Some Racket readers are convinced I just plain hate movies, but I swear it ain't true! It's just been a rough summer. Unfortch, I don't have much good to say about Twisters or Longlegs this week—scroll down for reviews.
Special Screenings
Thursday, July 18
Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Emagine Willow Creek
It's a Spider-Verse summer out in Willow Creek. $3. 11 a.m. More info here.
The Florida Project (2017)
Grandview 1&2
I've loved everything else by Sean Baker but this one annoyed the hell out of me. Maybe I should revisit. Also Sunday. $12. 9:15 p.m. More info here.
Reflections in a Golden Eye (1967)
The Heights
Liz Taylor and Marlon Brando have a strained marriage, to say the least. $12. 7:30 p.m. More info here.
Marinette (2023)
The Main Cinema
The story of French women's soccer pioneer Marinette Pichon. Part of Lumières Françaises. $12. 1 p.m. More info here.
Sisterhood (HLM Pussy) (2023)
Main Cinema
A video posted to social media strains the friendship of three girls. Part of Lumières Françaises. $12. 4 p.m. More info here.
Tommy (1975)
Parkway Theater
Watch Ann-Margret slop around in baked beans! With pre-screening pinball contest. $9/$12. Competition at 7 p.m. Movie at 8 p.m. More info here.
Abominable (2019)
Riverview Theater
Some (animated) kids find an (animated) Yeti. $1. 10:30 a.m. More info here.
The Little Mermaid (2023)
Waite Recreation Center
Can't believe I'd never heard the "Why does the little mermaid wear seashells?" joke till yesterday. Free. 8:50 p.m. More info here.
Friday, July 19
Peter Rabbit (2018)
Emagine Willow Creek
This is no Spider-Man Spider-Verse movie. All week. $3. 11 a.m. More info here.
Fast X (2023)
North Commons Park
Hate to do it, but I have to point out that the start times for Movies in the Parks are creeping up earlier every week. Free. 8:50 p.m. More info here.
Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
Riverview Theater
Back when we all agreed that Nazis were bad. Also Saturday. $5. 10:30 p.m. More info here.
Brief Encounter (1945)
Trylon
A very British love story. $8. 7 p.m. Saturday 9 p.m. Sunday 3 p.m. More info here.
Blithe Spirit (1945)
Trylon
The ghost of Rex Harrison's first wife gives him trouble at a seance. $8. 9 p.m. Saturday 7 p.m. Sunday 5 p.m. More info here.
Wild Combination: A Portrait of Arthur Russell (2008)
Walker Art Center
A documentary about the groundbreaking musician. Also Saturday. $12/$15. 7 p.m. More info here.
Saturday, July 20
Clue (1985)
Lake Harriet
The prequel to Clueless (1995). Free. 8:50 p.m. More info here.
Sunday, July 21
The NeverEnding Story (1984)
AMC Rosedale 14/AMC Southdale 16/Emagine Willow Creek
Can it really be the "40th anniversary" if it never actually ended? $11.94. 4 & 7 p.m. Monday 7 p.m. More info here.
Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 (2010)
Emagine Willow Creek
I believe this is the one with the Deathly Hallows. One of them, anyway. $9. 12 & 6 p.m. Wednesday 12:30 & 6:40 p.m. More info here.
Gone With the Wind (1939)
The Heights
Crazy to think that over 200 million bought tickets to this movie. Nothing since has even come close. $12. 1 p.m. More info here.
The Cat Returns (1991)
Parkway Theater
What teen girl doesn't dream of becoming a cat princess? $5-$10. 1 p.m. More info here.
Oldboy (2003)
Trylon
A truly fucked up movie. I love it. $8. 7 p.m. Monday-Tuesday 7 & 9:30 p.m. More info here.
Monday, July 22
Prophecy (1979)
Emagine Willow Creek
A paper mill creates a killer mutant bear. $6. 7:30 p.m. More info here.
Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile (2022)
Powderhorn Park
I think of the way this adorable little French girl says "crocodile" constantly. Free. 8:50 p.m. More info here.
Tuesday, July 23
Jaws (1975)
Parkway Theater
Featuring the three Types of Guy: a smart guy, a boat guy, and a cop. $9/$12. 8 p.m. More info here.
Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Riverview Theater
In case you don't feel like driving out to Willow Creek. Also Wednesday. $1. 10:30 a.m. More info here.
Wednesday, July 24
La Bohème
AMC Rosedale 14/AMC Southdale 16/Emagine Willow Creek
An encore screening of Zefferelli's 2018 staging at the Met. $16.35. 1 & 6:30 p.m. More info here.
Fertile Memory (1981)
Bryant Lake Bowl
Two very differetn Palestinian women—a widow and a writer—strike up a friendship. Part of Mizna's Insurgent Transmissions series. $5-$15 (sliding scale). 7 p.m. More info here.
Barbie (2023)
The Commons
Never heard of it. Free. 8:45 p.m. More info here.
Melancholia (2011)
Grandview 1&2
One of the all-time great movies about a depressed person. $12. 9:15 p.m. More info here.
Triple Fisher: The Lethal Lolitas of Long Island (2012)
Trylon
This month's Trylon Club secret feature is so special they're publicizing it: a mashup of all three Amy Fisher movies. Free for Trylon Club members only. 7 p.m. More info here.
Opening This Week
Follow the links for showtimes.
Disciples in the Moonlight
A Christian persecution fantasy about a future U.S. where the Bible is banned. Yeah, right. Please fuck off already.
Mother, Couch
A dysfunctional family is trapped in a furniture store.
National Anthem
A young construction worker finds community with some queer rodeo performers.
Oddity
What’s most unsettling about Damian Mc Carthy’s clever little puzzle of a thriller is that you can’t quite guess what the picture’s supposed to look like until all the pieces are in place—though you can be pretty sure once that big wooden statue of a man with a gaping mouth shows up that he’ll have a prominent position. Carolyn Bracken plays twins. One is murdered early in the film while restoring her creepy old house with no cell phone reception. The other is a blind psychic shopkeeper who traffics in the arcane and is displeased when the dead sister’s husband, a doctor at a mental hospital that seems to indulge in some 19th century therapeutic practices, takes up with a pharmaceutical rep less than a year after his wife’s death. The plot is a little baggy, a few of the characterizations too broad, the climax a little creaky. But we could use more modest little creepshows like this and fewer grand statements about horror. B+
Twisters
Twister may not be quite the summer classic that anyone who wasn’t old enough to vote in 1996 thinks it is, but it knew what it was and what it was supposed to do. This not-really-a-sequel (unless every movie about a shark is a Jaws sequel) is a bigger mess than a small Oklahoma town after an EF5. It can't really be about climate change because blockbusters have to be carefully nonpartisan, but it can’t not be about climate change because why else (as everyone in this movie is constantly saying) are there more tornadoes than ever. The goofiest part is that the chasers keep abandoning storms to instead rush into threatened towns to "help," i.e. telling everyone to get away from windows and get into the basement, which, sorry, but if you live in tornado alley and don't already know that you deserve to get swooped up into the sky. As Normal People and Hit Man showed, both Daisy Edgar-Jones and Glen Powell are better actors than they are movie stars. He needs to find another auteur to cast him against type instead of passing off his permasquint and smackably handsome grin as charisma; she needs to star in a Jane Austen adaptation or a Paddington sequel or something because I don’t believe she could find Oklahoma on a map. This will make enough money that neither of those things will ever happen, and I bet director Lee Isaac Chung never makes another Minari either. Meanwhile we’ll probably lose the National Weather Service. C+
Widow Clicquot
The story of the woman who revolutionized the champagne industry.
Ongoing in Local Theaters
Follow the links for showtimes.
Bad Boys: Ride or Die
No really, what we gonna do about this? Rebooted in 2020 with Moroccan-Belgian directing duo Adil & Bilall honoring the bludgeoning legacy of Michael Bay, this franchise sticks to the basics: Two Miami cops banter and shoot people until it’s time to blow up something big. But the fourth installment in the series adds (ugh) heart, as Will Smith’s Mike and Martin Lawrence’s Marcus have to clear the name of their dead captain (Joe Pantoliano) after a cartel-adjacent thug (Eric Dane, aiming for sociopathic and hitting somnolent) posthumously frames him as dirty. In between wisecracks and explosions, I couldn’t help but wonder why these movies bum me out so much. Is it the abrupt shifts from comedy to sentimentality to brutality? The way they accentuate Smith’s most unattractive qualities as an actor (especially a smug self-righteousness)? The dreary sense that this is all people are really looking for from movies? I can’t deny that Bad Boys: Ride or Die does give the people what they want—the ladies behind me were practically giddy when an alligator ate the character they’d hoped he would. But if I had to pick, I’ll go with die. C
The Bikeriders
Sixty years after Scorpio Rising and, hell, 40 years after the Village People, it’s unclear why writer/director Jeff Nichols is being lauded for acknowledging that there’s a homoerotic subtext to biker gangs. At the center of The Bikeriders is a tug of war over the affections of a chiseled sociopath named Benny (Austin Butler), a struggle between his wife Kathy (Jodie Comer) and his mush-mouthed but wily gang leader Johnny (Tom Hardy). But in part because Benny’s such a cipher, Nichols’s adaptation of Danny Lyon’s 1968 photobook can’t make much drama out of this conflict, so instead The Bikeriders drifts in that familiar subcultural underworld way from glory days to druggy, violent decline. Despite an occasional Goodfellas homage, Nichols doesn’t zero in on the social dynamics of the gang, as Scorsese invariably does with his milieux, which is a shame because plenty of the members, especially Michael Shannon and Norman Reedus, have some terrific individual moments. That this is often an engrossing watch regardless owes to Hardy’s squinty inscrutability and Comer’s commonsensical perspective. Wid her “oh jeez” Chicawgo accent and everygal resolve, Comer steals the movie. It’s just not always clear where she wants to take it. B
Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1
Inside Out 2
Inside Out’s model of the human psyche was something only Pixar could have dreamt up (derogatory): Your brain is an office staffed with project managers jockeying for control of your emotional responses. Despite the corporatized determinism at its core, the 2015 movie worked dramatically because its story of a Minnesota girl named Riley played off adult sympathies for distressed children in the sort of pitiless, heart-wrenching way that only Pixar can (complimentary, I think?). In this noisy, chaotic follow up, Riley enters adolescence and a new emotion, Anxiety, shows up to the job. The upstart feeling stages a coup, literally bottles up Joy and other inconvenient emotions, and constructs Riley’s sense of self based wholly on the perception of others. There’s so much focus on the internal conflict here that Riley becomes a puppet yanked too and fro, and the emotional dynamics make no sense even on their own terms. C+
Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes
Thanks in part to Andy Serkis’s unparalleled gift for portraying a motion-captured being with nuance and sympathy, screenwriters Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver somehow created a non-laughably epic saga out of an intelligent simian’s rise to power with their rebooted Planet of the Apes trilogy. At least that’s how I remember it—this fourth installment (with frequent Jaffa/Silver collaborator Josh Friedman taking over the script) is so ape-by-numbers I’m kinda afraid to rewatch its predecessors. The plot concerns a struggle over the legacy of Serkis’s honorable Caesar (along with some nasty human weaponry), and as ever, the chimps are curious, the gorillas brutal, the orangutans wise, the humans deceptive. Despite a few fine action scenes, Kingdom is as humorless as the trilogy but without its grand sweep, as misanthropic but without its capacity to imagine looming disaster. I’ve always been leery of how these films toy with the eco-nihilist claim that Earth is better off without humans, but this sort of IP busywork does make me think twice. Will ape and human someday learn to live together in peace? Who gives a fuck? C+
Longlegs
There’s good dread (the kind you feel about what might happen next during an effective atmospheric build up) and then there’s bad dread (the kind that makes you feel that things are just going to keep getting sillier after someone mentions Satan for the first time). The two duke it out to a draw in writer/director Osgood Perkins’s debut, which—hype and box office and Nicolas Cage aside—cries out not for hyperbole but for weak critical fudge words like “ambitious” and “uneven.” Performances are solid all around, from Elevated Scream Queen Meika Monroe as an intuitive and emotionally reserved FBI agent to Blair Underwood making a welcome return as her boss to Alicia Witt doing what she can as a harbinger of the silliness to come. As for Cage, he’s (for the most part) genuinely creepy rather than merely Cagey. But echoes of thrillers past (notably The Silence of the Lambs) do not prove flattering. Me, I left deflated rather than spooked. B-
MaXXXine
Live by the fanboy, die by the fanboy. Former Ti West enthusiasts are in such an indignant huff about the conclusion of the director’s slasher/porn trilogy you’d think he just dropped the The Godfather: Part III of meta-trash. But that just shows how much they overrated the two very good predecessors to this more-than-entertaining-enough finale—and how obsessed everyone has become with whether a series can (ugh, dreadful phrase) “stick the landing.” After all, isn’t the whole point of championing (once?) disparaged B-genres that they prize style and enthusiasm and straight-up entertainment over the bland artfulness of three-act Hollywood craft? Here, Mia Goth, the titular (insert Beavis snicker) Maxine Minx and the Final Girl from XXX, now a genuine porn star, has landed her first serious acting role. But her past… yes, if you guessed that it returns to haunt her, you get the idea. If the conclusion conceptually satisfies the thesis of West’s world (horror and porn have always driven film innovation and resisted American fundamentalism) but doesn’t quite satisfy audiences, well, sometimes theses be like that. But West vividly recreates the atmosphere of ’80s L.A. during the Night Stalker murder spree, the gore is first-rate, and almost every scene is stolen by a supporting performance: Elizabeth Debicki as a no-bullshit director, Bobby Cannavale as a cop given to tough-guy cliché, Giancarlo Esposito as a badass agent with a natural, and Kevin Bacon in full sleaze mode. If that doesn’t make for a diverting enough summer 1:45 for you, maybe termite art just ain’t your thing. B+
Sound of Hope: The Story of Possum Trot
Thelma
A nonegenarian (June Squibb) gets scammed online and then tracks down the evildoers to get her money back—it’s kinda like The Beekeeper if Phylicia Rashad hadn’t needed Statham to avenge her. Squibb is generally wonderful as the plucky old gal, but despite some cute moments the whole shebang still felt a little too “hooray for the aged” overall. For me, that is. Everyone seems to love this movie. Maybe my experience was flavored by an excessively enthusiastic MSPIFF crowd? Or maybe I really do expect too much from movies? B-
