The Hollywood Bowles

How Much is that Picture in the Window?

Scott Bowles

September 3, 2019

You can tell fall is just around the corner, because the war between Netflix and theater chains has heated up once more.

Last year, the streaming giant took on big studios and exhibitors with its Oscar-winning drama, Roma. This year, they’ve upped the ante with Martin Scorsese’s mob drama The Irishman. The $169 million film will make its world premiere Sept. 27 at the New York Film Festival, where it’s the opening night film.

A month later, it will air on Netflix after talks between the company and major theater chains, including AMC and Cineplex, broke down. For weeks, there had been speculation the Oscar-hungry Netflix would further soften its stance regarding theatrical windows, but it couldn’t reach a compromise with the largest theatrical chains. Instead, The Irishman will open Nov. 1 in select independent cinemas willing to carry the film, thus giving Netflix the right to run for a Best Picture Academy Award. It will debut on Netflix Nov. 27.

Netflix used the same tactic to qualify Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma for Oscar contention. While that film won Cuarón a Best Director statue, Roma did not capture Best Picture. It did, however, spark a high-profile reaction from some of Hollywood’s top directors, including Christopher Nolan and Steven Spielberg, who argued Netflix should be limited to Emmy competition. But an Academy Board of Governor’s vote earlier this year rejected the rule change, opening the door for the streaming service to continue its Oscar strategy.

Last year, Netflix acknowledged the value of the theatrical experience when announcing that Roma and other Oscar hopefuls would play exclusively in cinemas for two to three weeks before being made available to its subscribers. But that wasn’t enough to appease all Oscar voters — or theater chains, which insist on a 90-day window between the time a title opens and is released on home entertainment.

When Roma lost the best picture race, some cited the lack of box office grosses for the snub. After picking up The Irishman when Paramount passed, top Netflix executives and Scorsese himself immediately began a dialogue with theaters to see what could be done for the film, which stars Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci and Harvey Keitel.

Some thought Scorsese had the clout to broker a peace: He’s been nominated for a Best Director Oscar eight times, more than any other living director. He’s also a powerhouse at the box office; his hits include The Wolf of Wall Street, which grossed nearly $400 million globally, and the Oscar-winning The Departed ($291 million). But no deal could be reached.

Based on the 2004 book I Heard You Paint Houses by Charles Brandt, The Irishman tells the deathbed story of a mob hit man who claimed to have had a role in the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa.

Earlier this summer, sources say Netflix offered up a 30-day theatrical window before talks crumbled. While Netflix’s minor expansion of its theatrical window this year suggests it’s willing to inch closer to traditional business models for certain films with awards prospects (Roma‘s exclusive theatrical window was 23 days), that window remains far shorter than exhibitors and studios want.

Netflix is hardly alone in questioning the validity of the traditional 90-day theatrical window, considering that most films earn the majority of their gross in the first 45 days. And with the rise of other streaming services such as Disney+, the debate will undoubtedly grow louder.

In the meantime, without the support of a chain like AMC, Netflix will be relegated to playing its titles in indie cinemas such as the Landmark and Laemmle. (Netflix either rents the locations, known as “four walling,” or pays generous terms.)

Scorsese shot the movie on both film and digital and is relying on Industrial Light & Magic to de-age his principal cast for flashback sequences. The Irishman will play first in cinemas in New York and Los Angeles before expanding into additional markets in the U.S. and the U.K. on Nov. 8. It will further expand on Nov. 15 and Nov. 22, according to Netflix.

They’re the Ones Who Knock

Scott Bowles

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August 26, 2019

breaking bad movie

(Warning: series spoilers ahead)

The last time we saw him, Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul) was barreling through a chain-link gate in his El Camino, half-laughing, half-crying after being sprung from his neo-Nazi captors by Walter White (Bryan Cranston) in a drug house bloodbath in the Breaking Bad finale.

But where did Jesse go? Did Walter actually die? Ever since the AMC series concluded six years ago, Internet denizens have speculated wildly — musings fueled by rumors that they were working on a new Breaking Bad project.

Wonder no more: Netflix is expected to announce that a Breaking Bad film will arrive in October. Entitled El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie, the film has even seen its trailer leaked onto the Internet with a release date, Oct. 11.

The news isn’t official yet, but it was all but confirmed when CNET noticed last week that a placeholder page for the movie popped up on Netflix. The page has since been taken down, but not before exuberant fans got hold of the news. The trailer doesn’t show Pinkman or other Breaking Bad characters; instead, it features only an addict refusing to talk to cops for fear he would be similarly enslaved by drug dealers. “No way I’m helping you people put Jesse Pinkman back inside a cage,” the tweaker says over an ominous score. The synopsis on the now-deleted Netflix page reveals little of the plot: “Fugitive Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul) runs from his captors, the law, and his past.”

Rumors of the film were further confirmed in an interview Paul gave to the New York Times, which ran an article Saturday about the series and the show’s legacy. “It’s a chapter of Breaking Bad that I didn’t realize that I wanted,” Paul told the Times about another chapter in the story. “And now that I have it, I’m so happy that it’s here.”

Paul also recalled early conversations with series creator Vince Gilligan, who will direct the film. “I would follow him into a fire,” he said, adding, “I was so happy that Vince wanted to take me on this journey.”

In interviews earlier this month, Bob Odenkirk, star of the Breaking Bad prequel series Better Call Saul, added to the rumor mill. He told /Film that the movie was shot secretly under the guise of an indie film called Greenbrier. In addition, in an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Odenkirk spoke briefly about the movie. “I’ve heard so many different things about it, but I am excited about the Breaking Bad movie. I can’t wait to see it…I don’t know what people know and don’t know. I find it hard to believe you don’t know it was shot. They did it. You know what I mean? How is that a secret? But it is. They’ve done an amazing job of keeping it a secret.”

No word on whether Cranston will be involved in the movie, though some fans have speculated that he may have survived the fusillade of bullets that ended the series — and, ostensibly, his character. And given Gilligan’s fondness for timelines that leapfrog from past to present, Walter White may again be the one who knocks.

The Netflix announcement is expected Monday.

Hot Air Runs Out of Steam

Scott Bowles

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August 25, 2019

In 2013, Steve Coogan starred in a gem of a movie, Alan Partridge, about a self-centered disc jockey struggling with age, sagging ratings and the looming reality that a new generation had left him behind. While he played an egomaniac, the film deftly offset Partridge’s boorishness with sincere British charm — along with perhaps the best driving-and-singing scene ever captured on screen.

In Hot Air, Coogan plays a similar character, just without the charm and the one-man carpool karaoke. And the loss is a crippling one.

Less a comedy than a broad swipe at America’s talk radio landscape and its right-wing followers, Hot Air takes aim at everything from hypocritical Evangelicals to homophobic xenophobes to gun-toting proponents of a border wall. More troubling, it seems to call for the eradication of talk shows that echo those sentiments with an odd catchphrase: “Talk isn’t cheap. It’s toxic.” The result is 100 minutes of, well, hot air.

Coogan plays Lionel Macomb, a Limbaugh-esque radio personality whose world is capsized when his mixed-race niece Tess (Taylor Russell) unexpectedly enters his life. On top of his personal life’s upheaval, Lionel’s protege, Gareth Whitely (Skylar Astin), is gaining on him in the ratings with a soft, fuzzy and bland brand of conservatism, threatening Lionel’s 20-year reign at the top of the radio heap.

Directed by Frank Coraci, who helmed Adam Sandler’s hits The Waterboy and The Wedding Singer, Air seems determined to take Coogan out of his affable screen persona and turn him into a modern-day Howard Beale, the darkly funny news anchor played by Peter Finch in 1976’s Network. But instead of earning followers with his anthemic “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!” Macomb comes off as simply mad as hell. Air may see itself styled after Network, but its cliched dialogue plays more like a Network trailer.

“You’ve done well for yourself telling other people how to think,” a character tells Macomb, a thinly-veiled shot at Limbaugh’s “ditto heads,” fans accused of having no thoughts of their own until given conservative marching orders.

It amounts to a wasted opportunity to take a darkly comic look and the incendiary, polarized landscape of American politics. And it doesn’t help that Coraci overloads the film with unnecessary plot strands, including Macomb’s strained romantic relationship with Valerie (Neve Campbell), a publicist who is trying to save her boss’ career while opening his heart.

Campbell and Russell do a serviceable job in the limited space they’re granted in an anemic script by first-time screenwriter Will Reichel, and Astin aptly plays a double-talker who uses the Bible for ratings, not redemption. But it’s undeniably Coogan’s movie, and he gets some laughs when he gets behind the microphone. Too bad he’s undercut by an American accent that slips in and out of his natural British cadence.

Earlier this year, Coogan faced a real-life scare: The comedian, known for being a lead foot behind the wheel, faced a six-month driving suspension for speeding through a British thoroughfare in his Porsche. After Coogan explained that driving was integral to his upcoming Alan Partridge travelogue TV series, the judge lessened the suspension to two months and told the actor to lay off the gas pedal. He probably should have suggested Coogan lay off the politics, too.

Oh the Humanity!

Scott Bowles

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August 17, 2019

Stop the presses, hold the phone, and crank up the AC. Hell hath frozen over: Donald Trump was correct about something.

Not the broken-clock kind of correct. God knows Donnie Dimwit couldn’t keep up the blistering pace of being right twice a day. He’s lucky if he’s right twice a month.

But last week, in classic Trump style, he managed to say something accurate. It was in defense of the (correct) claim that he’s a racist. Just as he did in claiming Bill Clinton had something to do with Jeffrey Epstein’s death, he pointed at someone else as the culprit of an undeniable truth about racism in America. “Liberal Hollywood is Racist at the highest level, and with great Anger and Hate!” he sausage-fingered from his safe haven aboard Air Force One. “They like to call themselves ‘Elite,’ but they are not Elite. In fact, it is often the people that they so strongly oppose that are actually the Elite.”

Well I’ll be damned. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by his assertion about show biz. After all, it birthed his very presidency.

Still, as usual, the Molester-in-Chief got it only partly right. In truth, Hollywood isn’t liberal, though he and his base would scream to the contrary. But statistical research bears out what he said — and what we all know instinctively to be true. After all, this is an industry that glorifies gun ownership and vilifies environmentalism. How many times have our cinematic heroes solved their problems by being armed to the teeth? Ever seen an electric car in a Fast & Furious installment?

Delve a little deeper, and you’ll see that Hollywood mirrors corporate America in its white male ownership, and not only at the studio-head level. Here are just a few numbers to illustrate:

Women make up 52% of the U.S. population. But on the silver screen, here’s their representation, according to the Center for the Study of Women in Television and Film. Women make up:

4% of directors
15% of writers
3% of cinematographers
18% of producers
18% of executive producers
14% of editors
6% of composers

When it comes to minorities, the numbers are just as bleak. According to a 2019 UCLA study of minorities in film, people of color make up 40% of the nation’s population. But in the movies, they comprise:

19.8% of leading actors
12.6% of directors
7.8% of writers

In television, minorities make up:

21.5% of characters on scripted shows on the networks
21.3% of characters on scripted shows on cable
28.4% of characters on reality shows on networks
22.4% of characters on reality shows on cable

They’re dismal figures, but would we expect anything else from America’s largest exporter? In 2020, the entertainment and media market in the United States is expected to be worth over $720.38 billion, according to the economic research firm Statisa.

Not that we need statistics to prove all this. Remember the outrage when Idris Elba was being considered to be the next 007 in the James Bond series? Image result for idris elba bond

Or when the Star Wars franchise dared incorporate a black stormtrooper? Image result for star wars black stormtrooper

The difference between Hollywood and the rest of America, of course, is that at least showbiz is attempting to appear like they’re doing something about the problem. What was the hottest film of last year? Black Panther. Image result for black panther What was the biggest movie of this year? Avengers: Endgame, with a superhero cast as diverse in race and gender as Up With People. Image result for up with people

Marvel has taken further steps, announcing 10 films to follow Endgame, which include two more Black Panther installments, Natalie Portman and Cate Blanchett anchoring the next Thor movie, and Scarlett Johansson getting her own Black Widow film. Image result for natalie portman thor

Trump’s attack on Hollywood puzzled many, but it’s likely due to him gaining wind of a movie scheduled for release this fall called The Hunt. It was indefinitely shelved because of the mass shootings in El Paso and Dayton, but the premise must have enraged Trump nonetheless. The film, which stars Hilary Swank, Betty Gilpin, and Emma Roberts, does not mention political ideology or Trump in its advertising. But a draft of the script (originally titled Red State Vs. Blue State) centered on hunting human game and featured such lines as “Did anyone see what our ratfucker-in-chief just did” and “nothing better than going out to the Manor and slaughtering a dozen deplorables,” as well as descriptions of its hunted characters having shared racist or pro-life views. Image result for the hunt movie

Maybe Donnie was just pissed that he hasn’t been asked to star in any films lately. And that’s not likely to change soon. After all, the camera adds 10 pounds. And the way he’s scarfing Big Macs and KFC, he’d likely only be considered to play the titular role in a drama about the Hindenburg.

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When Obsession Turns Obvious

Scott Bowles

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July 29, 2019

Brenda Song in Secret Obsession (2019)

Netflix has been thriving on the woman-in-peril sub-genre of filmmaking. It found an unexpected smash in Birdbox, starring Sandra Bullock as a mother fleeing unseen demons. It bought the TV show You, a half-season flop about a stalker boyfriend, from the Lifetime network and turned it into a series already greenlit for a second season.

Which makes the streaming service’s latest flick, Secret Obsession, so curious. It’s the kind of movie filmmakers don’t make anymore — and for good reason.

Suspense-free and trope-filled, Obsession is a particularly odd choice for Netflix, which is trying to establish its original features as serious, event cinema. But this latest entry feels slapdash and cheap, the kind of fare usually relegated to weeknight time-filler fare on dying cable networks. It feels like someone owed someone a favor to get this made.

Directed by television veteran Peter Sullivan (The Sandman), it’s difficult to know where to start with Obsession: its give-all-away trailer, its inevitable plot arc or its worst offense, boredom. This is one of those rare films that would have been better had it been worse; a good dose of camp would at least have made for a fun (or funny) way to spend an hour and a half.

Instead, we get a thriller that does not thrill, a suspense movie with as much suspense as a Beagle, and a production that will do little to fend off the competition of ascending streaming services.

Obsession’s opening scene begins with a glimmer of hope for entertainment: A woman flees a silent, sinister pursuer around a highway rest stop in driving rain. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before, but it’s too simple to screw up. After that, though, it’s all downhill.

Our protagonist, Jennifer (Brenda Song), evades her tormentor, only to be hit by a passing car. The driver gets her to a hospital while her husband, Russell (Mike Vogel), arrives shortly thereafter. The doctors tell him she’ll be okay, but she’s got a bad case of the most plot-forwarding injury of all, amnesia. Memento was the last film to use that device effectively, and woe to the director who tries to employ it as effectively.

Jennifer can’t remember a thing, leaving it to Russell to remind her who she is as he nurses her back to health. Something, though, seems fishy, raising the suspicion of Detective Frank Page (Dennis Haysbert), who comes with his own convenient and tragic backstory, along with a doubting police chief.

That Page (or Jennifer herself) wouldn’t notice the countless holes in the story immediately is Obsession‘s first major misstep. This is a movie that would have us believe that a patient can undergo a days-long course of medical treatment without ever being positively identified — and that same patient can subsequently be released into the care of someone who also hasn’t identified themselves. A good 10 minutes of “Secret Obsession” consists of people slowly realizing that they don’t have any idea who the main characters of this story actually are.

Still, Russell is allowed to bring Jennifer to a palatial home in secluded woods 20 miles north of San Francisco — and a mile from the nearest neighbor. A good 10 minutes is burned on Jennifer trying to find a cell-phone signal. (She never does.)

Though Obsession hoists as many red flags as the Kremlin, Jennifer is the last to see any of them, allowing her husband to let his own psycho flag fly. Instead of slowly revealing the dark side of our villain, as You, Misery, Fatal Attraction and innumerable others did, Obsession seems impatient to get to the point we all see coming, and the rush is needless.

Song is apt as the movie’s heroine, but the best performance by far comes from Haysbert. While he’s become known as the Allstate insurance guy, he’s a terrific actor whose credits include Heat, Major League and 24.

Alas, he’s not in the film often enough to make it entertaining, and by the end of Obsession, you’ll be the one pining for amnesia.

Taxi!

Scott Bowles

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July 11, 2019

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Here’s the recipe for a summer buddy-cop film. One guy, usually the cop, is as big as a house with an inclination to break things: rules, orders, villains’ faces. The other guy is typically much smaller and much funnier and kind of goofy — and he’s driving the other guy nuts, even as circumstances force them to partner up and take on some bad people.

Sure, May-December cop buddy flicks were have been a cliche since 48 Hrs to Midnight Run to Rush Hour to Men in Black to Ride Along to Central Intelligence to The Heat to the most recent example, Stuber. But given the summer overflow of big-budget sequels, Disney remakes and comic book reboots, this paean to cop films of the 80’s and 90’s seems like a nostalgiac nod to stupidity. And, somehow, most of it works.

It’s hard to overstate how refreshing it is to see a studio movie as silly and self-contained as Michael Dowse’s Stuber. The biggest action scene takes place in a sporting goods store. The Avengers are nowhere to be found. And the hero isn’t fighting to save the planet, just to help pay for the small business he wants to open with his crush (a spinning class geared towards single women called “Spinsters”).

What makes Stuber a fresh approach to a tired genre is that it joins those rare films that are perfectly synced with the American zeitgeist. Just a You’ve Got Mail came during the AOL boom and The Social Network hit shortly after Facebook became omnipresent, Stuber will likely go down as the first big-studio film to take on ride sharing services. It won’t stomp the competition at the multiplex, but Stuber hits all the topical notes for young viewers: overprotective parents, the crippling addiction to cellphones and the roulette wheel roll that is calling a ride share service.

Much of the comedy credit here goes to Kumail Nanjiani (the HBO series Silicon Valley, The Big Sick). Nanjiani’s deadpan expression to people getting rowdy, drunk and nauseas in the back of his leased electric car could likely carry its own film. But that wouldn’t make for a buddy cop flick, so Dowse cannily casts Dave Bautista as Vic (Guardians of the Galaxy) a cop colossus with anger issues, severe myopia and a temper that sends him through walls like a drunken Kool-Aid Man.

It’s a silly pairing, but silly is the point. This movie, after all, is called Stuber because the protagonist is named Stu and he drives for Uber. Get it? Subtle intelligence takes a pronounced backseat to mindless escapism.

Stuber stumbles when it actually tries to break from comedy cliches with some adult-level violence. As the pair close in on drug dealers Vic is chasing, Stu has to face off against the martial marts actor from The Raid. Even for a comedy this goofy, it’s a plot stretch. Not only does the film skewer the tropes of Hollywood cop films, it embraces more than a few.

But they aren’t fatal flaws, and the pairing of Nanjiani and Bautista is inspired, particularly Bautista. He may be built like a Mack truck, but he displays enough tenderness he may escape Hollywood’s villain circuit.

Stuber is intentionally dumb and a little bit clunky, but Nanjiani and Bautista click, the action sequences are well-filmed and the humor is sometimes brutally funny. In a summer of repetitious travels, Stuber makes for a refreshing escapist ride.

Hearts Versus Skins

Scott Bowles

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July 3, 2019

What do you call a movie that is so well-meaning it’s hard to criticize, yet so sporadic in execution it’s hard to be effusive? In this case, you call it Skin in the Game, a nobly-intended thriller about human trafficking that tackles an issue long deserving big-screen Hollywood treatment, but undercut by tropes that veer it into TV crime territory.

“Inspired by true events,” as the film pointedly notes, Skin has the difficult task of spotlighting a vital social topic without descending into exploitative sex and violence . And for the most part, it succeeds, but the low-budget movie occasionally resembles an episode of Law & Order: Vigilante Unit, with cardboard villains and little character arc.

Directed by first-time filmmaker Adisa and written by Steven Palmer, Skin takes a topic Hollywood typically relegates to impoverished nations and brings it stateside, in this case Los Angeles. We are introduced to Lena (Erica Ash), a former prostitute who has turned her life around by dedicating herself to helping abused women out of the sex trade business.

It’s a strong intro, and perhaps the best scene of the movie. Lena, called to a seedy hotel to retrieve a prostitute from an abusive pimp, sets the film’s tone immediately: the language is rough, vulgar, misogynistic and authentic. Violence is to be accepted, not avoided, and Lena’s understanding of that world saves the young woman’s life. It’s an effective prelude to the world we assume we’re about to enter.

Suddenly, however, that tenor changes into a buddy cop thriller when 15-year-old Dani (Sammi Hanratty) is abducted in broad daylight off a suburban sidewalk and finds herself immersed in the human trafficking underworld. To Skin‘s credit, the film takes care to show multiple angles of the trafficking plague, from criminals to victims to the cops trying to sort one from the other. Skin also emphasizes that women can victimize, too; Dani finds herself in a prostitution ring led by the ruthless Eve (Angelica Celaya), a character so vile she’d make a good Bond villain.

After learning police cannot act on a missing persons report for at least 24 hours, Lena and Dani’s mother Sharon (Elisabeth Harnois) take matters into their own hands, triggering the movie’s unsteadiest moments. The women comb the streets like veteran detectives, banter like buddy cops, and threaten to kill uncooperative suspects with a gusto that would make Charles Bronson proud.

Alas, what Skin needs is more humanization. The film explains that Lena and Sharon were once close friends (Lena is Dani’s godmother), but never reveals the fracture that ended the friendship and kept them from talking for years. The film is also strangely lit, sometimes as artificially brightened as a prime time TV show; Skin oddly rejects the use of much shadow for a story about the shadowy world of sex trafficking. And “inspired by true events” is too vague here, particularly for a film on this issue: we get no epilogue about the characters portrayed, their fates, or whether they were even real.

Still, it’s Ash (Starz’s Survivor’s Remorse) who keeps the film propelled and, at times, even riveting. Lena is utterly believable as a woman who entered prostitution unwillingly and paid the price for leaving the profession. She keeps joints in a cigarette case and gumption in her heart; her tough questioning of former colleagues and employers gives Skin its heart, even if it is an occasionally melodramatic one.

Skin in the Game is hardly going to set the standard for human trafficking films. But given the rarity of movies on the issue, particularly in the U.S., setting the standard may be less important than setting precedent.

Broken or Intentionally Busted?

Scott Bowles

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June 9, 2019

Image result for when they see us

It’s can be difficult to watch When They See Us, but it’s certainly not for lack of craftsmanship. Ava DuVernay’s direction and writing pulls no punches in laying out the harrowing events endured by the Central Park Five while adding a necessary layer of humanity to their story that challenges viewers to reconsider what it means to find justice in America. This story has never lacked for attention, by media and director Ken Burns, but See brings a heretofore unseen personal side of the tragedy.

In April 1989, five teenagers (four black and one Hispanic) were arrested for the rape and near-fatal assault of a wealthy, young white woman in New York’s Central Park. The victim, Trisha Meili, has no memory of that night. Although there was no physical evidence linking the boys to the attack, Raymond Santana, 14; Kevin Richardson, 14; Yusuf Salaam, 15; Antron McCray, 15; and Korey Wise, 16, were all convicted of the crime. The real identities of all involved were subsumed by the case: Meili became “the Central Park Jogger,” while the boys became “the Central Park Five.” Image result for when they see us

This devastating miniseries restores the individual humanity to the six vulnerable humans at the center of the case. Written and directed by DuVernay, the fact-based Netflix miniseries reveals how the teenagers became pawns in a bigger game. The first episode shows how regular teen lives are destroyed by a simple a decision to go to a park. And we see police coerce confessions from scared kids who just want to go home.

In subsequent episodes, we watch as media create a narrative in which black kids from “a world of crack, welfare, guns” are driven to random attacks on white people, “wilding.” We see the shock on the face of one boy’s mother when she learns that Donald Trump has taken out full-page ads in four newspapers calling for the return of the death penalty. Final episodes take us through the brutality of prison time and the grim reality of life as an ex-con.

In an age of fast-paced, plot-twisting crime TV, the macabre momentum of this series feels agonizingly unstoppable at times: If Netflix’s Making a Murderer taught us anything, it’s the grim, sometimes illegal, measures police will take to make an arrest. And that sometimes slows See too much.

But if there are few shocks in See, DuVernay’s respect for the physical and emotional toll on the kids carry surprising power, even for a media-saturated story. You want to cheer when the wrongful convictions are vacated. But the sight of the now-grown men returning to their childhood bedrooms seems a hollow triumph. Ultimately, See underscores the unsettling question about relationships between police and minority communities: Is the system broken, or is it acting just as it was designed?

No one Knows Who They Were, or What They Were Doing

Scott Bowles

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June 9, 2019

Image result for when the screaming stops movie

You’d be forgiven if you didn’t know the music band Bros. In the late 1980s, Bros were the hottest act in British pop. The twin brothers played to sold-out concerts, top ten chart hits and the undying devotion of screaming, swooning fans, dubbed “Brosettes.” Though they enjoyed Beatle-like mania, Matt and Luke Goss called it quits in 1992, refusing to speak for 27 years.

But as any good rock doc knows, no reunion is out of the question. And this documentary offers an all-access pass during the countdown to the Bros reunion concert of 2017. But make no mistake: This is no Behind the Music TV rockumentary. Bros can’t help but focus on the toxic relationship between brothers who sometimes make Cain And Abel seem like best pals. Original fans of the duo will be riveted, but even casual music fans will recognize this is more a story about sibling rivalry. Image result for when the screaming stops movie

The title is taken from a question posed to the brothers by the late British television presenter Terry Wogan: What would become of duo “after the screaming stops?” They found out sooner than either expected. In the weeks after of Bros’ biggest hits, drummer Luke Goss moved to Los Angeles to pursue an acting career, making appearances in Blade 2, Hellboy 2 and others. Singer and musician Matt Goss pursued a solo career, undertaking lengthy residencies at Las Vegas hot spots including Caesars Palace.

The decision to reunite for an epic concert at the O2 arena in Britain seems motivated by both professional pride and personal demons. The ticking clock to the big day gives the film structure and tension as archive footage of past concerts is paired with confessional interviews. The brothers are generally interviewed individually, and in that solitude both reveal all manner of insecurities, musical and familial.

Like the group Wham!, Bros resent that the British press never took them seriously. Despite being the front man, Matt appears to be the most volatile and vulnerable, lamenting the distance between him and his brother. He also gives Bros its occasional This is Spinal Tap-esque humor. “You need to be on the same page, otherwise you don’t get to turn the page, “ he declares.

There is also a Spinal Tap element to the tempers and tantrums. Rehearsals are as mesmerizing as slow-motion car crashes as the brothers clash. Bros’ success at times seems nothing short of miraculous, given the brothers often can’t seem to bear being in the same room together. Image result for when the screaming stops movie

The tension ratchets up as drummer Luke grows frustrated that his viewpoint takes a backseat to his brothers (sometimes tearful) antics. Bros doesn’t shy away from the warts-and-all candor of their arguments. We revisit the death of their parents and odd reality of being a world celebrity in your 20’s. Credit After The Screaming Stops for aiming to be more than a promotional tour for a comeback record.

Like Spinal Tap, if Bros‘ deserves any feedback, it’s for a lack of context. There are no interviews about why the brothers became so big or what make their songs so popular. The film opts not to interview any musical media or academia for insight.

But the comparison with Spinal Tap stops about there. Far from being a mockumentary, Bros is a serious look at fame’s effect both on youth and music, and whether it’s doing either any favors. When it gets off stage, away from the lights and stage bravado, Bros can crank to 11.

Who’s a Good Boy?

Scott Bowles

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May 29, 2019

Image result for it's bruno!

You don’t have to be a dog nut to enjoy Netflix’s new series It’s Bruno! But it sure doesn’t hurt.

Otherwise, how else could we feel the offense taken by series creator Solvan “Slick” Naim when he sees dog owners who don’t curb their pooches? Or people who don’t restrain yapping pets? Or, worst of all to Naim, listen to people call his beloved puggle by another name? It’s Bruno!

Part whimsical comedy cross-pollinated with part street-savvy drama, Bruno! may be Netflix’s strangest series to date. Episodes typically range from 11-15 minutes. There is no real character arc (from human or canine actors). Some scenes are dog-food-commercial cute, only to be peppered with scenes of adult-only viewing, including sex, raw language and drug abuse. There’s no graphic violence, but think Benji Meets The Wire.

To appreciate It’s Bruno!, it helps to know a little bit about why rapper Slick Naim is making the show; he wrote, produced and directed it. According to press reports, Naim got Bruno from a rescue shelter five years ago, and he thinks the dog is so awesome that, in 2015 he made a 10-minute short film that had Naim and Bruno trying to go to a supermarket. Netflix was so impressed, they produced the show (which continues the pair’s efforts to get into the store).

But it’s exactly the small scale of the stories that gives the show its charm. Lives aren’t at stake here, just contented pets, and what a nice change of stakes. Naim plays Malcolm, who gives Bruno the best food — premium turkey meat — and lets him eat at the table. When he walks Bruno around his block in Bushwick, Brooklyn, he’s very sensitive to slights. When a woman pets Bruno without asking, Malcolm reaches out and pets her granddaughter, asking her why the dog shouldn’t feel any less annoyed by that behavior.

When he gets to a corner, he regularly meets his “nemesis” Harvey (Rob Morgan) and his dog Angie. They get into an impromptu obedience competition, which Bruno loses when Malcolm can’t get him to respond to “down.” They vie for dog walking customers. They compete for local dog ads.

In one episode, Malcolm tries to track down the hipster who is not picking up after his dog. In another, he intervenes when he meets a crack addict trying to sell a stolen husky from his shopping cart, claiming it is a “Dire Woof from Games of Thrones!” Image result for dire wolf Perhaps the most entertaining character is a hyper chihuahua that yaps its head off every time he sees Bruno. Naim cleverly translates the barks in closed captioning and man, is that dog vulgar.

But that’s the point of Bruno! In a sea of true-crime stories and police dramas, what a binge-able, pleasurable change of pace for a series. Make Bruno a police dog and you’d probably have a great buddy cop series.

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