Becoming

​​​​​★★★★★☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ 5/10

Watched: 5/9/20

Netflix has a growing list of documentaries that focus on the most notable celebrities still alive today. But these projects, while really smart acquisitions for the streaming platform, have several traps into which they can fall: being incredibly vague, lacking direction, trying to say too much, hardly revealing anything new, and, worst of all, simply being a self-serving puff piece for the celebrity. As wonderful as the subject may be, "Becoming" proves that a doc about even your favorite public figure is not immune to these ills. This documentary falls into these traps more often and more painfully than others of its ilk.

For comparison’s sake we should look at two other Netflix documentaries, both of which do a better job than "Becoming." The first is "Miss Americana," the doc from earlier this year about Taylor Swift (see review). The film chronicles Swift’s tumultuous public image crisis from the release of her “Reputation” album to the release of her 2019 one. We see her weep through finding out the earlier album received zero Grammy nominations, we see her rise to the top as the voice of young country to arguably the musical voice of the millennial generation, plus her years-long feud with Kanye West. Then we also see her writing process for the new album, get snippets of her budding romance with her beau Joe Alwyn. We also get her seemingly newfound political passion as she confronts her team about putting herself on the line to speak out on issues that she cares about. What is "Miss Americana" about in a nutshell? It’s hard to say exactly because it’s sort of about too much. At the same time it feels like we’ve barely pulled back the curtain. There’s an attempt at authenticity, but, and perhaps it’s a function of her tarnished reputation, it feels as if the narrative, vague and bloated as it may be, is being fully controlled. Still there are occasional moments if revelation, Swift is an endearing presence, and the trip down memory lane is exciting even for those of us who only know her biggest hits.

"Becoming," like "Miss Americana," has a singular focus on a defining public figure. It is a documentary about Michelle Obama, which is just about all you can say if trying to describe this film in one sentence. "Miss Americana" may jump around from idea to idea, but it is significantly outpaced by "Becoming," which is not a positive achievement. It starts as if it’ll be all about the former first lady’s book tour for her memoir of the same name. And while that does anchor the film, the doc is really a rehashing of the much better book with about a quarter of the detail. What this film fails to understand is that a 400 page book is not the same platform as a film, and cannot be treated the same way. But also the book had a clear and simple organizing principle, which the documentary shirks — chronology. In "Becoming" we get whiplash from jumping from one book tour stop to another. We learn about Obama’s life on the South side of Chicago, her mom, her dad, her brother, getting into Princeton, meeting Barack, adjusting to the campaign, the nastiness of the campaign, winning the election, moving into the White House, leaving the White House, and figuring out the next chapter of her life. Now if the film were in that order, maybe it would have made more sense, but not only was it not, but it also threw in quite random stories about high school kids hoping to achieve greatness and painfully choreographed conversations with perfectly selected groups of diverse young people.

On top of the lack of direction and focus that left the film with hardly anything to say, the film comes off as a project to merely serve to boost Obama’s image. If "Miss Americana" had us questioning Swift’s authenticity, "Becoming," even as a fan of Obama, makes you question all the other moments when she felt truly herself. Perhaps it’s partially because I’m watching "Veep" at the same time, a cynical comedy about the horrible things politicians are probably really saying and thinking, but I just don’t buy Obama’s earnestness. Yes, I believe she’s good, and caring, and knows how to get things done, but this documentary would give you the impression that she’s indefatigable. There’s a moment when Obama describes her philosophy when going into a book signing — how she always makes eye contact and listens to  every single word because it’s so important. These soundbites play as Obama greets weeping fans who can’t believe their eyes. It’s truly a self-aggrandizing moment. I compared this to a scene in season 3 of "Veep" when Vice President Selina Meyer (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) is at a book signing and cracks a joke about every loser in line there to see her. Clearly there’s a difference between the rude, obnoxious, and fictitious Selina Meyer, but it would have been more refreshing if Obama had said that sometimes she gets tired during the book tour meeting all these people, or maybe if she wondered if all these weeping fans should be weeping for her.

So the documentary is vague, lacks focus, self serving, but most of all reveals nothing new. If you’ve read the accompanying book, there are no new revelations at all (aside from those confounding high schooler's stories). But even if you haven’t read the book, it’s all stuff you’ve probably heard before.

The final doc for comparison is the best of the bunch, and shockingly the one with the least amount of new footage. "Homecoming" (see review) is yet another Netflix documentary release — this one centered on Beyonce. But it’s not about Beyonce’s entire life, or a hundred different events and moments. It’s all about her 2018 headlining show at Coachella. The show was a true spectacle of immense talent. But it was also a powerful statement about the joy of black American life. Most of the documentary is the two-hour show itself, leaving about 15 interspersed minutes to go behind the scenes to see how the show came to life. In these few minutes the filmmakers are clear on their focus. It’s about one thing and one thing only — what inspired Beyonce to create this ode to blackness. Beyonce has never felt more like a real person as she reveals how hard she worked to get back into shape after having twins. And we really get an intimate peak into her thoughts on black life, which, up until the release of  her video for her song "Formation" a few years earlier, was a side we had really never seen from the superstar. "Homecoming" has everything "Becoming" lacks, and achieves it in about 20 percent of the time.

The Last Thing He Wanted

​​​​​★★★★☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ 4/10

Watched: 3/1/20

Someone produced the heck out of this movie because it’s a seemingly great idea on paper. Take source material from Joan Didion, attach Anne Hathaway and Willem Dafoe, two outstanding actors, grab Ben Affleck to reel in a certain crowd, get an excellent director in Dee Rees (“Mudbound,” “Pariah”) and make an adult thriller involving both journalism (read: serious) and espionage (read: exciting). Because of the component parts, someone thought this just might have the chance to be a sleeper hit, something like “Gone Girl,” an example of successful “adult” entertainment in a time when that kind of thing feels less and less common. But there’s a reason this movie ended up with a hushed release on Netflix in February after its Sundance debut.

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For the record, and as an aside, I don’t really believe in the concept of adult entertainment. The honest-to-goodness truth is that Pixar movies are just as much for adults as they are for children, and superhero franchises are aimed at people who were reading those comics in the ‘70s, and watching the corresponding cartoon series in the ‘80s and ‘90s. And all of those people are, you guessed it, adults.

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Despite all the right overarching production decisions, this film fails spectacularly when it came time to actually make the thing. It’s baffling really. Everything about this movie from the outside presents itself as something I would love. But a shiny exterior isn’t enough. At the end of the day “The Last Thing He Wanted” is unfollowable and downright confusing. I thought maybe I just wasn’t paying close enough attention, but after rewinding and rewatching several sections, which still weren’t any clearer on second viewing, I can safely say that the audience is not the problem.

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The film follows Elena McMahon (Hathaway), a journalist uncovering US intelligent agency interference in South American countries dealing with infighting during the Reagan administration. She has a dad (Dafoe), who’s involved in some dangerous activities in the same countries she’s been reporting on. She decides to help fulfill her sick father’s last order of illegal business, which is so confusing. Why she would do this, when she seems not to like or respect her father, and when she’s a journalist, makes no sense. When she’s down there she gets stuck and entangled, unable to return home, and at the same time uncovers truths about the story she had been reporting on. She becomes a target for assassination but I’m still not sure if that’s because of the journalism or the arms dealing she’s doing at her father’s behest. And then out of nowhere, a US official (Ben Affleck), who Elena has seen around in the course of reporting back in the states, emerges in South America. They have a conversation filled with derisive retorts, and then they (SPOILER ALERT)... sleep together. I’ll cap the spoilers there, but the law of cause and effect feels like and elusive concept in this world, or maybe that’s just how things were in the ‘80s. 

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Admittedly I am unfamiliar with the writings of Joan Didion. In my effort to understand what this movie was about, I read this article [https://amp.theatlantic.com/amp/article/607078/] in the Atlantic that argues that the brilliance of Didion’s fiction is nearly impossible to capture in film and television. The underlying plot seems confusing to me, but there’s a reason we know Joan Didion’s name and talent, so I’ll take the Atlantic’s word for it.

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That leaves another talent to blame. Dee Rees is a phenomenal director. I’ve seen one of her past features and she poured her heart into that film. Her film “Mudbound,” also a Netflix release, is astoundingly beautiful, despite it’s grittiness, and is a patient meditation on hope and sadness. So this movie comes as a shock. The lack of clarity has to be attributed co-writer Marco Villalobos and Rees, though it pains me to say it in Rees’s case. There is no guidance, no command of story, and little coherence.

To All the Boys: P.S. I Still Love You/The Photograph

"To All the Boys" ​★★★★★★☆☆ ☆☆ 6/10 (Watched: 2/15/20)

"The Photograph" ​★★★★★★☆☆ ☆☆ 6/10 (Watched: 2/16/20)

I’ve decided to try something different here — a joint review featuring two recent films I watched a day apart. The first is the Netflix sequel, “To All the Boys: P.S. I Still Love You.” The second, the theatrical release, “The Photograph.”

One is a teen rom com, while the other is an adult romantic dramedy. The two films don’t really feel the same at all, and one could argue that they shouldn’t, and can’t, be compared, but it’s less about how they stack up against each other, and more about where both films failed and succeeded in similar ways. There are some similarities that present themselves on the surface. They’re both romance films and they both are clearly coming from a minority perspective — an African-American perspective in “The Photograph” and a Korean-American perspective in “To All the Boys.” But what really links the two films is how similarly I felt about them when they were over. Both movies are just okay, each one I rated at 6/10, and for both the stakes were incredibly low.

But let’s start with what they both achieved, or at least attempted to do well. Both movies had something interesting to say about relationships. In the first “To All the Boys” film Lara Jean (Lana Condor) worked with Peter Kavinsky (Netflix favorite Noah Centineo) to throw off her past crushes and make Peter’s ex-girlfriend jealous, only for these two to eventually fall in love by film’s end. So we begin this second film at the beginning of their new official relationship. With this the movie attempts to explore the insecurities that can plague the early days of a conscious coupling after the initial flirtation stage. Lara Jean can’t stop thinking about how she compares to Peter’s ex (who is also her former best friend. It’s pretty messy if you think about it). On the other hand, Peter is caught off guard by the return of his old friend John Ambrose (Jordan Fisher), who happens to be the last of Lara Jean’s former crushes (It really is messy). What’s more interesting, but you have to dig a little deeper to infer this bit, is that it’s also about the difference between being in a relationship versus falling into one. We see the stark difference between how Lara Jean and Peter interact as an established couple and how she and John Ambrose flirt with one another. It’s no wonder a contingent of viewers were easily swayed to John’s side. That initial flirtatious stage had a romantic glow about it that Lara Jean clearly enjoyed. I too was rooting for John, but I tend to root for everybody black as Issa Rae once said on the red carpet of an awards show.

Speaking of Issa Rae, “The Photograph” (how’s that for a transition?) also has a lot to say about love. Quite simply it confronts the question of if love is worth the risk it takes to fall in and commit to it? The film goes back and forth in time by way of a letter that Mae's recently deceased mother left her. The letter describes a love affair in Louisiana that the mother let slip from her hands. So as we see Mae (Issa Rae) fall for Michael (Lakeith Stanfield), we also witness Mae’s mother in the ‘80s giving up the love of her life to move to New York to become a photographer. This positioning of the two parallel stories makes it clear in a not-so-subtle way that the daughter is set up to repeat the mistakes of the mother.

Both films struggle to make a lasting impact. With “To All the Boys,” conflict is introduced as John Ambrose waltzes into Lara Jean’s life again, but we never for one second get the sense that Lara Jean and Peter have that much chemistry, so his return doesn’t feel as threatening as it should. They certainly had more chemistry in the previous film, but here there’s hardly a spark, which means the audience doesn’t feel what the two characters are meant to be feeling towards each other. So even if Lara Jean’s head is turned by John Ambrose, who really cares? In “The Photograph” the chemistry is more present, but like how we don’t get the sense Lara Jean and Peter will last, it doesn’t feel as if Mae and Michael really need each other to move forward with their lives. And similarly, other than the forlorn looks that her mom and her lover give each other, nothing really shows us, in any visceral way, that great deal was lost when the love affair set in the '80s ended. Compare that to a film like “Brooklyn,” where the love in that movie is brilliantly juxtaposed against Eilish’s aching loneliness after moving to America from Ireland that her love for Tony feels like the kind of thing that would leave him hopeless without it, and vice versa. Both “The Photograph” and “To All the Boys” fail to do enough to make us care about the relationships that need to anchor the films.

At the end of the day, though, “The Photograph” is the superior film of the two. While they’re difficult to compare, “The Photograph”’s best element is something “To All the Boys” had the potential to include. Thanks to writer/director Stella Meghie, “The Photograph” is very much a film steeped in the artistry of the black American experience. Every element of the film is black in a way that shirks infantile stereotypes. The score is full of a bouncing jazz that propels each scene, not unlike the feel of Spike Lee’s “She’s Gotta Have It.” And the character’s lives are completely infiltrated by black American culture, not in a way that’s primary, but still in a way that’s significant. Their jobs, their conversations, their friendships, and family dynamics revolve around their black identity in a very real way, and it's refreshingly not because of an inciting racial incident. “The Photograph” reflects back to black people, and presents to others, real life as a black American.

“To All the Boys” had this exact opportunity but only dabbled in it. For a more successful version see last year’s “Always Be My Maybe,” which achieves what “The Photograph” does, and is ultimately a better film than both of the ones I’m discussing in this review. The cultural additions in “To All the Boys” feel a bit like an afterthought. Sure we see Lara Jean and her sister dressed in Hanboks and we get a snippet of “Kill This Love” by K-Pop girl group Blackpink, but take out these bits and pieces and this movie could have been about white people, black people, any people. On the other hand, while “The Photograph” could have been about white people, the film would have had to have looked and felt remarkably different. That cultural infusion really helped elevate “The Photograph” to something a bit more memorable despite what it’s lacking.

Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey

​​​​​​★★★★★ ☆☆☆☆☆ 5/10

Watched: 2/12/19

After the abysmal DC offering that was “Suicide Squad,” a movie that I can honestly call one of the worst I’ve ever seen, it became clear that Warner Bros. had no idea what to do with some of the most beloved characters in comic book history. Both Batman and Oscar-favorite Joker were present in that film, and neither of them made a lasting impression. This I will allow since those two had smaller roles in a film that gave a group of fringe DC characters a moment in the spotlight. Still none of those other fringe characters’ personalities popped either. The one personality that did was Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn, a crackpot clown with a cartoonish flair and some decent fighting skills. In a sea of forgettable characters, she would stick with us. Fast forward four years and Harley Quinn gets her very own movie, yet, though this movie is a big improvement over the earlier one, the personality problem that plagued “Suicide Squad” still hasn’t been solved.

We’re introduced to six new characters in this movie. First, the baddies. We have Roman Sionis (Ewan McGreggor), who alternatively goes by the name Black Mask, a Gotham gangster orchestrating a play to control the entire city. We see he’s a hothead when we get a glimpse of him ordering the peeling off of his foes’ faces. He’s overtly emotional, and ruthless, but these traits are only expressed externally. We don’t see any glimpse of how these feelings inform his motivations or relationships, so Black Mask ends up feeling like just another villain in a line of many we’ve seen before. Black Mask is followed around by his loyal sadist, Victor Zsasz (Chris Messina), who’s simply a madman torturing people. He talks like a child and is keen on intimidation, but that’s about all we get from him. We can forgive a less developed Zsasz, but not a weak primary bad guy. As we’ve seen from great comic-book films like “Avengers: Infinity War“ and especially “Black Panther,” the validity of the villain can be make or break. When the bad guys don’t have a personality they can’t make an impact, and you’ve lost any sense of stakes.

As important as the personalities of the villains are, our heroes needed to pop more. Let’s start with the best of them, Detective Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez). She’s a messy person, rough and tumble, and puts on a face as if she’s unaffected until she can wear it no longer, and her passion for police work is unleashed. Perez seems like, of all of the actors, she’s done the most internal work, or maybe she just had more to work with. But still the personality isn’t as strong as it could be. When we’re introduced to her we’re given a glimpse of her brilliance, a character trait we don’t get much follow up on.

The way Cassandra Cain (Ella Joy Basco) is played, one could guess that the only note given on the character’s personality was “edgy kid.” She’s a shadow of a caricature, a character type we’ve seen in so many films before, like “Role Models,” and with significantly less bite.

Then there’s Dinah Lance (it’s so good to see Jurnee Smollett-Bell in a major film again), who goes by the alter ego Black Canary. Throughout most of the movie she’s a mysterious, introspective observer. Then near the end she turns into a wise-cracking jokester, only to, by her last scene, take on the personality of a biker gang member. Maybe now that she’s from under the thumb of Sionis she lets her freak flag fly, but nothing in the script earns her these sudden personality shifts. 

Finally we get The Huntress (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), perhaps the most perplexing character in that there’s not much of a personality there at all. This is somewhat intentional because for the majority of the movie she’s meant to be unknown. No one can figure out who she is or what she’s after. Once that is revealed, she gets lost in the shuffle, cracking the occasional joke and chiming in with a cynical comment here and there, but she’s not much different than Black Canary. 

Those are all the newbies, so what about Harley Quinn? In “Suicide Squad” she pops because she’s bold and colorful. But by the end of that film I distinctly remember thinking her act was starting to get old. So while her personality is still the strongest of the “Birds of Prey” bunch, with her at the helm Harley Quinn becomes unbearably grating a lot sooner than she did in “Suicide Squad.” The “clever” voice over is exhausting by the time we’re 30 minutes in, her antics become less and less cute, and that accent feels more ridiculous with each line.

So the set of characters we’re stuck with for nearly two hours are weak, but so are their story arcs. Writer Christina Hodson and director Cathy Yan miss the mark on finding a way to balance this ensemble cast. If we look at the best ensemble comic book films a pattern emerges. While each character may have their individual and internal life, we mostly get to know them through the consistent interaction with the other main players. In the early “X-Men” movies we learn the most about Wolverine’s personality because Cyclops acts as his foil. In “Avengers: Infinity War” half of the Guardians of the Galaxy team plays off the makeshift team of Dr. Strange, Iron Man, and Spider-Man. It’s in these interactions that we get a clearer picture of individual character personality at the same time that the plot thickens. 

Compare that to the heroes in “Birds of Prey.” Most of what they do happens in a silo. Their paths occasionally cross, but not often enough to really develop together. Cassandra and Harley have a bit more connected time for exploration, but it doesn’t yield much. Without this togetherness, no one person on the team can play off another, no one can serve as another character’s foil, in fact there are no character dynamics at all. Instead of them developing together as the story is told, we’re left with is underdeveloped characters in separate lanes. And by the time they do unite, it’s too little too late.

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What this separateness does is create a daunting challenge for the filmmakers. How do they tell all these different stories while making Harley Quinn still feel like the central character. The solution is a story that jumps around, leading to a film that is horrendously paced. There's an attempt to make the flashbacks revelatory or surprising, but it's very obvious that the decisions they made with time were an attempt to keep Harley at the forefront. And that's the thing — nothing in the movie is surprising. It's not particularly predictable, but nothing catches us of guard either because we've seen it all before. Just like the characters, the film itself feels derivative.

Miss Americana

​​​​​★★★★★★★☆ ☆☆ 7/10

Watched: 2/1/20

During "Miss Americana" there’s a brief moment when Taylor Swift talks about her fight with body dysmorphia. There’s another section when we see her struggle with her team to let her be more of a political voice. Taylor lightly touches her mom’s cancer diagnosis and how that affected her. We see her writing process. We learn bits and pieces about her relationship with actor Joe Alwyn. "Miss Americana" shows us a lot of Taylor Swift, which may initially seem exciting, until you realize you’re left feeling empty after spending an hour and half with arguably the biggest pop star in the world in what was meant to be an intimate inside look. Surely we’re not owed a peak at all, but if someone is going to make a documentary, it should reveal more than this one does.

The problem with "Miss Americana" is that it’s too little of too much. It’s a problem I’m very familiar with in my job of creating (much shorter) non-fiction video stories. There’s always a temptation to throw in a little of everything you’ve captured on camera, every bit of tangential research you've gathered, every little soundbite that sounds even a little profound. But it’s in the cuts that art is created — stories are told — like a sculptor chipping away at a block of clay.

It’s a question of framing. (This is at the forefront of my mind as my colleague and I prepare a presentation about how to frame stories). When you look at "Miss Americana" it can be hard to know exactly what the filmmakers mean for you to come away with by the end. It’s missing that singular narrative that drives the story forward under which everything needs to fall, and toward which everything in the documentary must point. Instead what we get is a lot of tidbits in what we call at work “fact salad.” There’s a lot of ingredients all running and tossed together without a clear story.

There was an attempt to give it that. The overarching idea that I’m left with is that Taylor Swift was groomed and socialized to see other people’s appraisal of her goodness as the ultimate success. She’s good if people like her songs, albums, personality, humility, style, grace, and the list goes on. But goodness is something that lies outside the realm of personal belief, and certainly outside the view of others. It’s a higher quality, like truth, that is not determined by circumstances or perception. Taylor begins to learn this lesson when the world turns against her, as the whole Kim/Kanye/Taylor feud escalated. To be clear, the documentary did not craft nearly as clear of a narrative as I just did in the last few sentences, but this is what I gleaned as the purpose of the doc from what was there.

The problem is that there’s just so much there, so much that doesn’t build up any type of cohesive narrative. We get to see a lot of Taylor, an artist who seemingly controls her narrative so obsessively, but ironically we might be seeing too much. Is it a story about her whole career? Is it about the road to her latest album? Is it meant to really be about the her dichotomous relationship with Kanye West? The documentary is all these things, but none of these things are explored with enough depth. It’s certainly wonderful to get snippets of a bunch of the parts of Taylor’s life that make it hers, but when so little is actually revealed by the end, you can’t help but get the impression that the narrative, whether it’s her active choice or a subconscious one, is being tightly controlled.