Elvis

Elvis is a jerky, jam-packed marathon of a movie. You just might like it.

If nothing else, you’ll learn a thing or two about the poor white boy from the poor Black neighborhood who grew up to be world-famous. Elvis Presley, singer, actor, and cultural phenomenon, remains to this day the best-selling solo musical artist of all time.

I do not exaggerate, though this movie does. Often. It warps our field of vision, camera zipping around like a mosquito that drank too much soda. The narration (like its narrator) is campy and carnivalesque.

All of that makes the movie feel especially Hollywood. Aside from reintroducing Elvis’s hits with wonderful, booming sound, it remixes songs and adds contemporary ones, seemingly trying to explain to us what the “cool” energy of the past was by melding it with some “cool” energy of today. I think it misses its mark, and got the feeling it was stereotyping the very cultures and communities it was trying to pay homage to.

And yet . . . and yet, this movie is filled with goodness. It shows off the talented titans and everypersons of Black culture who so heavily influenced Elvis’s music. It shows us a man who was both softie and outgoing, devoted to his Momma and to creating happiness in this world. As for the acting, Elvis is portrayed masterfully; the performances of Elvis’s family are good at worst.

We follow Elvis from childhood inspiration through untimely death, one formative moment at a time—of which there were apparently many. Although early scenes can feel both too long and too short, the final 40 or so minutes are simply riveting. These by themselves make the movie worth a watch. Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has re-entered the building.

Something old, something new; something borrowed, something pink.

The Electrical Life of Louis Wain

Louis was an odd cat, and this movie revels in it. What a unique and charming experience!

Our proper Victorian narrator hints at what it’ll be early on. While speaking the hard facts of Louis’s life, she makes sure to pepper in phrases like “positively geriatric” and “vomited immediately”. Think silly sprinkled over serious.

Most every other technical aspect of the movie builds this whimsical vibe, wobbling between the seemingly contradictory. When Louis navigates the world through oddjobs, for example, we are made to feel energy and not just concern. When he stares into the eyes of someone a beat longer than is polite, we sympathize just as much as we are discomfited. Even a detail as small as the flicker of a candle is put to use.

OK, so Louis and this movie are goofy, we get it. What else? Well, his curiosity is insatiable and directionless. And one day it lands on something new: Emily.

As governess to Louis’s many sisters, Emily knows and can teach the basics of human interaction. Even more intriguing is that Emily is more open-minded than others in Louis’s social class. (The first time we meet her she is sitting in a closed closet . . . )

As the two begin to see virtue in each other, Louis’s sketches for the local newspaper reach new levels of beautiful. What’s this feeling? This electricity? It seems to move him and her and so many people out there . . .

Whatever it is, it’s what makes the story so romantic. And heartbreaking.

The more I think about this movie, the more I’m a fan. Its casting and performances are super; its colors, inspired; its music, somehow capturing the simultaneously insane and inviting nature of our existence. Everything about this one is a celebration.

Joyce Carol Oates: A Body in the Service of Mind

I remember most her eyes. Those big, almost perfect circles vacuuming it all in like her life depended on it. Sometimes they’d widen and it felt like she was pleading with me. But that one time, when they closed and she giggled . . . I felt, I saw pure joy.

This is no infant I speak of. This is one of the United States’ most celebrated and prolific writers, decades into life. This is Joyce Carol Oates.

Simply mesmerizing she is. How she talks, what she has to say. The moviemakers know it and so feature Joyce and just Joyce. We sit with her in her sanctuary, the writing room. The place where she spends ten hours a day.

Then the comfortable, soft silence is broken by a question. How did a household without books or high school diplomas produce you? Joyce answers, words flow and eyes dart. I swear you can hear her mind whirring.

Though she has written millions of words over the years, none of her story is stale. Each question for her becomes a terribly interesting response for us. Riots in Detroit. Beatings and murder at home. Misery, mystery, yearning.

The voice-over language captures it all so beautifully. Of course it does. These are the words of Joyce by way of one of her characters, from one of her novels. Whatever we just learned about her life, one of her creations has experienced something similar. This blending of history, fiction, and memory is as much a respectful homage as it is a powerful moviemaking technique. Thank goodness director Stig Björkman persisted for years asking to document his friend.

And so, watching Joyce Carol Oates: A Body in the Service of Mind feels like getting away with something. Humble genius has sat down with us, so that we may know it. But such genius can only carry its shield of articulation for so long; at a certain point it melts under the weight of deepest emotion. And it is in these precious few moments of complete vulnerability that the true treasure of this movie is revealed.

Val

What to do, what to do?

How about pretend to be someone else? Get dressed up, be silly, and get paid for it?

Val Kilmer has had a rather successful career doing just that. But this Hollywood actor’s life hasn’t been about money, it’s been about the things he doesn’t have. So don’t let Hollywood fool you: This is a true story that’ll tug at your heartstrings again and again.

One of the first things we learn is that this guy has always enjoyed capturing video. Thanks to thousands of hours of his own archived footage, we can see how he has acted (on and off screen) throughout the years. This was excellent raw material for the editors Ting Poo, Leo Scott, and Tyler Pharo (the former two of which also directed), and they’ve used it well. The years changed, but the man didn’t: He appears sensitive, humorous, and misunderstood since the beginning.

You could argue that this story is a pretentious self-advertisement. But I think you’d be wrong. There are too many genuinely tender and vulnerable moments here to think that this is born of pure self-aggrandizement. The way the man looks adoringly at his two grown children; the way he jokes with people; the way he speaks about his mother is likely to start your waterworks more than once.

So what actually happens? Well, we watch home movies of kid Val and his brothers making movies themselves; of young-adult Val on stages and movie sets; of middle-aged Val at home with the kids; of current-day Val doing something creative, while voice-over Val explains what we’re witnessing. These stories are the building blocks, and can teach us the power of storytelling; of seizures; of cancer.

These blocks create what Val would call the big picture: an explanation for his desire to act, to find the truth behind illusion and the illusion within truth. Though it sounds fanciful, these concepts are brought down to earth—heck, they never even leave it—because of how genuine everything laid before us seems to be.

Even the ways Val talks to us throughout the story—through past movies, in voice-over and addressing us in realtime—are poignant, and introduced in poignant ways. This movie is the work of many creative minds—and at the very least, one more than I had previously thought.

Reefa

Some movies, you remember for the twist. Reefa belongs on that list.

It follows Israel “Reefa” Hernandez in the days before he and his Colombian immigrant family receive their green cards. Though the parents are all nerves, Reefa stays calm. This teenage visionary—or this broke immigrant kid, as his father would describe him—is convinced that everything will work out, and that his art will change the world.

Seeing Reefa in his element, in the artsy underbelly of Miami and with other first-generation friends, is instructive. We don’t learn as much about his motivation as we watch how he spends his days, but we do learn plenty about the pressures his generation faces. Doing something wrong won’t get them grounded; it’ll get them and their families deported. They remain upbeat, skating and cracking jokes, kids after all. But it’s clear that they live concerned.

As we are. Especially so when we’re introduced to the third-generation, rough police who patrol the city; especially so when Reefa gets the itch to do something less than legal. He needs to go to New York like his art idols, but before he can do so, he has to create a masterpiece for his city. His friends say that it’s dangerous, but if he doesn’t tell his story, who will? 

Indeed. 

In this last portion of the movie, Reefa’s dreams come to a head. The tacky lines, extraneous interludes, and unnecessary romantic storyline dissolve from our memory as we focus on what is happening right now. The moviemakers move the lens from Reefa to his friends, and in doing so, wrap us in a straitjacket.

Reefa, played by Tyler Dean Flores, can be both charming and maddening. The same can be said for this movie. Though it’s well-intentioned, it’s a fair amount choppier and sappier than it needs to be.

Nevertheless, it reminds us that our world needs people like Reefa, with their head in the clouds. Unfortunately, it also reminds us that this alone won’t stop the rain.

Naomi Osaka

You’ve just achieved your lifelong dream. Now what?

This is Naomi Osaka’s dilemma, and she’s only 23. Though she has broken professional tennis records and started important conversations about identity, it is difficult to say she’s content.

This eponymous three-part series dives into this discomfort, and is equal parts talent show and coming-of-age tale. Or put another way, bingeworthy.

Part 1, “Rise”, introduces our soft-spoken, dutiful superstar. We learn about her childhood apart; her desire to win for family and home-country of Japan; her extraordinary prowess on the court—and her inability to deal with fame. Home movies, grainy and muted, set the tone from the start. This life is crisp, but soft; this life is not automatic movement, but focused motion.

Part 1 has us feeling sympathy for our young champion. Surprisingly vulnerable narration shares the pressure she feels to do right by just about everyone. And lucky for everyone, Part 2, “ Championship Mentality”, provides breathing room. Naomi talks about her talents beyond tennis. Fashion? Well, she has sketched clothing for years, dreaming about wearing something other than sports clothing all the time . . . In this part, we see Naomi step off the court to reconnect with her curiosity and her family—and in her doing so, we see radiating positivity. 

This of course thickens the plot. Watching Naomi realize that fulfillment may exist outside of tennis is as haunting and exciting to us as it is to her. And not only does this make it easier to root for her, it makes it painful to watch how others glom onto her fame at the cost of her discomfort. The series does not hide these moments.

As you’d guess, Part 3, the “New Blueprint”, shows Naomi exploring this tension and following her inclinations. We learn about her Haitian father and Japanese mother; about her upbringing; about her desire to create conversations about identity, race, nationality, and more in a world that continues to navigate its own type of conversations.

Watching Naomi crush (or fail) at tennis is enveloping enough, but this series shines at stepping on and off the court at just the right times. In contextualizing the success of a young, still-active, still-maturing superstar, it is a special story. If this series has shown us anything, it has shown us how there are molds yet to be broken, and difficulties to be surmounted, if only one considers the possibility of doing it.

Mucho Mucho Amor

Walter Mercado created a new mold.

He told people what to do, yet they loved him for it. He grew up poor in a macho culture, yet became as androgynous as he was famous.

The movie does well to capture the indescribable astrologer. Flamboyant, mysterious, and simple come to mind.

Each stage of Walter’s story gets more interesting. A slower ending shouldn’t stop us from hearing it through.

Tesla

Tesla is nothing short of a vision.

From first to last, Nikola Tesla’s days were hardship. No matter. He never stopped trying to make the world a better place. His freight train brain wouldn’t allow it.

The movie is just moments, but moments that encapsulate his tortured, hopeful life.

Dark colors, wildly different music, and quirky narration keeps us uncomfortable, but close. Every scene asks: Can you feel how he hurts? See how he stands out?

It’s a movie about ideas hundreds of years ahead of their time. And it’s told in a way only slightly less striking.

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.

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.

Transformer

This Transformer ain’t no robot.

Kroc is determined, and always has been. It’s helped him become the high school football player, the Marine, the powerlifter best in his class. But Kroc has also always been in pain—because he wants to be a woman. Now 42 and father to three teenage sons, we watch him grapple with how to live his best life.

Watching this movie is a workout. Kroc and his family are deeply affected, and unsure of the way forward. But Transformer makes clear that sometimes, disagreeing parties can want what’s best for each other. So maybe, the pain is worth the gain.

Vice

Though it’s a bit shifty, Vice has its virtues.

Perhaps best known as the former Vice President of the United States, Dick Cheney has held senior positions in both government and business. This movie shows us how Cheney jockeyed for power, and more importantly, how he wielded it.

Vice hooks you in the beginning and never lets go—not because it’s great, but because it uses funky humor and editing to make sure you’re paying attention. The gimmicks aren’t necessary though. The man’s life is striking (and disturbing) enough to keep you watching.

Beautiful Boy

Beautiful Boy is an upper and a downer.

David worries. It’s become clear that his son Nic suffers from addiction. We see, over the course of years and from each of their perspectives, what this affliction does: to thoughts, actions, willpower, family, and friends.

This is heavy stuff. And convincing acting can make it hard to watch. But take a lesson from this movie: Nothing worth doing comes easy.

Struggle: The Life and Lost Art of Szukalski

Stanislaw Szukalski was something of a bad boy artist. If you disagreed with him, you paid the consequences.

He lived through tough times. This influenced his art heavily—and not always for the better. Though whether popular, hated, or simply forgotten, he never compromised his values.

This unique story was almost lost to history, but for a twist of fate. Lucky for us.

At Eternity's Gate

To artist Vincent Van Gogh, life was bursting with beauty. If only people had taken the time to notice…

We take in Van Gogh nice and slowly, as he takes in the world. Then things change. He’s got to move, to paint fast, now. Maybe he’s going crazy. Or maybe, he has a profound reason for it all.

This movie was shot with an artist’s eye. The image can be beautiful and unsettling all at once.

They'll Love Me When I'm Dead

This is a movie about a movie about a movie. It gets more confusing.

For years, Hollywood blacklisted Orson Welles. Never mind that many critics believed his Citizen Kane to be the greatest movie ever made. Deeply hurt by this mistreatment, the aging director tried one last time to be accepted by the mainstream.

With wonderfully edited footage, we learn about Welles’ last work—and really, about one complicated man.

First Man

Neil Armstrong was the first human to set foot on the moon. First Man is the story of what it took to get there.

Neil was a hard worker and a family man. But rocket science was difficult work—for him, his family, and countless others. While we already know the ending to this story, we now get to learn a bit more about the journey.

This is a movie made tenderly, and with respect. Though it’s a simple story, it is beautiful, and makes us think about the big questions: Why do we do what we do? Who do we do it for?

Colette

Based on a true story, this movie shows Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette living life to the fullest at the turn of the 20th century.

Colette is a small town girl with big charms. She makes her way to Paris, and is immediately adopted by high society. For several reasons, she becomes the talk of the town. But not all news is good news.

This movie shows more than it tells: We see Colette’s surroundings and reactions, but we don’t hear her inner struggle.

Amy

Amy tells the story of renowned singer Amy Winehouse.

Through a montage of home videos and photos, we learn about Amy’s yin-yang life of success and hardship.

It is a powerful, powerfully sad movie. Amy will make you smile throughout.

Hooligan Sparrow

Hooligan Sparrow is a sobering film about the labors of human rights activist Ye Hainan in China.

We follow Ye as she seeks justice for six allegedly sexually-abused schoolgirls. Her calls fall on government ears that range from unsympathetic to downright belligerent. Ye's life becomes a war of attrition, at times draining to watch. 

Hooligan Sparrow portrays a terrifying reality of governmental power over communities. It also serves as an excellent example of why documenting abuses is important.