personality. Of course, she’s suddenly got to compensate for the character having a comedic lack of decorum. It’s an unfair comparison—there’s only one Diana Rigg—but it’s also not a good recasting, which the show tries disguising with comedy.

Hodge might play better if the other ending weren’t so trite and vice versa. The show can get away with these lackluster moments, but two missteps in a row—at the end of the episode—are unfortunate. It’s the first unsuccessful “All Creatures Great and Small.” It’s also easily the most ambitious episode so far, both pragmatically and intentionally. If the show’s going to be about Ralph’s character development, giving him rushed, thin character development will be a problem.

In addition to the farm veterinary arc, there’s a house one. Anna Madeley is still prodding Samuel West to give little brother Callum Woodhouse more responsibility in the veterinary practice (even though Woodhouse didn’t pass his exam, which means he’s not licensed or whatever). West gets Woodhouse some hens to tend; also, so West can have eggs whenever he wants them. It’s a primarily comedic arc, with the hens going over to the neighbors, with the hens bullying Hodge’s adorable Pekingese, but also with the brother character relationship thing going on. It’s the much better arc this episode. Again, a problem since the A plot isn’t just crucial for the episode or season; it’s a defining development for the series itself.

Madeley doesn’t get a lot to do. I was expecting her almost beau to return from last time; instead, she just gets to feel lonely because she doesn’t have a subplot. Her game night’s canceled because the boys either have dates or professional obligations. Speaking of dates, West has an offscreen date with his new love interest, so she does seem to be sticking around.

Even after the unsteady conclusion, the series has more than enough stockpiled goodwill. It’d just have been nice for a real pay-off for one of the show’s only big swings.

Lost in Space (2018) s03e08 – Trust

Remake show creators Matt Sazama and Burk Sharpless are back with the script credit for the series finale. It’s an entirely acceptable conclusion, with competent but unambitious direction from Jabbar Raisani; most plot threads get resolved. However, the big one—Toby Stephens and Russell Hornsby playing “My Two Dads” with Taylor Russell—gets rushed through while raising the question about Hornsby’s age difference to Molly Parker. If he went into cryosleep twenty years ago and just woke up, he was in his mid-forties when he fathered Russell; Parker was in her twenties. But they already established they were in astronaut school together, so maybe she was just better at it than him?

Doesn’t matter.

There are big resolutions for Mina Sundwall, Maxwell Jenkins, and Parker Posey. Everyone else—including Russell—has smaller, mundane ones. Actually, almost entirely professional ones. Sundwall and Posey get the most character development. Jenkins gets another chance to do his messiah arc, with “Lost in Space” leaning in on as many last-minute deus ex machinas as it can fit in the episode.

It’s too bad there wasn’t more for Russell since it was her show for the first half of the season, and no one replaced her; things just got busy.

The evil robots attack, and thanks to some entirely predictable and very convenient plot developments, there’s both a full robot battle. The action focuses on the kids—Sazama and Sharpless’s recurring theme for these finales is putting as many children in immediate danger as possible—but the special effects work is all solid.

Speaking of the robots, the show cops out once and for all on the “humans enslaved intelligent beings” story thread.

It’s a better episode for Posey and Sundwall than anyone else; Posey because she gets an actual character arc, Sundwall because she gets to run the episode for a good while. They take it away from her to focus on Jenkins, having to get in a last-minute appeal to the tween male demographic.

Parker’s big moment this episode involves a continuity-lite recollection of her marriage to Stephens (forgetting she spent the first season and however much time before very angry with him). Stephens has even less, playing second-fiddle in his scenes with Hornsby.

With a stronger show bible, maybe a shorter second season, and a different male lead—sorry, out of the twenty-eight episodes, there’s probably two Stephens is good in—“Lost in Space” would’ve been more successful. As is, it’s much better than expected. Though Parker and Posey both have their moments, Russell and Ignacio Serricchio are the standout performers. And Sundwall and Jenkins are about as good as can be expected for whiney super-kids who whine they’re not super enough. They’re always sympathetic.

It’s a decent show and a nice sci-fi adventure production, albeit highly derivative.

Lost in Space (2018) s02e08 – Unknown

There are a couple moments in this episode where characters could’ve easily gotten away saying, “That’s white of him” or, down a notch, “That’s not very cricket.” Once when Toby Stephens—who gets top-billing again in the irregularly included opening credits–is having his episode-long chitchat with newly revealed series villain Douglas Hodge. Hodge isn’t just the bad guy this season; he’s been the bad guy since before the show started, just in the background.

Hodge isn’t bad. However, given the meatiness of the part, they could’ve cast better.

At some point, he tells Stephens his evil plan, and it doesn’t really rile Stephens up too much because, you know, we’re all in the same country club or whatever. It comes off less as gentleman adversaries and more desperate stringing out of the story. Especially given Stephens was gung ho to confront female captain Sakina Jaffrey last episode.

The other moment is when Maxwell Jenkins and the robot see some dudes torturing one of the other robots—who the show has already established is dying—and Jenkins can’t figure out why the robot’s not cool with it. Jenkins might’ve gotten taller, and his voice has started changing, but he’s really not doing much character developing. Though given it turns out “Lost in Space” is about humanity being, well, shitty humans….

The main plot is about Molly Parker leading a mutiny against Jaffrey to save the survivors she and Hodge were going to strand on the planet. Jaffrey comes out of the episode looking all right, all things considered, but it’s because the episode skirts over her being okay with Hodge murdering her non-comms to get what he wants.

Also, given the episode’s about Parker in a mutiny suspense drama, Stephens getting that top-billing again makes even less sense.

Parker’s figured out a way to save the stranded survivors, which will require a very extensive effects sequence where she flies the mothership through a gas giant. There are reasons to fly through the gas giant, but they don’t matter as much as the fantastic sci-fi action sequences. The robot’s got a big part in helping with those sequences; Jenkins and Mina Sundwall tag along, mainly for Sundwall to explain to Jenkins and the audience how the robot’s behavior has subtly changed since last season. She thinks it’s going to be important. Jenkins thinks she’s a silly girl who doesn’t understand boys and their robots. Guess who’s right at the cliffhanger?

Ignacio Serricchio gets a good, albeit contrived, plotline with his boss, Tattiawna Jones, as they end up suffering Hodge’s wrath. The episode tries really hard to imply Hodge is conflicted about his villainy, but it never comes off. Not sure if it’s the script—wait, I just realized it’s a Kari Drake episode without a saccharine family speech (she gets co-credit with Katherine Collins; maybe Collins cut it)—Jabbar Raisani’s direction, or Hodge. I’m leaning towards Hodge and the show’s general indifference to making him anything more than a stock villain.

But the episode does look great, and the mutiny plot’s compelling. And the robot’s arc is good. Probably shouldn’t be the best arc, but whatever. It’s something. The only other character development arc is an unnecessary and forced one for Taylor Russell; Hodge gleefully (well, with muted enthusiasm, anyway) dishes on her mom Parker’s dirty deeds.

Oh, and Parker Posey’s got a whole, not very good arc about how sometimes you can’t have a redemption arc.

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018, Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, and Rodney Rothman)

Like most superhero origin stories, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse suffers from some third-act problems. It doesn’t just have a lengthy final fight scene between new Spider-Man (voiced by Shameik Moore) and Kingpin (Liev Schreiber in maybe the film’s only pointless voice casting), it’s got some inherently reduced stakes being an animated movie with a PG rating (i.e., it’s doubtful Moore’s going to die), but also no particular animus between Moore and Schreiber. The film starts with Schreiber disposing of the original Spider-Man (Chris Pine) while Moore watches. Pine isn’t in it long enough to make an impact, but he also isn’t in it so much he’s clearly not making an impact like Schreiber. Pine’s Peter Parker Spider-Man, Moore’s Miles Morales Spider-Man.

But Moore’s just met Pine, and while they do have a quick banter about Pine training Moore, they don’t have a relationship. Not like Moore and pretty much every other character in the movie, including one who’s got a significant relationship with Schreiber and could have a major third act pay-off… but doesn’t because Schreiber’s unaware of it.

Unlike most superhero origin stories, Spider-Verse can pull out of the tailspin for a nice set of epilogues. It’s a montage setting up Moore as the new Spider-Man, which the movie’s been setting up since a few minutes in, so it saves the day.

Kingpin might just be a bad villain, outside Vincent D’Onofrio anyway. He’s also not the point of the story here. Sure, he’s trying to open a portal to other universes to get back his family, unintentionally ripping the fabric of the multiverse and letting various Spider-People in from alternate dimensions, only for Moore’s universe to reject their cells and slowly destroy them. So while Schreiber’s responsible for the stakes, he’s really got nothing to do with them.

Enough complaining, however, because Spider-Verse is otherwise a joyful, heartbreaking trip through the Spider-Man mythos. Yes, there’s Moore’s journey to taking up the mantle, but there’s also a bunch of other Spider-People who all inform the mythos one way or another. Principally, there’s Jake Johnson as a forty-something loser version of Spider-Man; he’s like the Pine variant gone wrong, which made me assume he did the voice for the first Peter Parker Spider-Man too. Pine’s seriously not in it enough for it to matter. Johnson reluctantly becomes Moore’s mentor and has the best character arc of the Spider-People.

Mainly because no one else has any stakes other than surviving the movie. Johnson’s learned to love the web again thanks to his adventures with Moore. Plus, Johnson’s from a universe where he’s lost people, and they’re still around in this one.

Then there’s Hailee Steinfeld’s Spider-Woman (or Spider-Gwen). She’s the “What If the Spider Bit Gwen Stacy and Not Peter Parker” issue. Steinfeld’s delightful, probably the second-best performance in the film—Moore’s far and away the best—she just doesn’t have any conflict. The film presents short origin stories for all the Spider-People, starting with Pine’s Spider-Man, and Steinfeld’s gives her some gravitas just nowhere to use it. She’s trapped in another universe, nothing else.

Ditto Nicolas Cage’s Spider-Man Noir, who’s a gag turned into an exemplary supporting cast member—he gets played for laughs the entire time—Kimiko Glenn’s Peni Parker (she’s from a manga future), and then John Mulaney’s Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham. He’s from a cartoon universe. Except it’s an animated movie where the very fabric of reality is tearing so it’s frequently cartoony even when Mulaney’s not around. Glenn’s sympathetic, Mulaney’s fine, Cage’s fun. But the best of the Spider-Friends outside the central trio (who don’t get to be the central trio for long enough) is Lily Tomlin’s Aunt May. She’s the tech brains behind Spider-Man, and it’s a wonderful turn.

So all those Spider-People need to get home and stop Schreiber from destroying this universe while Moore’s also dealing with family issues. Dad Brian Tyree Henry is pressuring Moore to go to an elite private school, where Moore’s class and race set him apart from the rest of the students. He just wishes he could stay in Brooklyn and hang out with his uncle, played by Mahershala Ali. Mom Luna Lauren Velez is in the movie so little you’d think Christopher Nolan wrote it.

Henry makes it known right off he doesn’t like web-slinging vigilantes, making him the wrong person for Moore to consult about his new spider-powers. Worse, Ali’s got a complicated relationship with Spider-Man, too, cutting Moore off from his family.

The movie tries to play up the family angle at the end, but it doesn’t work. It’s another third act stumble to recover from, and it does.

Great direction and animation—it almost always emphasizes the emotionality of the situations the characters find themselves in, finding the sadness at the core of the Spider-Man character and relating it not just between inter-dimensional Spider-People, but also to the core of regular people. It’s an incredibly thoughtful, deliberate exploration of the character through variants of that character. Like, very cool work from writers Phil Lord and Rodney Rothman. They discover something exceptional in Spider-Verse.

The direction and animation are also crucial. Particularly for the pacing. Spider-Verse gets to speed up and slow down using devices not just from film and animation but also incorporating comic book techniques. The comic book style stuff works out great, which is another reason the busy, neat, action-packed, and dramatic finale still comes up short. It doesn’t fulfill the creative ambitions in the rest of the picture.

Excellent music from Daniel Pemberton and then the soundtrack selections as well. And not just because they use the St. Elmo’s Fire song for some reason; it’s kind of awesome when they do.

Spider-Verse is so one of a kind and wonderful, I’ve forgotten to mention Kathryn Hahn until this point. She’s the scientist who’s trying to unlock the multiverse and turns out to be more tied to the Spider-People than it first appears. She goes from being Schreiber’a seemingly unwitting flunky to being the best villain in the movie. It’s not a particularly high bar, of course, but there’s an excellent surprise runner-up to her before it’s all the way down the hill to Schreiber.

Tombstone shows up for a bit, which is cool, but he’s background more than an actual villain.

Spider-Verse is a fantastic motion picture. Moore, Stenfield, and—to a lesser extent—Johnson create some very special characters. Well, along with the animation team, who do phenomenal work on the performances. The voice acting’s great, but the animators make sure the visuals are equal in caliber. Maybe another reason Schreiber’s Kingpin is so wanting, they don’t give him anywhere near the expressiveness of the rest of the characters.

It’s great. Especially since they’re able to save the end… though the end credits tag is utterly skippable. It’s technically and culturally amusing but too slight after the main action.

Superman & Lois (2021) s01e07 – Man of Steel

“Superman and Lois” has a toxic masculinity problem. Not a huge toxic masculinity problem, but enough of one, it affects creativity. Maybe it’s more a male stoicism problem because then we can wrap Alex Garfin’s super-hearing subplot into it. The primary toxic masculinity and male stoicism issues hamper the Wolé Parks storyline. But there’s enough leftover for Tyler Hoechlin. If only Dylan Walsh were around to at least embrace it. It’s actually a dude-heavy episode; pretty sure it fails Bechdel.

This episode’s big reveal is Parks’s mysterious backstory—complete with poorly acted, on the cheap flashbacks to a Kryptonian invasion of his Earth. There are answers for everything in the flashbacks, though the worst AI computer in the world figures in. Though Daisy Tormé’s voice acting of it is far better than the other voice-only performance this episode, Angus Macfadyen doing a Marlon Brando and telling Hoechlin how Garfin’s just going to have to man up and deal with the super-hearing. It’s the opening tag, with a quick trip to the literal hole in the wall Fortress of Solitude (remember how bitchin’ it was on “Supergirl”; anyway).

Hoechlin’s terrible in the scene too, but he makes up for it later. Currently, he’s the only grown man recognizing his errors and trying to correct them. There’s eventually some positive effort from Garfin and Jordan Elsass on that front as well. Garfin’s convinced Elsass is moving in on Inde Navarrette since Garfin’s out sick. The show doesn’t reveal whether or not his concern’s justified, concentrating on the invasion of privacy angle and Navarrette and Garfin being “just friends.” Meaning she’s open to becoming property or scenery to Elsass. It’s such a lousy subplot, not even Elsass can save it; it’s not entirely his fault, of course—David Ramsey’s direction is wanting, and the script, credited to Jai Jamison, is weak sauce.

But then we’ll discover Parks’s whole arc is a manly, righteous vengeance arc. He’s not just trying to save the world; he’s literally Charles Bronson from the Death Wish where the wife finally dies trying to save the world. It really would’ve helped if the flashbacks to Parks’s Earth were better. Or if Elizabeth Tulloch and Parks had any chemistry. She’s his alternate Earth wife or was before Superman cuts her in half with heat vision. “Superman and Lois” doesn’t do the Injustice or even Zack Snyder bit with Superman going bad because something happens to Lois; maybe he’s just bad because he didn’t get the girl. Big sigh.

There’s a decent fight scene with an effective conclusion and the possibility Hoechlin’s Superman shrivels under Kryptonite, which is kind of cool. Unfortunately, it’s more likely the still troubled muscle suit just doesn’t bend well. One can hope, however.

Emmanuelle Chriqui has an all-right subplot discovering Adam Rayner is a manipulative shit. Navarrette’s never not reduced to “the girl.”

There are some other universe details, like Tulloch and Hoechlin being aware of the multiverse—presumably post-Crisis—and lots of Lex Luthor talk. It’s all a distraction, though, meant to gin up interest in Parks when it ought to be Parks who makes the character interesting. But not with the script or, at least so far, the performance.

It’s also a bummer since last episode was so strong, and this one’s not at all.

Louis Theroux: Shooting Joe Exotic (2021, Jack Rampling)

If its aloof and earnest host is to be believed, Louis Theroux: Shooting Joe Exotic was totally going to be about said host, Louis Theroux, journeying to Texas during the COVID-19 pandemic to do a new documentary about Joe Exotic. Exotic appeared on one of Theroux’s documentary specials ten years ago and, since being convicted of multiple crimes and then becoming a folk hero for people who don’t think Covid is real, actually, thanks to the Netflix series “Tiger King,” wrote to have Theroux come and tell his side of the story.

Only Exotic—and many other people—all signed contracts with the hacks behind “Tiger King” and can’t talk to anyone but them for season two or whatever. Theroux gets to the United States and basically can’t interview anyone he thought he’d be able to interview. So instead, he talks to Carole Baskin (who “Tiger King” directors Eric Goode and Rebecca Chaiklin implied murdered someone to make for compelling Netflix), some relatives of Exotic’s who aren’t getting Netflix money, and the lawyers trying to get Exotic pardoned. And lots of Theroux watching old footage of him and Exotic and musing on what he was or wasn’t thinking. And lots of Theroux reading correspondence aloud.

It’s never as interesting as it should be, partially because Theroux doesn’t really want to interrogate his past behavior, like when he eggs Exotic on about Baskin in the footage from ten years ago. Exotic’s in prison for trying to hire someone to kill Baskin (in addition to killing a bunch of animals at his zoo). Theroux just didn’t take Exotic’s rants about hiring someone to kill Baskin seriously. Seems like Theroux should do a Google search on his former interviewees to see what else he’s missed, especially given his track record with other past subjects.

There’s not much structure to Shooting. We find out whether or not Exotic gets pardoned, but not really any fallout from it because who’s Theroux going to talk to about it. Anyone not glad he’s still in prison—other than the lawyers who make you wonder why there are even bar associations—is under contract with Netflix. Shooting doesn’t use much footage from “Tiger King,” but there are enough reminders of some of that series’s worst people, and there’s a bit of catch-up with what’s going on with them. It just reminds it was actually all about terrible people doing terrible things, and thanks to the old footage, it turns out Theroux was encouraging of it for television’s sake.

Theroux doesn’t comment on the “Tiger King” phenomenon other than to mention the series dropping at the right time of lockdown. He presents reaction to the show as universal, not addressing viewers who realized the manipulative hackwork Goode and Chaiklin were doing; everyone fell in love with Joe Exotic. Only they actually didn’t, which doesn’t help Theroux’s “who could’ve known” take on all of it.

Theroux’s a fine host and ages really well—it’s hard to tell the historical footage from the modern—but Shooting didn’t need to be ninety minutes. It didn’t need to be, but it certainly didn’t need to be so long for so little. It’s rubbernecking a rubbernecking of a rubbernecking.

But Team Carole, obviously.

Legends of Tomorrow (2016) s06e08 – Stressed Western

So it doesn’t look like Fist City, the Old West town where the Legends end up this episode, was a real place. Director and star cameo David Ramsey (from “Arrow”) does play a real guy, however; first Black deputy U.S. marshal Bass Reeves. The real guy’s mustache looks better than Ramsey’s fake one. But only barely.

Ramsey’s just around for the episode, literally in the background most of the time; his lawman has become an outlaw and the town’s now run by outlaw turned lawman Nic Bishop. And Fist City has become the nicest, politest town in the West. Could the pleasantness have anything to do with the time traveling alien the Legends are hunting, especially since Nick Zano—who actually gets not just his share of the episode, but to address having not gotten his share of episodes all season—says the town should be the roughest, most dangerous town in the West?

There’s a really good reveal on the niceness thing, which leads to the cast having to be nice to one another as well, even as resentments grow. Jes Macallan isn’t totally cool with Caity Lotz coming back from space as seemingly immortal alien hybrid clone, Olivia Swann finds Lisseth Chavez annoying and doesn’t appreciate being paired with her for bonding purposes, Matt Ryan’s mad at Adam Tsekhman for not telling him more details about a magic energy-giving waterfall, and Shayan Sobhian really doesn’t want sister Tala Ashe bugging him about his sex life. Or telling him about hers.

Dominic Purcell is in the episode less than Ramsey’s cameo. Otherwise the entire cast is very, very busy.

While last episode felt like a season finale—so much so my good lady wife was surprised we had another “Legends” so quick—this one feels like a season premiere. Ish. There’s a lot of resolution and another character heading off on their own quest, so there’s setup too. Lotz and Macallan are able to find the—no pun—humanity in their newly complicated relationship (did they always call each other “babe” three times a sentence, I feel like I’d remember it) and it ends up being a rather affecting arc.

Plus the Zano stuff. He gets to loudly monologue for a few minutes and it seems like he’s got some plot developments coming. Though it also seemed like they were divvying out plot lines to maximize cast screen time before and then they just rushed to getting Lotz, Tsekham, and Purcell home as soon as possible.

Swann and Chavez’s reluctant bonding storyline also goes really well. And Ashe and Sobhian are great bickering at one another.

“Legends” seems somewhat shaky because there’s no obvious overarching narrative but it’s also incredibly solid on the acting, directing (Ramsey does a fine job), and writing fronts. The episode’s exceedingly well-plotted and very successful; it even sets goals for itself and then achieves them.

Under the Rainbow (1981, Steve Rash)

There are a number of scenes in Under the Rainbow you probably wouldn’t have imagined had been put on film. Starting with Billy Barty playing a Nazi spy who accidentally hits Hitler in the balls because he’s a little person. When that scene began, I was thinking about how you don’t see a lot of Hitler sight gags anymore. When it ended with Barty hitting Hitler in the balls… I realized there has to be a good reason this movie is so forgotten bad as opposed to infamous bad.

I guess at the time it was the constant sight gags and jokes with drunk, carousing little people who are starring in The Wizard of Oz. But forty years on, I feel like the Japanese racism dates it the most. Rainbow, set in 1938, goes for very Old Hollywood racism. For a while it seems like they’re going to not be overtly racist about the one Black guy (elevator operator Freeman King), and they do avoid it instead doing a literal cartoon sequence with him, but they do a big racist bit with the Black cleaning lady. Even with the Japanese stuff, Rainbow at least humanizes those characters. They treat the Black woman like it’s a racist forties cartoon.

But, and it’s hard not think it’s intentional, when they crash the MGM lot during Gone With the Wind filming, turns out that movie is a lot more racist when you’re watching it be filmed.

Because there is some sincerity to Under the Rainbow, a slapstick comedy about a Japanese spy (Mako) not being able to find his Nazi pal (Barty) because the hotel is full of little people starring in Oz. Barty can’t find Mako because there’s a Japanese tour group in town and all the Japanese guys are dressed the same. You keep waiting for the movie to make an overt “can’t tell them apart” joke, but they seem to think it’s too broad a joke. The constant little person grabbing a boob gag… perfectly okay.

Every once in a while, there’s a not terrible moment or an actual good laugh—but for the most part, aghast is the only appropriate reaction.

Some of the acting is fine, if not better. Eve Arden’s closest to best. She’s a Duchess who’s in L.A. just because; Joseph Maher is her husband, the Duke, who’s convinced an assassin is after him. Chevy Chase is their Secret Service protection. He doesn’t believe there’s an assassin. Robert Donner’s the assassin.

Maher’s not bad. Donner’s bad.

Carrie Fisher is the special casting director for Oz, in charge of the Munchkin cast. She has no chemistry with Chase, but a little with Japanese tourist Bennett Ohta, who gives one of the best performances. Fisher and Chase are professional? I think professional’s a good adjective. And Rainbow traipses Fisher are in her underwear for five or six minutes for no reason other than they want Princess Leia scantily clad. There’s eventually a women’s dressing room scene too, which starts generally offensive and ends very specifically offensive.

Mako’s occasionally okay. At least he doesn’t like Nazis.

Barty’s… I mean, if Rainbow worked, Barty’s performance would be one of cinema’s great performances. However, Rainbow does not work and Barty’s bewildering. It’s impossible to imagine Under the Rainbow any different—certainly not any better, though definitely even more offensive.

Cork Hubbert’s the actual protagonist, but the movie dumps him for the various antics. He’s not bad. He’s not good. But he’s not bad. And he gets the Ben-Hur chariot homage, which is a handful of neat frames amid the chaos.

Adam Arkin’s the hotel manager. He could be worse.

Technically, Rainbow’s mostly fine. It’s not cinematographer Frank Stanley’s fault or David E. Blewitt’s editing. Nothing they—or even director Rash can do—is going to make a difference with the plot. Rash’s got no sense of comic timing, though Joe Renzetti’s disastrous cartoon score accompanying doesn’t help. Great production design from Peter Wooley.

Shame it’s wasted on this exceptionally weird and bad motion picture.