Year: 2021

Steven Soderbergh makes movies with only one audience in mind: Steven Soderbergh.

The filmmaker behind classics like Erin Brockovich, the Ocean’s Eleven trilogy and Traffic is well into a point in his career where he has a clear vision for what he wants to do, can do it quickly and loves to experiment with the visual form as his own personal art project. 

It’s why he can quickly move from shooting a basketball drama on iPhones with High Flying Bird to plot-twisting vignette pieces strung together in The Laundromat to his latest film, a period crime drama that may fly well over the heads of casual audiences but could make ardent cinephiles re-watch over and over again for the little cinematic flourishes.

Three random criminals unfamiliar with each other are hired to “babysit” a blackmail victim and his family, only to see their relatively simple assignment spiral far beyond their control and sink far into the deeps of the underbelly of 1950s Detroit. While it rarely confronts these issues head-on, No Sudden Move reeks with deep-seeded racism and disenfranchisement of the period and larger conspiracy on a national level.

At the center of the film, Don Cheadle is a contemplative force as Curt Goynes, fresh out of prison and in need of quick cash. Although audiences are never truly sure what anyone in the film is thinking, Cheadle allows viewers to see Curt’s mind constantly churning possible scenarios and escape hatches in order to make it through rich and alive.

It’s the least flashy performance in a film filled with characters, yet Cheadle’s constant, steady presence gives the audience something to latch onto as the slow-burn, deliberate narrative moves along.

This is perfectly contrast by a dodgy, controlled mania from mobster-on-the-out Ronald Russo, played by Benicio del Toro. The Usual Suspects star is tailor-made for these sort of crime thrillers as his work often leaves viewers on the edge of their seat in nervous anticipation of what’s to come next as del Toro plays each role so in the moment that there’s genuine surprise as events roll out in real time.

Cheadle and del Toro have choppy chemistry on-screen, but this works in a film where trust is at an intense low and both actors feel like they’re working each other so as not to get worked themselves.

The film boasts a cavalcade of terrific performers littered throughout that give No Sudden Move a distinctly vibrant, character driven feel.

Kieran Culkin is intensely slimy as a criminal ringleader, while Ray Liotta evokes the dark side of his Goodfellas past as an unscrupulous crime boss. Uncut Gems breakout Julia Fox steals scenes as Liotta’s wife who may be cheating with Ronald, while David Harbour gives one of his best performances as the main victim with secrets of his own.

A major cameo left unspoiled here is the perfect jarring awake of the audience that the film needs to ramp things up to its climatic end and the scene featuring the uncredited star is among the most intriguing. Writer Ed Solomon’s terrific screenplay truly comes alive in this moment as a discussion of the randomness of events melds with social context that puts everything that came before into a new light.

Nothing is given or telegraphed to the audience as the plot weaves and winds its way through the narrative. Soderbergh and Solomon make a clear, conscious decision not to let the minutia of over explanation get in the way of driving things forward as the camera follows Curt and Ronald deeper into trouble.

No Sudden Move floats through its two-hour run time thanks to some silky, velvet covered visuals from Soderbergh in conjunction with cinematographer Peter Andrews. Shot with modern cameras equipped with period lenses, most scenes have a fish-eye quality to them that rounds and obscures the view. This pairs exceptionally well with Soderbergh’s high contrast lighting and distinctly off-kilter camera placement that finds the audience looking up from a tilted head at characters or at an almost two-dimensional parallel.

Warner Brothers’ decision to release No Sudden Move in July exclusively on HBO Max pretty much excludes any possibility of an awards season run for the Soderbergh film, which is among the very best of his last decade of work. It’s doubly disappointing not to be able to watch this mid-budget adult drama on the big screen as it’s exactly the kind of film that could draw out moviegoers hoping to make a return to the theater after more than a year away to see a film that isn’t a popcorn franchise film.

No Sudden Move is a low-risk, high-reward offering for cinephiles who will either quickly engage with Soderbergh’s unique perspective or be able to move on to other films without too much commitment thanks to it streaming on HBO Max.

Inspirational sports films have practically become a tradition on par with events like the World Series, Super Bowl or Kentucky Derby.

Without fail, it’s expected – almost demanded – that there will be one every year.

Texas director Ty Roberts has brought audiences an emotional drama based on a true story from his home state, putting viewers on the sidelines with an underdog football team with an exceptional amount of heart.

His film 12 Mighty Orphans debuted in Texas theaters last week concurrently with its premiere at the Tribeca Festival in New York City. The drama stars Luke Wilson as Rusty Russell, the first football coach hired at the Masonic Home and School of Texas, an orphanage where abandoned teenage boys create their own sense of family by fighting to compete against other Texas high schools and vie for a state championship.

At times, it’s next to impossible not to roll the eyes at a sports film leaning so heavily into the melodrama that the orchestral cues meant to bring on the tears completely water down any sizable impact the film could have made on the audience.

Wilson is a compelling lead actor in Orphans, offering compassion to the students he relates to as a former orphan himself. His Russell provides a calm in rough waters and Wilson moves smoothly throughout tender moments guiding the young men on and off the field.

When the film moves deeper into Russell’s past, Roberts wavers on how well he explains the character’s military history, though Wilson is adept at finding a balance between Russell’s personal struggles and being strong for his team.

At his side every step of the way, Golden Globe winner Martin Sheen is a delight as team physician turned assistant coach Doc Hall. Though the centerpiece of his character is an affinity for sneaking shots of whiskey at any given moment, it’s surprisingly the one flaw written into the film that isn’t overplayed.

Sheen wryly provided the film with both gravitas and a warm, lighthearted comedic touch that keeps the energy in moments where Roberts’ film could go off the rails and he has a wonderful chemistry with Wilson that draws audiences in to the notion that the team could make it deep into the postseason.

Because there are twelve players on the team and a limited running time, some of the orphans get pushed into the background to accommodate larger storylines. Among the key players, Jake Austin Walker is the highlight as the standoffish, brute Hardy. Walker commands the screen whenever he appears and brings an intensity to his performance that radiates the apprehensive nature of the character perfectly.

For some reason, melodramas like Orphans artificially create villains to heighten the plight of the heroes and the ones created here feel exceptionally inauthentic.

Seinfeld and Jurassic Park actor Wayne Knight plays a magnificently spot on caricature of Snidely Whiplash, the old cartoon baddie who would routinely tie up women to railroad tracks and twist his pencil-thin mustache.

But in this case, Knight has become an abusive, thieving teacher at the home with no depth of character or nuance. From the moment he arrives on screen in the opening moments to the final scenes, his Frank Wynn undercuts all the heartwarming momentum Wilson and Sheen develop with the orphans themselves, shattering any illusion or viewer engagement.

The same could be said for the work of the film’s co-writer Lane Garrison, who is cast as a rival football coach with an impishly cruel streak added almost exclusively to make Wilson’s Russell look better by default. Not only does Wilson not need this to achieve the sympathy of the audience, but it also actually weakens his character by implying that both men are at the same level of their coaching.

Distributor Sony Pictures Classics has done the film very little favors releasing the film more than two months before the start of high school football two-a-days, where the anticipation for the gridiron would be at its highest.

Eventually, 12 Mighty Orphans will likely make its way into a rotation of feel-good sports films that high school coaches could play for extra motivation for the team before a big game ala Remember the Titans or Woodlawn, but casual moviegoers shouldn’t go out of their way to seek out this middling feature that comes up short of the goal line.

Gun violence is senseless.

Nowhere in the United States is it more prevalent than Chicago, where more people are shot and killed than in New York City and Los Angeles combined.

For filmmakers Joshua Altman and Bing Liu’s latest documentary All These Sons, approaching the sensitive subject meant dealing with the trauma and emotional scars that linger long after bullet wounds have healed.

Their focus is on a pair of social service support groups for young African American men on the west and south side of Chicago that help stop the constantly revolving cycle of violence.

At the film’s core are Marshall Hatch Jr., the son of an area priest who leads youth through a construction trades program to keep them off the streets, and Billy Moore, leading a redemption program of his own after being on both sides of gun violence, first shooting a high school basketball standout in his youth and later losing his own son in a shooting.

All These Sons also profiles the struggles of men like Zay Manning – shot during the course of the program and ready to retaliate on a moment’s notice – and Shamont Slaughter, whose inner turmoil pushes him to the brink following the tragic shooting of his younger brother.

Altman and Liu capture the immediate fear that pushes these young men into acts of aggression: a perception that a rival might be calling in friends for a hit, the need to closely watch every car that drives past looking for the barrel of a gun, the escalating do-or-die mentality that ends with the pulling of a trigger.

All These Sons showcases the urgency needed to curb gun violence in Chicago, but more importantly, it highlights the impactful, redemptive work being done by local organizations hoping to transform potential victims and perpetrators to end the cycle of killing.

Many of the men attending these programs have either known someone shot or been shot themselves, which has left long-lasting scars and post-traumatic stress that can be triggered by simply walking down the street and noticing an unfamiliar or threatening face.

By focusing not on the tragedy of gun violence but the hope of redemption, All These Sons prevents the struggles of men like Shamont and Zay from being exploitive and maintains their fallible humanity.

All These Sons doesn’t try to over analyze or dramatize the violence that haunts every moment of the film. It’s a story of hopeful redemption littered with emotional, philosophical conversations about anger, forgiveness and PTSD.

The cinematography is simple, yet impactful with an emphasis on unobtrusive, verité style that leaves the audience feeling as if they are an invisible bystander witnessing the evolution of young men moving away from a dangerous path. The visuals also do a masterful job of highlighting Chicago’s beauty in limited wide angle shots that allow audiences to feel a larger sense of scale that helps ground just how personal and intimate the stories of All These Sons are.

This is especially true during a nighttime scene on the Fourth of July, where Chicago police vans are cruising down the streets with fireworks lighting up all around them, cross cutting with images of young African American boys setting off sparklers in school playgrounds. 

What should be a glorious expression of American pride is offset immediately with news footage from the following Monday, where it was announced that 1,500 officers working overtime were deployed over the weekend and still 66 people were wounded and six died due to gun violence.

Composer Kris Bowers accents the film with a subtle, yet powerful orchestral score that helps to create the emotional backdrop for key moments.

A surefire contender for best independent documentary next award season, All These Sons should also be on the Oscar shortlist for documentary feature and will finish 2020 as one of the year’s top films regardless of genre.

Liu, who directed the terrific 2018 doc Minding The Gap, returns with something less personal but equally as powerful that will generate meaningful conversations for film lovers in all walks of life.

This review was written after screening as part of the 2021 Tribeca Festival online.

British period dramas often have a reserved, stuffy quality to them that keeps the audience at a distance.

While viewers get to know the characters and feel for their plight, it’s hard to connect as an audience member to the genre.

Director Dominic Cooke keeps his latest feature in this standoffish distance, but it becomes something more with compelling characters and intriguing spy-craft at the ready.

Based on real events, The Courier follows businessman Greville Wynne who is recruited by American and British intelligence to serve as an intermediary traveling to the Soviet Union in order to receive vital information that could put an end to the Cuban Missile Crisis.

At the core of The Courier are a pair of exceptional leading performances that elevate the entire film beyond simple period drama or espionage thriller territory.

Academy Award nominee Benedict Cumberbatch gives a stirring performance as Wynne, invigorating the character with a nervous energy that heightens his portrayal of the “amateur” spy. Cumberbatch is a very deliberate actor whose internal monologue often reads like a book across his face, which serves him well here as the everyman Wynne begins to fray at the edges under immense pressure.

His sincerity and earnestness make Cumberbatch a perfect counterpart to Merab Ninidze, playing the Soviet informant Oleg Penkovsky with a hardened shell that melts quietly over the course of the film as Wynne and Penkovsky form their unlikely bond.

Ninidze approaches the role from the burden Penkovsky feels weighing on him, knowledge that could lead to nuclear war and conflict over if and how to provide a warning to the other side in order to stop it. 

The film’s supporting cast does a solid job of supporting Cumberbatch in his performance within Britain, especially Rachel Brosnahan as an ambitious CIA operative trying subtly to take charge of the operation and Jessie Buckley as Wynne’s suspicious wife whose appearance doesn’t truly come into its own until her final scenes.

Penned by Tom O’Connor, the screenplay approaches Wynne and Penkovsky’s relationship as a dance, an unromantic courtship of wary acquaintances seeking to prevent nuclear war.

While the spy work is important to propelling the story forward, the film takes great care to fully establish trust between the pair – and through Cumberbatch and Ninidze’s performances – pull the audience into the narrative because of the characters as much as what they are doing.

The Courier grounds itself within the true history of the Cuban Missile Crisis by frequently using news broadcasts and speeches from figures like President John F. Kennedy to set the stage for events to come. 

The only exception in this regard, however, is when Cooke puts the focus on Communist Party chairman Nikita Khrushchev, casting actor Vladimir Chuprikov to play the Soviet leader so audiences can see Penkovsky attending high-level meetings to blend the world of reality and docudrama.

The film’s pacing is cumbersome and meticulous as serious period spy films tend to be and casual viewers could become bored or lost in the minutia. The Courier doesn’t have the splashy spectacle of undercover spy-craft that propels action forward, but the distinct dramatic dialogue on a scene-to-scene basis reminds favorably of the Tom Hanks-led 2015 film Bridge of Spies.

A demonstrative, rousing score from composer Abel Korzeniowski heightens the cerebral tension within scenes, especially as suspicions begin to rise from all sides as The Courier hurtles its way toward the tumultuous third act.

In many ways, The Courier perhaps suffered more than most films did as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic. After a solid debut at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival, it was set up for a strong fall theatrical release through Lionsgate that would have drawn in ardent cinephiles hungry for period drama.

Three times delayed and pushed back, The Courier stumbled out in March to little fanfare as a relative afterthought during the midst of awards season.

Now available widely to rent or stream on demand, the solemn, yet powerful character-focused espionage drama should prove to be worth the wait for fans of John le Carré novels and slow-burn cinema.