Oscar-winner Juan José Campanella returns with a new must-see, THE WEASELS' TALE

Delightful, dirty, old-fashion fun is given a few up-to-date twists in a movie that has -- particularly in these Covid-riven times -- just about everything necessary to pack in audiences. (Even if they are packed only into their own living room, viewing -- we hope -- via a nice, big wide-screen TV.) THE WEASELS' TALE (El Cuento de las Comadrejas) arrives via Juan José Campanella, the Argentine writer/director who gave us the 2010 deserved winner for Best Foreign Language Film, The Secret in Their Eyes (the original, not that crappy American remake from 2015).

Senor Campanella (shown at right) and his co-writer Darren Kloomok have created a smart and relatively fast-moving (given the film's 128-minute running time) romp involving just about everything: comedy, wit, mystery, thrills, surprises, movies-about moviemaking, the evils of Capitalism run amok, and especially the setting up of the older generation against the younger -- which of course will bring in seniors by the thousands. 

That Campanella does decent justice by and to all of these genres and themes makes it easy to simply sit back and relish the fun. The Weasels' Tale may not be a great film, but it certainly is grand entertainment.

The filmmakers put us immediately into the home of some elderly, retired folk from the Argentine movie industry: one of those rare Oscar-winning Best Actresses in a foreign-language film (Graciela Borges, above and below); her has-been, barely-was actor husband (Luis Brandoni, below, right), along with the film director (Oscar Martínez, below, second from left) and screenwriter (Marcos Mundstock, center, right) both of whom were responsible for many of the actress' hit movies back in the day.

From the first lengthy scene we learn that this quartet has been living in a kind of love/hate relationship in which the three men bond against the grand dame, and everyone is relatively miserable-yet-content. "Look at how happy we are,"gloats the self-satisfied film director, and the other men agree. "There are no villains in this piece." Just then, of course, a car pulls into the driveway of their home and out step an attractive young man (Nicolás Francella, above, second from right, and below, left) and woman (Clara Lago, above, left) who've seemingly gotten lost in the countryside but immediately recognize the old actress and prove to be among her most ardent fans. Yes, we're off to the races.

How Campanella wittily and charmingly compares movies to life and Argentina's greedy present to her dictatorial past, together with how these six fine actors brings their very interesting, even complex characters to life, makes The Weasels' Tale a consistent delight. Events grow darker, betrayals abound, and were it not for the terrifically stable tone of humor the filmmakers sustain throughout, things might tumble off track.

They never do. The movie proves consistently amusing, even pertinent. (TrustMovies would not be surprised if this became the highest-grossing foreign-language film for the coming year.) And our heroine -- the real one -- even gets that death scene that's so far eluded her over a long career. 

From Outsider Pictures, the film begins its theatrical and virtual cinema premiere this coming Friday, December 11 at over two dozen theaters across the USA and Canada. Click here for more information and to view the theaters at which, or virtually, the movie will screen.

Armando Iannucci's THE DEATH OF STALIN: Russian history as both tragedy AND farce

They say that history plays out the first time as tragedy, the second as farce. British filmmaker Armando Ianucci has come up with the brilliant idea of playing both simultaneously and then executed that idea in exactly the manner it needs to work best. THE DEATH OF STALIN is at once horrifying and hilarious, ridiculous and rueful and best of all somehow true to the history that we (we older folk, at least) remember hearing -- if not, thankfully, experiencing.

Americans may have to wait for the full-out Donald Trump dictatorship to get a taste of that -- the difference being that Trump and his flunkies don't possess one whit of the intelligence of those Russians, back then or, for that matter, now, particularly that of the putrid Putin. Trump and crew have got the entitlement, vanity and avarice down pat, but more will be needed.

Mr. Iannucci, pictured at right, has shown us what he's capable of many times before -- from Alan Partridge to In the Loop to Veep (the last of which I still have not seen). The Death of Stalin may be his masterwork, something unlike anything I've previously witnessed at the movies.

After giving us just a smidgen of historical facts about the time and place we're about to enter, he tosses us into it -- at a radio concert overseen by Paddy Considine (below) to which Comrade Stalin now wants the recording. Problem is, there has been no recording made.

The uproar, the all-out fear this causes, together with how the situation is handled, proves a master-stroke in bringing out the humor and horror, and the movie simply continue in this vein -- growing more so as events pile up.

One of the more unusual choices Iannucci has made is to have each of his actors use his or her own accent through the film. Consequently, rather than having all the actors ape faux Russian accents (as in the recent Red Sparrow), each simply uses his native one. Since most of the cast is British, most of the accents are, too -- from Stalin's (mouthed by Adrian McLoughlin) to his sexy son's (Rupert Friend) to Lavrentiy Beria, the miscreant who hopes to assume power once Stalin is gone (played by the great Simon Russell Beale, below, left).

But wait, Olga Kurylenko, who plays the concert pianist who helps sets this all in motion, is Ukranian by birth and so uses her own very eastern European accent. And then we have the likes of Steve Buscemi who plays Khrushchev (shown at far right, below)...

...and Jeffrey Tambor (below, as Malenkov), both of whom speak with their own very American accents. While this is initially shocking, given how movies so often handle "foreign-sounding speech," even more shocking is how damned well this works. Our ear gets used to it all in a flash, and the actors can then simply continue with their spot-on performances, which mix smiles and shocks that blend beautifully with the humor and horror on hand. In its entirety, the movie works its magic like little else you will have seen.

The Death of Stalin also brings us a look at the lives of those Russian apparatchiks in ways that other films have not. How they can spin on a dime from yes to no, right to wrong, good to bad -- all the while exhibiting the kind of craven fear, occasionally bolstered by cold fury, that working under the thumb of insane dictator like Stalin could produce. The result looks something like what Mel Brooks might have come up with, had he lived his entire life in abject terror.

While most of the cast is male, and first-rate, we also get a couple of nice turns from the distaff side: Ms Kurylenko and the so-versatile-that-she-is-often-unrecognizable Andrea Riseborough (below) as Stalin's daughter Svetlana. Still, as in Stalin's time, this was a man's game and the various ways he could play it seem as numerous as the characters on view. And while one might win for a time, there was always another schemer waiting in the wings with claws held back but at the ready -- as Iannucci's final pre-end-credits note/visual makes cleverly clear.

In the crack cast, literally everyone manages to stand out at one time or another -- Michael Palin giving the subtlest performance and Jason Isaacs (below), along with Rupert Friend, offering the most over-the-top (all three work perfectly, by the way). I have to acknowledge Misters Buscemi, Tambor and Beale as the standouts here. For sheer versatility and delight, consider Beale's performances in this film, together with those in The Deep Blue Sea and the cable television' series Penny Dreadful to recall how no-limits incredible this actor can be.

Final credit, however, must go to Iannucci and his co-writers. What a brilliant job this humorist/filmmaker and crew have done in not simply combining but also perfectly balancing history, humor, horror and character into something vastly entertaining, thought-provoking and just a little fear-inducing, too. It's happening in today's Russia all over again. Could that kind of terror happen here? If our country grows any dumber and less alert, yes, absolutely.

From IFC Films and running 107 minutes, The Death of Stalin, after opening in some major cities a week or so back, hits South Florida (and elsewhere) tomorrow, Friday. March 23 in Miami at the Landmark at Merrick Park, Regal South Beach 18 and AMC Sunset Place. Beginning the following Friday, March 30, the film will open in Miami at the O Cinema Miami Beach and the AMC Aventura; in Fort Lauderdale at The Classic Gateway Theatre, in Coral Springs at the Regal Magnolia Place 16, in Hollywood at the Regal Oakwood 18, in Pembroke Pines at the Regal Westfork 13, in Boca Raton at the Regal Shadowood, and in Palm Beach Gardens at Cobb's Downtown at the Mall Gardens Palm 16.

Film noir and subversive humor combine with animation in Jian Liu's HAVE A NICE DAY

Not comparable with much else that TrustMovies has so far seen, especially in the realm of animation, Chinese filmmaker Jian Liu's new bizarre concoction entitled, with supreme irony, HAVE A NICE DAY proves such a darkly amusing look at China's underside -- does this country possess an "upside"?  Even when we see its cultural capitals and sleek skyscrapers, there always seems to be nefarious doings afoot --  that our grin turns quickly into a grimace.

As we watch Mr. Jian (shown below), as writer/director, take a gimlet-eyed look at what passes for a part of China's middle class (most if not all of them involved in crooked dealings), we see a society in which nitwit consumerism reigns supreme. (Yes, one might say that the USA reflects all of this, too.)

It seems that not only criminals, gangsters and family members are dirty, but maybe even some Buddhist monks, as well. "Dirty" may not be quite le mot juste, however, as these folk are simply trying to get ahead (or merely survive) as best they can. What they do ranges from criminal (unless stealing from a criminal is not a criminal act) to merely immoral, very violent or just plain mean.

Jian's movie is full of economics, humor, philosophy and politics -- though the latter is, I suspect, somewhat buried. If I were Chinese I'm sure I would have gleaned at least double the amount of information and enjoyment from the film, yet what I managed to get still provided an awfully good time.

My favorite moment comes as a criminal couple (above) imagines their upcoming life in Shangri-la (below) as a kind of musical number done in the style of those old Chinese Communist propaganda songs.

Among the philosophical wonders here is the explanation by one character to another of why freedom actually equals consumerism, while what you get depends on where you buy. This is quite the original little gem.

Animation-wise the movie's simplicity also proves its great strength. Jian mostly uses stationary backgrounds in front of which the action takes place. It's an odd combo of realism and stylization, and it works very well to create what you might call animation noir.

We follow along as that ever-popular "bag of money" leads one character to another and yet another until we've come full circle and seen what greed (and, yes, need) can produce. The fact that the first fellow we meet (you couldn't in your wildest dreams call him a hero) is stealing that money in order to pay for a second facial surgery for his girlfriend (because her first one was badly botched) just adds to the film's "crazy consumerism" theme. (Too bad Jian doesn't animate that bad plastic surgery; it'd be interesting to see what he came up with.)

There is so much dark fun to be had here, with much of this coming from the fact that (probably to keep his budget in tow) the director cuts away from almost all of the kind of excess blood, gore, car crashes and "action stuff" that so many of our current blockbusters delight in overdoing.

From Strand Releasing and running a just right 77-minutes, Have a Nice Day opens this Friday, January 26, in New York City at the Angelika Film Center and in Los Angeles, the following Friday, February 2, at Laemmle's Ahrya Fine Arts -- after which it will play another 18 cities across the country. Click here, then scroll down to click on Screenings in the task bar, to see all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters.

The Little (Sexy, Naughty) Mermaid and her sister show up in Agnieszka Smoczynska's genre-blending THE LURE

Whew! What to make of THE LURE, the new Polish movie from director Agnieszka Smoczynska and writer Robert Bolesto that my spouse insisted simply had to have been made during some former decade because every last one of its accoutrements -- its "look," production design, props, costumes, hair styles, even its music and lyrics -- seem so perfectly attuned to a time past. But, no: The film was indeed made in 2015 and is finally getting its U.S. theatrical release this week. Perhaps the best way to approach the movie is as a kind of singing-dancing, fairy-tale. fantasy, horror movie. It embodies each and all of those genres, and the most remarkable thing about The Lure is that it conflates these genres so well that it arrives on-screen and into our consciousness as something damned near sui-generis.

Ms. Smoczynska (at left) and Mr. Bolesto (below) have worked together previously on a short film and evidently have an awfully good rapport, so they have been able to create a kind of alternate universe in which the most bizarre things happen. And yet they happen so "reasonably" (given the oddness of the time, place and situations) that we simply accept them at face value -- even though that "face" is one we've never quite viewed before. After all, when a pair of young girls rise from the dark water, calling out to the men on shore for help -- while promising not to

eat them -- we've got to know that we're in pretty heady, unusual territory. Soon our girls, claiming to be named "Silver" and "Golden," are living with this on-shore family of entertainers who work in a kind of upper-end strip club, performing as a special attraction and using their ability to change from mermaid to fully human to give their audience an extra treat. And, boy, do they!  (The special effects here are used sparingly but they are done with such skill and imagination that they keep entirely within the movie's special blending of fantasy, sexuality, music, horror -- and romance. It is soon clear, however, that horror will be vying for top dog here (or, in this case, top fish).

The filmmaker's cast, which I will not single out individually, is remarkably good at delivering just what the writer and director ordered. Down the line, each actor's performance seem on target and able to convey via acting, singing, movement and more exactly what's required to keep us in the audience alternately charmed and flabbergasted but always entertained.

Channeling myth, folk tale, romance, sleaze and shock, while providing strange songs that will have you reading the English subtitles quickly and carefully for meaning and enjoyment, the movie races along from scene to scene as sex, romance -- along with the need to feed -- rears their rueful little heads.

TrustMovies did not notice any rating given for this movie -- which he suspects means that it remains unrated. The manner in which The Lure deals with nudity and sexuality (inter-species, at that) means that it most definitely is not for children -- unless parents are willing to spend a rather long time explaining things that may lose much of their magic and/or shock value in translation.

What does it all mean? That question is not even pertinent, I think. The film is what it is. And what it is proves outrageous and rather spectacular, colorful, breathtaking fun.

At the very least it might provide a nice corrective for those folk taken in by all the Hollywood hype over La La Land who were then a tad disappointed when they finally sat through this musical-of-the-moment.

From Janus Films and running a fleet and sometimes quite darkly funny 92 minutes, The Lure opens this Wednesday in New York City at the IFC Center. Elsewhere? I sure hope so. Laemmle's Noho 7 in Los Angeles is said to be presenting a movie called The Lure come early March, but one can't tell from the advance posting whether this is the same film discussed above. I don't understand why the Janus web site for the film is not more helpful in this regard. Posting playdates would be of great benefit to viewers who might want to see the movie.

Todd Solondz is back with WIENER-DOG, his own brand of sequel to Welcome/Dollhouse

I'm not at all sure I agree with so many critics who claim that the movies of Todd Solondz are misanthropic. The guy has a dark view of humanity, all right, and of life as it's lived by so many of us on this maybe-soon-to-be-uninhabitable earth. Yet the feeling I am left with, time and again after viewing his films, is one of sadness more than anger or hatred at our "miserable selves." (That his films are leavened with a lot of humor, black as it often is, also adds to their enjoyment level.) I'd call Solondz an angry humanist.

The filmmaker's latest outing into the land of the lousy is WIENER-DOG, which doubles as a kind of sequel to his first real indie hit, Welcome to the Dollhouse, which, among other things, put actress Heather Matarazzo on the map. But Solondz being Solondz (the filmmaker is shown at right), the film is very different from almost any sequel you'll have seen because its star, and the "link" that joins each of its segments, is an adorable little dachshund, the wiener-dog of the title. Functioning as a kind of all-purpose object upon which the humans that surround it can heap whatever nonsense they like (think maybe Bresson's Au hasard Balthazar, but -- heresy, I know -- Wiener-dog is the better movie), this little dog is something else.

Yes, we do encounter a grown-up version of Dawn Wiener (the character played in the original by Ms Matarazzo), and here she is performed by none other than the new indie queen (though now somewhat mainstream), Greta Gerwig, who becomes, as Ms Gerwig always manages to do with each new role, this character to an absolute T.

But we only spend a little time with the new Dawn, as in fact we do with all the characters that act as satellites to our Wiener-dog, who moves from owner to owner -- the first of which we is Solondz's typical suburban family ripe for rot. In this case that includes mom (Julie Delpy, below), dad (Tracy Letts) and little son (a lovely job by Keaton Nigel Cooke, above). Entitled, self-serving, lying, hypocritical and seriously deluded, mom and dad manage to just about decimate their sickly son's little dog.

From its nuclear (holocaust) family through Dawn and a traveling Mariachi Band (shown at bottom), then to a pair of young marrieds with Down Syndrome, our Wiener moves from person to person, place to place. Solondz doesn't always let us see or even learn how these folk are connected, nor does he need to. By now we've seen enough movies to know the "connection" ropes. And he is a skilled enough filmmaker to have each scene grab us with immediacy, force and often fun.

The filmmaker even provides his 90-minute movie with its own short but smart intermission, during which there's not enough time to go get popcorn but at least we hear a terrific little song during the break. And then we're back to business as our Weenie rests in the hands of a NY film school professor and would-be screenwriter (played with delightful manic perseverance but noticeably declining gusto by Danny DeVito). Solondz uses this section to make sweet and nasty fun of independent film, auteurs, education, Hollywood and more -- and for the one sublimely hilarious scene alone, in which DeVito and the school's head interview a prospective student, this movie is worth seeing.

Then our dog is whisked away to the lap of Ellen Burstyn (above), doing another of her recently fine round-ups of aging matriarchs (House of Cards, Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You), on whom her granddaughter (Zosia Mamet, below) pays a call with her artist boyfriend (Michael Shaw) in tow. From each new owner, Wiener gets a new name but soldiers on, as ever. How our doggie becomes immortalized is, as they say, one for the books. But not, I think, for PETA people.

The movie is dark, ugly, sad, hugely comic and full of wonderful performances -- as you'd expect from a cast this good. Crowd-pleasing it ain't, but Mr. Solondz knows exactly what he is doing. Long may he grow angry, hold up that mirror to our foibles, and keep on filming them.

From IFC Films and Amazon Studios, Wiener-dog hit theaters last weekend in New York and L.A. and will opens here and there around the country this coming Friday, July 1. In South Florida, you can see it in Miami at the Bill Cosford Cinema and Miami Beach Cinematheque. Then on Friday, July 8, it opens in Boca Raton at the Living Room Theaters.

She wuz robbed! Jennifer Aniston is terrific in Barnz and Tobin's smart and deeply-felt CAKE

Well, she got a Golden Globes nod, but nothing from those classier awards, the "Oscars." Over her more than 25-year career, Jennifer Aniston has given a number for first-class performances (have you seen The Good Girl or Life of Crime?), occasionally in movies that were anything but. Nothing I've as yet seen this attractive and gifted actress do begins to compare with her work in CAKE, the new movie about a woman who spends her waking hours either sedated or in heavy-duty pain. Why she's in this state is told us in fits and starts by the intelligent, riveting screenplay by Patrick Tobin and directed extremely well -- neither overdone nor under-done -- by Daniel Barnz (of Phoebe in Wonderland and Won't Back Down). This is Barnz's best work by far.

If the movie sounds like a recipe for depression, be assured that, while it does not skirt the state of being in constant pain -- which Ms Aniston brings to full and horrific life -- the actress is so alive and on target with each thought that crosses her mind and emotion that fills her face, that she keeps us at near-constant attention and, yes, delight. She's that good. (If you have ever experienced any lengthy and severe pain, you'll be aware of how well the actress captures the body movements that must accompany this.) And Mr. Barnz, shown at left, uses just the right touch to bring her story to solid, alternately awful and funny, life. And although the actress, below, looks far from her usual, sporty glamour, her perfor-mance is less a make-up tour de force than genuine, from-the-gut acting.

Fortunately for the film, Tobin and Barnz have more on their mind than simple story-telling. Instead, they give us a lot of fantasy and flashback -- often merging the two into the kind of thing that someone on a combo of pain and prescription drugs might experience.

These most often consist of the use of actress Anna Kendrick (above) -- in what is certainly one of her more bizarre roles -- as the dead woman who once belonged to the "Pain" support group to which Claire (Aniston's character's name) also belonged.

Also vital to the story's success is the character played by Adriana Barraza (above, right) as Claire's caregiver and all-round support. Having myself experienced the joys of a first-class care-giver (we had one who assisted my spouse's mother, who lived with us for the last decade of her life), I can vouch for the importance of a person like this, as well as to the great depth and truth -- all the love that she shows, in addition to the necessary anger -- in Ms Barraza's fine performance.

Yes, there are some men in Claire's life, too: one from the past -- her ex-husband, played beautifully by Chris Messina (above) -- and a new one, played with cracked charm by Sam Worthington (below). There are some children, too, one of which occupies a very special place in things and whom we do not see for quite awhile.

Cake turns out to be about not just pain but loss, too: the major kind that will remain for the rest of one's life. Without becoming at all maudlin or pushing for tears, the movie probes the psychological aspects of Claire's pain and why, even with the all exercises and therapy she has completed, no relief is yet in sight.

Through it all, Ms Aniston keeps her hurt, her anger and her humor front and center. It's that last one, dark and dirty as it often is, that helps keep the movie blasting on all cylinders. In the supporting cast are a wealth of fine performers, with special commen-dation to actors such as William H. Macy (shown at left) as a sudden re-intruder into our heroine's life, and Felicity Huffman as the put-upon leader of that women-in-pain support group.

The movie -- from Cinelou and running 102 minutes -- opens this Friday in New York City at the AMC Loew's Lincoln Square 13, in L.A. at the AMC Century City 15, and in the Chicago area at Showplace Icon at the Roosevelt Collection with Icon IX, and probably elsewhere, too.