I made it to a handful of movies last month, so here’s a spotlight on the ones I found most interesting, as well as a tribute to a TV show everyone should be watching.
Captain Marvel
Marvel Studios’ first female-fronted solo feature arrived in the form of directors Ryan Fleck and Anna Boden’s Captain Marvel; while its spectacle isn’t particularly special, the film makes a strong case for Brie Larson’s sure-to-be central presence in the Marvel Cinematic Universe for years to come. The story follows Vers (Larson), an amnesiac soldier of the Kree Empire, as she works to defeat the Skrulls, an alien race that can mimic the appearance of anyone. She follows a lead to Earth, where she not only tracks the Skrulls, but also finds clues to her past. Brie Larson is due to appear in this month’s Avengers: Endgame, so to answer the question of where she’s been all this time, Captain Marvel sets its story in 1995, which also makes room for an up and coming young S.H.I.E.L.D. agent named Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) to investigate and team up with Vers on her mission. Jackson is a lot of fun as a looser (and two-eyed) Nick Fury, and he has terrific chemistry with Larson that gives their story line a Lethal Weapon-like buddy cop dynamic. The CGI de-aging on Jackson is also the best I’ve ever seen.
Fleck and Boden, known for smaller, independent dramas, handle all of the character work in this film with ease; it’s only the action that feels rote. They’ve also crafted a film that works as well for Marvel die hards as for those who only check in occasionally with the MCU. Captain Marvel will be essential viewing before Avengers: Endgame, but its story works independently of every other Marvel film, and I think the mystery of Vers’ past will work even better for those who know nothing about the character going in. Though there have been better films in this franchise, Captain Marvel is an assured, breath of fresh air unburdened by the demands of being a piece in a larger puzzle.
As a bit of a footnote, I want to add that I also think the film does a marvelous job (no pun intended) of being a feminist superhero film. Much of the details that speak to the female experience are ones I didn’t always pick up on, but they were illuminated for me in listening to a podcast breakdown by Joanna Robinson of Vanity Fair, among others. Robinson is an excellent writer on film and TV in general, though I think she’s particularly good at keying into certain themes, in this case those of the female experience. It would be spoiling the film to get too much into how these themes play out in the story, but it includes our heroine being told to keep her emotions in check and being asked to prove herself to a man. The gender angle isn’t made explicit to anyone not looking for it, but I think it’s valuable and evidence of the contributions brought by the female creative team behind the film (four of the five credited screenwriters are women, and it was co-directed by a woman).
Us
The latest creation from Get Out writer/director Jordan Peele, Us is a similarly smart, terrifying film that will no doubt inspire legions of fans. The film follows the Wilson family as they head to mother Adelaide’s (Lupita Nyong’o) childhood home in Santa Cruz for a summertime getaway, only to be confronted one night by a family of doppelgangers clad in red jumpsuits and wielding golden scissors. When asked who they are, Adelaide’s mirror self (the only one who can speak), replies, “We’re Americans.“
There is a ton to unpack in Us, thematically, narratively, and technically. Peele once again has crafted a haunting film, more so than Get Out, though no less entertaining or funny. The politics and themes of Us aren’t as clear or concise as in Get Out, though I think that’s Peele’s intention, as a film about doppelgangers is very much one that’s meant to reflect back what you bring to it as a viewer. There are notions of how we treat the “other“ in society, and how their actions and our perceptions of them are born from our treatment of them, but to get any more specific would start to spoil the film. In many ways, Us is a more ambitious film for Peele, and I think if it leaves viewers in any way unsatisfied, it will only be because this is a bigger swing that still connects about 95% of the time. It’s the kind of thoughtful, scary film that gets under your skin, and it’s wholly original in a way that couldn’t be more welcome.
If the thought of another great Jordan Peele film doesn’t get you excited, I’ll also note that Lupita Nyong’o is astonishing in her dual role, channeling completely different energies for two characters who are separate yet still deeply connected. The rest of the cast is also terrific in playing their mirrored roles. Winston Duke, as Adelaide’s husband Gabe, is a standout for his comedic relief as the well-meaning dad who doesn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation, and Elisabeth Moss and Tim Heidecker are both hilarious as the Wilsons’ yuppie friends.
Dumbo
For all the right reasons, the announcement that Tim Burton would be directing a live-action remake of Dumbo didn’t inspire an enthusiastic response. The original film doesn’t exactly scream to be updated, and Burton’s more recent efforts lack the consistent inspiration of his earlier work. Nonetheless, I was cautiously optimistic that by introducing a full cast of human characters around Dumbo, who doesn’t speak, a new story could be told that would bring Burton’s spark back to life. Though he’s joined this time by Danny DeVito and Michael Keaton (both collaborators from the director’s golden days), Burton never quite gets Dumbo off the ground.
I don’t lay the blame solely at Burton’s feet, because I think much of the film is well-directed, and there’s still magic to behold when the crushingly cute Dumbo takes flight or nestles with his mother. Screenwriter Ehren Kruger introduces a WWI veteran and his children to the story as Dumbo’s main allies and caretakers. Holt Farrier (Colin Farrell) returns from the war without an arm, which, coupled with the death of his wife and performing partner, means that his equestrian act with the Medici Brothers Circus is done. Holt and his two kids are tasked with caring for the circus’ new elephant, Jumbo, who soon gives birth to the floppy-eared star. The children discover Dumbo’s gift for flight, and after proving it to their father and the ringleader (DeVito), entertainment entrepreneur V. A. Vandevere (Keaton) offers to fold the entire circus into his Coney Island-meets-Disneyland-on-steroids, Dreamland.
This section of the film is the most interesting, as Vandevere reads as a kind of maniacal Walt Disney, and Keaton employs the slickness of his Bruce Wayne and the slime of his Beetlejuice. Burton has mentioned in interviews that he felt some kinship with Dumbo in the story because the film follows a misfit swallowed up by an entertainment behemoth, but those themes in the film are just out of reach. More focused in the story is the relationship between Holt and his children, but it’s poorly developed, and the kids end up as a drag on the film rather than its heart. I understand the temptation to find human analogues to the relationship Dumbo has with his mother, but it’s just too much story with too little depth. Had the story been streamlined to just Holt—who, as an amputee, could have his own outcast kinship with Dumbo—the emotional throughline would be clear. There are three characters doing the job of one, and that takes too much attention from Dumbo himself while leaving the human characters diluted. It’s a shame the human element of this film never coalesces, because Dumbo is wonderfully animated, and Burton still has a knack for beautiful, off-beat imagery.
One Day at a Time
You may have heard by now that Netflix cancelled One Day at a Time, its remake of the Norman Lear sitcom from the 1970s. The show’s production house, Sony Pictures Television, is currently looking for a new home for the series, and in the meantime, you’d be making a big mistake in not giving it a try. The series, which features Lear as an executive producer and is run by Gloria Calderon Kellet and Mike Royce, is one of the very best sitcoms around, with smart humor, nuanced performances, and great stories. Like the best of Norman Lear’s shows, One Day at a Time tackles topical issues, from race and gender to anxiety and depression, and it does so without ever being heavy handed or pandering.
The show follows Penelope Alvarez (Justina Machado), a US Army Nurse Corps vet, as she raises her two teenage kids, Elena (Isabella Gomez) and Alex (Marcel Ruiz), with the help of her domineering Cuban mother, Lydia (Rita Moreno), and her landlord, Schneider (Todd Grinnell). Stephen Tobolowsky is also a series regular as Penelope’s boss, Dr. Leslie Berkowitz.
Though One Day at a Time has obvious shared DNA with Norman Lear’s past work, the show it most reminds me of is Frasier. In part it’s the smart writing, but beyond that it’s that the serious moments and character relationships feel as thoughtfully executed as the jokes. When Penelope wrestles with depression stemming from her service in the army, it’s treated as a real issue for her to live with throughout the series, and not just a subject to tackle in one episode. It’s a testament to the tremendous cast and writers that such heavy subject matter can be handled with such grace, and they do it episode after episode with multiple issues that are organically part of the characters’ lives.
I had a mini-epiphany after watching all three seasons of this show. It actually stemmed from my aforementioned viewing of Captain Marvel, and more specifically writer Joanna Robinson’s discussion of recognizing aspects of the female experience in the film where some men may not. Captain Marvel is the latest bit of diversification Hollywood is slowly doing with its largest properties, but even the lesser known or seen things, like One Day at a Time, matter just as much. I love the characters on the show because they’re well-realized, but there are millions of people out there who will love them because of what they specifically represent that can’t be seen elsewhere. It showcases a middle class family of Cuban Americans, each of whom wrestle with their own issues of sexual identity, racial identity, or mental health, among many other things. So much of that specificity comes from having creators with the same background behind the scenes, and it lends the final product an incredible authenticity and emotional honesty. I don’t think I’d ever realized before just how much nuance comes from diverse creators telling their own stories, but it’s a clear reason why projects like One Day at a Time—which get representation so right—are more important now than ever. People of every stripe can find comfort in entertainment that understands them, that tells them they’re not alone, and to some folks that’s the difference between life and death.
I already knew that representation was important before seeing Captain Marvel or One Day at a Time, but seeing great art, especially the latter, that feels like its living those experiences rather than just showcasing them is what’s special. One Day at a Time is incredibly human, and I think that’s the highest compliment I can give to a show that’s about a family just trying to live their lives.