Hustlers

Hustlers is about strippers, but not stripping. About beautiful women: beautiful because of their human trials, not their genes. It is funny, serious, and tender all at once.

And it begins with energy. In the first, unbroken scene, Destiny walks out onto the floor of the strip club. With every step the anticipation builds. Music pulses; bodies twist; glitter shimmers. Could this be the way to support grandma?! Then quick edits show us what a shift truly looks like. Glamorous maybe, but work, definitely. And Destiny is not as popular as the other girls.

Then the answer walks into our lives. Gorgeous and experienced, intelligent and independent, she is what Destiny wants to be. So Destiny reaches out for tips (so to speak). 

As Ramona teaches the newbie about how to carry oneself—and gauge the clientele—the two become fast friends. They see themselves in each other, each wanting to be a provider. Destiny especially finds in Ramona the mother she has always wanted. Friendship and commerce? Talk about beauty! 

Then the money dries up. It is 2008, and Wall Street’s excesses have destroyed these Main Street jobs. The movie was delightfully engaging until this point, but now is when the show really gets good. 

When the only way our leads are able to make money is taken away from them, they brainstorm a bailout of their own: Hustle the grand hustlers. The plan is bold and intriguing; creative and creepy. But is it tenable?

Destiny’s part is performed with both range and depth. Big time acting. Her growing closeness with Ramona and their co-workers is touching, even as their plan spirals out of control. Subtle social commentary adds oomph to the show, as do other fantastic moviemaking decisions (like precise use of music and sound effects to emphasize a feeling).

Not only is Hustlers surprising, it is surprisingly good.

Ema

Ema adopted Polo. And when she didn’t like the fit, she gave him right back.

So begins one of the stranger stories I’ve encountered in some time.

Gastón fights with Ema about it. Though hubby directs her dance troupe, he takes no responsibility for what just happened. The snipes are as weak as they are disingenuous—hinting at what sorts of people would abandon a young soul, and why.

Our lead herself may have been adopted, maintaining to this day a disturbingly intimate relationship with her family. She considers freedom to be life’s ideal; dance and sex, interchangeable expressions of it. Gastón is also out-there, but interested in countering what he perceives to be pop culture’s dumbing down of society. The average person in Valparaíso, Chile—let alone Polo’s social worker—has trouble dealing with such idealists. She is dismissed as seedy and naive; he, spacey and gay.

So what’s this couple, a veritable middle finger to their community, to do next? Sleep around; create, for sure. But the crux of this movie is Ema’s devious, intricate plan to get Polo back. The story, if nothing else, is original.

It’s also worth a watch if you care about thoughtful and beautiful construction of movie scenes. As Ema ensnares more and more people in her plan, the screen pulsates with life. Every image (like a golden sunset, or a pupil shining bright against the grey odds of big city life) is vivid and meaningful. And then there’s the music. Strings discover an unexplainable emotion just before sliding into another one; reggaetón bass thumps our already overbeating hearts.

But pretty in pieces is not enough. The dialogue is too often unnaturally expository, taking us right out of the story. A strange choice for a movie that otherwise moves at a snail’s pace, introducing heavy ideas slowly and deliberately. And though having us think through things like sex, alienation, dependency, and incest is laudable, the story leaves so much open to interpretation that I fail to find a moral in it.

Perhaps that was intentional. Ema is undoubtedly a movie to confuse over and marvel at. But enjoy it or learn from it, I did not.

Max Richter's Sleep

Please take a moment. Try and remember how it was to be rocked to sleep. How it felt when your parent sang you a lullaby, or read you a story as you dozed off.

Did you feel safe? Comfortable? Or were you not really there, moving between worlds? Max Richter’s Sleep explores all of this and more.

And that’s impressive considering Sleep is just a song. Well, a song eight hours long, whose overnight performances transform event spaces into giant public bedrooms . . . But perhaps even more affecting is that the thinkers behind this experience—and the many attendees—were willing to do this kind of thing. A stubbornly long lullaby shared with strangers while you are at your most vulnerable? It flies in the face of an always-on, self-protective culture.

And yet it’s not a new idea, Max explains. Long songs and performances have been found throughout cultures and history. The difference here, though, is the focus: This meticulously planned event means to speak to your mind precisely as it moves in and out of consciousness. It sounds trippy, but it’s a largely comforting experience, and one that calls back to the simple (and powerful) act of letting go which humankind seems to forget as it ages.

Watching the performance and hearing the music is therefore refreshingly calming. So too is its origin story beautiful.

Interviews tell us that Max and his wife Yulia often went to bed with empty stomachs; the starving artists always fed their children first. But their desire to create and connect with a broad audience kept them firmly at the low-paying fringes of society. Even if Max performed somewhere afar, Yulia would tune in at the end of a long day—and inevitably fall asleep. A thoughtful and perceptive person herself, she found that listening while dozing was an experience unlike any other. And when Max responded to this observation with a secret composition years in the making, their lightbulbs burned in unison. We need to do something with this.

The two make an adorable couple, and their dedication and creativity are on full display in this movie. So, too, are the stories of certain spectators and performance planners. We learn a bit about what drew people to this unintuitive experience. It all makes for an interesting watch, and thanks to remarkably consistent camerawork and lighting, an experience you can safely doze off to.

This is typically not the highest praise for a movie. But here, it is. It’s a testament to the respect and understanding the moviemakers have for these creators, their hard work and goals.

So take a moment. Get comfy, turn those lights down and that volume up. You’ll be glad you did.

Family Romance, LLC

Drunk uncle gonna ruin your wedding day? Why not rent a replacement?!

That’s right. Family Romance, LLC has actors to fill whatever role you need—loved ones included.

It’s a strange concept, and even stranger to behold. The main event has “Dad” trying to rekindle a relationship with his neglected “daughter”.

Their moments together are real. But because half of the emotion is paid for, these moments feel hollow. It’s almost like watching a funeral. Yea yea, life goes on, but something’s missing, and you can’t tell me otherwise!

This seems to be the deeper goal of the movie—to get us thinking about the loneliness and connection life can offer. Although it’s thought-provoking, the movie feels more talent show than anything else. Most of the time has us jumping between unrelated scenes, just to exhibit different actors. This stalls the main story until the very end, when its conflict is finally introduced. The movie gets good just as soon as it finishes.

Klaus

Nobody gets toys on Christmas.

That’s because Smeerensburg is about tradition, and tradition says to hate thy neighbor.

Jesper is thrown into this lovely setting as the town’s new mail carrier. But he’s no saint either: He sees Klaus, a nice old man, as his ticket out. At least, that’s how their relationship starts . . .

At the end of the day, this movie tries to do too much. It’s really about Jesper growing up, but jams in Santa’s origin story, the meaning of secular Christmas, the corrupting power of adults, and more. This makes things confusing. Who should we root for? What’s the moral of the story?

You can watch it with family, but it’s more for adults (who overthink things) than children. All that said, its tie-ins to Christmas traditions are clever, and the animation can be gorgeous. Lights and lines create vivid portraits that just so happen to move.

Collective

A nightclub fire has killed more people than it should’ve. Reporters let us in on each step of their investigation, and it’s looking to be a bombshell.

Watching their patience in the face of an unknown and evolving enemy will get your blood pumping. But the fire investigation, it turns out, is just the tip of the fuse. State hospitals, the department of health, and the highest powers of Romanian government are implicated in related horrors.

Prepare yourself. The facts uncovered are disgusting; heartbreaking; almost unbelievable.

So why spend time with such a downer? Because to prevent tomorrow’s horror, we must understand today’s. Because we need reminders of how important it is to speak up for what’s right—and how important it is to have the right to speak up. 

Ne Zha

Heavenly powers have a plan for Ne Zha. So do his parents. Neither seems to matter to the kid, who’s as stubborn as they come.

Can you blame him? It’s hard to learn right from wrong when everyone under the sun thinks your fate is sealed. But what makes life difficult for Ne Zha is what makes this movie worthwhile.

Complex but cute animation creates a fantasy world worth exploring. Quirky characters keep things light, balancing out a heavy premise.

Selfie

In an age of conspicuous perfection, Selfie stands out as real.

An innocent teenager has been killed. What was intended to be a movie about his death turns into a movie about life, filmed by two of his friends.

It’s all because the director came across Alessandro and Pietro. With hearts on sleeves and a phone in tow, the teens record life in Naples. It’s a selfless selfie. They think hard about showing all aspects of that life, and so they capture much: their friendship, inadequacies, and boredom; how organized crime pressures different people in different ways.

Whether by editing or the talent of the boys themselves, the contrasts and earnest emotions of this movie make it a treasure. That such beauty can come from hardship—and be captured by young people with a tool that almost anyone can use—it’s hard not to be in awe.

El Hoyo (The Platform)

The Platform is a whole ’nother world.

We don’t know why it exists, who’s in charge . . . or how many people it tortures. Goreng doesn’t either, but he may be the first to explore enough to find out. As the only person to voluntarily enter this place, he’s either its savior or biggest stooge.

From the first moment, our world shrinks to the size of this vertical prison. Trapped with Goreng, his hopes and despairs become ours. Earworm music captures our unease, reminding us that truly, this very moment is all there is.

It is a thought-provoking, exciting, and twisted piece.

The Two Popes

It’s a miracle! Two Popes isn’t preachy.

The Catholic Church is losing followers. Joseph thinks the fix lies in tradition, the work of generations of thinkers. Jorge isn’t so sure, and likes to take the pulse of the people. So, they talk it out.

Their chats are funny, intimate, and deep—but never complicated. Turns out they’re just trying to make sense of things like the rest of us. But where Joseph is old school and intellectual, Jorge is a free spirit, open to new ideas, maybe a glass of wine. This disparity adds a delicious humor—and tension—to the movie.

Roman hillsides and Vatican art remind us of the power these men wield, and top notch acting reminds us of their humanity. Though peppered with symbolic imagery, this movie focuses on the real.

American Factory

American Factory ain’t just American.

It used to be, then it closed. Thousands lost their jobs. Now, a Chinese company is moving in, and looking to hire. Maybe things’ll be like how they were?

As we follow their new journeys, employees from each country recount their old ones. Their exchanges are about as unstaged as it gets, and reveal mutual respect and similar values.

But trouble brews. Management expects work done the Chinese way, which is faster, longer, and more difficult than the Americans are used to.

What we have here is a philosophical movie, in a setting anything but.

Jojo Rabbit

Jojo is a sweet little boy who loves his mom. He’s also a Nazi.

Or at least, he thinks he is. You see, Jojo is growing up in Germany during World War II. Nazi posters decorate his room, and Hitler is his imaginary friend. What else is a kid to do?

Attend Nazi youth camp, for starters. But there, it appears that Jojo may not be cut out for the Nazi life. His early-life crisis gets much worse when he learns his mom is hiding a Jewish girl from the authorities.

As Jojo grapples with these realities, he’s determined to get to the bottom of why Elsa and her fellow Jews are evil. In these sad, funny, and touching moments, the movie shines.

The context is horrific, and the movie tries hard to balance it out (even if it may overcompensate). In any case, with its goofy humor; its saturated and magnificent colors; its catchy and upbeat music, it seeks to remind us that even the worst pain is fleeting, and that there will always be beauty in this world.

The Irishman

One way or another, the Irishman will make you cringe.

Frank worked hard and kept his head down. No complaints, even when the job was . . . unsavory. Once powerful men recognized this, Frank’s life changed forever.

Doing dirty work came to define his life, so the movie is mostly flashback to these moments.

It’s striking how Frank’s actions had lasting implications on labor and politics in the United States. But most striking, and at the heart of this movie, is heartlessness. Frank didn’t shed a tear for his victims. But will we? After seeing such actions again and again, they can begin to feel commonplace—even boring.

The Laundromat

The Laundromat will make your head spin.

Something terrible has happened. Ellen deserves compensation, but all she receives are cryptic documents and dodged phone calls. Her sadness turns to frustration—and her frustration to determination, as she realizes that someone is covering up something big.

Unfortunately, Ellen’s story gets lost in the wash. The movie is overloaded with narration and vignettes that try to explain the basics and the complexities of the financial system. All this does is interrupt a story of injustice that is clear enough on its own.

Echo in the Canyon

The Echo in the Canyon fades quicker than you’d like.

Jakob Dylan wonders what happened in Laurel Canyon, California in the 1960s. So he asks around. And music legends answer: folk mixed with rock and roll; bands mixed with bands; just about everything mixed with drugs. The time was one of optimism and experimentation.

It is special to hear such personal stories from such influential people. But take note, this movie is more homage than history. Song covers feature as heavily as the interviews with their original performers. The movie is informative and fun, but nothing as special as the time it contemplates.

Joker

This Joker is the worst kind of wild card.

Gotham City is in decline. Most decent folk struggle just to get by. But decent folk are vanishing, as fear and anger infect the city.

Arthur Fleck is at the bottom of the deck, treated poorly by all. Many are too busy with their own problems to care. Others just see an easy target: a socially-awkward, mentally-unstable, failing-comedian street clown who still lives with his mother.

At some point, the soul-crushing monotony of mistreatment takes a toll, and Arthur lashes out. His abuse is heartbreaking to watch, and his indiscriminate, violent retaliation even more so.

Mesmerizing acting, scenery and music will disturb you from start to finish.

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is truly a fairy tale. But hints of lunacy make it better suited for adults.

Rick is a former TV-star. He’s now shooting for movie stardom, though worries it may be a star too far. Cliff, Rick’s tough right-hand man, tries his best to be a calming presence.

The movie follows the two through uneasy times. They are earnest and loyal, so it’s touching stuff. But thanks to imaginative storytelling, there is another level to the story, one that is eerie and sinister and that somehow fits perfectly with the sweet stuff.

In the end, this is a sentimental yet thrilling watch.