IT'S NOT EASY BEIN' GREEN: a review of "Wicked Part One"

 

"WICKED PART ONE"
Based upon the novel Wicked by Gregory Maguire 
and the stage play/musical "Wicked" by Winnie Holzman & Stephen Schwartz
Screenplay Written by Winnie Holzman & Dana Fox
Music and Lyrics by Stephen Schwartz 
Directed by Jon M. Chu
***1/2 (three and a half stars)
RATED PG 13

As with so many franchise variations these days starring all manner of sequels, prequels, reboots and the like, I am equally tiring of the sub genre of taking a character known solely to us as a villain and then receiving a new film that serves as reverse engineered backstory, explaining the reasons why the villainy was created. 

My feeling are not cemented in any sort of hard and fast rule. For the full arc of Darth Vader in George Lucas' multi-part "Star Wars" saga (1977-1983, 1999-2005), the rise and fall of Anakin Skywalker was central to the story of the Skywalker family which played against the backdrop of a democracy falling into fascism and then, by turns, equally finding redemption and revival. His story was purposeful and never ever felt like a "filmed deal," as how the late, great Roger Ebert brutally defined sequels. Yet, for something like Craig Gillespie's "Cruella" (2021), for instance, what reason other than commerce, necessitated the explanator backstory of a character whose last name is literally "Devil"?

In a way, just let sleeping mad dogs lie, and allow villains to be villains because honestly, some people really are just villains, with no redeeming moral qualities whatsoever. Sometimes, evil just IS and there are no explanations...even for one of the greatest movie villains of all time.

But then again...

Now, we arrive with Jon M. Chu's "Wicked," the first half of his planned two part film series (the second half arrives in late 2025) based upon the blockbuster Broadway musical, the source material of author Gregory Maguire's 1995 novel and to that end, the entire The Wonderful World of Oz (1900-1920) book series by L. Frank Baum and even then, serves as a sequel/prequel to Victor Fleming's iconic "The Wizard Of Oz" (1939). Phew!!

For the uninitiated, "Wicked Part One" begins to unveil the now tragic origin story of the green skinned Elphaba Thropp, who will become The Wicked Witch of the West and her tenuous best friendship with Galinda Upland, who will herself become Glinda the Good Witch and Chu unveils his cinematic vision by taking a massive swing towards the classic technicolor MGM styled musicals of the past and which clearly work as much as inspiration as the all of the source material incarnations. From a musical standpoint, Chu just about nearly makes it but from a storytelling standpoint, I was often emotionally overtaken as the fantastical metaphors mirroring real world historical and present day social/racial/political tribulations and traumas rang powerfully true...and frankly, as our nation is marching rapidly towards authoritarian rule, devastatingly impactful.

Jon M. Chu's "Wicked Part One" opens with the death of The Wicked Witch of the West at the hands of Dorothy Gale, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion as represented by their triumphant march back to Emerald City as the Witch's black pointed hat rests into a pool of water, the spot at which she melted away. As the citizens of Munchkinland celebrate, Glinda the Good Witch (an excellent Ariana Grande) appears and is questioned if whether she and the Wicked Witch were once friends, at which point we return to the beginning...

Elphaba Thropp (a stunning Cynthia Erivo), daughter of Governor Thropp (Andy Nyman), older sister to paraplegic sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode) yet produced from an illicit affair and inexplicably born with green skin and telekinetic powers leads to a life of rejection, ridicule and fear from society (and her Father), save from the speaking animal population who raise and nurture her with love, guidance and empathy.

Upon Nessarose's arrival for college at Shiz University, at which Elphaba initially arrives solely as escort per her Father's demands, we formerly meet Galinda (not yet "Glinda") Upland, the blinding light of popularity and desired upward social mobility. Dressed to the nines, armed with beauty and flair and flanked by her ever present "friends" Pfannee (Bowen Yang) and Shenshen (Bronwyn James), Galinda rules the Shiz roost. Or so she thinks... 

While Shiz University Dean Of Sorcery Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh) finds Galinda unctuous, she takes a deep interest in Elphaba after an accidental reveal of her powers. Promising enrollment and  private tutorship--much to Galinda's chagrin, amplified further when she and Elphaba become reluctant roommates--Elphaba enrolls in S.U. and garners hopes that one day she will be able to meet The Wizard Of Oz (Jeff Goldblum) and maybe he will grant her wish to change her skin color from green to one accepted by society.

Galinda and Elphaba's relationship takes a dramatic turn and grows closer as social/romantic tensions between themselves and classmates--including Boq Woodsman (Ethan Slater), a cheerful Munchkin who harbors an unrequited crush upon Galinda but begins a relationship with Nessarose and late school arrival, the rebellious Prince Fiyero Tigelaar (Jonathan Bailey), who himself dances between beginning a relationship with Galinda while clearly harboring a real connection with Elphaba--come to a head at the Ozdust Ballroom.

Meanwhile, throughout Oz, dark clouds are swirling as the animal population, including S.U. faculty, are facing increased discrimination and the loss of their civil rights culminating in imprisonment and the loss of their abilities to speak. Rising fascism meets up with Elphaba and Galinda in a fateful voyage to the Emerald City to finally meet the Wizard and grim truths are unearthed, newfound destinies are created, grave choices are made, and ultimate paths are chosen.

This may arrive as a shock to some of you dear readers, especially with  the legacy of "Wicked" as a Broadway musical, but for my sensibilities, as a cinematic musical, Jon M. Chu's "Wicker Part One" is where it operates at its weakest. Now, this is not to suggest that there was anything about it that was necessarily bad. Absolutely not. There were quite a number of the songs and sequences themselves that clicked for me and I deeply appreciated Chu taking huge swings and reaching hard for that MGM musical brass ring. The enthusiasm at which Chu has filmed the sequences delivered handsomely with regards to energy, choreography and cinematography, just as he demonstrated with "In The Heights" (2021), which for my money was a superlative cinematic experience. 

The film's opening number, "No One Mourns The Wicked" sets the cinematic stage extravagantly. "What Is this Feeling?" expertly captured the dorm room distaste between Elphaba and Galinda. To that end, I adored "The Wizard and I" and especially, the quietly devastating "I'm Not That Girl," each of which richly explores Elphaba's inner world throughout all of its peaks and deep valleys. 

But, that being said, there are some minor pacing issues as some songs just weren't that memorable, and for me, they detracted from the story that I was fully invested with. With musicals, the story and the songs have to work in lockstep and there were some spots where they didn't quite match up. One notable sequence is the dizzying "Dancing Through Life," Fiyero's Pied Piper call to blowing life's responsibilities off every once in awhile. Jon M. Chu stages and films the sequence gorgeously but I honestly cannot remember even one note of the song. 

Granted, not every song is "Popular" or especially the astounding "Defying Gravity," for it would be more than a bit much to have every song exist as a crescendo. And as an additional note, I appreciated hearing the actual singing voices of Jeff Goldblum and Michelle Yeoh as well, for not every voice needs to be shooting for the rafters. All I am saying is here and there, I wanted the characters to stop singing so we could keep the actual story moving along...because a really strong story was being displayed.   

As a prequel, Jon M. Chu's "Wicked Part One" provides a superior level of story telling craft which alters everything we already now about the classic story and characters while also providing convincing beats which detail Elphaba's now iconic wardrobe, the genesis of the Yellow Brick Road as well as additional origin stories for other key denizens in the land Of Oz.

As a story largely set within a school campus in a magical land, our relationships with the "Harry Potter" film series (2001-2011) have certainly given us a leg up with this conceptual framework but it is all within the campus social politics where the youthful energy and emotions remain at their truest. To that, much praise should be heaped upon Screenwriter Winnie Holzman, who created the shamefully short lived jewel of a television series "My So-Called Life" (1994-1995), which so achingly captured that crucial formative period of self discovery in all of its pains and awkwardness, selfishness, and cruelty, and of course, moments of epiphany, and she translates those exact same feelings to "Wicked" with sensitivity, humor, and dark emotions that I believe will transport viewers back to their own formative years powerfully. 

For all of the connective tissue to the original story and film, Jon M. Chu successfully straddles an extremely difficult line of essentially not rewriting what we already know, therefore forever altering (or even erasing) whatever feelings we may have towards our over familiarity to the story and characters. "Wicked Part One" exists as a continuation of the source material and as a re-telling of that same material, allowing us to experience the story from a different perspective altogether. 

To that end, I feel that the strongest conceptual and emotional connective tissue is not entirely to the original film, so to speak. But to actually Sidney Lumet's "The Wiz" (1978), itself based upon the the Tony Award winning 1974 Broadway musical of the same name fueled by the music and lyrics of Charlie Smalls and each version starring an entirely Black cast of actors, singers and dancers. (Incidentally, just before my screening of "Wicked Part One," the theater had a pre-show of classic clips from past incarnations of "The Wizard Of Oz" including "The Wiz," a film I have not seen in decades but the song presented--"(I'm A) Mean Ole Lion"--rushed instantly back from memory to present--now that's a musical!)

  

With "The Wiz," a film that I still feel is unforgivably undervalued within the larger American culture (Good Lord, that film is a Master Class in set, makeup and costume design as well as practical effects) but rightfully remains revered in African-American culture, as I have always expressed upon this site, representation matters. As a child, it meant everything to see people who looked and sounded like myself and my family portrayed on screen within a fantasy film, which was always primarily populated by Whiteness. Over the years, "The Wiz" became a resplendent guidebook of the Black experience presented directly to us for us and (Lumet notwithstanding) by us for the betterment of having ourselves fully seen and therefore extolling messages of self-reliance, self-love, unity and ascension. "The Wiz" told us that despite what the outside world may say or think about us, we HAVE brains, we HAVE hearts, we HAVE courage and we are all going to ease on down the road together as we find our way back "Home," the title of the film's extraordinary finale that Diana Ross as Dorothy sings as if she is living her last breaths on Earth.  

While not a fan, I have to give Ariana Grande her flowers as she embodies Galinda with aplomb, a dynamic comedic energy plus several darker shadings that reveal themselves to shattering degrees as the film progresses. But, for me, "Wicked Part One" is owned completely by Cynthia Erivo who I deeply hope is remembered during Oscar season. 

Cynthis Erivo's performance as Elphaba is not one of domination. She certainly does not spend the nearly three hour running time roaring through the scenery. Quite the contrary, she amasses a performance that is indeed interior and explosive as it one of ascension and evolution. Again, if it was entirely "Defying Gravity," it would be exhausting and exhaustive. Erivo finds so much depth in the delicateness of the Elphaba. Her solitude. Her loneliness. Her self-loathing. Her wishes, fears, desires and deep existential hurts. She truly captured what it means to be an outcast to be seen yet so demonstrably unseen, and therefore unvalued and to certain degrees, unloved...except by the animal community who befriends and accepts her and with whom she builds solidarity as the story unfolds to darker territories. It is when the film it actually at its quietest (save for the finale) where it and therefore, Erivo conjures its greatest power. 

For me, the sequence set at the Ozdust Ballroom, a large portion of it completely without dialogue or sung words just levelled me. This is exactly where I felt that Jon M. Chu's Wicked Part One" shared some alchemy with "The Wiz." I am vividly recalling the sequence after which Eveline, the Wicked Witch of the West (played by the formidable Mabel King) is vanquished by Dorothy and the spell over her gargoyle minions is broken. The creatures begin to shed their grotesque skins revealing the sights of stunning, gorgeously beautiful Black bodies underneath erupting in the revivalist dance of "Everybody Rejoice"--to me, as an adult conveyed the deeper message of "The outside world sees us as monsters but THIS is who we truly are...and have always been!" 

Again, representation matters and through the act of having Cynthis Erivo portray the green skinned Elphaba, her lived experience as a Black, queer woman now informed the life of the fictional Elphaba, and therefore reflected so much emotional territory back to me as a Black man living in a largely White world, functioning in largely White spaces. 

I will forever know how it feels to be the only one in the room who looks like myself--and how differently those feelings have changed over the years as I have aged--for I have lived in that space for the entirety of my life. I remember distinctly the very moment at the age of perhaps 6, when I knew that I was Black, not through a self-concept but through how I was treated by one boy who was not like me. I will always know what it feels like to be unseen while all eyes are on me. How perceptions are instantly invented without ever knowing the content of my character or the breadth of my spirit. I regarded Elphaba with such empathy, solidarity and even attraction as I just knew that she would be someone that I would wish to know if she were real and we happened to be in school together. If only those around her could not only see the green of her skin in addition to the purity of her soul. 

And that is what makes the Ozdust sequence so enormously affecting as Elphaba, the target of social humiliation once again, somehow, discovers the sense of self to not give in, to not run away, to unearth the beginnings of her ascension in self-acceptance. Yes, she wants to be accepted by others. Of course, she wants to fit in. But, here instead of wishing she were like everyone else, she begins to find strength in herself despite being othered. Additionally, Galinda's response to Elphaba contains some incredible multilayers as she is confronted with her own past actions towards Elphaba and therefore, makes a choice. Chu is wise enough to stage the sequence as a means to ask of us to examine if the end result is one of affirmation or appropriation or a bit of both. 

Now, I have to turn my attention to "Defying Gravity," which for me worked seismically as combined climax/cliffhanger as well as the the culmination of all set n motion from the Ozdust Ballroom sequence. Cynthia Erivo, much like the miraculous visuals, is mountainous! 

This time, I was reminded a bit of Ava DuVernay's "A Wrinkle In Time" (2018), her gently flawed yet boldly ambitious, esoteric children's film in which in my own review (originally posted March 2018), I asked of you when was the last time you have ever seen a Black girl fly in the movies? When Elphaba reaches into herself and claims the fullness of her potential, realizing that everything that has set her apart is precisely what makes her phenomenal, that final HIGH NOTE she reaches is transcendent for it is her war cry. Elphaba has been released from the prison society has placed upon her and the trappings she resultingly set for herself along the way due to her being othered. 

In the larger framework of the story, where the tides of fascism are rising, she has harnessed the strength to take on the establishment, essentially imploring her new best friend Galinda (now officially "Glinda") to get on the broom with her and they can fight together instead of against each other. Which leads us directly to the power of Ariana Grande's performance as she deftly conveys someone who is forced to side with what is ostracized in honor of protecting the greater good or succumbing to her own comfort with oppression as it does not directly affect herself, and in fact, benefitting from it. 

Despite whatever grounds made in her relationship with Elphaba, Galinda is still housing resentment as Elphaba naturally possesses everything (intelligence, empathy, skills, talent, heart, beauty--as evidenced by Fiyero's clear silent connection and attraction--and magical powers) she wishes she possessed for herself. Galinda in underserving and she knows it yet, she is more than willing to cultivate for her own comfortable ends and fail upwards at the expense of her friendship and the sanctity of Oz as a whole. As the film ended, I thought to myself, "Welp...that was just the 2024 election right there."   

Jon M. Chu's "Wicked art One" is a sparkling, dynamic musical fantasia that strongly keeps its heart and soul firmly grounded while the sights spiral into the skies. Yes, my criticisms really exist as quibbles but I do stand by them because if I am not still humming the songs afterwards, did the songs truly serve their purpose? That being said, and as tired as I am from sequels...

...I wish I could grab my ticket for Part Two right now!

HEY KIDS! LET'S PUT ON A SHOW!!!: a review of "Saturday Night"

"SATURDAY NIGHT"
Screenplay Written by Gil Kenan & Jason Reitman 
Directed by Jason Reitman
***1/2 (three and a half stars)
RATED R

I am 55 years old. For now 49 of those years, "Saturday Night Live" has existed in the world as well as my life. 

Yes, there were years and periods where my interest ebbed and flowed. There are still weekends where I find myself changing the channel after "Weekend Update," as the show in full that evening just is not grabbing me comedically. To that end, the calls for the program's demise arrive in as much of a clockwork fashion as each new season. And still, time and again, I find myself ready to see the cold open and hear those now iconic words, "Live from New York!!It's SATURDAY NIGHT!!!"

And to this day, after tat rallying cry and those ever vibrant opening credits, it still sends me an excited thrill that just takes me back to the beginning.

Jason Reitman's "Saturday Night" takes us back to October 11, 1975, and a mere 90 minutes before the very first episode is set to enter the world and the public consciousness overall. It should first be stated that this film is not a documentary and so historical liberties have indeed been taken in order to create a dramatic effect. This is a tactic for which I have been highly critical in other films, most notably Bryan Singer/Dexter Fletcher's "Bohemian Rhapsody" (2018), for why invent drama when so much inherent drama exists?  And yet, I did not ever find myself distracted and unconnected to Reitman's vision as "Saturday Night" provided a raucous window into how that night quite possibly felt as its future, both immediate and now, forever within the pop cultural zeitgeist, was so powerfully unknown.

As previously stated, Jason Reitman's "Saturday Night" centers itself upon the night of October 11, 1975 and the hyperactive 90 minutes before air time of a live comedy program produced, written by and starring young, unknown talent and one that essentially never possessed a clear focus or identity, making it highly improbable for the premiere to happen at all. 

Gabriel LaBelle stars as "Saturday Night Live" creator/producer Lorne Michaels, who we view alongside his boss, producer Dick Ebersol (Cooper Hoffman), as they feverishly attempt to wrangle together a live 90 minute debut of an untested, undefined comedy program running twice its allotted length in dress rehearsal, a fully dysfunctional crew, set mishaps and accidents, brutally acerbic head writer Michael O'Donoghue (Tommy Dewey) and his team's war against an NBC network censor, plus the ferocious disdain of network executive David Tebet (Willem Dafoe), episode1 host George Carlin (Matthew Rhys) combined with outright wrath from the comedy old guard of Johnny Carson and a visiting Milton Berle (J.K. Simmons). 

And in addition to juggling the talents and presence of a hungry Billy Crystal (Nicholas Podany), musical guests Billy Preston (Jon Batiste) and Janis Ian (Naomi McPherson), Andy Kaufman and Jim Henson (both portrayed by Nicholas Braun), there are the ragtag stars of the show, the unformed yet soon to be iconic "Not Ready For Prime Time Players," featuring Dan Aykroyd (Dylan O'Brien), rapaciously surly John Belushi (Matt Wood), Jane Curtin (Kim Matula), soon to be breakout star Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith), fish out of water Garrett Morris (Lamorne Morris), Laraine Newman (Emily Fairn) and Gilda Radner (Ella Hunt).  

Bursting with chaotic energy and abandon, Jason Reitman's "Saturday Night" is a n enormously affectionate tribute to the white knuckle minutes that must exist before every single episode of what is now a television institution. 

It is an institution that is now wholly familiar. We understand its framework. We understand its structure. We know exactly what parts of the show will happen and when. We know "Weekend Update" will always be right in the middle of the show. We know exactly when each week's musical guest will perform. We know there will be satirical filmed advertisements and that a host's monologue will exist immediately following the flashy roll call opening credits. Yet, even in its now familiarity, it remains a high wire act as it is all happening live and anything could potentially happen.  

Over the years, even when I felt the time for "Saturday Night Live" may have reached certain limits or was being undone by its limitations, I have since found myself allowing for some grace towards the show as I am unable to imagine the pressure involved to create a functioning live television program every single week out of the thin air. 

That being said, Jason Reitman's "Saturday Night"  takes us back the night of that very first episode when nearly every participant was a cultural unknown, and what was being made was indeed revolutionary, for there was no framework or structure because there was no precedent for what Lorne Michaels and his cast and crew were inventing in real time. Fueled by its own sense of madhouse (and for some, drug aided) cacophony, this show delivered a sense of television and comedic anarchy for no one knew if this then new experiment would even work at all, especially when the very young participants probably did not even know what they had or were even creating initially.  

From all of the oral histories and interviews I have read over the years from the original cast members to present day, all of them have showcased the reality that getting a show to air is akin to conjuring a minor miracle. With that in mind, Reitman has crafted essentially his version of Alejandro G. Inarritu's extraordinary "Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue Of Ignorance)" (2014)--all the way down to its percussive score by Jon Batiste--and Jim Henson's "The Muppet Show" (1976-1981). 

Truth be told, and frankly, with respect to the original "Saturday Night Live" writers who carried nothing but ruthless disdain for Henson's doomed late night Muppet characters, Reitman's backstage drama often feels like a live action version of "The Muppet Show" where his Lorne Michaels is the real world Kermit The Frog, the straight man valiantly trying to hold his certifiably insane cast and crew together to try and piece together a great variety show. 

One thing that I found to be remarkable with "Saturday Night" is the impeccable casting from end to end. It was amazing to me that I knew precisely whom was being portrayed even in flash moments like Al Franken (Taylor Gray), Tom Davis (Mcabe Gregg), Paul Shaffer (Paul Rust) and original announcer Don Pardo (Brian Welch). 

The portrayals of Chevy Case and Dan Aykroyd by Cory Michael Smith and Dylan O'Brien, respectively were marvelous. I loved how the portrayal of Chevy Chase certainly remained true to legend of him being an extremely unpleasant person to exist with while also carrying superior talent. But, the additional layer of how his often nasty humor was utilized as a shield for his insecurity and uneasiness with potential fame provided perspective and depth. O'Brien's version of Aykroyd was almost eerie as he handled everything down to the legendary vocal cadences with aplomb. 

Lamorne Morris is a standout as Garrett Morris, a full decade older than his classmates, a Julliard trained performed, Broadway musical veteran and playwright, as well as being the only African American member of the cast and writers, clearly out of step with these young, White upstarts. 

Yes, as characters, Jane Curtin, Laraine Newman and Gilda Radner are given short shrift within this film. To that end, even Belushi's presence wavers between being a major plot point (will he sign his contract?) to even being kind of an afterthought as he is off screen for much of the running time, appearing via a minor series of scenes. But again, Reitman is giving us a peek into a mere 90 minute snapshot of time, meaning there is not enough opportunity to create full character arcs if he had chosen to focus on the first full season of "Saturday Night Live" instead. 

Even so, I spotted the character of Laraine Newman instantly because the presence of this very real comedic hero was so present. Just the sound of the character of John Belushi's voice brought this comedic hero back to me. A turn of the head superbly conjured Gilda Radner and so on. 

And then, there is the topic of a certain sense of revisionist history being performed within Reitman's film as several now iconic sketches, which did not yet exist on that first night. Again, I generally dislike this technique bot somehow, they way Reitman weaved everything together, "Saturday Night" may not be entirely historically accurate but it felt to be emotionally true and not manipulative to generate an effect. The laughs and tension I felt throughout were honest as I could witness how this entire leap of faith, one where the then established powers that be we hoping to fail, quite might have been this discordant and electrifying. 

As electrifying as "Saturday Night Live" was, and still is, when it operates at its very best.

I was six years old when "Saturday Night Live" originally premiered. I was perhaps between seven and eight when it truly entered my consciousness and I became an avid watcher and absolutely magnetically glued to this band of personalities, their characters and catchphrases, their sense of rule breaking and voluminous energy. I loved every minute even as possibly 90% of the humor sailed completely over my head. It was the aforementioned gentle anarchy of invention and destruction, just to do it all over again and again, never knowing what could possibly happen or if it will work at all. Those first 5 years of the show are as embedded into my DNA as The Beatles for those actors, comedians and writers were as rock n' roll as the rock n' roll I already loved. 

Jason Reitman's "Saturday Night" is no mere exercise in empty nostalgia. It is a lovingly presented tribute to what Mel Brooks once spoke of as the "polite hostility" of comedy merged with the artistic hunger of invention and having a chance to change the landscape by putting on a show.

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR: a review of "The Substance"

"THE SUBSTANCE"
Written and Directed by Coralie Fargeat
**** (four stars)
RATED R

It is not often, especially these days, when the movies really step up to the cinematic plate and just go for it!

To begin this posting, I feel it necessary to return to a film experience, while brilliant, was one so disturbingly overwhelming that I strongly feel that it is one that I truly can never return to it for a second viewing regardless of its excellence. The film in question is Darren Aronofsky's "Requiem For A Dream" (2000), and for the uninitiated, the proceedings chronicles various drug addictions between four interconnected characters. The film's final third, entitled "Winter," is where this already stylized, distraught film descends into nightmare for its quartet. 

Arguably, the most tragic figure is Sara, portrayed in a fearless swan dive of a vanity free performance by Ellen Burstyn. Throughout the film, we have watched her succumb to the addiction of reclaiming her youth by way of a crash diet and amphetamine pills as she wants to fit into a favorite, yet years unworn, red dress for a scheduled appearance upon her favorite game show. Over the course of the film, Sara's energy waxes and wanes, she increases her pill usage in order to wear the dress and she eventually is fraught with drug induced hallucinations, building with terror. Aronofsky pulls out all of the stops with a relentless audio/visual dynamism that is impossible to turn your eyes away from even as you are unquestionably horrified. The experience worked me over and then some! Remembering it now as write is sending chills up and down my spine as I can still remember the drilling music, the razor sharp editing and undeniably Burstyn as Sara disintegrating before our very eyes.  

Dear readers, I recalled that movie memory for you because I feel compelled to have to first explain to you that I was extremely trepidatious with the thought of seeing Coralie Fargeat's "The Substance." While the tenor of the reviews have been quite high, the reported intensity of the work and all of the body horror gore contained therein, made me wonder that perhaps even as I was curios, it might be an experience just not designed for my temperament. That being said, my curiosity overtook any sense of fear I was harboring and I took the plunge.

At a time when the motion picture industry is clearly uninterested in taking any cinematic risks at the expense of what they feel to be the sure things of sequels, prequels, remakes, reboots and re-imaginings, every once in awhile, something comes along that defies the norm and loudly announces itself with unapologetically bold strokes. 

Coralie Fargeat's "The Substance" is a visceral, voluminous and volcanic experience. Fearless in conceit and execution, Fargeat takes the core of a cautionary fable and utilizes it to unleash a bombastic Hollywood satire, as well as a take no prisoners diatribe against unrealistic to impossible beauty standards and the disqualification of women in society, especially past a certain age. Most of all, Fargeat has helmed an enormously felt howl, a wrathful, rapacious scream into the unforgiving maw of a world that teaches girls and women to hate themselves. It is gruesome. It is grotesque. It scratches, claws and gnashes its cinematic teeth into a frenzy. 

And it is also a film of superbly high achievement. It is with out question one of the best films of 2024.

"The Substance" stars an astounding Demi Moore as Hollywood legend, but now fading celebrity, Elizabeth Sparkle, who, as the film begins, hosts a morning television exercise show akin to the type Jane Fonda created during the 1980s. On her 50th birthday, lecherous, disgusting executive Harvey (!!), enthusiastically played by Dennis Quaid, fires Elizabeth from her show due to her age, and immediately begins the pursuit for someone younger, hotter and better to lead the program. 

Shortly thereafter, Elizabeth comes across a black market product known as "The Substance," a cell replicating liquid, once injected, will allow her to birth a younger version of herself. Yet, the rules are strict. While effectively another entity, the two beings share the same consciousness. But, while one is active in the world for seven days, the other will remain comatose during that same time period. After seven days, the two must switch places for the next seven days and the cycle continues with full adherence to respecting the connective balance between the two. 

Unfortunately, Elizabeth's other self, who names herself Sue (Margaret Qualley), very rapidly takes Elizabeth's old job, becomes a media sensation and becomes increasingly reluctant to switch places back with her older self, which then produces terrifying side effects. 

To reveal much more would certainly spoil the full effect of Coralie Fargeat's "The Substance," but I am here to report that its impact is unapologetically pummeling. At nearly two and a half hours, Fargeat unveils a narrative furiously propelled by its own rocket fueled nightmare logic. It possesses high style and superlative confidence in itself. While subtlety is not on the menu whatsoever, it would be mistaken to suggest that Fargeat has not ensured "The Substance" exists without nuance or even poetry. 

In fact, I absolutely loved Fargeat's usage of a variety of visual motifs through the film from eggs, eyes, mirrors, all manner of spheres, palm trees, to even the shape and form of the human (notably female) posterior. The film's opening sequence, starring an overhead shot of Elizabeth Sparkle's Hollywood Walk Of Fame Star, is a gorgeous montage of the trajectory of Elizabeth's career, from its rise to its Winter stages. To that end, I loved how the film's final shot perfectly double ends itself to that opening, making for a final image that is simultaneously disgusting and undeniably profound.

At this point, I am compelled to mention the film's level of violence and gore, which is exceedingly high. A strong stomach is encouraged as it is not for the faint of heart as we are subjected to an orchestra of bodily fluids, viscera, entrails and an amount of blood that could rival anything we have already seen in the likes of Brian De Palma's "Carrie" (1976) and Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining" (1980), two films in particular "The Substance" references and pays homage. Even with its usage of practical make up effects, which recalls the stomach churning works of David Cronenberg's "Scanners" (1981) and "The Fly" (1986) as well as John Carpenter's "The Thing" (1982), I will say that the violence in the film is not end to end or even gratuitous to the point of stretching beyond tasteful limits, so to speak (but I do concede that will depend upon your own personal tastes and limitations certainly--if you fear needles, I recommend that you stay away). 

As wrenching as it all is, for me, the unreality of the gore--especially during the film's biggest swings in the absolutely wild final third--made it a tad easier to regard. I never had to leave the theater and recompose myself, if that means anything. Coralie Fageat ensures that her gore usage is riveted to the demands of her story, characters and overall themes and with that, her film never felt to be exploitative. 

For that matter, for all of the copious female nudity on screen from both Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley, Fargeat's cinematic gaze is also never exploitative and when it is sexualized, it is for stinging satirical commentary. Again, her usage of mirrors and the amount of screen time that the characters of both Elizabeth and Sue regard themselves, whether in wonder or horror, speaks volumes towards Fargeat's central themes. As Sue galivants during her time in the world, racking up attention and adoration, while Elizabeth remains comatose, after the two switch places, Elizabeth regards Sue's continuous victories--mirroring the ones she used to have when she was younger--while trapped in a self imposed isolation where her sense of inadequacy, loneliness and self-loathing only grows in power.

One of the film's most striking and devastating sequences is one when Elizabeth, readying herself for a date with a former high school classmate who once (and still) adores her, finds herself in a position I would think absolutely anyone can relate with. It is a sequence without dialogue. Just Elizabeth struggling to reconcile how she is viewed by this classmate with how she views herself. She alters her outfits and makeup over and again, hoping to improve but only making everything worse, including her dwindling self-esteem. 

Time is literally ticking away--for her proposed date, certainly. But her sense of relevance and mortality, definitely. What begins with a nervous confidence ends with a face and hair shredding fury as what we are witnessing is the very emotional, psychological violence Elizabeth, and therefore, all of us, especially women, are all doing to ourselves to try and attain a status that does not exist but are constantly being told that it is. In Elizabeth's case, a massive billboard of Sue that faces (and therefore, taunts) her points directly at her mammoth window outside of her dream world apartment. It is just one remarkable sequence in a film that keeps topping itself and Demi Moore is equal to every single moment of it.

I am of an age when I can remember Demi Moore before I even really knew her name as she portrayed ace reporter Jackie Templeton on television's "General Hospital." I have grown up with her in many regards, in films I have loved as well as others that I have not. But, over so many of these years, she has remained a strong presence that I have rooted for, much like her acting contemporaries. Having Demi Moore in "The Substance" is a masterstroke considering all that we know about Moore's history in the public eye, especially her status as a sex symbol, grafted onto her whether she wanted it or not.

 Considering the subject matter of "The Substance," I would think that any actress could have performed this role. That said, Demi Moore grabs onto Fargeat's vision firmly, completely and like Ellen Burstyn in "Requiem For A Dream," it is a performance without a trace of vanity and a go for broke commitment to absolutely everything required of this story and character. Much like Natalie Portman's blistering performance in Darren Aronofsky's "Black Swan" (2010), Demi Moore has to travel to despairing depths and layers of Hell...and believe me, she takes us with her. If the rumblings prove themselves to be true come awards season, I would be thrilled if Demi Moore's superlative, staggering work here were to be recognized.       

Margaret Qualley, I feel possesses an equally difficult role and frankly, with even less dialogue and she is compulsively watchable. Reminding me tremendously of the Replicant characters from Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner" (1982), and even Emma Stone's character in Yorgos Lanthimos' audacious "Poor Things" (2023), the character of Sue emerges into the world without any of Elizabeth's psychological baggage, even though they share the same consciousness. Sue functions without empathy, essentially soulless, driven by her narcissistic desires regardless of the dire consequences. Yet, over the course of the film, the same insecurities that hinder Elizabeth rise rapidly in Sue, providing her motivation to also remain relevant and her refusal to be discarded by anyone, especially Elizabeth via means I won't discuss here so as not to produce spoilers.

Yes, there are clear allusions to the likes of Disney's "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" (1937), Joseph L. Mankiewicz's "All About Eve" (1950) and Robert Zemeckis' "Death Becomes Her" (1992), but I wish to be clear about the following: Coralie Fargeat's "The Substance" is not another movie about two women fighting each other. As the shadowy, unnamed corporation that supplies the elixir extols and subsequently warns both Elizabeth and Sue: "Remember...You Are One." 

Coralie Fargeat's "The Substance" is a film about one woman at war with herself. While Fargeat's rage against the patriarchal based expectations that lie within the male gaze is never let off of the proverbial hook (especially in the film's unleashed David Lynch-ian climax), she affords us the opportunity to see how that male gaze fuels the self gaze. 

Elizabeth Sparkle's inability to accept herself arrives at a time when it is possible that she never really knew herself at all as she she spent her life in an industry feeding off of outside validation. It feels as if she has no friends or family...something real or tangible in the world that possesses a grounding security that the fleeting Hollywood machine is not interested in cultivating, especially for women. So, when all that she has achieved has been swiftly taken away, where does she turn? Her need for outside validation at the expense of any sense of self reflection or acceptance, all the way to the point where she willingly defies the natural law sends her on this odyssey, consequences be damned. 

To that end, Sue appears as plastic as the mannequins she emulates and in a great touch, Fargeat never even gives Sue a last name, for why would these lascivious male Hollywood executives care about her identity when all they are looking for is a young, hot woman to fit the skimpy leotard? Sue plays the game to her advantage as far as she is able to take herself, again, without heart, conscience or  consequence...but there is always a price to be paid.

During my college years, when I was majoring in Communication Arts and taking a film production class, I assisted my then girlfriend now wife with the filming of a Super 8 project of a deep personal prevalence. She titled her film "Seeing You See Me," and it was a work about body image and the level of self loathing that arrives when the person you are and see yourself as does not match with the images that confront you harboring a beauty standard that doesn't exist. 

Her film concluded with a striking sequence, which I will call the "Binge and Purge" set piece. After wandering through a magazine shop filled with all manner of glamour and fashion magazines, she ends up at home surrounded by food, which we presume she will consume. She eventually enters her bathroom and kneels over the toilet. What is regurgitated are images from magazines, make up tools and even a small American flag. There is no dialogue. Just music and images. Her film was shown to the entire film production class at the request of our Professor and I vividly remember witnessing many female classmates openly weeping to sobbing...and a few of them even approached my then girlfriend now wife with variations of the same response: "That's exactly how I feel!" 

I thought of my wife's college film quite often during Coralie Fargeat's "The Substance." Yes, Fargeat has delivered an extraordinary, visionary work that takes it all to the wall, bursts through and keeps going and is filled with all of the cinematic gifts--Editing, Cinematography, Sound Design, Art Direction, Music Score--in her full unwavering command. However, and trust me dear readers, this film is no exercise in style whatsoever.

In Coralie Fargeat's "The Substance," the pain, the horror and the rage is absolutely real.

GOODBYE, AMERICA: a review of "Civil War"

 

"CIVIL WAR" 
Written and Directed by Alex Garland
**** (four stars)
RATED R

I do not know about you but for each day that remains before the next Presidential election, it feels to me more and more like a ticking doomsday clock.

Dear readers, I have the suspicion that I have voiced sentiments similar to the one I am about to deliver...but in case I have, here we go again. I am devastated by how every election cycle has become "the most important election ever." Now, this is not to suggest that I feel that we have existed within a sense of hyperbole. On the contrary, I believe that every election cycle since President Barack Obama's victory in 2008, has raised the stakes. I remember on the night of his historic glass ceiling shattering win that pundits were already remarking that we now live in a "post racial society." As I heard those words, I instantly scoffed and said to myself, "It's going to get worse."  

I never imagined how much worse. 

For almost 10 years, we have been subjected to the seemingly endless chaos of well documented racist, rapist, 34 time convicted criminal and remarkably, former President of the United States Donald Trump, the Republican Frankenstein monster birthed from the likes of Sarah Palin and the Tea Party, and who now leads what has emerged into a full fledged neo-Nazi, White supremacist regime where unimpeachable truths do not exist unless dictated in Orwellian fashion and a 900 plus page document entitled Project 2025 serves as a blueprint for what will be enacted should he win another Presidential term this November. 

For myself, life has grown increasingly darker due to all that stands to be lost for myself, the people I love, the children I teach and for the citizens of this nation and world at large who happen to not be wealthy, White, evangelical male should this existential threat come to pass. The additional threats of political violence are mounting and have been so for several years, making me more fearful, especially as my school is located mere blocks away from our State Capitol building. 

While the campaign of Vice President Kamala Harris has inject an essential ray of light, hope and joy into these proceedings so blinding in intensity that it instills hope inside of me, I simultaneously feel unquestionable terror. For is the excitement, grit and grass roots voting enough to topple the rage and political cheating already underway? What happens if Kamala Harris does indeed pull out a victory, which will have its own glass ceilings to shatter? What happens if Trump loses again? What happens if he wins again?  

Writer/Director Alex Garland's "Civil War" is an astounding feat, a horrific "What If?' scenario that meets us all within this moment when our very democracy sits upon the most precarious knife's edge where it feels like the smallest puff of wind can blow the country either this or that way and at its worst, into a landscape from which we cannot recover. At this time of writing, I have seen Garland's film twice and I have been legitimately stirred while also finding myself amazed with the superior artistry on display as he conceptualizes our destruction, a quality which makes his film stand superbly taller than existing as some sort of political statement but as a richly delivered multi-layered experience which does indeed force us to question how much have we been desensitized to our surroundings as brutal and unforgiving as it has become...as well as how it has always been.     

Set in an undetermined future dystopia where the (unnamed) President of the United States (Nick Offerman), now in his third term, and his administration are attempting to fend off a rising national secessionist uprising as led by a combined armed resistance known as the "Western Forces (WF)" of Texas and California (?!) with possibly another secessionist movement from Florida thrown in for good measure.

After surviving a suicide bombing attack in New York City, emotionally deadened war photo journalist Lee Smith (Kirsten Dunst) and her colleagues, Reuters journalist Joel (Wagner Moura), and Lee's mentor and veteran New York Times journalist Sammy (a warmly grave Stephen McKinley Henderson) plot to drive from NYC to Washington D.C. to potentially interview the President before the aforementioned secessionist forces descend and fully overthrow the government. Unexpectedly joining the trio, and much to Lee's chagrin, is Jessie Collin (Cailee Spaeny), an aspiring war photo journalist who cites Lee as her source of inspiration.  

Their journey is by turns solemn and harrowing with dashes of hope, levity, compassion, grace and humane sacrifice as the drive takes them through a rapidly dilapidated United States inching closer than ever to full oblivion.

If "Civil War" is to be the final film directed by Alex Garland, who has announced that he intends to step away from filmmaking to focus solely upon writing, then his film is indeed a striking document to leave behind as is final directorial statement. While I do realize and understand how Garland's approach may have been frustrating for some critics and viewers as it takes a decidedly apolitical stance in a politically themed film of such urgent brutality, I actually found the reluctance to "pick a side," so to speak, was precisely what this film needed in order to allow us to have a certain nuance within the overall warning signs. 

The film's bird's eye view of war and conflict during a period of national history where we are deeply embedded within divisive conflicts increasingly fueled by rampant disinformation and violent political rhetoric and actions around the country as our 2024 Presidential election looms larger and larger due to the closeness of its proximity. 

We are existing in what feels to be a horrific hallucination, a life as if we have inexplicably slid into a deathly dark alternate timeline. That is the feeling Alex Garland evokes with precision, and "Civil War" gives us a cinematic experience that reflects the everyday madness back to ourselves but with visual amplifications that fully mirror our disbelief, confusion and nightmarish awe as we question upon a daily basis, "Did I really see what I just saw? Did I really hear what I just heard?" And every day, our answer is a shaken "Yes." Our very fabric of reality is being called into question as what was unfathomable is now commonplace, and after a time, it almost doesn't even matter how we arrived here. We are NOW here...and we have to keep riding the waves to figure out how to survive. That is the nature of Garland's vision and it is as disturbing as the real lives we are living, where we are further  being challenged to understand that yes...it can happen here in the supposed land of the free and home of the brave.. 

Alex Garland's "Civil War" is a multi-layered experience that creates and amalgamation of the political thriller, road movie, and socio-political cultural critique. It is also a vibrant love letter to journalism and those who place themselves over and again into hellish, life threatening conditions to solely collect and report the stories for our benefits while additionally serving as a character study of a certain "adrenaline junkie" nature in these journalists that is akin to the character study we witnessed in Kathryn Bigelow's "The Hurt Locker" (2008). Returning to the road movie conceit, the film often transported me to Francis Ford Coppola's iconic masterpiece "Apocalypse Now" (1979), as our journalists' vignette styled travelogue towards the shadowy President references the odyssey up river to locate the mysterious Colonel Kurtz. 

Yet, perhaps even most of all, Garland's film allows his characters, as well as all of us in the audience, profoundly serious self reflection regarding our relationship with violence, whether the very real events we see every day and night upon the news as well as within what we consume in our fiction based media with its swath of anti-heroes, serial killers, and fantastical acts of depravity and degradation, mayhem and madness. 

Through the character of Lee Smith, we have one of our conduits and again, Kirsten Dunst surprised me with her depth of reach with her quietly blistering performance. Over the years as she phased from Sofia Coppola's "The Virgin Suicides" (1999) to her criminally misunderstood and beautifully layered work in Cameron Crowe's "Elizabethtown" (2005) to Lars von Trier's "Melancholia" (2011) and more, with "Civil War," I saw a performance of such unprecedented hardened gravity, so often with just her far reaching gaze and without ever saying a word. 

Lee is the embodiment of desensitization, spending her adult life chasing the story and the image while enduring unspeakable events of violence. Only her sense of journalistic duty and the camera lens separates her from the barrage of carnage--or does it? "Civil War" charts her inner journey from desensitization towards a certain reclamation of her humanity as we witness her tenuous relationship with Jessie, which begins with a guarded callousness towards one of genuine friendship and even a hint of Motherly protection with rubs against Jessie's comparative innocence, youthful recklessness, hero worship (and possibly some inferred sexual attraction). 

To that end, Jessie represents who Lee once was and the older Sammy represents what Lee could possibly still be as Sammy's own adrenaline junkie nature and intense pursuit of the journalistic truth has not dulled his humanistic empathy which he continuously offers up as a sage. Even further, is Jessie's journey from innocence towards desensitization making the film function as a riveting and tragic dual narrative/character study of working professionals trying to retain a sense of justice, integrity, duty, morality and sanity in an insane world.  

Always the camera is the truth teller and the barrier, for where are the humane lines drawn with what is visually captured, and how it is disseminated to the masses? Is every moment in life and death demanding to be documented--again, a commentary upon our social media culture as well our consumption of violence through the media. 

One of the most striking sequences in the film is a gunfight and political executions scored to De La Soul's "Say No Go," a wholly jarring merging of sound and images. This particular montage sequence threw me off initially but then, it just clicked...and brilliantly so. For what Garland accomplished was a sly commentary upon a most overused set piece in films and television: the violent action sequence set to a pop song. What better way to be desensitized than have something to tap our feet to as people are being blown away.  

In "Civil War," Alex Garland's impeccable visual style matches and enhances the grim subject matter, again showcasing how the camera itself provides both clarity and distance towards the images the photographer, and in this case, the filmmaker, is chronicling. The quality of the film visually is glistening! Garland, working alongside Cinematographer Rob Hardy, ensure that every moment in "Civil War" is presented with a crystal sharpness, making the film--frame by frame--look like the types of photography enshrined in the pages of LIFE magazine or National Geographic. 

This tactic is present even in sequences of grisly, graphic violence, which I assure you is never gratuitous but realized again just as if these motion picture images could simultaneously serve as the actual photographs Lee and Jessie are taking as well as the ones we are accustomed to viewing in real life. And throughout everything, Garland is challenging his characters and us to question at which point do these acts of inhumanity cease to just exist as images we can be detached from and affect us as the reality that has been captured, especially when the loss of life is caught on film.

"Civil War" concludes with a bravura 25 minute sequence (again juxtaposing cinematic trills with approximations of real world political destruction) depicting the Western Forces' assault upon Washington D.C. and into the White House itself, ending with a devastating final shot (pun intended) and it's an absolutely killer image and has haunted me ever since having seen the film. And what a stunning achievement even that moment is for within this fabricated image, Alex Garland forces us so uncomfortably into the "What If?" nature of his film that we cannot help but to think of our current reality and ponder just what would become of us should this happen for real.

The camera is the key to the truth, about the world as well as ourselves. While I do not see myself as a photographer, I adore taking pictures and scratching my filmmaker's itch by seeing if I can capture images in an artful way. I remember in 2011, during the lengthy protests at the State Capitol building against former Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker, which I attended week after week and at which I took hundreds of photos. I would capture as much as I possibly could and return home to annotate every shot and then upload them to my Facebook page for my online community of family and friends to catch wind of what was happening here and what the main news media would either feature or choose to ignore. I fantasized myself as being some sort of war correspondent, feverishly placing myself right at the epicenter of one moment after another to get the story and once the protests faded away eventually, I found myself having great difficulty readjusting myself to the relative silence I existed within before the protests began. 

In my own miniscule way, I think I may have captured a taste of what real photo journalists might experience in their careers, which they enter willingly and repeatedly for the purpose of getting the story. I cannot begin to fathom what psychological, emotional toll and damage it must take upon them to tell our collective human story. Alex Garland's "Civil War" is a sobering tribute to those figures while serving as an essential warning and lament for all that we are bound to lose should we continue hurtling towards our own extinction by our own hands.

Alex Garland's "Civil War" is one of 2024's very best films.

LET IT RIP: an appreciation of "The Bear"

"THE BEAR" (2022-present)
Created by Christopher Storer

I never used to cry at the movies or during television shows.

That statement is not meant, I will assure you, of any sense of machismo. Growing up and becoming ensconced and enraptured by the art of visual storytelling, I would indeed do what I continue to do to this very day: to allow myself to become immersed in whatever art, and therefore, sensory experience the artist is trying to weave. 

At its very best, the art in question would prove to be so immersive that I could conceivably forget that I was watching a show or even better, sitting inside of a movie theater. The feeling would prove itself to being what the late, great Roger Ebert often described as being "out of body." This is what the greatest films can accomplish for the viewer, from pure exhilaration, howling laughter, crippling terror, mesmerizing tension and sometimes, a sense of spiritual deliverance, where the work inexplicably reaches you in your deepest places of your heart and soul, bringing a sense of communion, certainly. But, just as inexplicably, allowing you to feel seen...that the feelings which possibly have been impossible to articulate, have been reflected and spoken back to you, thus making you feel less alone in the universe...and when that occurs, when the experience races past intellect, something is unlocked and I would think, that is when tears might find themselves being released.

Yes, when I was younger, I would experience those extremely deep feelings, but to elicit tears? That was not part of my film watching vocabulary. As I have gotten older, having experienced so much more life I would gather, tears are much easier to flow, whether through a certain intensity or crescendo being presented. Or when a film reveals a truth to the experience of living that reaches me in a very similar place. When I can feel my soul being enacted and I transcend the viewing experience and travel to something, I guess would be an example of...grace.

.

At this time, I wish to share with you an appreciation for a television streaming series that for me has achieved a quality so astoundingly high that it has become one of those rare series that far eclipses most movies. It is one that has consistently transcended the viewing experience by revealing truths of the human experience by reflecting and speaking back to me emotions I have held and currently hold. It is one that allows me to feel seen, valued and assures me that I am, again, not alone in the universe. It is one that soars gracefully as it delivers grace episode after episode. It is one that has allowed me to travel to profoundly deep places within my soul. And therefore, it is one that has inspired the flow of honest, voluminously felt tears again and again and again. 

Please allow me to present my tribute to Christopher Storer's "The Bear."

Set in the city of Chicago, "The Bear" stars Jeremy Allen White as Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, a young award winning chef from the world of fine dining who returns home to take over The Original Beef Of Chicagoland, a small Italian beef restaurant owned and operated by his older brother Michael (Jon Bernthal), who had committed suicide months earlier. 

Desiring to elevate and modernize the chaotic restaurant and its ragtag yet devoted staff into an upscale and French brigade run establishment, Carmy initially runs afoul of the reluctant crew, most notably, childhood friend and de facto Beef manager, the volatile Richie Jerimovich (Ebom Moss-Bachrach), in addition to an increasingly dilapidated kitchen, mounting debts, and his own unresolved trauma, grief, and survivor's guilt. 

Enter Sydney Adamu (Ayo Edibiri), a young, passionately skilled yet inexperienced chef whom Carmy hires and instills as his new new sous chef. With her fine dining background from her education at the Culinary Institute of America, as well as her business acumen from her now defunct catering business, Sydney is also enlisted to become Carmy's partner to help reinvent The Beef.  

Populated with and aided by an eclectic staff. including acerbic line cook Tina Marrero (Liza Colon-Zayas), veteran line cook Ebraheim (Edwin Lee Gibson), meditative pastry chef Marcus Brooks (Lionel Boyce), childhood friend and restaurant handyman Neil Fak (Matty Matheson), plus Carmy's sister and hesitant restaurant co-owner Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto (Abby Elliot) and longtime family friend and investor "Uncle" Jimmy "Cicero" Kalinowski (Oliver Platt), Carmy and Sydney feverishly forge ahead attempting to realize their dreams, build a family where there was once a fractured team and potentially heal intensely deep emotional and psychological wounds in a precarious environment where every second counts.  

As with a multitude of viewers and critics, and also as evidenced by the tremendous success seen during awards season, Christopher Storer's "The Bear" is superlative. From it's very first moments, set on one of Chicago's historic Loop bridges on which Carmy confronts a literal growling bear before waking up in his kitchen to the metallic panicked rhythms of "New Noise" by Refused, this is a production that knows its own voice immediately. It never has to take time to discover itself. It has arrived and we are holding on for dear life.

Often ferociously paced to an anxiety inducing degree, "The Bear" is visually, and most importantly, emotionally visceral and raw. Yet it is also superbly elegant in its feverish commitment to story, character, world building and a glowing authenticity. Christopher Storer, and his team, which includes Writer/Director/Executive Producer Joanna Cole and Storer's own sister, Culinary Producer Courtney Storer, who is herself a chef, never cater or pander to the imaginary audience. "The Bear" exists within its own universe--with a dogged realism--and it is up to the viewer to catch up, especially when being confronted with all of the kitchen jargon, expressions and euphemisms batted around like hurled baseballs swiped from Wrigley Field. 

If "The Bear" solely existed as a "cooking show," so to speak, perhaps it would have been just fine, or even great. If it were a program that existed simply through the gritted teeth and sweaty palms of its intensity, it also would have probably been entertaining to a certain degree. But, what we have been given with "The Bear" is a multilayered meal of a series, filled with a variety of textures and flavors that continuously reveal themselves and reward viewers who wish to dive in for second helpings or more. I have watched the first two seasons in their entirety three times and I have watched the third season twice as of this time of writing and every time, I have found myself catching something I missed during the previous viewing, which only enhances everything that is now familiar. 

For all of its fury, Christopher Storer has delivered a fully earnest labor of love and in doing so, the series feels like a collection of love letters to its subject matter, which again consistently transcends what could have easily existed as the travails within a struggling restaurant trying to survive and re-invent itself.

"The Bear" is indeed a love letter to the food and service industry, the fleet of crucially essential workers who sustain the population at large with all manner of culinary and hospitality sustenance, often against a series of ongoing challenges and obstacles, from restaurant competition to all out survival during and after the height of the Covid 19 pandemic. And to that end, on a larger scale, it serves as a love letter to all essential workers regardless of industry (as depicted in a stunning opening credit sequence in episode 2 of season 3), but with a hefty embrace to the small business owners and working class population who miraculously remain steadfast with a discipline, determination, diligence and that dogged grit (a Chicago trademark), often to the expense of their own internal stability.

"The Bear" is a love letter to the city of Chicago, as it celebrates its history and provides honest lament with the gentrification that threatens to erase the traditions that make the city precisely what it is. Being a Chicagoan, I have absolutely marveled at the program's sense of authenticity from its locations to the dialects heard through a variety of characters. This is not Chicago as a set or backdrop but Chicago as a full character within the show for when I watch, I have walked these streets myself. I have seen and visited these neighborhoods. I have encountered, overheard and existed with these very people. I have lived within the sleet grey bitter cold winds and architecture of Chicago winters. Even the usage of WXRT Chicago's Finest Rock in the background and the voice of your best friend in the whole world, the late Lin Brehmer to open season 1's episode 7 entitled "Review"--the frenetic one take 20 minute tour de force and scored with the relentless "Spiders (Kidsmoke)" Chicago's very own Wilco--feels absolutely correct and I just sigh and swell with pride. 

The loving yet clear eyed representation captures an authenticity so precise that when I watch "The Bear," I legitimately feel homesick. 

All of this being said, "The Bear" is not a documentary. Christopher Storer and his team create realism but they also provide a layer where it is self aware enough to inform viewers that this is indeed a show, most notably, through its wonderful stunt casting. From Molly Ringwald's season 1 cameo as a participant in an Al-Anon meeting to wonderful recurring roles by Robert Townshend as Sydney's Father, an illuminating Olivia Coleman as one of Carmy's mentors, Chef Terry and a force of nature Jamie Lee Curtis as the emotionally, psychologically battered Berzatto matriarch plus more I will not spoil for the uninitiated, it has ensured that we receive delightful sparkles of recognition that only add to the mosaic being constructed. And with that quality, I have especially adored that "The Bear" is also a love letter to Chicago in film! 

References to Director John Landis' filmed in Chicago musical comedy car chase extravaganza "The Blues Brothers" (1980) are openly made. Writer/Director Paul Brickman's "Risky Business" (1983), is referenced through its groundbreaking film score from Tangerine Dream (even more overtly heard in the season 3 teaser).

A season 2 episode entitled "Pop," where Carmy and girlfriend Claire (the luminous Molly Gordon) visit the northern suburb of Wilmette and take in a house party from former high school classmates, suddenly becomes a modern day tribute to the career of the late Writer/Producer/Director (and resident of Northbrook, IL and Lake Forest, IL) John Hughes as it utilizes music directly from Hughes' films. The Psychedelic Furs' "Pretty In Pink" welcomes them into the sequence and the ensuing party sequence concludes when it carries the strains of Composer Ira Newborn's score to Hughes' "Weird Science" (1985) tucked snuggly into the background. 

By contrast, the season 2 episode entitled "Forks," serves as a tribute to Chicago born Writer/Director Michael Mann's filmed in Chicago "Thief" (1981) by utilizing that film's groundbreaking score, again by Tangerine Dream, surging and urging Richie's journey as he stages at Ever, a high end three star restaurant. 

To that end, there exists an overall musicality of the show that extends far beyond its already impeccable soundtrack. I love how the characters and episodes thematically rhyme like movements and themes in jazz. Episode titles reference each other as a means of commentary and foreshadowing, like season 2's extraordinary, white knuckle family tragedy of "Fishes" and the aforementioned "Forks." 

While "The Bear" grows each year, I am thrilled with how Christopher Storer, crew and cast allow the series, from season to season, to reinvent itself while always remaining consistent within itself by adhering to the core themes. Where season 1 was largely set within The Beef and immersed us within the daily chaos of the ramshackle restaurant, season 2 found itself at a point of The Beef's three month transition into The Bear, plus the ragtag's groups transformation into a potentially more polished team, and afforded us more introspective moments and passages of quiet--as with the gorgeous set in Copenhagen installment entitled "Honeydew"--to provide a counter balance to the more visceral episodes.

Season 3 finds "The Bear" at its most interior, depicting levels of psychological chaos within a variety of the characters. The mediative, masterpiece season opener entitled "Tomorrow," featuring the Nine Inch Nails song "Together" as essentially an additional character, we essentially take a walk through Carmy's mind and memories, witnessing just how he became who he is in this specific moment of his life, and therefore what fuels decisions made and not made during the remainder of the season. While there have been some critical and viewer complaints concerning the tone of season 3, with its lack of resolution and in some respects, momentum, I strongly feel that Storer has beautifully delivered a series within transition about characters in transition, where emotional forward movement is stagnant as the ghosts and scars of past and the anxieties about the future are in constant collision in a most precarious present. 

For me, it was exactly this lack of narrative velocity that precisely makes "The Bear" stand as tall as it does. For this is an astoundingly humane experience designed to mirror life as it is truly lived because sometimes, we are stagnant. Sometimes there is no resolution. Sometimes we are left with only questions. Most especially, at some point, or currently, or always, I believe that we have all been a Carmy, Sydney, Marcus, Sugar, Richie, Tina, Michael or any other character because we understand. They are seen and therefore, we are able to see ourselves, and for myself, it is often soulfully deep and uncomfortably close to the bone.

With full disclosure, I feel it appropriate for the context of this appreciation to reveal that I am a product of an upbringing of being raised by two fiercely loving, devoted, seemingly tirelessly working parents who wanted nothing but the very best for me. I know without question they raised me with the highest of intentions and in the way they knew how do it as best as they were able. I also now have the words and language to place aspects of their parenting into its proper context. As committed as they were, they were also serious, strict perfectionists with exceedingly high principles for themselves in their professions as educators and unquestionably for me as their child, and a child of educators at that plus being a Black child in a White world. They were also overly protective and rigidly demonstrative at best, stifling at worst, making for a life where I was conditioned by impossible expectations and results oriented approval, stern demands that refused any of own own thoughts, opinions or choices and searing, constant verbal and emotional abuse. 

Nothing was good enough unless it was perfect. Weak school performances were greeted with punishments both minor (no TV, radio, or movies) to severe (threats to expel me from the school that existed as a second home for me). Grade report mailings were met with anxiety and compulsive looks out of the window for the mailman to see if my day would be emotionally safe, riding the wave of tension and release just to have it all begin again the next day. I was called lazy. I was called stupid. I was told that I just wasn't trying hard enough, or doing enough or being enough. And so, in my mind and spirit, I was never enough. Lectures were endlessly conducted in enraged tag-team fashion where I would find myself mentally shutting down, compartmentalizing my emotions because they could never be spoken, fully internalizing their negativity instead of what I am feeling they wished to be inspirational. I existed in a shame cycle that never ended.

I felt unseen. I felt undervalued. And so, I didn't know how to value myself. Over the years of my late childhood, adolescence and college years, I increasingly felt as if I was the son they had rather than the one they wanted for my skills, passions, temperament and aspects of my worldview did not align with theirs. Let me be clear. It was not a tortured existence. In a material way, I wanted for nothing. I was housed, clean, fed and more than provided for. But, forging a positive emotional connection was out of reach and eventually, I stopped trying for I felt the attempt would be met with scorn and more admonitions that I was not living up to my potential.

Language escalated into a verbally brutal confrontation near the end of my college years in my early 20s. While I instinctively knew their words were ones of worry and concern with the choices I wanted to assert for myself at that time, they were spoken with a cruelty and finality that to this day cannot be unheard. That moment lit a fire in me in which I said to them in my mind, "If that's the best you can do, then fuck you! I don't need you."  

I was consumed with proving them wrong--which in turn was another plea for acceptance--while knowing it was entirely up to me for survival post college as I decided to begin my life in Madison, WI. I was still myself, so to speak. But, over time, I realized that I had become as unforgiving a parent to myself as my parents had been to me. I am naturally introverted and my natural resting state is one that is more melancholic, despite how I may seem outwardly to others. Over time, I became relentless with myself. I became a perfectionist with myself, which lead to mounting anxiety, depression, repressed anger and resentment (which can only be contained for so long until...), a flurry of worries and constant negative thoughts, an inability to fully accept successes while lingering to an unshakeable degree over failures which makes it difficult to make choices and trust me, I can talk myself out of anything regarding any sense of risk. 

I have difficulties devising a proper work/life balance, despite my best intentions, as I am constantly feeling the need to prove my worth, often ending up feeling undervalued, unappreciated and unseen. I have a "Groundhog Day" tendency to become deeply involved with and hurt by intensely close yet emotionally abusive relationships, including one with a former best friend which ended suddenly and maliciously one year ago, which I am admittedly still recovering from. Like my parents, I love fiercely. I try past the point of reason ("If I just do this, then I will be seen...appreciated...acknowledged...loved.") and if I feel I have been wronged too many times, I mercilessly purge from my life with no turning back. I emotionally retreat inwards further, trust others less yet still compulsively find myself trying to reach outwards to aid and comfort others so they never feel as I so often do--which fuels my life as a preschool teacher with experience knocking on 30 years.

In my professional life, I can easily recount the bosses I have had who were genuine leaders, who ran with unquestioned authority but respectful of everyone and with a keen ear for fairness. Unfortunately, the world is not often run by those people. I think of one school Director in particular who herself was abusive to me for years on end and another who was also abusive and decidedly poor at disguising her obvious racism. Yet for the kindness my most effective leaders gave to me, the negative experiences are the ones that have stuck ferociously, informing my anxiety and inner voices long after our lives were no longer intersected.

By the time I was nearing 30 and enduring a period of a sort of estrangement from my parents, my Dad reached out and delivered a deeply felt and received apology which allowed us to have a blissful relationship for the remainder of his life. For nearly 20 years, he and I never fought again. 

As for my Mom, that is more tender as our personalities are too similar, we fight the same way, we each want to have the last word, and we both always wish to be right. Her tone has softened considerably since my Dad's passing nearly six years ago. But she is also not one for apologies, partially, I am imaging due to her still perfectionist nature and need for control. I struggle to reconcile with the fact that she might never make amends in the way that I would wish and I just have to live with that even as I want us to be closer than we are. I feel that I am better at a distance and that perhaps we each might want it that way. I don't know. Her memories of my past don't line up with my own as pieces seem to be rose colored and run contrary to how I was raised overall. Her expressions of pride and accomplishment for me today feel foreign and confusing as the praise and encouragement I longed for as a child is arriving now and for the very things I was criticized for.    

Years of therapy have given me the tools of recognition and understanding I need as I unwind the mess inside of my mind and try to rewire myself so I can finally love myself, know that I am enough as is,  and understand the approval I am looking for can only arrive from within me and not through outside validation, as wonderful as it is. 

I am trying. And that is all that I can do. Some days are better than others. Some days are are in stasis. It is day by day.

Unlike any other program that I have watched in recent years, Christopher Storer's "The Bear" is one that often brings me to tears. It reaches me in a specifically deep place as I feel it to be a show of conversation, one which sees me and I can see it in return because I just want for these characters as deeply as I want for myself within my real life. Writer/Director Cameron Crowe's "Jerry Maguire" (1996) bestowed a film of nothing less than spiritual deliverance of such rarity that I have often longed to be touched so profoundly again.

Much like how "Jerry Maguire" is not really about sports despite being set within the world of professional athletics, "The Bear" is not really a show necessarily about chefs and restaurants. "The Bear" is a show about our collective humanity starring a collective of characters who are all living day by day, trying to do their best and exist at their best while often struggling against the demons of intergenerational trauma, alcoholism and substance abuse, mental illness, familial tensions and more on top of everyday stresses and triggers plus the societal PTSD from the pandemic and current traumas from the election cycle.

Just like all of us. 

"The Bear" is an exploration of being dedicated to one's work, finding a life's sense of purpose and attempting to discover how to build and leave a legacy while somehow trying to attain a work/life balance. It is about the cycle of abuse, how it is internalized and how it is inflicted upon ourselves as well as each other. It is about the process of finding healthy boundaries as not giving of oneself at the expense of oneself. It is also an intimate presentation of communication, connection and the interconnectivity between people, professions, environments and of course, food. 

I have cried often during "The Bear" during scenes and sequences where the characters find themselves at moments where they know they are at last being seen, and therefore, acknowledged for their respective humanity, which then deepens the relationships and increases a positive sense of self. There is an aspect of this that feels distinctly Chicagoan as we do possess tough exteriors. But, if you get us at the right place and time--even if it js for a brief encounter--and we can honestly connect, the results are soul shaping. Of course, this quality is not exclusive to Chicago as it is the navigation of the human experience but I think you can see my point.

The respective stories and trajectories of all of the characters in "The Bear," from main players to supporting characters, all ebb and flow through how they choose to communicate with each other as well as within themselves. I have adored all of the scenes where the characters find themselves at a personal crossroads, pause and allow themselves to just talk to each other. Richie sadly expressing to Carmy that he fears he has no purpose in his life and will be left behind. Carmy and Sydney ironing things out while fixing a table. Marcus, Sydney and Carmy discussing what "legacy" means to each of them. Richie and Chef Terry at Ever. A stunning sequence starring Tina in season 3's outstanding "Napkins" directed by Ayo Edebiri. Will these connections foster trust, patience and empathy or will past wounds and traumas continue to keep them burrowing inwards when they need to reach outwards? You never know when someone needs a lifeline but you always know when one is being tossed to you.  

Communication is connection and throughout "The Bear," with our central figure of Carmy, we see when it works (his beautiful 7 minute monologue in season 1 episode 8 entitled "Braciole") and when it fails him (the entirety of season 3). When Carmy is at his absolute worst, we still empathize because we understand. We know that he is doing his best in any given moment due to his own intergenerational trauma, survivor's guilt, and crippling anxiety from his family history combined with being the victim of abuse from a raging narcissist (portrayed with devastating coldness by Joel McHale), all of which fuels his punishing self flagellation, need to burrow inwards and become consumed with his own uncompromising work ethic, an inability to accept love and shouldering the constant fear of letting go and believing that others care, believe in him and won't let him fail. Yet, he is also str5uggling to know that without attaining a work/life balance, not only will he eventually flame out, his formidable skill and creativity will suffer instead of grow.

It is this human, experience that is the heart and soul of "The Bear," a show that is about life as it is lived and where food is utilized as nourishment and sustenance certainly but crucially as a metaphor for inspiration, art, trauma, pain, connection, heath and healing. Where every meal contains its own story to be told, forging connections and building an ongoing history for all who give and all who receive.

At the 75th Emmy Wards ceremony held on January 15, 2024, where "The Bear" won for Best Comedy an extremely debatable category choice of course), Matty Matheson, who is himself a real world chef, expressed the following during his acceptance speech on behalf of the entire production:

"I just want to thank restaurants as a whole, hospitality as a whole. I just love restaurants so much-the good, the bad. It's rough. We're all broken inside and every single day we've got to show up and cook and make people feel good by eating something and sitting at a table, and its really beautiful."   

Christopher Storer's "The Bear" is that great multi-course meal that is continuously delicious but also delivers satisfaction for the soul. It has given to me more than I could have asked for due to the superlative artistry of all involved. "The Bear" is beautiful ode to all of us who are bruised and broken yet continue to just find it within ourselves to get up and try again. I anxiously await season 4, which has reportedly been largely filmed already but for now, I can luxuriate in this series, that for 28 episodes so far, has over and again transcended most movies.

"Take us there, Bear," Marcus implores of Carmy with quiet urgency. Thank you to "The Bear" for everything performed that takes me to places entertaining, reaches me in spaces that are painful and delivers me to a destination that is always beautiful...even when I find myself awash in tears.

Let it rip!