Cinema Cocktail, Episode 3 – The Best Films of 2020 (Part 1)

Josh Hornbeck is joined by Jonathan Laubinger of the Film Baby Film podcast and D.J. Moore of The Reel Conversation for part one of their annual conversation about their favorite films of the year.

Please Note: The above episode was originally recorded at the end of January. However, shortly after it was recorded, our podcast host was hospitalized following a  misdiagnosed injury and has only now been able finish editing.

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Criterion Channel Surfing, Episode 39: February 2021 New and Expiring Titles

Josh is joined by Becky D’Anna, frequent guest of Criterion Now, Film Baby Film, Flixwise, and Wrong Reel, to discuss the Criterion Channel’s new and expiring titles for the month of February. Plus, Michael Hutchins stops by to talk about the different genres represented by the Criterion Channel.

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The Little Things (2021) | Directed by John Lee Hancock

2/5
John Lee Hancock’s The Little Things is a boring and predictable thriller that aims for depth and profundity, but winds up saying nothing and wastes the skills of the perennially excellent Denzel Washington. Like so many serial killer narratives, the film revels in female terror and the images of victimized women, while at the same time privileging white, female innocence – especially evident n the shot the teenage girl driving alongside Washington’s character that inspires him to help solve this series of murders. The script is filled with half-baked dialogue containing references and allusions to moments that have been excised from the film in its many revisions. While Hancock is attempting to craft a weighty meditation in obsession, guilt, and regret, the film keeps our protagonist’s past and motivations such a mystery that we never care about his journey toward redemption. On the mystery side of the equation, details and clues become maddeningly obvious (at one point, a clue’s even written in bold on sandwich board for all to see), until Hancock decides to throw the details out and make up new rules for us to follow as it goes along. Unlike the films noir it seeks to emulate, the film is more steady accumulation of coincidence rather than fate shaping the lives of its characters. Hancock is desperate trying to produce a subtle and nuanced thriller with an ambiguous ending, but the elements just don’t come together.

Judas and the Black Messiah (2021) | Directed by Shaka King

4.5/5
Shaka King’s Judas and the Black Messiah is a thoroughly compelling biopic told through the structure of a political thriller, giving us a more nuanced, complicated, and honest look at the Black Panther Party than most mainstream narrative films have been willing to attempt. In splitting the narrative’s focus between Fred Hampton’s work with Black Panther Party and Bill O’Neill’s work with the FBI to surveil Hampton, King and his screenwriters have almost created two separate films that overlap and merge as the characters’ lives becomes more intertwined. It’s a technique that works surprisingly well, giving us the tender and powerful moments of a Hampton biopic while we watch him form the Rainbow Coalition and fall in love. And in O’Neill’s story, we’re given the beats of a political thriller as we watch a young man in over his head, manipulated and coerced by his handlers to make choices that will haunt him the rest of his life. The two central performances are stellar – Daniel Kaluuya and Lakeith Stanfield each bring such a different and unique energy to their respective roles that keeps us fully invested in both characters’ arcs. King’s use of archival material at the beginning of the film is highly effective, especially in the way it transitions us into the main plot, showing the ways that images of Black solidarity are immediately threatening to white authorities. Like a few other films that have been released in the last few years, the film’s depiction of police racism and brutality is a necessary corrective to Hollywood’s near-constant glorification of the profession. There’s also a timeliness in the way the film shows how uncomfortable it is for the established powers that be (as well as white, paternalistic liberals) when the Black community (or any BIPOC community) demands equality rather than waiting to be granted equality out of beneficence. It’s a powerful film – hopefully just one of many necessary correctives to decades of popular cinema’s demonization of the Black Panthers and the Black Power movement.

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Two of Us (2019) | Directed by Filippo Meneghetti

3/5
Filippo Meneghetti’s Two of Us is an overwrought, sensationalized LGBTQ melodrama with two really strong performances at the center that keep the film from getting too emotionally unbelievable. The film ends up falling squarely in the tradition of LGBTQ trauma theatre. While it may be understandable that two older French women might have difficulty revealing their relationship to their children, Meneghetti keeps needlessly piling on the suffering in ways that smack of cruelty and arise out of misunderstandings that could have been cleared up with characters being honest with one another. This causes the plot to feel more mechanistic, functioning more in service of the director and his co-writer’s whims and caprices, rather than anything that arose from genuine character or relational motivations. Meneghetti does make use of some fantastic close-ups throughout the film to highlight his two leading performers, showing how much they can convey with the simplest flicker of emotion across their faces or the smallest darting of their eyes. Similarly, the production design is quite evocative and used to beautifully (and painfully) illustrate the characters’ isolation from one another during the film’s second act. But Meneghetti throws in unnecessary and heavy-handed dream imagery that, while beautifully shot, is entirely out-of-place in this film that wants to be more grounded in genuine relationships. And he also can’t resist adding unnecessary, and at times pulpy, complications to what could have been a beautiful and simple narrative, taking the film well past the point of credulity by the time the credits roll, so that we have lost much of the emotional connection we have with these characters. It’s a film with so much promise, but it ended up a convoluted mess.

Criterion Channel Surfing, Episode 38: The Masters on Other Streaming Services

Josh is joined once again by critic Britt Coundiff to finish their conversation on “The Masters” – this time focusing on films from some of the greatest filmmakers in cinema that are available on other streaming services.

Episode Links

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Criterion Channel Surfing, Episode 37: The Masters, Part 2

Josh is joined once again by film critic Britt Coundiff to discuss “The Masters,” films by some of cinema’s greatest directors available on the Criterion Channel. Plus, Aaron West of the Criterion Now podcast stops by to talk about ’30s and ’40s French Cinema.

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Criterion Channel Surfing, Episode 36: January 2021 New and Expiring Titles

Josh is joined by film critic Britt Coundiff to discuss the Criterion Channel’s new and expiring titles for the month of January. Plus, Michael Hutchins stops by to talk about the Criterion Channel’s permanent streaming library.

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Collective (2019) | Directed by Alexander Nanau

3.5/5
Alexander Nanau’s Collective is an effective primer on Romanian politics, their broken health care system, and the nightclub fire that launched massive protests against government corruption. However, the film’s narrative construction is disjointed and slightly haphazard, keeping viewers at a distance from what should be an intensely personal story. For the first half of the film, we primarily follow the journalists of Sports Gazette, a daily sports paper whose investigative journalists broke the news of widespread corruption throughout Romanian hospitals. Over the second half of the film, we follow a new, reform-minded Minister of Health as he tries to battle the corruption. And through it all, we get glimpses of one of the survivors of the nightclub fire as she attempts to rebuild her life. All of the information presented is compelling on its own, and the film touches on vital issues about the importance of journalism and the threats of rising fascism across the globe. However, the three segments are never effectively integrated, and any attempts to make the pieces fit together feel forced – such as the moment the Minister of Health meets with the survivor on the eve of a major election. There’s compelling content throughout the film, it just never fully comes together.

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Soul (2020) | Directed by Pete Docter and Kemp Powers

3/5
Pete Docter and Kemp Powers’s Soul has so much potential, but it suffers from many of the same issues that have plague Disney and Pixar’s recent efforts. It follows all of the tropes of Pixar’s odd-couple buddy-comedies and has nearly every beat from their previous films. While it sets up very clear rules for how the afterlife works in this narrative, it proceeds to break those rules for the convenience of its predetermined plot points. And for a film that is eager to be trumpeted as Pixar’s first foray into Black lives and the Black experience, the lead character spends most of the film as a green, blob-like soul or trapped within the body of a cat – playing into the unfortunate Disney trope that seems to require all animated Black leading characters to spend the majority of the film in a skin other than their own. And it’s even more egregious that we have the voice of a middle-aged white woman coming out of the Black character’s mouth for most of the running time. There are still some interesting things going on here – I love the ways in which they visualize the process of finding yourself in “the zone” while creating, playing sports, or engaging in some other activity that gives you life. And I love the way they show how quickly that can become an unhealthy obsession. The music is gorgeous, the vocal performances are great, and there is this tantalizing idea that our main protagonist is so focused on this one vision of how his life should be that it prevents him from truly connecting with others. But most of the ideas in this film are underdeveloped or end up being undercut by yet another underdeveloped thematic thread that shows up. And the final beats undermine any sense of poignancy that the film was building toward by giving us an easy resolution, without actually resolving anything. It’s a frustrating film, because there’s so much possibility here, but the Disney/Pixar machine just won’t let the pieces fit together as they should.

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