Reviews of the Bosch

  We arrive at the end of Musical Theatre Month with the one show I have seen before. Twice in fact; and I’ve listened to the original West End and Broadway recordings, and seen the tenth anniversary concert performance from 1995, and watched the bad movie adaptation. Les Miserables  is probably my favourite musical, as it is for so many people who aren’t avid musical lovers. It’s one of the only musicals that has really transcended its’ form in a way and spoken to those outside of the interest sphere of musical theatre. I mean there’s a lot in there that resonates: the call to revolution and condemnation of cruel and incompetent government, the Dickensian sympathy towards the poor, the theme of redemption, religious piety vs. following the precepts of Jesus, star-crossed romance, the list goes on. And all of these are emphatically represented in the fervor of the songs and the passion behind every one -the only musical I’ve seen where just about every song is great. Victor Hugo’s stor

“There’s a lot to be said for making people laugh. Did you know that’s all some people have? It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing in this cockeyed caravan.” I disagree with the opinion that movies are escapism. I think I’ve made that clear in the past. Movies are an art form, which sometimes takes on the function of escapism, but it isn’t its’ primary goal. Obviously though there’s a lot of power in escapism, a lot of comfort. And movies that facilitate that need well ought to be applauded for it. Movies that explore the greater truths of the world and human nature, that comment on life, society, and culture are incredibly important; but so too are those that simply tell a story for its own sake within a decidedly fictional context meant to reprieve audiences from those very things that can weigh heavily on the mind and soul every day. As we’re living through a pandemic this has certainly been made clear. As far as media goes, people have turned to the whimsical levity of Disney

Was it about this time last year that Martin Scorsese made his infamous comments that “Marvel movies are not cinema”? That was exhausting wasn’t it. Marvel fans and Scorsese fans alike became extremely obnoxious for months over what is and isn’t “cinema”. All from just one esteemed elderly filmmaker explaining why he doesn’t much care for one brand of movie when asked a dumb question on the press tour for The Irishman . So many think-pieces came out of it, so many opinions from every side of the issue and it got me thinking too. Not about “what is cinema”. As far as my opinion on that “debate” goes, to quote Kyle Kallgren , “if it’s a moving image with accompanying sound, it’s cinema.” What took me though was the style of the commentaries on both sides of the question. Many weren’t interested at all in the question at hand, but more in scoring points against what they perceived to be lesser art. Whether it was “Scorsese fans” jumping at the opportunity to denigrate the current most pop

I was a little surprised to learn that the exhibition that gives The Broken Hearts Gallery  its’ name is not a real thing in New York City. An abstract art gallery of relics from failed relationships as a means of encouraging healthy letting go and moving on, it’s an idea just strange and quirky enough to exist in a modern age -exactly the sort of local interest thing you wouldn’t be surprised to see written about in a cute article in the New Yorker , something which does happen in this film. Regardless of the reality of such a gallery, it speaks to debut writer-director Natalie Krinsky’s understanding of both New York culture and the myriad avenues of creative youth self-expression that her Broken Hearts Gallery registers as something intrinsically believable in a film with many less-believable elements. That’s not a strike against The Broken Hearts Gallery ; indeed it’s a romantic-comedy, where unbelievable is par for the course. It’s not even that outside the wheelhouse of the genre

The Devil All the Time  is one of those titles that is clearly cropped from some larger context. It is in fact from a line in Donald Ray Pollock’s book: “It seemed to his son that his father fought the devil all the time.” It’s a statement of psychological torment and the lingering effects of trauma, but removed from the rest of the line, “the Devil All the Time” has no meaning. I can’t speak to Pollock’s 2011 novel, but for the 2020 film adaptation recently released to Netflix, this comprehensive (and grammatical) senselessness makes it the perfect title. Directed by Antonio Compos and starring a weirdly impressive ensemble cast considering the material, The Devil All the Time  is a relentlessly bleak portrait of a number of lives in rural Ohio in the decades following the Second World War. It is populated with monstrous characters seemingly in competition over who can be the worst human being and takes delight in the misery they inflict -like if you crossed Magnolia with one of those

  In the opening scene of Beans , a young girl Tekehentahkhwa (Kiawentiio), is applying to a prestigious high school with her mother Lily (Rainbow Dickerson). She is a Mohawk girl, and the room all around her is plastered with the aesthetic of white Catholic culture and heritage -she seems incredibly out of place. The school official can’t pronounce her name, so she recommends her nickname, Beans. A small but notable concession made for white comfort. As unconventional as this may be, her considerate, studious attitude seems to pay off, and her and her mother leave rather proud of themselves. It would be the last relatively harmless interaction they would have with white people for the duration of the film that follows. Beans is the first narrative feature from documentarian and Mohawk Girls creator Tracey Deer and is set in the midst of the 1990 Oka Crisis, which Deer lived through first-hand. The dispute that escalated into violence and one death brought on by the expansion of a golf

Kinky Boots  is by far the most recent musical I’m covering this month. Twenty-two years separate it from the last, and along with it, numerous changes in the development and culture of musicals themselves. This was not a choice by design,  Kinky Boots  was merely a popular musical that had a good filmed version readily available. But it is a fortunate one. Because  Kinky Boots  is really a staple modern musical, indicative of what a lot of modern musicals are trying to be and to achieve. For one thing, it is a good example of a relatively new phenomenon, one that didn’t really exist when  Phantom of the Opera  or  Jesus Christ Superstar  or  Miss Saigon  premiered: the musical based on a movie. Shows like  The Lion King  and  The Producers  can arguably be pointed to as having started the trend, but the last decade especially has been inundated with so many musicals based off of movies that it’s become a cliché. Rarely does anyone ever ask for them and yet here they are, musicals base

I am very shocked that there is not a single needle drop of “Old Town Road” anywhere in Concrete Cowboy . It would be extremely obvious, but also I feel fitting. Concrete Cowboy , based on the novel Ghetto Cowboy by G. Neri is a movie that delves deep into an environment and culture I didn’t know existed, and a lot of people don’t. Black urban cowboys, rearing and training horses in North Philadelphia, have been around since before the age of automobiles and continue to have a small but distinct presence in the city. Similar organizations exist in other major cities throughout the United States, but it was Philadelphia’s Fletcher Street Urban Riding Club that caught the attention of director Ricky Staub, who subsequently brought the movie idea to producers Lee Daniels and Idris Elba. It’s a curious thing to shine a spotlight on and raise awareness to, and a curious story to go along with it. Elba headlines the film as Harp, the rough and forthright man in charge of the riding club, liv