No lie! Young Washington a solid biopic
On the 250th anniversary of the United States, the Revolutionary War is having a moment. From Ken Burns’ six-part docuseries The American Revolution, a series of New York Times’ articles reassessing key figures and events to numerous other events and writings, the conflict that gave birth to our nation is suddenly a hot topic of discussion. Angel Studios’ contribution is Jon Erwin’s Young Washington, a surprisingly engaging account of our first president’s early years. As with any movie of this sort, a fair share of liberties are taken regarding the compression of time and combining of real-life figures into one convenient character. Still, for the most part this is a historically accurate account that proves to be unexpectedly compelling, thanks in large part to a strong lead performance from a relative unknown.
Knowing there’s a lot to cover, Erwin and his fellow screenwriters Diederik Hoogstraten and Tom Provost begin with a massive exposition dump that gets things off to an awkward start. However, after about 15 minutes, things get sorted out, the narrative becomes clear and the viewer no longer feels like a guest arriving late to a party. We see really young 11-year-old Washington (Will Joseph) grappling with the death of his father. He receives cold comfort from his mother (Mary Louise-Parker) who informs him there’s no time for tears as there’s a farm to be run.
He finds a more sympathetic shoulder with his much-older half-brother Lawrence (John Foss), who encourages him to better himself. In doing so, Washington (William Frankyn-Miller) longs for a higher station but this is denied him because of his social ranking. An avenue he pursues to remedy this is to become an officer in the British Army, however his being born in the colonies disqualifies him from that. But Maj. Robert Dinwiddie (Ben Kingsley) sees in him a man eager to prove himself and names Washington commander of a militia outpost in the Ohio Valley.
This act proves to be the turning point in Washington’s life as he discovers the French are building forts on what the British consider to be their territory. Only 21 at the time, the future president was deputed with telling the occupiers to vacate the land, which they refused to do, an act of defiance that would prompt the French and Indian War. This would serve as a proving ground for Washington, an arena in which he made grave mistakes as well as learn key concepts of military command.
The film’s second hour is devoted to these trials by combat and to Erwin’s credit, they’re very well staged. The director eschews many of the techniques used in modern action films, his battle sequences and scenes of face-to-face combat composed of long and medium shots, minimum camera movement and editing that accents movement rather than blur it. The violence, while not gratuitous, is more realistic than you might expect and effectively underscores the horror of battle.
Location shooting in Ireland (?) and Virginia contribute a vital sense of place, the wilderness locations conducive to recreating the untrammeled environment of the era. Meanwhile, Kristopher Kimlin’s moody cinematography casts a pall over it all, suggesting danger lurks within the unexplored, his work fitting for any Nathaniel Hawthorne story that might need adapting.
The period accurate production design isn’t the film’s only surprise, as Franklyn-Miller gives an arresting performance as Washington. Similar to Henry Fonda in John Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln, the actor captures the young man’s awkward nature and eager demeanor in an appealing, relatable way. Utilizing subtle touches along the way, the actor creates a portrait of a man coming into his own, his fears and doubts giving way to strength and confidence. It’s a calculated but sincere performance.
To be sure, this is a narrow vision of life during this era. The issue of slavery is mentioned only in passing, while the fact Washington’s family owned slaves as well as how it came to own thousands of acres of land isn’t dealt with. Both sides of the political aisle will be able to use various aspects of the movie to their own means. Much like the biopics of the 30s and 40s, Young Washington serves as a well-meaning portrait of a revered historical figure, warts and other flaws overlooked in the interest of patriotism. In Theaters.
Less would be more for Enola 3
There’s no question that Enola Holmes 3 aims to please. As with the previous two features, the third entry in the series brims with ambition and energy, as well as a plot that would benefit from a viewer-friendly flow chart to keep it all straight. And while the first two parts of this Netflix franchise got by on the charm of its star, producer Millie Bobby Brown, the series’ manic approach toward bringing Nancy Springer’s novels to life wears out its welcome this time around.
The action takes place on the island of Malta where we find our heroine (Brown) on her wedding day. While she loves her longtime companion Tewkesbury (Louis Partridge), she questions whether she wants to give up her independence. However, this concern is tabled when Dr. Watson (Himesh Patel) shows up unannounced with the news her brother Sherlock (Henry Cavill) has been kidnapped. Complicating matters is the fact Tewkesbury’s mother (Hattie Morahan) has also been taken.
Well, what’s a perspective detective bride to do but detect? Enola hits the ground running, searching for clues, connecting dots and stumbling upon two dying people who provide her with cryptic phrases to unravel. Of course, her efforts uncover a vast web of events that connect to a far bigger scheme, one that hearkens back to the history of the island and may well impact its future.
Before all is said and done, Enola’s mother Eudoria (Helena Bonham Carter) shows up to give sage advice, her arch enemy Moriarty (Sharon Duncan-Brewster) reveals herself as the mastermind behind these shenanigans and far too many hair-breadth escapes occur.
Like the previous two entries, director Philip Barantini brings a palpable sense of energy and inventiveness to the film. The movie is an effective mash-up of various cinematic techniques that brings the story to life. Sharp editing and inventive – not spastic-camerawork are employed, while most of the action sequences are imaginatively staged, though overlong.
Equally effective are the striking animation scenes used throughout whenever Enola is putting the pieces of the puzzles that plague her together. Objects that were once present but have left a clue are outlined and characters now absent are superimposed on the crime scene, allowing us to see what Enola sees. Flying graphics, whether they be pieces of a structure thrown together to establish a setting, quickly dropped in newspaper headlines, or broad caricatures, fly around the screen before settling into the view, the energy generated from this approach palatable.
While the central mystery here is easier to follow than those in the first two installments, it ultimately gets bogged down with unnecessary incidents, while the narrative stalls before reaching its predictable climax. By “predictable,” I mean an overextended ending with numerous fights, their outcomes obvious, all of which could have been rendered in half the time.
To be sure, Brown’s efforts or talent cannot be overstated. Her charm and charisma are the reason the viewer holds on, her confidence and self-effacing performance, totally winning. This is most evident when Enola breaks the fourth wall to directly address the viewer, a device that makes the audience part of the action, the character getting us up to speed on what she’s thinking and her method of deduction. All of this is done with a light comic touch.
As a springboard to distance herself from Stranger Things, the Enola Holmes films have served their purpose where Brown’s career is concerned. Here’s hoping she leaves this series behind for more challenging, meaningful projects that showcase her talent and push her toward taking on complex, adult roles she will surely shine in. Streaming on Netflix.
Lazy Brother a bore
My father-in-law John often says that if I like a movie, he probably won’t. He’s not wrong and this disparity tends to rears its head most where comedies are concerned. While I find Woody Allen movies clever, amusing and, at times, uproariously funny, I’m pretty sure something along the lines of Annie Hall or Hannah and His Sisters would leave him cold. Conversely, the annual family viewing of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation has John laughing at Cousin Eddie’s antics as if he’s seeing them for the first time, while I just shake my head over the simplistic nature of it all. (It should be noted that we both find “Bridesmaids” to be funny no matter how many times we watch it.)
I have a feeling the new John Cena feature Little Brother is going to be right in John’s wheelhouse. Revolving around a ridiculous situation, buoyed by increasingly crude humor and concluding with a cloying sentimental ending, it’s the type of movie that doesn’t challenge the viewer. It’s a film with no shame, content to get into the gutter and wallow there in its effort to generate laughs.
Despite having built a successful real estate agency, Rudd Landy (Cena) is a bundle of insecurities. Living in the shadow of his billionaire brother Josh (Christopher Meloni), he fails to see how lucky he is. What with his beautiful, supportive wife Deirdre (Michelle Monaghan), two healthy sons (Bryce Gheisar and Pilot Bunch) and the opportunity to appear on NYC Hustlers, a reality real estate show, he’s incapable of seeing all that’s good in his life. He’s in dire need of a wake-up call.
It comes in the form of Marcus Pinchel (Eric Andre). Good-hearted but psychologically damaged, the surprisingly optimistic man decides to pay a visit to the Landys. Seems years ago, Rudd volunteered for a “Big Brothers, Little Brothers” program, only to bolster his college resume, and was paired up with little Marcus. He failed to release the connection he made with the foster child, one the needy boy exaggerated in his mind over the years.
Of course, he couldn’t show up at a worse time, at least in Rudd’s mind. But to Deirdre, her sons, Josh and the producers of Hustlers he’s a godsend, his inexplicable innocence and lack of filter ultimately toppling the walls Rudd has built around him.
Interestingly, this is almost the exact same plot of the Cena vehicle Ricky Stanicky, in which the actor took on the role of the interloper. That film worked, thanks to the former wrestler’s willingness to play the fool and take each gag to the limit.
Unfortunately, Brother lacks the charm of that movie, many of its jokes scatological in nature, some even worse. There doesn’t seem any bottom where screenwriters Jarrad Paul and Andrew Mogel are concerned. Just when you think things couldn’t get any cruder, they manage to lower the bar again and again until a fart joke would pass for highbrow humor.
While a running gag concerning the wide range of skills Marcus has picked up from living with 16 different foster families is funny, many of the other jokes fall flat. Yes, humor is subjective, and I’m sure my father-in-law will chortle at many of the movie’s bits. However, so many of the jokes here are so simple and obvious, you see every punchline coming. In the end, Brother’s problem isn’t that it isn’t funny. No, the fact that it’s lazy is what does it in. Streaming on Netflix.
