It's "pot" luck for PAULETTE, as Jérôme Enrico's French charmer hits Blu-ray and DVD

My goodness: two new-to-the-USA movies in as many weeks about marijuana used in homemade baked goods! The second of these -- after the recent Dough -- is the 2012 French film, PAULETTE, directed and co-written by Jérôme Enrico and starring one of the old-time treasures of French cinema, Bernadette Lafont (remember Chabrol's Les Bonnes Femmes and Truffaut's Such a Gorgeous Kid Like Me?). Ms Lafont, who died the year after this film was made, had certainly aged some over a career that spanned nearly 60 years and 190 credits, but she had lost none of her power to charm, surprise, move and entertain us. In fact, as this choice role proved, she could still pack European audiences into cinemas and give them a royal good-time.

If M. Enrico, shown at right, whose work is new to me, doesn't break any ground in the feel-good sub-genre of that-crazy/nasty-old-lady-who-turns-out-to-have-a-heart-of-gold, he also plays by the rules cleverly enough to turn out a very smart of piece of entertainment that is plenty easy to sit back on your couch and enjoy. The cinematography by the fine Bruno Privat looks terrific on Blu-ray; everything from the locations to the pastries appears lovely/yummy. And Ms Lafont -- shown on poster, top, below and further below -- charts her moves from harridan to honeybun with great skill and charm.

Paulette, the character, initially takes no prisoners, reducing everyone from the immigrants who took over her failed restaurant to her mixed-race grandson (the adorable Ismaël Dramé, above, right) and black son-in-law with disdain and anger.

How she and her three cohorts -- left to right, below:  Carmen Maura, Françoise Bertin and Dominique Lavanant -- get into the drug trade proves quite funny (and about as believable as these kinds of movie ever get), and how they then must move from selling drugs to baking the stuff proves ever funnier and equally smart.

The filmmaker lets more "reality" seep into things than is usual in the genre (note the beating that our heroine takes midway along) and Ms Lafont rises to each new challenge from screenwriter or character (or even the drug-sniffing dog, below) with her usual aplomb.

There is little chance that the movie will veer from its indicated course, so best to just tag along merrily and enjoy. Watch this fine actress move slowly and carefully from reprobate to regenerate is delight enough, and will probably have you scurrying to look up her resume and peruse again some of her wonderful early films.

Among the more pointed barbs the movie offers is its smart look at The French Catholic Church (Paulette's father confessor is played very well by Pascal N'Zonzi, above, left) and the sometimes tricky uses of "donations to the cause."

From Cohen Media Group, and running a sleek 87 minutes, Paulette is out now on DVD and Blu-ray, for sale and/or rental.

SPIRAL fans, rejoice: Season 5 -- the best yet -- is out now on DVD via MHz Network

As ever, the French cops/lawyers/judges/justice series SPIRAL (Engrenages) resonates darkly like little else you'll find on television anywhere. Season 5 of this remarkable show offers up children as its central theme -- one barely conceived, another dead, and the rest in various and tricky places on the spectrum in between. Parenting, too, comes in for a licking, as we see some truly shocking instances of the very bad sort and what this can lead to in the later lives of the participants.

The same six lead characters are back again and in their usual fine form. One of the things that makes the series resonate so strongly is how these characters continue to grow and change -- with their strong and weak points both contributing to this growth and change -- while engaging us with remarkable strength and force. The other thing is that makes Season 5 so compelling lies in the surprises that await us. These come both from the exquisite plotting and the fine characterization by the series creator, Alexandra Clert (shown above), the currents writers and the lead performers, each of whom gets better with each new season.

What we have this time begins with the murder of a mother and her child, and the surprise pregnancy of one of our "heroes." There is also a series of robberies going on in which young hoodlums on motorcycles and thieves in stolen cars wreak their havoc on the citizenry. A "snitch" turns out to be an unlikely if self-serving ally, and the initial suspect in the murder case appears to be possibly innocent.

Judge Roban (the marvelous Philippe Duclos, two photos up) has grown hardened in surprising ways, while lawyer Joséphine Karlsson (everyone's favorite French redhead, Audrey Fleurot) has both softened and strengthened. (The latter is shown above with that fine actor Louis-Do de Lencquesaing, here in an ace supporting role.)

That pug-ugly and extraordinarily sexy actor Thierry Godard (above, right) deepens and broadens as the cop, Gilou, while Captain Laure Berthaud (Caroline Proust, below, left) must deal with her usual work-related business while deciding how and even if to welcome a newcomer to her life. (The French -- and perhaps still too Catholic -- attitude toward pregnancy and abortion is given a very interesting workout here.)

Tintin (Fred Bianconi, above) is having his usual family problems, and that other lawyer, Pierre Clement (stalwart hero Grégory Fitoussi)  has gone from prosecutor to the defense side and is handling the case of the prime suspect. It is via Pierre's character that the series offers one of its biggest surprises to date. M. Fitoussi, below, left, is shown with Olivier Chantreau, who brings a nice combination of outsized anger and bleak confusion to the role of of the prime suspect.)

As ever, the insistence on the inclusion both good and bad in our six lead characters and most of the major supporting ones makes the series infinitely more complex and believable than many others of this genre. And the addition this time of actress Shirley Souagnon in the role of a character named Karen Hoarau, aka Oz, proves a terrific piece of casting and acting. Ms Souagnon, below, makes a memorable impression indeed.

For anyone new to this fine series, begin with the first through fourth seasons, all of which are available via Netflix and Hulu. Season 5, however, is available on DVD only from MHz Networks, and for anyone who can't wait, that would be the place to order it -- for sale or streaming (soon) via the new MHz Choice option. 

A bi-polar love story attempts to surface in Paul Dalio's TOUCHED WITH FIRE

How do you legitimately dramatize the plight of bi-polar/emotionally-challenged individuals without, on the one hand, giving into sentimentality and the urge to placate the feel-good crowd, or on the other making the movie so damned real and therefore often unpleasant that it can't possibly pass for entertainment? Writer/director Paul Dalio (shown below), who, according to the press notes on this relatively new movie -- it was made back in 2014 under the title of Mania Days but is just now being released theatrically as TOUCHED WITH FIRE -- has himself struggled with bi-polar disorder and here creates a kind of love story between two approaching-middle-age people who both suffer from this disorder.

Dalio has indeed managed to probe, with the help of his two lead actors -- Katie Holmes and Luke Kirby -- a couple of interesting and for the most part believable characters: two would-be artists with some but not (from what we see here, at least) major talent in their respective fields of fine art and creative writing who bond during their simultaneous stay in a progressive and relatively easy-going mental institution. Mr. Kirby and Ms Holmes, shown below, connect with each other believably, while expressing their hugely up-and-down mood swings with the proper passion and deadness, anger and joy.

Unfortunately, however, there must be a story to connect all this, and the one that Dalio has come up with is noticeably lacking in believability now and again. From the outset he stacks the deck too heavily against his protagonists by saddling them both with parents who repeatedly accentuate the negative so far their child is concerned. (Granted, the children do this very well all by themselves.)

As played, and well, by Griffin Dunne (Kirby's character's dad) and Christine Lahti (Holmes' character's mom), these two repeatedly rail against the actions of their kids instead of trying to encourage, as well as modulate and/or circumscribe, those actions.

As usual, in scenarios such as this, the question of taking one's medicines -- which might and probably do curtail creativity and energy to some extent -- becomes paramount to the bi-polar, with results that are not helpful to anyone. To this end, the filmmaker inserts one scene featuring Kay Redfield Jamison, the woman who wrote the book, Touched With Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament that evidently helped inspire this movie. In that scene, Ms Jamison reassures the pair that taking lithium has not diminished her creativity. However, the scene clunks badly and seems out of left field. In any case, the Kirby character does not appear to be convinced by Ms. Jamison's words.

During the pair's "up" times, the movie can get a bit too cutesy (placing a sleeping potion into the coffee cup of the hospital guard on duty) and, much worse, far too unbelievable (as in the duo's later escape from the authorities, which looks downright ludicrous).

Finally the movie asks us what it might take for the world to allow two enormously problemed people to roam free, live, marry, conceive and wreak havoc upon themselves and probably others. Unless, of course, they take their medicines. As the end credits roll, the movie offers up a list of supposedly bi-polar artists throughout history. Most of these people are now dead, and so their bi-polarity cannot so easily be proven. But the list may work for some viewers as a kind of apology for the behavior that accompanies the art.

As you might have already gathered, all of the above proves a tricky balancing act, which unfortunately, the filmmaker fails to manage. At one point toward the finale, Kirby's character asks, "Are we a mistake?" This is a haunting and very sad question to have to ask about oneself. I would not want to hazard an opinion regarding these two people. But I have to say that, in some important respects, the movie about them certainly is.

From Roadside Attractions and running a bit too long at 110 minutes, Touched With Fire opens this coming Friday, February 19, here in the Miami/Fort Lauderdale area at the Aventura Mall 24 and the AMC Sunset Place 24, after making its theatrical debut this past weekend in New York and Los Angeles.

WHERE TO INVADE NEXT: Michael Moore's most entertaining, funny and moving doc yet

While some critics have found the new documentary WHERE TO INVADE NEXT -- from long-time filmmaker Michael Moore -- to be his most pro-American, certain others seem to loathe it for the very opposite reason. In a sense it's both pro and con because it finds much fault with the way America is run today, even as it goes country-hopping from continent to continent to discover ways in which each new place we visit provides much more productive living than what we have here. And yet, time after time, the people in those countries who are interviewed by Mr. Moore tell him that the ideas they have put into practice to make their habitat better originally came from America.

Moore, shown above, at right and below, takes off from the rather silly, as-if premise that he has been called in by the three branches of America's military in order to pick his brain as to why our country has lost every war it has been involved in, starting back in the 1960s with the Vietnam conflict onward to today's misadventures in the middle east. So off our our intrepid fellow goes in search of answers, to at least nine different countries around the globe.

Much of what he learns may be already known to those who follow other countries and cultures. Yet, as brought together here under this single "fact-finding" mission, the evidence of how and why America could be a much better -- kinder, healthier, more productive -- place for its citizens to live and work seems near indisputable.

In Italy, we discover the workplace -- shorter hours, more vacation and lunch time  -- while France offers up a school cafeteria to make your mouth water. Finland's extraordinary education of its youth and Slovenia's free college education (for foreigners, too!)  are something to discover and consider.

In Germany we not only visit an exemplary pencil factory, but we see how a country has helped its citizens come to grips with their country's fraught past -- Nazis and The Holocaust -- and healthily move beyond this. The way that Moore compares this to our own country's history of Indian genocide and Black slavery, as well as our paltry and tardy attempts to come to terms with all this provide the film with some of its finest, and most moving scenes.

How a country has all but exterminated its drug problems is viewed via Portugal, and again, the comparisons we see are telling indeed. Ditto the prison system in Norway, including an interview with the father of one of the many students murdered in that awful island massacre of a few years back.

Most surprising, for me at least, is the visit to Tunisia, a Muslim nation boasting free, government-funded women's health clinics and abortions, where a male official explains that "Prayer comes before power. So does avoiding conflict and bloodshed." Imagine: Conservative Islamists allowing personal choice by women. Bill Maher desperately needs to see this film.

Many of us were surprised some years back at the smart and efficient manner in which Iceland handled its economic meltdown. We visit all this again and talk to a number of women who helped and guided that little country through its travails. Here, Moore gets, well, feminist, and how he does it is inspiring and moving. "Where might have been were that company titled Lehman Sisters" one person wonders. Declares another, a propos the behavior of the banks and Wall Streeters: "Anyone who has kids will know this. If the kids get away with their crimes, they will do it all again." Amen.

What makes the movie so enjoyable is Moore's consistent sense of humor and irony at what he sees abroad and what goes on here in America. His movie is a lot of fun but every bit as serious and important because of that humor and irony. Sure, the filmmaker leaves out the fact that Italy is in a lot of financial trouble and that business there is more often dependent on "connections" rather than on abilities. But that does not mean that the country's treatment of its workers is somehow wrong.

The points Moore raises here are valid and secure. America could be one hell of a lot better country for its people, rather than for those corporations and that one per cent. Which is why Bernie Sanders' popularity continues to grow. America may also be simply too big and sprawling and diffuse to govern properly. But if its populace ever wakes up to what it needs, rather than what it imagines it wants, who know what might occur?

Meanwhile, Where to Invade Next opened up yesterday in theaters all across the country. See it, argue, and discuss. But miss it at your peril. Click here to see all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters. Here in South Florida, it has opened in Miami, Miami Beach, Davie, Hollywood, Fort Lauderdale, Boca Raton, Palm Beach Gardens and West Palm Beach. Check that listing for specific theaters.

Matthew Heineman's multi-award-winning and Oscar-nominated documentary, CARTEL LAND

TrustMovies is not certain why, but there does seem to be a hex on making an acceptable film about what some people call the "drug wars" and the country of Mexico -- whether that film be a narrative (like Oliver Stone's crass, slick and sleazy violence-porn Savages, Ridley Scott's ludicrously pretentious The Counselor, or the Denis Villeneuve's more recent starts-out-well-then-turns-ridiculous Sicario) or documentaries from Bernardo Ruiz's limited-in-scope and somewhat shallow Kingdom of Shadows to the film under consideration here: CARTEL LAND. Is this because the subject is simply too awful, crazy, ugly, impossibly huge and hydra-headed to even begin to pin down? Or perhaps it is due more to the fact that so much dishonesty, venality and betrayal is embedded here that any film tackling the subject runs the risk of embroiling itself in the very culture it depicts.

Whatever, this latest drug cartel documentary via director Matthew Heineman (shown at left), which has found its way into the five films nominated for Best Documentary "Oscar," though one of the better examples TrustMovies has encountered in all of these docs and narratives, still ends up making one question what has been left out of the movie as much as what is actually in it. The film blends two narrative strands, one of which involves an American-set group of para-military vigilantes who say they are trying to stop this violent Mexican drug war culture from entering our country (hello: It has been here for decades now) and is much less interesting and important than the second strand.

That would be the tale of a "noble," small-town Mexican doctor, José Mireles (shown above), who appears to have determined to rid the area surrounding his town of Michoacán of these drug lords and their crews. Why this is so necessary is explained early on, as townfolk tell of the slaughter of a particular family of fruit-pickers. We do not see this but only hear of it, but the telling is particularly horrible. (It was enough to prevent a good friend of mine from even continuing with the film.)

To achieve this riddance Mireles organizes a group of vigilantes who become surprisingly successful in their task. The police and elected officials, corrupt as ever, not only offer no help but actively try to dissuade these "Autodefensas" from bearing down on the particular drug cartel involved in the Michoacán area. So far so good. But when an accident involving a plane crash derails Mireles, and the good doctor turns over the running of the Autodefensas to a cute little gnome-like fellow known as Papa Smurf, things begin to fall apart.

How and why we see glimpses of,  and this is enough to make us question the reliability of just about everyone involved -- including the filmmaker. Director Heineman managed to get enormous access to Mireles and his Autodefensas, so much so that we finally discover things about this good doctor and loving family man that begin to call into question quite a lot. As usual, it appears that power corrupts, and the more powerful a man or group becomes, likewise the more corruptible.

Given what Heineman has chosen to show and tell us, we can't help but wonder what more damning tidbits he may have left out. Clearly, Mireles had control over what he allowed the director to see, hear, and maybe report on, so we wonder why we're discovering certain things but not some others. Ah, it's a conundrum, and the question of who is betraying who consistently crops up.

As for the American set of vigilantes, early on its leader explains that the Southern Poverty Law Center has labeled his group "extremists" -- and than proceeds to unintentionally explain why this is true. While it is clear that the filmmaker wanted to show us vigilantes on both sides of the borders, it seemed to me that those on the American side were much less interesting or productive (but perhaps more trustworthy?) that those to the south.

As usual with these drug movies, any kind of understandable truth proves so elusive that the viewer's patience eventually wears thin. That's the point, I guess. Of course, "truth" is always problematic. But where Mexico, America and the drug cartels are concerned, it is so multi-layered and out of reach as to seem non-existent. And that, dear reader/viewer, is fucking depressing.

Cartel Land, distributed theatrically by The Orchard and running 100 minutes, is available for streaming now via Netflix and elsewhere. 

The wonderful Jonathan Pryce enlivens John Goldschmidt's feel-good dramedy, DOUGH

An unusually smart and intuitive actor, Jonathan Pryce (shown at left and further below) always seems to know just how far to go in bringing to life curmudgeonly characters. His latest -- and one of his most low-key charming -- is the Jewish baker/widower who is one of the two main characters in DOUGH, a little wisp of a movie that makes its U.S. debut down here in Southern Florida this Friday and manages to hit almost all its marks, leaving you feeling good and gooey and maybe a little teary, too.

From almost its first scene, you will have little doubt where the movie -- directed by John Goldschmidt (shown at right) and written by Jonathan Benson and Jez Freedman -- is headed. But so charmingly is it conceived and executed that I suspect you will follow along eagerly as it makes its way toward that feel-good ending. From its juxtaposition of rites/prayers and Muslims/Jews to the genuine annoyance/ attraction between its two charismatic stars -- old-timer Pryce and younger veteran Jerome Holder (below, left) -- the movie easily maintains rhythm, focus and thrust.

The plot brings together a pair of mother/son Muslim immigrants, the latter of whom is having trouble finding legal employment, and that aforementioned baker, who has business and family problems of his own.

Toss in an sweet and attractive local widow (a nicely-used Pauline Collins, above) who owns the block that houses the building in which our baker works, a nasty entrepreneur who wants to buy that block, a not-so-nice drug dealer (the fine-but-underused Ian Hart) whose pot the immigrant son is peddling, along with some cops and other locals and you've got a small community's worth of problems on your hands.

Eventually, the movie becomes a simmering mix of baking, marijuana, gentrification and communication in which ideas about doing wrong things for the right reasons, as well as the meaning(s) of family and Muslim/Jew rapprochement bubble repeatedly to the surface.

If a little too much coincidence leads to a little too much melodrama, not to worry. The occasional extra-clever bit of dialog keeps things rolling, as do the good performances. By the time of the feel-good finale, you'll be smiling. shaking your head and muttering, "If only...."

Dough, from Menemsha Films and running just 95 minutes, opens here in South Florida on Friday, February 12, in Boca Raton at the Living Room Theaters FAU and the Regal Shadowood 16; in Delray Beach at the Movies of Delray; in Lake Worth at the Movies of Lake Worth; in Tamarac at The Last Picture Show; in Fort Lauderdale at The Gateway Theatre; in Aventura at the AMC Aventura 24; in Miami Beach at the Regal South Beach 18; and in Miami at the O Cinema Wynwood. On April 29, the movie will open in New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Boston, Philadelphia, DC and other cities.

Note the  personal appearance -- doing Q&As at several 

theaters -- by the film's young star, Jerome Holder (shown above, left).
Jerome -- whom TrustMovies met during Holder's P.A.s in Florida
last February, is a real doll -- as gracious and charming
as he is handsome and talented.
He'll will be in in the Boston area next weekend: on Friday, April 29,
 at the West Newton for Q and A's after the 3:30, 5:50 and 8:20 showings,
 and again on Saturday April 30 after the 1:00, 3:30, 5:50 and 8:20.
On Sunday, May 1, at Cape Cod Cinema, there will be Q and A's
with Jerome after the 1:00 and 4:00 P.M. shows .

Taylor Ri'chard/Zach Davis' THE FINAL PROJECT: the latest found-footage fumble

God damn -- they just keep on a comin', these nothing-new-under-the-sun, hand-held, found-footage exercises that began 17 years ago with The Blair Witch Project. With the exception of the terrific, engaging, funny, creepy and surprising Afflicted, there has barely been a movie in this new genre worth its salt, including that original boring and pretty awful marketing success, Blair Witch. Now arrives a film that marks the biggest waste of time TrustMovies has spent viewing both this year and last (maybe longer, too): THE FINAL PROJECT, the title of which comes via the video project a group of supposed college kids (they look a lot older) must deliver to their professor in order to get a passing grade. (The best thing about the film is its smart poster art, shown above.)

As directed, co-produced and co-written by newcomer Taylor Ri'chard (shown at left) and co-written/co-produced by Zach Davis (also a newcomer), the film begins with some barely understandable babblings (due to perhaps deliberately crummy sound) from a shadowy figure wondering why these kids would deliberately go into a known-to-be-haunted house. As Austin Powers might say, "Oh, come on!"

All too soon we realize that the sound is not the only thing sub-standard here. The visuals are even worse.  And both remain so throughout. I still do not quite understand why the filmmakers who dabble in this fairly new genre insist on providing some of the worst dialog currently going -- crammed with unsubtle exposition and attempting "realism" before art or entertainment.

These found footage "epics" desperately need characters with a trace of intelligence and wit, so that they can mouth some dialog that's fun and clever for a change, rather than the supposedly "realistic" but uber-tiresome stuff that comes out of the mouths of these cretins. The difference between the characters (their concerns and their dialog) in a joy like Paper Towns or the formerly mentioned Afflicted and the kids seen and heard here gives us the difference between a real movie and a big, fat waste of time.

Worse yet: So little happens for such a long while that audiences are likely to tune out well before the first scare (a comic one) arrives at the 49-minute point.  There's another scary scare at the 69-minute point, if you're still around. The entire film lasts only 79 minutes, with an extra full minute or more devoted to a supposedly frightening scratching sound on the soundtrack while the screen is black -- then appears a visual of a final newspaper article about disappeared students. All this extra nonsense allows the movie to reach its requisite 80-odd-minute running time.

Not a scene in the film has any originality; it's all been-there/done-that -- from playing the game of "Never-have-I-ever" and the inevitable sound of things that go bump in the night to dialog like "Mama, don't worry. Nuthin's gonna happen" and "We're gonna get outta here! It's gonna be all right!" If we are told -- and you can bet we are -- about an apparition in a white dress, you can be sure we'll see her eventually (as in the window above). Some of the other things we hear about, we don't see -- Civil War soldiers, for instance -- but as the budget here is miniscule, we are not surprised.

For awhile, the movie appears as though it might be more a simple murder mystery than anything to do with occult.  But so poorly made is the film that you can't be certain this was an intentional red herring on the filmmakers' part or the result of sheer laziness and lack of talent. The acting, from all concerned, is only as good as the dialog and characteri-zations make possible. The most interesting performance comes from Arin Jones (shown center, below, and three photos above), as the movie's most mysterious presence.

The surprising thing about The Final Project, however, is that it comes from the distributor, CAVU Pictures. CAVU releases a diverse slate -- from art films (Sunset Edge) to documentaries (The Real Dirt on Farmer John) to genre movie (Lucky Bastard). What unites these is their quality and originality. So I don't know quite what to make of this company's latest, well..., "surprise."

In any case, the movie opens this Friday, February 12, in Houston and Atlanta, and the following Friday, February 19, in Broussard, Louisiana, and on March 4 in New York and Los Angeles, and then expands nationwide. You can view all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters by clicking here.