(CHECK OUT MY FULL REVIEW in this week’s Arkansas Democrat-Gazette)

Written and directed by John Hamburg, “Me Time” is the latest film spawned from Kevin Hart’s megadeal with streaming giant Netflix. The try-hard comedy sees Hart teaming up with Mark Wahlberg and Regina Hall for what could have been a decent weekend diversion. Instead, “Me Time” loses itself in a haze of flat jokes, predictable story beats, and one particularly cringe-worthy music number.

The bummer of it is “Me Time” starts with promise. Minus a woefully bad (and mercifully short) prologue, the first 15 minutes or so is spent introducing a really good family dynamic. But once the buddy comedy stuff takes over, the movie takes a noticeable dip. Hamburg tries to compensate in the final act, but the ending is so schmaltzy and artificial that it only compounds the film’s numerous problems rather than alleviate them.

Hart plays Sonny Fisher, a proficient stay-at-home dad who takes care of the house and the kids while his wife, Maya (the always good Hall) builds her career as an architect. Sonny is absorbed in his duties, especially when it comes to his aspiring comedian son Dash (Che Tafari) and his precocious daughter Ava (Amentii Sledge). He’s always present at their school, volunteering for various functions. He’s the president of the PTA, and he even has his own kindergarten blog.

While Sonny never has any time away from their kids, the hardworking Maya desperately needs some quality time with them. So they agree to let Maya take the kiddos to her parents house for spring break while Sonny enjoys some much-needed me-time. And what better way to spend some time away than with his childhood friend, Huck (Wahlberg), an annoyingly spontaneous manchild who always lives in the moment. And Huck has been dogging Sonny to come to his 44th birthday bash.

The movie sours once Sonny joins Huck and his faceless band of partiers for an elaborate five-day outdoor shindig in Death Valley. What we get is a conveyor of ludicrous scenarios, often laced with embarrassingly bad slapstick, a wide range of lazy toilet humor, and on the rarest occasion an instance of ever so slight amusement. There’s also a wedged-in angle with Maya’s flirty New Age boss Armando (Luis Gerardo Méndez) and an even lesser developed one involving a lone shark named Stan (Jimmy O. Yang).

The performances range from good, to routine, to pretty bad. Hart starts well, but as the story devolves into mush, he falls right into his normal schtick. Wahlberg’s performance is pretty bad although it’s hard to put it all on him. He actually captures the character the filmmakers want him to be. Unfortunately for him, Huck is a shallow insufferable goof and there’s not much Wahlberg can do to make the character (or the material) appealing. Hall is the one who gives the movie glimmers of credibility. She’s such a good actress, and she does the best she can with what she’s given.

I admit, the prospect of “Me Time” being good wasn’t high. But a guy can hope, can’t he? To be honest I have a growing frustration towards movies like this – comedies that are so beholden to formula that nearly everything they do feels old hat. They’re all so canned and processed, but I guess they make money. Why else would we continue to get so many of them? “Me Time” is streaming now on Netflix.

VERDICT – 1.5 STARS

(CLICK HERE for my full review in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette)

Diane Keaton has had a wonderful 52-year career and she has shown no sign of slowing down. Granted, the movies from this current stage of her career haven’t been great. But I love that she’s still working and doing what she enjoys. And that brings us to her new film in theaters this weekend, “Mack & Rita”. I would love to talk about how the movie serves as a fresh reminder of Keaton’s terrific comedic chops. But unfortunately I can’t because “Mack & Rita” turns out to be a well-intentioned but surprisingly bland and flavorless comedy. And while it’s nice to see Keaton on screen, this won’t be listed among the movies she’ll be remembered for.

Directed by Katie Aselton and co-written by Madeline Walter and Paul Welsh, “Mack & Rita” never feels like its own thing. Instead it comes across as a collection of ideas plucked from other movies that are snapped together and given a title. There’s really nothing original about the story and there’s not a single surprise. In fact, you’ll have the entire plot mapped out within the first 15 minutes. It’s a shame because the movie sports a talented cast. But without good material, they’re left out to dry.

Following the lead of other ‘stuck-in-the-wrong-body’ movies like “13 Going on 30” and “Big”, this story centers on 30-year-old Mack (Elizabeth Lail), an Instagram influencer and aspiring writer. Mack was raised by her beloved grandmother who was always outgoing and very comfortable in her own wonderfully eccentric skin. Max wanted to be just like her, but as she got older she suppressed her own individuality in order to fit in. You could say it worked. She got invited to all the parties and made some popular new friends. But she did it without being true to her “inner old lady”.

Professionally, Mack feels stuck in neutral. She’s published her first novel and is excited to start writing again. But rather than helping her secure an advance for a new book, all she gets from her not-so-encouraging agent (Patti Harrison) are menial jobs taking photos at publicity events and posting them on social media. Socially, she would rather spend her time home alone with her dog, working on her book and dodging her overly chatty and clearly smitten neighbor Jack (Dustin Milligan). But even now she’s still living up to the expectations of others.

While on a bachelorette getaway in Palm Springs for her bride-to-be best friend Carla (Taylour Paige), Mack happens upon the tent of a self-proclaimed spiritual guru named Luca (Simon Rex) who specializes in past-life regression therapy. He places her in a contraption called a regression pod (which is nothing more than a glorified tanning bed) and begins their session. Once the pod sputters to a stop, Luca is gone and Mack steps out in the body of her 70-year-old self (played by Keaton). High-jinks and self-discovery ensues.

From there the story veers into more conventional territory. We get the expected shock and panic as Mack tries to grasp her wacky new circumstances. But when she begins posing as her own fictitious Aunt Rita, Mack discovers the carefree spirit her grandmother embodied. Her new zest for life takes her from hanging out with Carla’s mom (Loretta Devine) and the ladies from her women’s wine club to becoming a social media sensation known as the “Glammy Granny” (yep, you read that right).

Now before coming down too hard on “Mack & Rita”, it should be said it’s a very self-aware movie. It’s knowingly silly and unapologetically lighthearted. There’s nothing wrong with that. Also, it has a handful of good moments, particularly in the few times where it slows down and lets its characters breathe. And who can argue with its message of accepting yourself and staying true to who you are?

But that doesn’t make the unfunny and uninspired stuff go away. When it comes to the comedy and the storytelling, the movie is loaded with misfires. There’s the cringe-worthy slapstick, one awkwardly bad drug trip scene, and several scenarios that are too absurd to swallow. You also have a weirdly out-of-tune romantic angle with Rita and Jack. And then there’s the finish which spells out the themes in detail just in case you missed them.

Combine all of that with the already mentioned predictability and complete lack of originality, and we’re left with a movie that really does nothing for anyone involved. Especially for someone with the cinematic stature of Diane Keaton. “Mack & Rita” is out now in theaters.

VERDICT – 2 STARS

(CLICK HERE to read my full review on the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette)

For a long time Leslie Manville has shown why she’s not only one of our best actresses working today, but also one of our most diverse. Case in point: just in the last few years she’s played a mad scientist, a pixie-fairy, a bristly manager of an esteemed fashion house, a woman struggling with breast cancer, and a venomous backwoods matriarch. Now, thanks to her new film “Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris”, you can add a sweet and spritely cleaning lady determined to get her very own Christian Dior evening gown.

Based on the 1958 novel “Mrs. ‘Arris Goes to Paris” by Paul Gallico, this adorable big screen adaptation of (almost) the same name is just the kind of light and lively escape I tend to gravitate towards from time to time. If Manville wasn’t reason enough, the film also stars the magnificent Isabelle Huppert, Jason Isaacs (one of my personal favorites), and the seasoned Lambert Wilson. Directed by Anthony Fabian, the film is the fourth adaptation of Gallico’s popular work.

“Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris” is a period crowdpleaser full of playful energy and feel-good vibes. It’s about dreaming big but not at the expense of true happiness. It’s about believing in who you are and being true to yourself. It’s about the power of selflessness and generosity. It’s about moving on from heartbreaking loss. That may sound like a lot, but it’s all keenly woven together in the titular character’s story.

In 1957 London, Ada Harris (Manville) cleans houses for several well-to-do clients. Among them are a businessman with an uncomfortable taste for MUCH younger women, a high-maintenance diva, and a wealthy self-important Madame. Away from work, she enjoys hanging out with her best friend and fellow housekeeper, Vi (Ellen Thomas) and Archie (Isaacs), a good-natured bookie who clearly has an eye for her. But inside, Ada’s heart is aching. She’s still quietly holding out hope that the love of her life, her husband Eddie, is returning home from the war. Deep down she knows he isn’t. She just isn’t ready to face the reality.

While cleaning the haughty Madame’s bedroom, Ada catches a glimpse of an elegant 500-quid Christian Dior gown. She’s instantly enchanted by the lavender frock and filled with big dreams of travelling to Paris to buy a couture Dior dress of her very own. At first it seems like pie in the sky. But driven by her intense desire along with the sudden urge for a much-needed adventure, Ada decides to go for it. She works tirelessly to save up her money and soon has enough to set off for the City of Lights.

The culture clash comedy elements kick in when Ada arrives in Paris and unintentionally crashes the House of Dior on the very day the designer is set to reveal his 10th Anniversary Collection. Needless to say she stands out from the normal clientele that includes countesses, baronesses, and even Princess Margaret. And just as she’s about to be escorted out by the House’s crabby directress Madame Colbert (Huppert), Ada finds a sympathetic ally in the Marquis of Chassagne (Wilson), a suave and sympathetic gentleman who insists she watch the fashion show as his guest.

I won’t give away the details, but soon Ada begins to win the hearts of the fashion house with her inherent kindness and sensitivity. She shows motherly compassion to a Hepburn-esque young model named Natasha (Alba Baptista). She helps the generous Monsieur André (Lucas Bravo) to find his confidence. She even leaves an impression on the renowned Christian Dior himself (Philippe Bertin). And while there’s an inescapable predictability to stories like these, it’s hard even for us not to be charmed by Mrs. Harris and her light-hearted yarn.

Visually, there’s nothing particularly profound about the look of the film. Yet I found myself drawn to DP Felix Wiedemann’s cinematography. From the old-fashioned vibes he brings to some of the more playful scenes, to his sumptuous gaze when pulling us into the exquisite world of haute couture. And it’s all bathed in the swooning sounds of Rael Jones’ original score. Again, nothing especially original, but perfectly form-fitting for a story like this.

There are a few passing nods to social issues such as class struggles and labor strikes. But they’re very much passing nods. The movie has no real interest in going down those paths. Instead, it keeps things light and trusts Manville to win our hearts. And she does. Neither she or the movie reinvents the wheel or challenge us on some deep intellectual or existential level. But that’s fine. Not every movie or performance needs to. Sometimes all you want is some whimsical feel-good comfort food. And sometimes all you need is an actress like Manville to give it some special flavor.

VERDICT – 4 STARS

(CLICK HERE to read my full review in the Arkansas-Democrat Gazette)

“Mr. Malcolm’s List” is sure to be comfort food for fans of light and breezy period rom-coms. It also provides a happy escape for moviegoers who might be seeking refuge from the wave of tent-pole summer blockbusters that are currently in full force. And while a Jane Austen-ish feature film won’t be everyone’s cup of tea (normally myself included), I was surprised by just how much I enjoyed this quaint and witty regency-era romance.

Directed by first-time feature filmmaker Emma Holly Jones, “Mr. Malcolm’s List” boasts a fresh multiracial cast yet still tells a story that very much feels a part of its British romantic comedy sub-genre. Comparisons to the popular Netflix series “Bridgerton” seem inevitable. But far more visible is the loose inspiration of Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”. Either way, Jones adds enough of her own special sauce to give her film its own flavor, despite some fairly obvious final act predictability.

The story is written by Suzanne Allain and based on her own 2009 self-published novel of the same name. It’s set in the prim and proper 19th century London where the marriage game is as competitive as any sport we obsess over today. The dashing Mr. Jeremiah Malcolm (Ṣọpẹ Dìrísù) is a most eligible bachelor who’s considered the biggest catch of the 1818 “season”. Despite lacking a proper title of his own, his maternal aunt left him a sizable fortune and a large country estate. That was more than enough to catch the attention of every young aristocratic maiden in the region.

One such bride-in-waiting is the wealthy and entitled Julia Thistlewaite (a pitch-perfect Zawe Ashton). She’s a bit of a snoot and sees Mr. Malcolm as a means of cementing her position in society’s upper-crust. But Jeremiah isn’t a shallow man. He’s looking for a bride with qualities beyond high standing and a flirty smile (gold-diggers and social climbers need not apply). Rather, Jeremiah is the kind and gentlemanly sort who has a literal list of qualifications for the woman he hopes to spend the rest of his life with.

So it’s no surprise that the haughty Julia’s date with the highly sought-after Mr. Malcolm flops. And after he doesn’t extend a second call, her rejection becomes the talk of the public gossip circles. Adding to her humiliation, Julia learns of Mr. Malcolm’s notorious list. So she enlists the help of her push-over cousin, Lord Cassidy (a slyly comical Oliver Jackson-Cohen) and the two immediately hatch a plan for revenge.

Julia calls on her childhood friend, Selina Dalton (Freida Pinto), a sweet rural girl and the daughter of a country vicar. The two first met as classmates at Mrs. Finch’s Ladies Academy where they made a pact to always have each other’s back. When Selina arrives at Julia’s swanky London manor she reluctantly agrees to go along with her friend’s scheme. It goes something like this: Train Selina to check off all the boxes on Mr. Malcolm’s list, win his heart, and then turn around and give him a taste of his own medicine.

You can probably guess what happens next. Selina sees a much different side of Mr. Malcolm. “I’m just not sure he’s the villain you paint him to be“, she contends. But Julia will have none of it and is determined that Mr. Malcolm gets his comeuppance. “I want him humiliated” she exclaims, “just like I was.” Selina and Jeremiah inevitably grow closer while Julia’s poorly veiled jealousy and resentment festers.

While that may sound like a pretty toxic recipe, Jones keeps things from souring by maintaining a slightly whimsical tone. It never goes the full-on comedy route of something like Whit Stillman’s deliciously vicious and sharp-tongued “Love and Friendship”. But there is plenty of baked-in humor, much of it from the stellar supporting cast that includes Jackson-Cohen, Ashley Park, Theo James and the hilariously expressive Divian Ladwa.

My lone gripe is with the film’s conventional and by-the-book final act. It plays it so aggressively safe. But in its defense, there’s practically an expectation for how these stories should end. It’s a formula deeply ingrained in these types of movies. So criticizing it almost sounds frivolous. And besides, there’s still plenty to appreciate in this surprisingly enjoyable period piece. “Mr. Malcom’s List” opens today in theaters.

VERDICT – 3.5 STARS

Alex Garland has put together an interesting career as a novelist, a screenwriter, a television producer, a writer and story supervisor for video games, and of course film directing. His past screenplays include “28 Days Later” and its sequel “28 Weeks Later”, “Never Let Me Go”, and “Dredd”. He became a full-fledged writer-director in 2014 with the highly acclaimed “Ex Machina” followed by the fascinating “Annihilation”. Now he’s back with the equally intriguing “Men”.

“Men” is a surreal-ish folk horror film that can best be described as an admirable mess. It takes some big swings resulting in a terrific setup, and it features some bold creative choices that you can’t help but admire. Jessie Buckley (as always) gives a powerful performance and does a superb job anchoring us in her character’s hellish reality. And Rory Kinnear’s chameleon-like presence (playing different faces of the film’s multi-headed monster) will make your skin crawl. There’s lots to like here.

What’s disappointing is how surprisingly little the film has to say aside from men are bad, they’ve always been bad, and from the looks of things they’ll always be bad, at least from the experience of Buckley’s Harper Marlowe. But rather than engaging his audience and stirring them to think, Garland’s straightforward pared-down approach leaves us asking the wrong kinds of questions as we look for meaning outside of his blunt messaging.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t say that as a man who left the theater cradling his bruised ego. I fully expected that to be the message of the movie (the aggressively direct and accusatory title left little doubt). In fact, I was excited to see how Garland explored that notion through the experience of Buckley’s character. But I also expected more depth and nuance. Themes of grief, guilt, and loss barely crack the surface. And if you strain you can see some of Garland’s reoccurring interests in identity and isolation. But all of those things are clearly secondary concerns.

Buckley’s Harper is a compelling character and one we eagerly get behind despite learning painfully little about her. Traumatized after watching her husband James (Paapa Essiedu) fall (or did he jump?) to his death from their high-rise apartment, Harper heads out to the countryside for a time of healing. She rents a remote country manor owned by a strange but cordial man named Geoffrey (Kinnear). It’s an idyllic place nestled among rolling green pastures, lush forests, and it’s only a stones throw from a nearby village. It seems like the perfect place for Harper to recalibrate.

Garland and his go-to DP Rob Hardy hone in on the area’s natural beauty with one postcard quality image after another. But they also infuse those same images with a persistent sense of unease. Take when Harper goes out for a walk shortly after arriving. The richly verdant scenery is stunning, but the sense of dread grows with each step she takes. She finally makes it home, but doesn’t notice the fully naked man (also Kinnear) who follows her out of the woods and begins skulking around her Airbnb.

Later while visiting an old local church, Harper encounters a handsy vicar (also Kinnear) who seems to blame her for her husband’s death. Afterwards she stops by the village pub where she encounters several other unsavory men (all played by Kinnear) – a policeman, a bartender, and a redneck. She’s even berated by a young delinquent boy with Kinnear’s likeness digitally projected on the kid’s face (it’s effectively creepy but at times glaringly fake).

Kinnear gives each of his characters their own distinct personalities, but there’s also a startling similitude between them. Each represent different shades of twisted masculinity and each push their own self-absorbed sense of empowerment over Harper. It’s a thoroughly engrossing setup but one barely explored. Instead it’s all streamlined into an on-the-nose metaphorical finish – a grotesque body-horror climax that left one poor soul sitting in my row shuttering in discomfort. It’s utterly bonkers but very obvious. And it’s the kind of ending that grabs attention but doesn’t provoke the kind of deep thought it clearly wants to.

As I left “Men” I remember wondering to myself about the movie’s point-of-view? Was it Harper’s or Garland’s or both? If it’s Harper’s, then the film misses out on an opportunity to really explore her experiences and the layers of abuse found in them. If it’s Garland’s, then the cynical “Men” takes the cheap and easy approach to its subject. If it’s both…. well, remember that “admirable mess” I mentioned above. It’s a shame because the movie starts off really strong. But it’s glaringly obvious ending isn’t nearly as crafty as it tries to be, and no amount of zany grotesquery can quite make up for it. “Men” is out now in theaters.

VERDICT – 2.5 STARS

(CLICK HERE for my full review in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette)

The terrific Haley Lu Richardson’s latest is “Montana Story” and it’s the kind of earnest low-key family drama that I have a real soft spot for. Co-directed, co-written, and co-produced by David Siegel and Scott McGehee, “Montana Story” is a movie loaded with emotion yet handled with remarkable restraint. It makes sense considering the very story itself is about deeply buried pain, bitterness, and trauma. But not every filmmaker can resist the urge to soak this type of story in melodrama. Thankfully Siegel and McGehee do.

“Montana Story” actually premiered last September at the Toronto International Film Festival but is just now getting its U.S. release. It was filmed in late 2020 under strict pandemic protocols and shot over a six week period in Montana’s Paradise Valley. It’s a setting that fits nicely with the quiet melancholic beats of the storytelling. And the sweeping landscapes (wonderfully captured by DP Giles Nuttgens) represent a lot more than just pretty scenery.

The story revolves around two estranged siblings who return to their family’s river valley ranch where their father lies on his deathbed, comatose following a massive stroke. Cal (Owen Teague) is a civil engineer from Cheyenne who arrives at the ranch to get his father’s affairs in order. The first sign of tension comes with Cal’s desire to reconnect with the family’s 25-year-old stallion Mr. T before seeing his father who lies in his study connected to an assortment of life-sustaining machines. There he’s treated by a hospice nurse named Ace (Gilbert Owuor) and his longtime housekeeper Valentina (Kimberly Guerrero).

Cal ends up with a lot on his plate. It turns out his father was a lawyer who helped shield companies from government oversight. His shady business dealings led to him filing bankruptcy and having to borrow against the ranch to get by. Now Cal will have to sell the ranch just to cover his father’s medical bills. And with no one left to care for Mr. T, Cal is left with no choice but to have a vet come to put down their beloved horse (an obvious yet rich reoccurring analogy).

But Cal is shocked when his sister Erin (Richardson) suddenly arrives unannounced. The two haven’t spoken in seven years, since the day Erin ran away from home following a horrible incident that ripped their family apart. “I just want to see him one more time,” she says using all the strength she can muster to hold in her enmity. And when she gets word that Cal plans on euthanizing Mr. T, the friction between siblings comes to a boil as the ugliness of their family’s history slowly comes into focus.

At times “Montana Story” looks and plays like a neo-Western (minus the gunfights and Stetsons). Other times it almost feels like a deconstruction of the genre. The movie is full of symbolism and impossible to miss metaphors while several side characters offer a unique indigenous perspective. And so many things bring texture and depth to the story – Mr. T, the gray Lexus belonging to Carl’s late mother, their deceptively idyllic farmhouse nestled in the shadows of the beautiful mountains. All of it adds meaningful layers that Siegel and McGehee use to great effect.

But the heart of the movie is Cal, Erin, and their frayed relationship. Richardson and Teague take well-measured approaches to their roles and do a good job conveying the very different yet intrinsically linked pain and resentment buried within their characters. Both give understated performances and the sibling chemistry between them is true and organic. Richardson is especially convincing as a wounded soul who’s strong but carrying a lot of baggage.

A part of me wishes Siegel and McGehee would have done more with the supporting players as they all seem to have interesting stories to tell. But in the end I appreciate their choice to stick to their two central characters and the trauma, resentment and disappointment that binds them. We know where things are heading; that an emotional eruption is all but inevitable. But the movie never overplays the tension. The story remains focused and the performances are rich enough to give us glimmers of hope for a reconciliation.

VERDICT – 4.5 STARS