Piling it on: home video debut for Jen Tullock and Hannah Pearl Utt's BEFORE YOU KNOW IT

We often hear that "theater people" are crazy but, really, several of the characters found in BEFORE YOU KNOW IT just about reach the point of insufferable.
This wobbly concoction, about a family of theater folk who live above the small New York City theater they also own, begins with Mandy Patinkin playing the most insufferable of the entire bunch, a playwright who won't allow a word of his precious verbiage to ever be changed. When he departs early from the film, you'll probably breathe a sigh of relief. Hold on, though; things don't get much better.

The film stars a pair of actresses -- Hannah Pearl Utt and Jen Tullock, shown above, left and right respectively -- doing double and triple duty here as director (Ms Utt) and screenwriters Ms Tullock and Utt again). Utt plays Rachel, the supposedly dowdy but smart sister who of course holds the family together, while Tullock, as Jackie, who is dumb, blousy as just about as insufferable as her dad. She also is the mother of a near-shockingly normal daughter named Dodge (played by Oona Yaffe, below), who, as the single, vaguely non-insane family member, pretty much steals what's left of this near-intolerable movie.

Ms Utt plays Rachel using almost a single hangdog expression. It has its charm, for awhile, but come on now. However, even this is better than Ms Tullock's loud, crazy, mostly ridiculous outbursts that begin to defy credulity early on and only grow worse as the movie progresses. I swear you'll soon want to throttle her. How this family could leave Dodge in the care of an accountant they may not even know (of course, he turns out to be a fabulous, standup guy) is one of those idiot wonders of present-day screenwriting (and, no, don't tell me this is screwball comedy time).

Before You Know It posits that the siblings' mom, long thought dead, is alive and well and starring in some famous TV soap opera. That she is played by the fine actress Judith Light (above) ought to offer hope. But, no: Ms Light has rarely been seen to less advantage.

Aside from some dumb would-be sibling rivalry and an utterly clueless therapist (Alec Baldwin, below) the film concentrates on manipulating us and its plot into a typically desired but totally undeserved happy ending. Along the way there is a funny/sad and nicely-done section regarding Dodge's first menstruation, and thanks to the editing, music, and the occasional correct tone when the writing and performances come together, the movie has its moments and seems to almost work (an audition scene in which Patinkin's dead dad reappears, and how this flows into the following scene, for instance).

Content yourself with what you can and be grateful that your own mother was probably a hell of a lot better than anything you see or hear here. From 1091 and running 92 minutes (my spouse gave up at the point of 43, but TrustMovies soldiered on), Before You Know It hit "early purchase" EST on home video last week and will be available via VOD tomorrow, Tuesday, December 10 -- for purchase and/or rental.

Joshua Z. Weinstein's MENASHE: Inside Brooklyn's Hasidic community, undercover

Likely, for non-Jewish viewers at least, to set Judaism back maybe 200 years, MENASHE -- the first full-length narrative film from Joshua Z. Weinstein (below, who directed the much better "Taxi Garage" episode from the documentary True New York) proves a very well-acted piece of utter nonsense. Other reviewers have suggested keeping an open mind regarding the film, but I would suggest a sieve or colander instead. TrustMovies admits he has little interest in or affection for the ultra-Orthodox Hasidic community, but he has certainly enjoyed and found worthwhile other films concerning this subject (A Price Above Rubies is one of these).

Menashe, however, is so thoroughly misjudged in terms of its plotting and especially its title character "hero," whose stupidity is such a complete turn-off  -- he quite literally does everything wrong -- that only the simple-minded could care much about him or what happens to him. This is not due to the actor, newcomer Menashe Lustig, shown above and below, who plays the title role (and quite well), but to the writer/ director's ham-fisted handling of it all. Really Mr. Weinstein, how did this poor schlub mange to even reach adulthood intact -- let alone marry, have a child and find any kind of permanent employment? I find it odd that critics would refuse to accept this sort of manipulative deck-stacking in even a silly rom-com -- but here, it's OK?

Well not by me. Menashe, both the man and the movie, seem to do just about everything to undercut themselves and any possible success that either might have. We can take a little of this, even a medium amount along the way. But when every last event smacks of stupidity and failure (culminating in a smoke-filled apartment that could have been avoided so easily and more helpfully for all concerned), red flags have arisen to the point of practically blocking out all else we see on-screen.

This is too bad because the remaining actors here are also excellent, in particular the boy, Reuben Niborski (above, right), who plays Menashe's son, and Mr. Weinstein has managed a couple of other odd feats, as well. For one thing, he has shot his film with the actors speaking in Yiddish, a language the filmmaker admits to not speaking nor understanding and that is almost never used in films. (Not to worry, there are English subtitles aplenty.) He also made his movie on the sly, since the Hasidic community does not permit cinematography within its bounds. So any scenes that involve the community at large were photographed surreptitiously.

While one might debate the ethics (or lack of them) involved here, Weinstein's inter-weaving of these scenes with those that are more intimate and could be shot elsewhere is impressive and pretty seamless. And as he draws fine performance from his entire cast, there is much to be impressed with in Menashe.

Yet, as the movie continues on its dour and tiresome way, it becomes increasingly a heavy slough. And its would-be happy (or at least happier) ending also seems suspect. Now, after all this, our hero decides to "get with the program"? OK. If you say so.

Is Menashe fair to the Hasidic community? No more nor less so that other films that have offered this slice-of-life up for appraisal. It is a community closed off and unwelcoming except to those who tow the line. And since that line includes the likes of "Women should not be allowed to have a driver's license" (an opinion that is voiced by a female yet!), most audiences, I fear, will not be positively impressed.

Or maybe, unlike that famous old Levy's Rye Bread commercial, you really do have to be Jewish, after all.

Meanwhile, Menashe, which has already opened in major cities, hits South Florida today at the following venues: in Miami/Fort Lauderdale area at the AMC Aventura, Tower Cinema and O Cinema Miami Beach; in the Boca Raton, Delray Beach, Lake Worth areas at the Regal Shadowood, Living Room Theater, Cinemark Palace, and the Movies of Delray and Lake Worth. Elsewhere across the USA, click here to find a theater near you.

BABY STEPS indeed: Barney Cheng's GLBT embarrassment opens on VOD and digital

It has been a long while since TrustMovies has encountered a film, the heart and mind of which is trying so hard to be in the "right place," even as every step it takes becomes utterly cringe-inducing. Manipulative, manufactured, and messy as all get-out, BABY STEPS is about the "making" of a much-wanted (for apparently all the wrong reasons) baby desired by only one-half of a gay couple. As written, directed and starring a fellow named Barney Cheng, the movie takes the term "vanity production" to new heights (or in this case, lows).

Mr. Cheng, shown above, below and at left (it was very difficult to find a publicity still that did not include him), plays Danny, a Taiwanese man who's gay but sort of halfway closeted (his mom knows but they don't talk about this). Mom is played by an actress, Grace Guei, below, said to be the "Asian Meryl Streep." Not to worry, Meryl; you'll find little competition here, at least as provided by this particularly graceless Cheng/Guei combo. Not only does every scene clunk tiresomely along, each successive one seems less believable.

The comedy is mostly obvious and mirthless (unless you are an absolute newcomer to films), and the drama seems overwrought and often plain silly. Every cliche known to man (and movies) is dragged out here, as we get the fertility clinic scene, the search for a surrogate, the hot gay twosome, the nasty and overbearing mother, the overweight black best friend, and, oh, so much more.

We were ready to cry uncle a half-hour in, but the reviewing obligation overrode all else, so we stuck it out, through one thudding misfire after another. Even when something that initially seems more unusual occurs (such as the sudden ban on surrogates in Taiwan and then India), the manner in which these are handled appears almost nonsensical at times. Character reversals, too, cloud the movie's credibility -- first, by the lover who does not want the baby, and finally that of bad mom herself.

There is actually one single bright spot in the film, coming via the performance of an actress named Love Fang in the role of Mickey, the caretaker of the nasty mom. Ms Fang is so real and dear, so genuine and troubled by what her character is asked to do, that suddenly but all too briefly, she lends the film a much-needed dose of truth. (Of course, I could not find a single photo of her among all the many publicity stills from the movie, almost all of which feature Mr. Cheng.)

Content- and theme-wise, Baby Steps has just about everything it needs to be a crowd-pleasing GLBT hit. And yet the way in which Cheng mashes it all together proves so ham-fisted that just about nothing here works as well as it should or, in other hands, very well could.

On the shelf for two years, the movie is at last getting a release -- via Gravitas Ventures -- on VOD & digital, beginning this Tuesday, August 15.

Lucile Hadzihalilovic's follow-up, EVOLUTION, proves another stylish, mysterious provocation

For all those hoping that more brilliant lightning might strike again, after Lucile Hadzihalilovic's earlier amazement, Innocence, I would suggests tamping down those expectations. Her new film, EVOLUTION does not begin to achieve the visual delights coupled to compelling tale that the earlier movie delivered. That said, there is still plenty to enjoy here -- visually, in particular -- if you don't mind some repetition and pacing of the snail variety. As I recall, Innocence ran a couple of hours, while this new film lasts but 81 minutes.

Content-wise, however, the bill remains unfilled. As in her earlier endeavor, Ms Hadzihalilovic, shown at right, takes us to a time and place that exists.... well, we know not where. It could be the future but it might also be some sort of dream or vision. Innocence told a story of a group of young girls and for what they were being groomed. Evolution does the same, but this time with young boys. And it is an even darker vision that the filmmaker presents this time around.

It is also a much less enticing world, in terms of the visuals on offer. Though the film takes place at the seashore, perhaps on an island, once we get inside (we stay there much of the time), the color palette is dark and drab, and although where we are appears to be a kind of  "hospital" located in a tiny village, everything looks about as clean and pristine as a shit pit. Perhaps this village's Health and Welfare budget has been decreed upon by our current Republican Party lawmakers.

The movie, like Innocence, is very spare regarding dialog. There is little of it, but the sense of mystery that hovers over all, together with the creepy visuals, help make up for this lack. Our lead character is a beautiful young boy named Nicolas (played by newcomer Max Brebant, above). In fact this village is peopled only with young boys and adult women: no young girls nor men of any age are ever seen.

What does this mean? And what in hell are the women doing to the boys? The answers slowly become clearer, if not transparent, as "mothers" (such as Julie-Marie Parmentier, above) are shown to be anything but motherly, and only one odd "nurse" (Roxane Duran, below) might possibly turn out to be a figure for good in the life of our little boy.

Evolution proves to be a very dark tale, ugly even. But it achieves its ends via quiet, disturbing images that often raise more questions than they answer. Ms Hadzihalilovic keeps us on track, however, and by the finale we can perhaps find a little hope for our beleaguered protagonist, although even this is rather "iffy," considering all that we still do not know.

What keeps the movie from resonating as strongly as it might is its very slow pace, during which -- for some of the time, at least -- we learn little that is new. Eventually this weighs the film down, especially given its dank, dark interiors and multitudinous nighttime scenes. What keeps it afloat, however, is Hadzihalilovic's fertile imagination and originality. No one that I can think of has made a movie much like either Innocence or Evolution. What's next, I wonder?

From IFC Midnight, Evolution opens this Friday in New York City at the IFC Center.  Elsewhere? Not sure, but as the film will simultaneously appear on VOD, if you want to see it anytime soon, you will surely be able.

Stephen Dunn's CLOSET MONSTER: Growing up gay, closeted, and a little crazy in Canada

Gay coming-of-age stories may be rife but it seems there's always room for one more -- if that one is handled with enough creativity and energy to hold our attention. CLOSET MONSTER is just such a film, and if it does occasionally deal in cliché, much of it proves visually interesting and well-acted so that it circumvents mild objections. As written and directed by Canadian filmmaker Stephen Dunn (shown below), the movie should resonate with any viewer who can identify with a child, Oscar, who feels abandoned by one parent and terribly misunderstood by the remaining one, and who, from a young age, tries to come to terms with feeling "different," while seeing in the worst possible way the results of what being different can bring.

Our hero -- played as a child by Jack Fulton and as an young man by Connor Jessup (below) -- has a somewhat less-than-normal grasp on reality, and this takes his character far enough out of cliché to render him not simply unusual but maybe a bit of a problem. Not only does he carry on conversations with his pet hamster, Buffy, she answers him, as well. This might seem unduly fantastical, but since Buffy is voiced by Isabella Rossellini, and what she has to say is often worth hearing, we can put up with this little oddity. (There were times, though, when I wished Buffy's accent was just a bit more understandable.)

It is visually -- with camerawork by Bobby Shore and editing from Bryan Atkinson (of last year's terrifically funny Guidance) -- that the movie makes its finest impression. How Mr. Dunn and his cast and crew weave together past and present, the horrible event that lays waste to our hero's psyche, and how he unfortunately works this into his sexual life and fantasies are handled quite effectively, creating a major hurdle to be leaped before Oscar can really grow up.

Helping or hindering him along the way are his kindly friend, Emma (Sofia Banzhaf, above, left), and his obtuse and mostly nasty father (Aaron Abrams, below, left),

Most helpful of all is his male friend and co-worker, played, by Aliocha Schneider, below, with just the right mixture of easy-going confidence and bi-sex appeal). Oscar's mom (a very good Joanne Kelly), though missing in action for some time, finally proves a decent friend and parent, as well.

But it's Oscar himself, along with the finely-tuned performance of Mr. Jessup, that holds the film together. This kid is creative and a little crazy, and we root for him to work it all out. The film's ending is a kind of beginning: at once sad, funny, moving and as odd as all that has come before. Closet Monster is worth seeing, and maybe more than once.

From Strand Releasing and running just 90 minutes, the movie opens this coming Friday, September 23, in New York City at the IFC Center, and the following Friday, September 30, in Los Angeles at the Laemmle Playhouse 7 and the Sundance Sunset Cinema. To all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters, click here, then click on Screenings in the task bar midway down the page.

Brady Corbet's festival winner THE CHILDHOOD OF A LEADER hits theaters/VOD

Brady Corbet's an interesting actor. He has a quality that can so easily move from pretty-boy cool to creepy-guy strange. Contrast his work as the title character in Simon Killer with his supporting turn as the intelligent young film director in Clouds of Sils Maria. Now Corbet has made his first full-length film as director/co-writer (with Mona Fastvold), and it's every bit as oddball as you might expect from this young fellow. As its title proclaims, it tracks some formative time in the life of its titular character.

Corbet (the filmmaker is shown at right) has divided his film into "tantrums" that our child -- a pretty little boy whom we meet in the time between World Wars I and II -- throws whenever things do not go his way. One might think that a kid like this, given the time period (post-WWI) & place (Europe) would be knocked across the room during tantrum one, and that would end that.

But no. The mom and dad here (Liam Cunningham, at left, and Bérénice Bejo, below) are models of poor parenting in extremis. They are either missing in action or take no intelligent steps to help either their son (a bizarre and unsettling performance from newcomer Tom Sweet) or the situation. So, yes, bad parenting can lead to fascist tendencies. Unless of course the child in question is simply a bad seed -- and our little angel looks like one of the worst. In any case, there's plenty of blame to go around here,

including that of the nanny (that gem, Yolande Moreau, underused in this role), who coddles our little boy; and the kid's "teacher" (Stacy Martin, shown below, with young Master Sweet), one of whose duties would appear to be servicing the father, too. This little group also includes friend-of-the-family and political somebody named Charles (Robert Pattinson) who seems a bit too fond of mother.

What a group! But so what? Mr. Corbet seems to know his history of that time between the wars, and his scenes of powerful men working their power hold both interest and truth. His scenes involving the family, however -- though shot in color-drained hues and exhibiting fairly little dialog -- grow less and less involving and more and more repetitive as the film moves along. Surely there must be more?

And yes, there is. It comes with the finale, as we move a decade or more ahead in time to find the Pattinson character now somewhat enthroned and our child maybe serving him. And suddenly the movie which has been shot in quiet, subdued, stately fashion seems to explode, camera-wise, with the visuals going gaga, perhaps mirroring the craziness of this new era. (The costumes and sets are suddenly very neo-fascist drab-but-commanding.)

The music is pretty enthralling throughout (Scott Walker composed it), the cinematography (by the fine Lol Crawley) is worthwhile and fun to view, and the performances are as good as Corbet allows (he seems to want to keep everything at a very low simmer).

But what the film has to say about fascism and its origins is so thuddingly obvious and is never explored beyond the cursory that the film fails on its most important level. My spouse called it pretentious. I would not berate it thus, but simply say it does not work -- except in the most general and obvious of ways. Next time, and I am sure there will be one, please tell us something we don't already know.

The Childhood of a Leader, from IFC Films and running a very long 116 minutes, opens this Friday, July 22, in New York City at the IFC Center and next Friday, July 29, in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Monica Film Center. A further rollout in limited release is promised. Simultaneously with its theatrical opening, the film will appear nationwide via VOD.

Netflix Streaming Tip: TOP OF THE LAKE--Jane Campion/Gerard Lee/Garth Davis' study of power and the community, New Zealand-style

 

If you grew as quickly tired as I did of TOP OF THE LAKE, as viewed via the Sundance Channel (remember the old days when the whole point of cable was to provide commercial-free TV?), you should take another chance on this series now, as it has arrived on Netflix streaming, intact and with zero interruptions -- save those that separate the series' seven, approximately 50-minute episodes. The product of writer/
director Jane Campion, co-writer Gerard Lee and co-director Garth Davis, this is an alternately troubling and annoying six hours that may not leave you fully satisfied but will hold your interest, if only because it is so damn bizarre, full of crazy characters/situations, and for the most part exceedingly well performed.

Ms Campion, shown at right, is by now pretty much a staple of worthwhile cinema (with an occasional flub like In the Cut), who seemingly moves from genre to genre, while actually putting her own special stamp on each and thus pulling that genre out from under itself. In Top of the Lake, which brings her back to the kind of TV mini-series she did more than two decades ago with An Angel at My Table, she again takes on the New Zealand "community" and its power structure. But while Angel showed us the evils of conventional society and mores, Lake hands us an utterly bizarre community cut off from normal civilization, inbred with evil and a power structure that seems to emanate from a single despotic family run by a supremely crazy man (one hell of a performance from Peter Mullan, below).

The ever-wayward plot has a young police officer (Mad Men's Elizabeth Moss, below, right, doing a fair NZ accent) returning to the town to visit her dying mother and becoming embroiled in the disappearance of a young girl (newcomer Jacqueline Joe, below, left) who appears to be trying to drown herself in that titular lake.

Moss's character reports to a nattily-dressed, attractive and occasionally corner-cutting boss (the always reliable David Wenham, below) who seems to be almost too good to be true and who clearly likes our returning-home detective.

As the plot thickens in all kinds of directions, we get a good dose of our heroine's back story, which involves everything from rape to parenting issues, and an old boyfriend (played with a fine dose of reticent sex-appeal by Thomas M. Wright) who now re-enters her life and complicates things in ways suspected and not.

Meanwhile, the search is on for that missing girl, by our heroine, her father (Mullan's character) and some of her friends. Oh, yes: there's also a big-time drug operation going on; a pristine little restaurant, the purpose of which is to train wayward youngsters (that's another talented newcomer, Luke Buchanan, below) to become waiters, baristas and restaurateurs; and all sorts of other odd characters, such as a supposed child molester, who are incorporated into the tale.

What about the white-tressed Holly Hunter (below, center) and her gang of strange women? This is perhaps the most remarked upon part of Top of the Lake, and yet it is also utterly inessential to the plot of the mini-series. But, boy, it does provide some odd fun. Ms Hunter plays a bored guru to a group of sad and beleaguered woman who set up shop in the middle of some land, the ownership of which is, uh, somewhat disputed. (This leads to yet another plot line.)

Top of the Lake contains enough coincidence and nonsense to choke a large Kiwi. Things often happen so conveniently (or conversely, inconveni-ently) that you simply must suspend your disbelief. And yet the series is so chock full of the bizarre, the shocking and the unpleasant that you stick around, near-hypnotized by the evil on view. There are surprises afoot, right up until the second finale. And though the series does not neatly tie up all its loose ends, if you've been paying attention, they are indeed tied -- including the father of a certain character's baby -- if loosely.

Finally, Ms Campion and crew have delivered something that is not quite as new and original as it might initially appear. Many of the same "villains" -- sex, drugs, money, power -- are trotted out. Yet in its dark and slanted look at how power accrues in a small, cut-off community; how male trumps female, while something like polite, encouraging behavior increasingly disappears; and how the hypocrisy of society, even in as unconventional spot as this, deadens growth and life, the series does give us a view of end times, New Zealand style.