LISTEN...: a review of "Disclosure Day"

 

"DISCLOSURE DAY"
Story by Steven Spielberg
Screenplay Written by David Koepp
Directed by Steven Spielberg
**** (four stars)
RATED PG 13
RUNNING TIME: 2 hrs 30 min

This is one that I feel the need to sit with...

The year 1977, in which I was only 8 years old, was the year that I became fully aware and completely fell in love with the art and artistry of the movies. For so many people like myself, I am certain that both George Lucas and Steven Spielberg were the figures responsible for this cinematic awakening. As I reflect, what I find remarkable is how my memories of those experiences have existed for me. 

With Lucas' "Star Wars" (1977), which I saw on the very first day, my recollections are and remain s vivid that they are practically blinding. I can very easily place myself back at the River Oaks movie theater just outside of Chicago in Calumet City, being engulfed by the sound and vision presented in 70MM widescreen and Dolby sound, and further fully transformed emotionally by all that I had witnessed. It was unquestionably a stark before/after life experience never to be forgotten.

Now...with Spielberg's "Close Encounters Of The Third Kind" (1977), my memories are hazier. My interest in astronomy, space and whatever existed out there beyond Earth was certainly a draw. But, even so, I do not quite remember whether I saw the film at the aforementioned River Oaks or at the Evergreen Plaza theater near my home at the time. Where I could remember every single moment from "Star Wars," my memories of Spielberg's film are relegated to specific scenes and moments as the film felt pitched towards more adult sensibilities despite its explicit childlike wonder and awe. While scene to scene and certain concepts were beyond my 8 year old comprehension, the sheer impact of the experience in totality was equally as soul shifting as what Lucas achieved.

I remember my introduction to what I have ever since referred to as "Spielberg lights," scenes where mist, dust or other airborne moisture creates vibrant beams of light from flashlights, almost as if they could be real world lightsabers. I was absolutely dazzled by the otherwise terrifying sequence of 5 year old Barry (Cary Guffey), alien abduction, punctuated by his opening of the door to his home to view a flooding of yellow and orange light augmented by an ominous sound. I even vividly remember a moment during a council meeting sequence where an older gentlemen exclaimed that "I saw Bigfoot once!" 

 

Most of all, as blue collar everyman Roy Neary, Richard Dreyfuss was magnetic, perfectly encapsulating both adult and child like sensibilities. From the moment what appears to be car headlights behind him rising upwards into the night skies to his bewilderment at momentarily being bathed in white light on a darkened Indiana railroad crossing. His gradual descent into perceived madness while being consumed by visions of Devil's Tower, which he attempts to reconstruct through drawings, mashed potatoes and a large scaled replica via dirt, bricks and house debris. His distinct need to find answers. I was ready to follow him everywhere including and even further than the film's majestic climax of contact and communication orchestrated through kaleidoscopic colors, sounds, those iconic five musical notes and the pure, primal wellspring of emotion that could have levitated me.

By the time of Spielberg's "E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial" (1982), he was already my favorite Director, ad that film, an exquisite jewel of a portrait of loneliness and friendship, is so perfect that to this day, it remains my favorite film, which I have only seen three times in my life.

Now, Steven Spielberg arrives with what definitely feels to be the third conceptual piece to themes he has explored over the course of his vast 5 decade plus career, his 35th film, "Disclosure Day." 

So as to not inadvertently produce spoilers, I will keep the plot description to the basics. Steven Spielberg's "Disclosure Day," set in the present rather than the Director's penchant for setting his stories either within the past or the future, finds the world on the brink of nuclear holocaust. Josh O'Connor stars as cybersecurity specialist Dr. Daniel Kellner on the run--with his girlfriend, a former nun Jane Blankenship (Eve Hewson)--from his employer, a clandestine government organization knows as the Wardex Corporation as led by CEO Noah Scanlon (Colin Firth), for the theft of hard drives containing evidence of extraterrestrial contact throughout the decades and also, an alien artifact. 

Meanwhile in Kansas City, local news meteorologist Margaret Fairchild (Emily Blunt) suddenly begins to experience a psychic ability after an appearance of a cardinal in her kitchen. After several inexplicable moments of intuition, perception and the ability to speak and understand foreign languages of which she had previously no knowledge of, Margaret experiences a moment on live television during which she is stricken with the power of speaking through what sounds like a series of guttural clicks, thus alerting the attention of the Wardex Corporation, who are soon in pursuit of her. 

As these respective trajectories converge, we are also introduced to Hugo Wakefield (Coleman Domingo), a former Wardex employee leading a team of rogue employees who are guiding both Daniel and Margaret to what is planned as the titular "disclosure day," the moment when all will be revealed to the world at large.

Steven Spielberg's "Disclosure Day" is a superbly stirring experience, expertly showcasing that alongside his most recent cinematic triumphs of both his outstanding "West Side Story" (2021) and his sublime autobiographical document "The Fablemans" (2022), he, at nearly 80 years old, has not lost even one, solitary step as he remains as enamored with the process and the art of cinematic storytelling as he was in his younger days. As what we would expect from Spielberg, this is an elegant production--again aided superlatively by key collaborators Cinematographer Janusz Kaminski and Composer John Williams--that brilliantly blends the visceral (a sequence with a speeding train is as breathless as anything Spielberg has ever conceived) and the cerebral into a defiantly uncynical and surprisingly upending presentation that wisely illustrates how sometimes the most complex answers rest in what is seemingly the most simplistic.

I honestly cannot think of a time during a Steven Spielberg film when I did not feel necessarily grounded. As with every Indiana Jones adventure, "Disclosure Day" opens with what would essentially be the third act of any other motion picture but unlike Indiana Jones, Spielberg deliberately keeps us off balance for the majority of the film, leaving us in a similarity precarious state of mind as the characters of Daniel Kellner, Jane Blankenship and most crucially, Margaret Fairchild. Each of these characters, just as all of us within the audience, are questioning what exactly is happening simultaneously within each of themselves, the world and the nature of existence and how they all intersect and therefore, connect. 

While this tactic may be detrimental in another film, the effect here is as unnerving as it is thrilling as Spielberg has essentially created a chase movie yet the directions and end results are not being spoon fed to us or the characters, as we are possibly learning at the same rate as the characters themselves. To that end, much should be made of Emily Blunt's truly demanding, startling performance which is an amalgamation of confusion, wisdom, humor, a taste of schizophrenia and the holding of a mirror to us in the audience. It is as if she is existing within some odd liminal space and I honestly do not know how she pulled that off!

Throughout "Disclosure Day," we are all unsure as to the motivations, the agendas, the allegiances and alliances, again keep everyone consistently off balance. The further the film unfolds, we gradually understand how the disparate pieces connect, all leading to the film's controversial yet astounding climax--magically anchored by former news journalist Courtney Grace's bracing performance-which might be more than underwhelming for some viewers but for me catapulted me back to similar emotions I experienced when I first saw each of "Close Encounters Of The Third Kind" and "E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial" those very first times. 

As previously stated, Steven Spielberg's "Disclosure Day" is a defiantly uncynical film and in its own way, perhaps even more than Phil Lord and Christopher Miller's beautiful "Project Hail Mary" from earlier this year, as it is a film that is ultimately speaking directly to this specific moment in our collective world culture and history when it is feeling that our own worst, basest instincts are rapidly hurtling us towards our own extinction...and for what? 

"Disclosure Day" is innocently and profoundly asking of its characters and us, what does it mean to be human? What does it mean to not only exist but to co-exist and what is our existence if it only encompasses the things that we can see, hear and touch in our immediate material world or solely through our own individualistic perceptions? And furthermore, what is existence and does it only involve all that we have been told and instructed to believe? Does our idea of existence only hold what feels possible for no other reason than we have brains that are indeed only human? 

I believe that with this film, and frankly throughout his entire filmography, Steven Spielberg is expressing that not do we have the capability to hold what is tangible and what is possible within our very human brains, that it is essential for whatever progression we hope to have within our shared humanity and interconnectivity with the world and beyond. For over and again vis his films and unquestionably with "Disclosure Day," Spielberg, one of our most empathetic filmmakers, implores of us to just take the time to...listen. This may feel to be an oddly facile concept to swallow but again, "Disclosure Day" rests in this unusual space of being an adult film based within its own innocence. It is a hopeful film which unveils itself with the backdrop of an impending nuclear annihilation. 

To that end, to me, "Disclosure Day" exists as a plea.

In my everyday real world life as a preschool teacher, and especially this year as it has presented itself as the most difficult, straiting, stressful, disheartening year in my entire nearly 30 year career, I am faced with a roomful of 3 year old children existing in various states of emotional dysregulation, anxieties, anger, and violent outbursts. And as I am trying to instill in them the tools of naming emotions, building an emotional vocabulary, and recognizing empathy by beginning to understand that they are co-existing in a space with other people than themselves, a constant refrain I share with the children happens to be the following; 

"Please listen...it's hard when you do not listen."

This is a sentiment that grows in importance and weight with me as I have grown older as I realize how powerful it is despite how simplistic it sounds. That when we each lead with our own sense of self-importance and self-preservation, that when we lead with our own sense of narcissism, that when we lead with our unwillingness to entertain a perspective different than our own for we are adhered unshakably to our own sense of rightness. When we lead with arrogance, recrimination, regret, grief, fear, anxiety and everything that seemingly rejects the core truth of what empathy is, we are only dooming ourselves, individually and collectively. 

In Steven Spielberg's "Disclosure Day," the concept of listening is something I think Spielberg is addressing upon multi-levels. To the story he is telling, definitely. With our interpersonal relationships and symbiotic nature with existence, certainly. Because we are being asked to not solely listen to people who are different than ourselves. But to also, listen closely to our hearts, our souls, to the environment and all that live within it. To listen to the nature of possibility itself, because honestly, how could the infinite expansion of existence only contain us within it?   

But, additionally, in some ways, I am also wondering if Steven Spielberg is using "Disclosure Day" to also address our relationship with the movies themselves. 

Yes, I understand how for some viewers of the film, the climax could be read as being somewhat anti-climactic. Perhaps that perception is not exactly the relative fault of the film itself. Perhaps it is representative of the fact that we as a society have long been conditioned to the cataclysmic, theater wall shaking conclusions filled with bombastic special effects driven fire and brimstone and one ending after another. Essentially the type of film experience Spielberg himself altered the entire film industry with over 50 years ago in "Jaws" (1975). 

Yet, Steven Spielberg has always existed as a filmmaker more thoughtful than simply throwing carnivalesque events at audiences just for the sake of doing so, and honestly, what most major film releases have ultimately become. For me, the climax of "Disclosure Day" was especially gripping, solidifying and uplifting the whole experience and in its own way, the entire film felt like a bookend to "The Fablemans." 

With "Disclosure Day," we witness Spielberg, lifelong champion of the cinematic arts and the movie theater going experience unveiling a film within our overly distracted age where movies are treated more disposably than ever, attention spans being shorter (I personally cannot stand the constant complaints about movie running times as if movies cannot end fast enough just to get the viewer onto the next thing instead of having the film itself as the full experience), and media literacy nose diving rapidly, literally imploring of us to just LISTEN. To LISTEN to our spirit and just allow ourselves to surrender and get caught up and be swept away in a dream for two and a half hours with a room full of strangers experiencing the exact same dream and then...let's just see how the dream affects us all.  

We have been conditioned to viewing the movies as fast food for so long now that the movie going experience as a cultural event doesn't feel to mean as much anymore. Perhaps the respective journeys of the characters within the story of "Disclosure Day," especially Emily Blunt's Margaret Fairchild, one could argue, are designed as a means to mirror our relationship with the movies and to think and remember that very first movie that made an impression and sent each of us upon our own journeys within cinema. Just as how "Star Wars" and "Close Encounters Of The Third Kind" forever altered the course of my life. Frankly, I would not be here writing about films right now if not for those two movies. 

Maybe this is one reason why I felt so off balance during the majority of "Disclosure Day" because the film almost functions as if it is a dream. This is not to express that there are no more movies being made in the 21st century that people are not experiencing, becoming involved with and are passionate about. It's that the movie going experience has been diluted and fragmented to the point where we are conditioned to see something, offer a "hot take" and then, forget about it forever...instead of living with it, thinking about it, and possibly emerging from the experience feeling different about the world compared to the moments before you saw whichever movie it was. 

That inexplicable before and after...

Steven Spielberg's "Disclosure Day" is a film that rests within the pivotal moments between the before and the after, the wrestling that occurs with quandary of remaining just as you have been or walking into the unknown, the uncharted territory, the feeling of danger that resides in not being in control anymore...if you ever really were. For nearly 50 years of my life, Steven Spielberg has proven himself to existing as the best guide into the unknown that I could wish for. 

"Disclosure Day" is another excellent step further.

WHY ME?: a review of "Project Hail Mary"

 

"PROJECT HAIL MARY"
Based upon the novel by Andy Weir
Screenplay Written by Drew  Goddard
Directed by Phil Lord & Christopher Miller
**** (four stars)
RATED PG 13
RUNNING TIME: 2hrs 36min

I have to admit to you that in recent years, I have truly grown soft when it comes to my perceptions of Ryan Gosling. 

Truth be told, I have not always felt this way. In fact, there was a significant period where I was quite fascinated with this then new, younger actor who had a tenacity for pulling off a collection of strong, charismatic, deeply interesting and engaging performances, even in films I perhaps did not care for. 

As a cocaine addicted middle school teacher in Ryan Fleck's "Half Nelson" (2006), Gosling delivered a performance of insightful nuanced depth to the point where I knew he was one to watch. While Craig Gillespie's "Lars and the Real Girl" (2007) ultimately suffered from that indie film self-conscious/self-congratulatory quirkiness for me, Gosling's portrayal of a man arrested within mental illness resulting in his wholly unorthodox relationship, such as it is, with a blow up doll, was again a performance that impressed greatly due to its tenderness and honesty.

That being said, and I do realize that I exist within a bit of a minority, Ryan Gosling over the years has felt to exist within a  certain performance stasis. Not that he has ever given what could be considered to being a "bad performance," but one where they are all beginning to feel as if they were variations of the same one or two themes: the taciturn, emotionally absent male--Nicolas Winding Refn's "Drive" (2011), Denis Villeneuve's "Blade Runner 2049" (2017), Damien Chazelle's "First Man" (2018)--or the B.M.O.C./"Prom King"--Glenn Ficarra and John Requa's "Crazy, Stupid, Love" (2011), Damien Chazelle's "La La Land" (2016), every sketch  he giggles his way through on his visits to "Saturday Night Live."  Again, not a bad performance in the bunch whatsoever but a little of each goes a very long way and I was feeling a bit of coasting at work and my interest in his future projects waned.

With Phil Lord and Christopher Miller's exuberant "Project Hail Mary," Ryan Gosling not only brings all that we know to be his considerable gifts to the table, he considerably ups his game, crafting a performance that is honestly wonderful to regard. And to that end, the film as a whole is enormously entertaining and powerfully affecting in its creativity, filmmaking, storytelling and resonant emotion already making it for being one of the best films of 2026.   

As the film opens, we are introduced to Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling), as he awakens from an induced coma as the sole survivor upon an interstellar spacecraft light years away from Earth. As he slowly recovers from amnesia, we learn that life on Earth is in peril as the sun is dying. Scientists have discovered an infrared line, known as the "Petrova Line," stretching from the sun to Venus, which contains a microorganism called "astrophage" escalating on the sun's surface causing it to dim, while also infecting other stars n our solar system, leading to an apocalyptic event for Earth in potentially 30 years time.

Grace soon remembers his life prior to space travel as a middle school Science teacher and former molecular biologist disgraced for a controversial paper once published regarding his beliefs about the possibility of the existence of alien life forms, eventually recruited by Government agent Eva Stratt (a quietly formidable Sandra Huller) to study astrophage alongside international Scientists. 

Further experimentations and discoveries by Grace afford the team the opportunity to enact "Project Hail Mary," in which a three person crew will fly to Tau Ceti, the only uninfected nearby star, to investigate and send information back to Earth via probes while also existing as a suicide mission for the astronauts involved as there will not be enough fuel for a return trip.  

Back in space, as Grace's memories re-emerge while still remaining confused as to how or why he is even on the spacecraft in the first place as he views himself being not remotely "heroic," he encounters another space vessel which amazingly contains a sole alien life form, a five legged rock formed creature Grace soon dubs "Rocky" (beautifully performed and voiced by puppeteer James Ortiz). 

It turns out that Rocky is upon the exact same space mission to save his own planet and the duo joins forces to hopefully successfully rescue their respective home worlds together.

To echo Rocky's own exclamations as heard in the film, all I could utter to myself over and again throughout the entirety of Phil Lord and Christopher Miller's "Project Hail Mary" was indeed, "Amaze! Amaze!! Amaze!!!" as what we have is unquestionably one amazing cinematic experience. 

On a purely aesthetic level, the film is an audio/visual feast executed in A+ level excellence. Lord and Miller, working in full collaboration with their team which incudes Editor Joel Negron, Cinematographer Greig Fraser and Composer Daniel Pemberton, delivered one of the first film going experiences in quiet some time that truly made my eyes and spirit bedazzled due to the purposefully more tactile execution of this material. 

I have proclaimed for many years upon this site that with the advent and over reliance upon CGI technology, we have entered the age where special effects simply are not special anymore due to their prevalence and lack of understanding that there is an artistry to be had and when the technology is utilized as a shortcut and not as a tool of specificity, the overall quality suffers. With "Project Hail Mary," Lord and Miller unveiled a film that is often visually mesmerizing in its brand of psychedelia, sometimes reminiscent of the stargate sequence in Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" (1968). 

I absolutely loved the usage of colors, light and shadow. The slight grain of the film stock. The lack of green and blue screens and the detail within physical sets and locations. Undoubtedly the puppeteering of Rocky! All of these elements and more congealed richly to convey the conceptual and emotional themes of time and space, in addition to distance, isolation, mortality, unity, communion and friendship. Lord and Miller's "Project Hail Mary" is a film made by human hands for human beings instead of something impersonal generated by a computer. Profoundly appropriate for a film that is overflowing with its moral sense of empathy and plea for humanity. 

Beyond the technical professionalism, creativity and invention, Lord and Miller's most miraculous achievement is capturing the film's tonality which dance's supremely upon a knife's edge of pathos  

and comedy, never for an instant losing sight of the other. It is incredible to me that film that is envisioning the extinction of humanity itself could be so light upon its cinematic feet while ensuring the existential stakes are always felt and not once abandoned for laughs. To that end, the comedy throughout is honest and not once overbearing. This is a film that exists within a specific symmetry as it is conscious of the fact that we are living in increasingly inhumane times and Lord and Miller purposefully have created a work that is earnest, sincere and open hearted in its humanity regarding the symbiotic nature of what existence actually is, can be and should be. 

In its own way, I felt Lord and Miller's "Project Hail Mary" to work in a similar cinematic stratosphere as Ryan Coogler's "Sinners" (2025) and Paul Thomas Anderson's "One Battle After Another" (2025) as it is a multilayered experience that straddles the intimate and the epic while firmly meeting the moment in our current space in the 21st century as again, Also we are co-existing in a precarious state due to a rapidly diminishing spiritual core. 

While "Project Hail Mary" is not being explicitly political, I do believe that all art is political to varying degrees. For instance, Lord and Miller have created a science fiction film based in ideas, certainly and precisely like Ridley Scott's "The Martian" (2015)--itself based upon Andy Weir's novel and with a Screenplay written by Drew Goddard--as well as existing in the same cinematic spaces as the aforementioned Kubrick landmark plus Steven Spielberg's "Close Encounters Of The Third Kind" (1977), Robert Zemeckis's "Contact" (1997), Christopher Nolan's "Interstellar" (2014), Alex Garland's "Annihilation" (2016), and Denis Villeneuve's "Arrival" (2016). These are all films that are not about popcorn fueled destruction but ones that adhere to the undisputable reality that Science and Math are real and essential to understanding how existence functions. There is no way around that fact no matter what detractors may wish to exclaim and how distressing it is that reality itself has become debatable. But...here we are...

Also like "The Martian," this is a film entirely about process and problem solving as Grace, either solitary or working in conjunction with Earth Scientists and/or the alien Rocky, are faced with one conundrum after another. Not in a cliffhanger fashion, although there are many white knuckle situations and sequences to behold, but in a more practical sense of discovering all of the mini-problems that exist within the grand problem and again, the symmetry that exists between them.

Lord and Miller's "Project Hail Mary" is also a film about communication, making me feel this film to work in connectivity with Carroll Ballard's "The Black Stallion" (1979), Steven Spielberg's "E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial" (1982), James Cameron's "The Abyss" (1989), Dean Deblois and Chris Sanders' "How To Train Your Dragon" (2010) and the aforementioned "Arrival." This film is asking of us to truly think about our relationships, with those who begin as strangers and then grow emotionally close, to those who differ from ourselves, to especially our relationships with animals, nature and the environment that surrounds us. How do we begin to understand someone or something that is different than ourselves? How do we begin to share language? How do we begin to understand even when we cannot understand? And how does that communion between ourselves and others reflect or enhance the communion we have within ourselves?

The late, great Roger Ebert expressed the following words within Steve James' beautifully elegiac documentary film about Ebert entitled "Life Itself" (2014):

"We are all born with a certain package. We are who we are: where we were born, who we were born as, how we were raised. We're kind of stuck inside that person, and the purpose of civilization and growth is to be able to reach out and empathize a little bit with other people. And for me, the movies are like a machine that generates empathy. It helps you understand a little bit more about hopes, aspirations, dreams and fears. It helps us to identify with the people who are sharing this journey with us."       

  

I feel that the greatest success with Lord and Miller's "Project Hail Mary," is that this is a film that works as a distillation of Ebert's sentiments. Via the film's non-linear structure, Lord and Miller open with the quandary of one man, which extends itself to one planet, which further extends itself to an alien creature and widens the canvas further to include the alien's home planet and further than that, all of the species that exists in between. The drama contained within the film grows from singular to an interconnected universality. This is what makes the friendship between Grace and Rocky so palpable in its heart pounding emotion. This is how the film's themes of bravery, sacrifice, grace, compassion, and the realization that every single living thing contains a purpose and importance carries such weight. For without even one, the universe unravels. To have empathy for one you must have empathy for all because we are all in this together.

And for everything about and within the film that succeeds due to the concept of togetherness, I have to turn my attention at this time to the superb performance by Ryan Gosling who does indeed carry the film on his shoulders, making for an achievement that more than deserves whatever recognition he is bound to receive during awards season. 

Like Tom Hanks in Robert Zemeckis' "Cast Away" (2000) and Sandra Bullock in Alfonso Cuaron's "Gravity" (2013), for instance, large swaths of "Project Hail Mary" finds Gosling either all alone or acting without another human being, so to speak, and he makes the considerable task of holding the screen by himself seemingly effortless. 

Beyond that feat, it is more than fitting that Gosling's character's name is "Grace," as this is a performance that exudes the quality housed inside of the name. Ryan Gosling gives us considerable layers to the odyssey of Ryland Grace, an ordinary man living through an extraordinary time and experience, facing down mortality with the innate and honest fear that whatever it is that might make one person willing to take up an impenetrable challenge, he feels (or even knows) himself to not be that person. For what is courage? Strength? Selflessness? What does it mean to believe in oneself when you do not?  What does it mean when others see in you qualities and characteristics you do not see within yourself? How do you keep placing one foot in front of the other when you do not truly know the destination or the consequences of your actions or inactions? 

This is the quandary of life as it is lived. This is the quandary of what it means to be human. Ryan Gosling embodies this journey masterfully with such patience, charm, frailty, fragility, humor, tragedy and a widely open heartedness that always invites us to lean even closer to his magnetic screen presence. Whatever issues I had towards him previously, as I described at the outset of this review, were completely washed away with his performance in this wondrous film.

Phil Lord and Christopher Miller's "Project Hail Mary" could not have arrived at a more crucial time and I am feeling that the overwhelmingly positive response to the film showcases a societal need to be presented with something hopeful as the dark clouds feel as if they will never part for sunshine again. It is a film that reaching out for us just as we are reaching back towards it and the embrace felt in the union in nothing less than healing. 

While watching the film, I often thought about this song lyric from Todd Rundgren in his song "Sometimes I Don't Know What To Feel" (1973). In that, he sings, "Someone said the world's gonna end and I think it's true. I thought there was some love in the world but I guess I'm wrong." To that end, I thought of another Rundgren lyric, this time from his song "Fair Warning" (1975) when he sang, "I can't let the world die because no one would try."  

I really do not know if a movie can change the world but if everyone who sees and enjoys "Project Hail Mary" could internalize the messages contained and release them outwards as our own Hail Mary pass from one to another, maybe we could save ourselves.

What would Ryland Grace do?

GETTING BACK AND MOVING FORWARDS: a review of "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run"

 

"PAUL McCARTNEY: MAN ON THE RUN"
Directed by Morgan Neville
***1/2 (three and a half stars)
RATED R 
Running Time: 1hr 55min

I find it almost impossible to pick a favorite Beatle. 

The Beatles and the four men who constituted that band--John Lennon, George Harrison, Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney--have existed within my life for the entirety of my life, influencing, educating enrapturing and inspiring me every single step of the way to a degree that it is impossible to imagine my existence without their immense presence. 

I love all four men for differing reasons yet equally and beyond their superlative musicality. For John, it was (and still remains) the unwavering passion, brutal honesty and brave fragility of self examination, witty and questioning surrealism, for being a dream weaver. For George, it was (and still remains) the ocean that lived behind the quietness, his steady resolve, the spirituality that was ever present and all encompassing and certainly, the dry yet biting humor. For Ringo, it was (and still remains) the euphoria, the open emotional honesty demonstrating that tears are a display of strength, the patience and beauty of listening as a path to discovery and inventiveness. 

And still...if forced...if I searched within my deepest heart of hearts...I would have to say that Paul McCartney is the one who speaks to me most emphatically.

From a sheer musical standpoint, it always amazes me with how much music exists within a band due to the members that exist inside of said band. This feeling became gradually apparent to me once The Beatles disbanded and they al began embarking upon solo careers. By the time I was cognizant of The Beatles, their story had essentially concluded and my formative years experienced them as solo artists, the Beatles experience then a thing of a newly fresh past. Despite having been introduced to both "A Hard Day's Night" (released July 10, 1964) and "Abbey Road" (released  September 24, 1969) as an infant, I began truly ingratiating myself with The Beatles discography through my Dad's introduction due to my unshakable obsession with Director Michael Schultz's universally maligned yet eternally beloved by me, rock opera musical fantasy "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" (1978). 

One obsession rapidly led into another, and greater obsession as "Beatlemania" soon existed within me. Allowance money granted me a new album from the mall record store. Frequent trips to my school library, where I could easily listen to records on the turntables complete with headphones, itself became its own obsession (and deepening my love of libraries), allowing me chances to hear this music and immerse myself more and more. It was in this particular space when I first decided to try the album "Ram" (released May 17, 1971) credited to Paul and Linda McCartney and Paul McCartney's second post-Beatles effort. While I knew the stunning storm to sunshine suite of "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey" from radio play, the album completely threw me off. I just did not get it at all. I could hear Beatle-esque qualities but it was decidedly not The Beatles and I didn't know what to make of it whatsoever. And for many years, even after gradually acquiring more post Beatles McCartney albums, I never listened to it again.

Yet, when I did re-acquaint myself with that particular album decades later...the re-introduction proved itself to being more than enlightening.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with or have even rejected to varying degrees the 1970's output of Paul McCartney as it existed so deeply within the immense shadow of The Beatles and the collective societal grief of the band's conclusion, Director Morgan Neville's documentary "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" goes a long way into allowing us a greater insight into that period, offering us--as well as McCartney himself-an opportunity for a re-evaluation, re-appraisal and deeper understanding of not only the existence of Wings, but the why alongside the how. 

In many respects, one could think of this film as a spiritual sequel to both Michael Lindsay-Hogg's "Let It Be" (1970) and Peter Jackson's resplendent "Get Back" (2020) as "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" begins with the ending of The Beatles due to the four members growing up, growing apart and becoming entangled in messy legal issues which pitted McCartney against Lennon, Harrison and Starr thus causing considerable strain and tension with their friendships. 

By this time, Paul had met, fallen in love with and married New York photographer Linda Eastman. The twosome, along with Linda's daughter, Heather-from her previous marriage and whom Paul would adopt-found refuge in a remote, dilapidated farmhouse in Scotland to escape the constant pressures boiling over in London. Faced with legalities and an angry press and fan base convinced that he was single handedly disbanding The Beatles, despite John Lennon's more private departure, months earlier, Paul fell into an alcohol fueled depression. 

The now Linda McCartney immediately became his port in the storm, his anchor, his soul mate and their love plus their growing family began to rejuvenate his mind and creative spirit, resulting in raw, intimate, purposefully unpolished home studio recordings that would ultimately become his debut solo album "McCartney" (released April 17, 1970), which itself was followed by the more polished yet still home grown effort from Paul and Linda, the aforementioned "Ram." 

Feeling a newfound sense of inspiration to combine with his restless creativity and need for invention, Paul McCartney decided that he wanted to continue making music knowing full well that anything he produced would inevitably be compared to the majesty of The Beatles. So...let's not form a supergroup of the rock and roll elite but return to the absolute basics, completely starting over in the formation of a new band, which happens to star a former Beatle...and his wife, Linda, musically untested and unprofessional but fully engaged with a "Why not?"/can-do spirit.    

Morgan Neville's "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" is a lovely, kaleidoscopic voyage through a misunderstood decade in the artistic life of its subject, often narrated by the man himself, and resulting in an experience that functions mush like a Paul McCartney song. Whimsical, vibrant, joyful, inviting, engaging with its fair share of oddities and flying by the seat of the pants imagination and still tinged with a poignant sense of melancholy, bittersweetness, pathos and a crucial injection of optimism.

For as much of the music of this particular decade is on display within the film especially through an enormous amount of archived visual material that I know that I have never seen before, making for one piece of this multi-layered experience, Morgan Neville's film is not necessarily about the music itself. "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" is decidedly not a song-by-song, album-by-album feature and while it is a tad surprising, that decision is not harmful to the film's overall impact in the least. What we are ultimately given is a more intimate portrait of an iconic figure that is warmly humanizing in its display and portrayal. 

Before I go any further, I wish to address a comment made by my very best friend during our college years together. There was one night, during our marathon conversations, be it in her dorm room or dining hall or wherever we happened to be when we were talking about McCartney's then recently released solo effort "Flowers In The Dirt" (released June 5, 1989), at the time, largely seen as a return to form. I vividly remember her remarking, concerning Paul McCartney's then 1980s/1990s era recollections about his past during he Beatles and Wings, that she felt him to being somewhat of an unreliable narrator as she expressed, "his story keeps changing." At the time, I was unsure as how to respond to that sentiment but over time, I think that perhaps it is not McCartney's story that keep changing but his perspective about the times and lives in which he lived. 

Morgan Neville's "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" offers McCartney, as well as us in the audience, to also gather a greater and even newfound perspective over this specific decade of his life. As McCartney is a Producer on the film and as stated, he narrates as well, it would be conceivable to ponder if the film is a self-congratulatory puff piece. I will offer to you that it is not and although while I feel that he is again allowing us inwards as far as he wishes to, I found his candor and willingness to offer new shades enlightening. 

I was fascinated that Neville was able to display a sense of Paul McCartney, the eternal optimist, when he is in the throes of insecurity, feeling excited and proud of the work while creating but then unsure to even dismissive of the same work when critical reactions are poor to brutal and even then, watching him ultimately validated when the tide turns regarding public opinion. I was further fascinated to hear him express stages of anger he felt, towards John Lennon certainly but also towards the earliest Wings bandmates, guitarist Henry McCullough and drummer Denny Seiwell, upon their departure from the group shortly before the recording sessions for what would become "Band On The Run" (released November 30, 1973) due to financial strains, McCartney's relentless pace, wildly unpredictable self-starting touring schedules via multi-colored double decker bus complete with kids and animals and not truly feeling as being full democratic musical partners despite McCartney's assertions that they all existed in a true band. 

What affected me most were the sections where Neville offered us glimpses into McCartney's anxiety, occurring through the aforementioned alcohol laced depression, a nightmare recounted by McCartney himself, and even his difficulty with processing deeply disturbing events in his life from legal struggles, the drug related death of Wings guitarist Jimmy McCullough in 1979, John Lennon's murder in 1980 as well as his own 10 day imprisonment in Japan for marijuana possession, ultimately the catalyst for the disillusion of Wings.   

All of these elements ensured that we could begin to see an icon, a living legend as mere mortal, a human being with foibles and failures just as any of us walking the same Earth as himself. And to that end, Neville's film allows us to witness McCartney's tenacity, his work ethic, his undeniably restless sense of creativity and imagination and the forthright nature in which he pursued his muse regardless of what everyone outside of his word (and sometimes within his world) felt what rock and roll could and should be.

If he wanted to make an album from the comforts of home in a pure DIY fashion, playing all of the instruments himself, recordings raw and real, he did it. And as a result, he became a pioneer in one-man and home recording and the bedroom pop studios that are commonplace in the 21st century. If he wanted tr record protest songs and drug anthems-"Give Ireland Back To The Irish" (released February 18, 1972 UK) and "Hi Hi Hi" (released December 1, 1972 UK) respectively--both of which banned by the BBC, then so be it. If he wanted to record a nursery rhyme in "Mary Had A Little Lamb" (released May 19, 1972), then so be it. If he wanted to create a decidedly corny and goofy television variety show program, complete with a dance sequence and a cartoon mouse in "James Paul McCartney" (broadcast April 16, 1973) then so be it. 

It is that very adherence McCartney possesses towards his muse Neville presents confidently within "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run." For it is through McCartney's unbridled confidence in the act of creation that propelled him past all of the gatekeeping and rules created by critics, fans and even rock and roll itself thus elevating him to the status of existing as a pure artist. The film allows us to gain a greater appreciation for the timelessness of his output regardless of the time period in which everything was created. 

Most triumphantly, Morgan Neville's "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" is a love story. From Paul to Linda McCartney and the family they created together as well as a powerful tribute to the unimpeachable strength of Linda McCartney entering an unforgiving and sexist world of rock and roll fully untested to not only survive it but to thrive and further ascend as an artist in her own right, always existing as an equal partner in creativity, family and life. And it is precisely through that love in which everything throughout this pivotal decade was created. Wings was birthed because Paul McCartney wanted to be in a band after The Beatles and he simply did not want to be away from or leave the love of his life behind...so WHY NOT do it together? It is fully due to that WHY NOT? that we can now see the roots of every artistic decision made during the1970's and the full existence of Wings.

The union of Paul and Linda is a celebrity romance that has always stuck with me and I truly appreciated the time Neville devoted to this essential portion of Paul McCartney's life. Even moreso, I loved seeing and hearing the copious amounts of archived interview footage and sound bites from Linda McCartney herself, a woman whose speaking voice I realized I have barely heard throughout my life, even as her vocal harmonies are forever riveted in my brain through the Wings discography. 

Long after The Beatles' disbanding, George Harrison once expressed regarding the enormity of the time, "They gave their money and they gave their screams, but The Beatles kind of gave their nervous systems." 

Ringo Starr expressed that if not for Paul McCartney's determination and endless enthusiasm, The Beatles would have amassed a far smaller output. John Lennon also once expressed that perhaps out of the four of them, and despite what critics and fans may have believed to the contrary, Paul McCartney maybe wanted The Beatles to exist the most. Morgan Neville's "Paul McCartney: Man On The Run" meets the subject at that precise point in his life where uncertainty and possibility collided and what resulted was purposefully not The Beatles for what could be...but what emerged is something equally pure and true in its intent and therefore, so worthy of reassessment and a deeper understanding.

For Paul McCartney, a self described "playaholic," because for him, he does not "work" music...he PLAYS music, his life and art has always existed as an invitation for us to join in. Morgan Neville's graceful documentary affords us another opportunity to do just that.

FEAR OF A BLACK PLANET: a review of "One Battle After Another"

 

"ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER"
Inspired by Vineland by Thomas Pynchon
Written and Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson
**** (four stars)
RATED R
Running Time: 2 hrs 42 min

PTA...welcome back!!!

I was ready to throw in the towel regarding Writer/Director Paul Thomas Anderson. Now, do not get me wrong. I have used Savage Cinema for much of its existence to extol my deep praise for Anderson as a filmmaker. As being one of the few current Directors--among the likes of Christopher Nolan, Quentin Tarantino, Jordan Peele, Wes Anderson and quite possibly, Greta Gerwig--who can open a film and generate passionate interest solely upon his name and filmography, ever new release is a veritable event. That being said, my reactions towards his films as of late have produced diminishing results with me.

Beginning with "The Master" (2012), and even with "Phantom Thread" (2017), which I admired but was also confounded by due to their oddly emotional starkness and inscrutable presentation, I have felt that Paul Thomas Anderson's storytelling approach has taken on a increasingly akin to Stanley Kubrick's, a colder, more cerebral, somewhat detached emotional core, a more bird's eye view of the subject matter rather than the often intensely heart pounding propulsiveness as displayed in Anderson's earlier films like the extraordinary "Boogie Nights" (1997) and the roaring steamroller of "Magnolia" (1999). 

With "Inherent Vice" (2014) and what I feel to be his weakest effort by a wide margin in "Licorice Pizza" (2021), Anderson created visually elegant, top tier appearing films which all received various levels of rapturous critical praise yet all landed poorly with me. Perhaps, Paul Thomas Anderson was not making films for me anymore. Perhaps his aesthetic was no longer within my sense and sensibilities. Perhaps...possibly...Anderson was falling in love with his own legend and praise to an extent. Whatever the reasons, and especially after "Licorice Pizza," I found myself feeling unhurried to engage with a new feature from him. Not exactly giving up but not remotely excited either. 

Until now...

Paul Thomas Anderson's "One Battle After Another," his 10th film, is a superior return to form for me. In a career in which I feel that Anderson has already created three masterpieces, in the aforementioned "Boogie Nights", "Magnolia" and unquestionably, the towering "There Will Be Blood" (2007), he has now created his fourth. It is an experience that speaks with piercing directness to our nation's past and present while providing dire warnings about our future as it simultaneously ensures that we receive a cinematic experience that is profoundly involving, deeply engaging, shockingly visceral and startling satirical. To that end, it is also a movie about our relationship with the movies as Anderson has weaved an undeniably a classic widescreen 70MM Dolby motion picture event, which for me now exists as his most adrenalized and entertaining film since "Boogie Nights."  Furthermore, and directly alongside Ryan Coogler's masterful, untouchable "Sinners" (2025), Anderson has delivered one of the pinnacle films of not only 2025, he has delivered one of the finest films of the 21st century. 

Opening at the Otay Mesa Detention Center in quite possibly in the year 2009, Paul Thomas Anderson's "One Battle After Another," introduces us to the French 75, a far left revolutionary group featuring the efforts of explosives expert "Ghetto Pat" (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his lover, the voracious, unrepentant Perfidia Beverly Hills (a volcanic Teyana Taylor). 

The group quickly runs afoul of the detention center's commanding officer Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), who grows rapaciously obsessed with Perfidia, leading to a series of betrayals, a hunting down of the members of the French 75 and the abandonment of Perfidia, who leaves Pat and their infant daughter, Charlene behind, forcing the two to go into hiding under new identities. 

Sixteen years later, bringing us up to the present day, Pat and teenager Charlene (Chase Infiniti), now known as Bob and Willa Ferguson, are living off the grid in the sanctuary city of Baktan Cross, California. Where Willa is fiercely independent, Bob, despite being a devoted Father and protective, has become lost in substance abuse and paranoia. Meanwhile, due to his anti-immigration efforts, Lockjaw has become a Colonel within the U.S. security agencies and he further wishes to advance his standing by becoming a member of the White supremacist secret society known as the Christmas Adventurers, an initiation that hinges upon his past with Perfidia, whom he remains obsessed with.

From here, under the pretense of controlling illegal immigration efforts, Lockjaw targets Baktan Cross as his relentless pursuit of Bob and Willa hungrily continues.

Paul Thomas Anderson's "One Battle After Another" speaks to our present moment in history with such clarity and severe urgency, it feels as if the film was made just five minutes before I entered the theater to screen it. It's all here and then some. The demonization of immigrants. The targeting of and trauma plus survival within the Hispanic community. Clashes between protestors and the military under politically fabricated and racially driven community crises. The aforementioned Christian nationalist White supremacist secret societies at work. 

That being said, and due to his collaborative efforts with Cinematographer Michael Bauman and the insistent, percussive piano based score from Composer Johnny Greenwood, the film exists in a sort of hallucinatory, David Lynch-ian "What year is this?" time warp, where the experience carries the tonality and aesthetic of a 1970's conspiracy thriller. And even further, the film contains a simple, pulpy storytelling thread not unlike Quentin Tarantino's "Kill Bill" (2003/2004), "Inglourious Basterds" (2009) and "Django Unchained" (2012), which allows the modern day narrative to also function as a political satire, an espionage caper, an urban Western a la the films of Walter Hill, a white knuckle action film, and a heartfelt love story between a Father and daughter. All of these elements fuel Anderson's dissertation of what it means to live in 21st century America, and I think most specifically, it is an examination of the increasing fear of White male impotence in a growing multi-cultural world. 

But, I am getting a little ahead of myself... 

There is absolutely no way to regard "One Battle After Another" without taking proper stock of the film's clear social, political and racial overtones and subtexts. What remains provocatively unclear are the motivations of Paul Thomas Anderson on a precise level, which makes this film open for much needed conversations and debates as there are no easy answers and Anderson is clearly not trying to instruct the audience as how to intake this material. In doing so, Anderson is continuing the utilize the cerebral Stanley Kubrick side of his cinematic personality by delivering a certain detached bird's eye view of the proceedings, giving the film an askew perception while being present and prescient a la "Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb" (1964).  

Yes, Anderson visualizes a world where Black and Brown communities are under siege, traumatized, victimized yet pragmatic and unyielding and an unwillingness to capitulate to the larger White societal power structure who wishes for us to not exist. That being said, there has been much controversy-especially from Black journalists, critics and viewers, surrounding the depiction of Perfidia, a Black woman who is often viewed through a hyper sexualized lens, and since Anderson is the Director, a White male's gaze. 

Speaking solely for myself, and openly to you readers out there as a Black man, I profoundly understand the criticism yet I do not align myself with it. In fact, to illustrate the point I am about to present, I turn to a quotation from a 1962 speech from Malcolm X in which he proclaimed, "The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The neglected person in America is the Black Woman." 

I turn to another as expressed by activist, author and philosopher Angela Davis when she said, "I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept." 

Furthermore, it felt oddly fitting that on the day before I saw this film, coincidentally, revolutionary, civil rights activist, member of the Black Panther Party and Black Liberation Army and fugitive Assata Shakur died in Cuba, where she had resided after being given political asylum after her 1979 escape from a U.S. prison where she had been serving a life sentence for the killing of a police officer.   

For me, the entire soul of the film rests within the actions and arcs of three Black women: Perfidia Beverly Hills, Willa and French 75 member Deandra a.k.a. "Lady Champagne" (played by Regina Hall), as they are figures attempting to navigate a violently unforgiving world on whatever terms they feel fit as well as carry the burden of the continued existence of a society that may not want to be saved in the first place. 

As for Perfidia in particular, it is especially precarious because she feels to be simultaneously filtered through a certain reality, hyper reality as well as cinematically, a la how Black women were depicted in 1970's Blaxploitation films starring Pam Grier and the White male's gaze, in this case, Paul Thomas Anderson's. That being said, Anderson is a filmmaker who makes movies about movies as much as the subject matter he is tackling, which may have led to some aspects of his storytelling and directorial choices, which do indeed blur the lines between a very real world, Black feminist, revolutionary agenda and film fantasy...or more pointedly, a White male fantasy. And in doing so, I wonder if those blurred lines are intentional.

Again for me, Perfidia Beverly Hills as fueled by the hurricane force winds of Teyana Taylor's performance is truly the boiling engine of the film for the first 30 minutes or so, and she hangs and hovers over every minute afterwards as the consequences of her actions endlessly reverberate. I found her to being such a deeply complex character that even after viewing the film twice, I remain a little unsure of her every motivation or if it is single minded all of the time. For all of her reckless rapaciousness, relentless passion, bottomless rage plus her ravenous sexual appetites, I am still not certain that she necessarily cares terribly much about the French 75 at all or even the revolutionary agenda of the group in the first place. Additionally, she clearly does not hold much passion for Ghetto Pat or their child due to the whiplash self preservation of her choices. 

And then, there are her confrontations with Steven J. Lockjaw, moments that have been given considerable criticism. To that, I offer this: Who is holding power in their scenes together? Who possesses any sense of an upper hand? Who exhibits strength and who exhibits weakness? And as for the sexual fetishization of this particular Black woman, is she being used or is she knowingly exploiting his proclivities for her own personal agenda? 

For me, Perfidia Beverly Hills is far beyond caricature. She is a narcissist, certainly. She is the definition of an anarchist, a human hand grenade against all perceived societal norms, be it political, sexual, personal and entirely for her own self preservation consequences be damned, for she will move, live and exit this world on her own terms. And maybe for Perfidia, as painfully unsettling as she is, this is her race for any sense of freedom she can attempt to possess in this world and as evidenced in the sequences where she is ferociously pounding the pavement, she is trying to outrun everything from the government to the thoughts inside of her head. For if she stops moving, she is done for. 

With all of this in mind, I do not feel that the tenor of "One Battle After Another" is to promote any sense of racist agendas, intentionally or no. In fact, what I think is honestly on Anderson's mind is exploring the anxiety and impotence of White men in the 21st century regarding their sense of relevance and purpose, especially as the racial make up in global demographics is rapidly changing towards people of color rather than Whites. While I do not wish to deeply imprint anything about Anderson's personal life into the proceedings of the film, I also cannot help to wonder if something has filtered in as he is married to Maya Rudolph and with whom they are parents to four biracial children. 

Any possible blind spots or fears Anderson may or may not harbor regarding race could be seen as being represented by the characters portrayed by Leonardo DiCaprio and Sean Penn plus essentially all of the major White characters in this film in which there are deliberately no White savior characters.

As far as Ghetto Pat/Bob is concerned, there is no question that he is a devoted Father to Charlene/Willa as he has loved her from the start, has never abandoned her, he even attends her Parent/Teacher conferences (!!) and has protected her as best as he has been able despite his dilapidated, brain addled state after decades of narcotic fueled intoxication. Once the threat to their lives becomes a stark reality, leading the two to become separated with Father on the search to save his daughter. 

With this portrayal, Leonardo DiCaprio, again one of our most committed actors, immerses himself completely delivering a performance that is by turns frustrating, feverish, comical, passionate, and frantically skittish, often upending the cinematic archetype of what a White male hero is, should be or could be. Bob literally flails his way through the course of the film, constantly failing himself at the expense of rescuing his daughter. He is unable to charge his cell phone or remember any of the old secret passwords and phrases from the French 75 as they are mentally melted away from his drug usage. He possesses no real skills or talents save for his love and determination but regardless of his Whiteness and maleness and the relative power those characteristics possess in the world, he may still be unable to save the one he loves most.   

This aspect is no more apparent then when he enlists the aid of Willa's karate instructor and Baktan Cross community leader Sensei Sergio St. Carlos (a terrific Benicio Del Toro). Where Bob is panicked, Sergio is the epitome of measured calm and serenity, even under the greatest of pressures as Lockjaw's fraudulent raids inspires Sergio to activate his own "underground railroad" system to protect his community. 

"Don't get selfish," he exclaims to Bob, a crucial statement as in that one line, Bob's rightful urgency and trauma cannot overtake the urgency and trauma of an entire community historically under siege. Further, Sergio takes the time to introduce Bob to his community name by name, another instance demonstrating not only Sergio's sense of empathy but of his sense of purpose, responsibility and even education of Bob. To respect the humanity of those other than himself. To respect the lifelong trials of those other than himself. To understand that he is indeed a piece of a larger global community existing symbiotically with each other (I think brilliantly illustrated in a key scene by a lone Indigenous bounty hunter faced with making a decision of clear moral imparity). To understand that while his own situation is in crisis, his Whiteness will not make him the center of every crisis, especially those which have never touched him personally.

Ghetto Pat/Bob Ferguson is a stand in for the essential liberal White male, yet in his own drug fueled brain fog state of mind, it is as if he-like some White liberals in 2025-is at long last waking up and viewing the world anew, realizing the futility of his place within it regarding the one he loves most. Despite his efforts, realistically, he can't save his daughter, Willa. Even in the film's astounding climax, a rampaging car chase through the barren desert landscape save for a cascading river of hills, Bob is always just this far out of reach. For in this world where disenfranchised communities and people, especially Black women, are disrespected, degraded, disregarded and ultimately discarded, Willa is forced to save herself. It is her imperative and her birthright, for she, and all Black women are not going backwards. Like the song says, Willa is the "American Girl," regardless of how many White men aim for it to not be so 

As Steven J. Lockjaw, Sean Penn operates at his most psychotic. It has truly been ages since I have witnessed him in a film, expressing such a feverishly magnetic command that it reminded me of the work I loved from him when I was a teenager during Penn's rise. 

Lockjaw is a vulgar nightmare--yet all to true--representation of the White male in a sense of existential crisis as to his perceived place in the world and the overall Caste system placing him above all others. It is a darkly comic performance while also being terrifying in its brutality for his rampant cruelty and violence against a world becoming Browner and more multi-cultural exudes from the clear masquerade he is enacting largely against himself as he is desperate to be included into a club which would no sooner discard him due to his hidden desires, wants and attitudes. 

His exaggerated gait and ramrod physique. The way he preens himself in order to inflate his ego and desirability with the Christmas Adventurers. A comment towards his possibly closeted homoerotic tendencies combined with his obvious salacious fetishization of Black women. Everything about himself dictates the lack of self control he sees within himself -not to mention acceptance of who he truly is--and therefore he acts outwardly and with vengeance. This is why his pursuit and potential capture and elimination of Willa is so crucial to him. For her existence at all, based upon his racism, undeniably. For what her existence says about him, unquestionably. 

Ghetto Pat/Bob and Lockjaw are two sides of the same coin: White men who have no idea of what their places in the larger world actually are, each one respectively flailing and failing to keep pace and they are spiraling out of control...if they ever had any. Perhaps, with "One Battle After Another," Paul Thomas Anderson is confronting or at least, wrestling with his own White male fears and dilemmas considering his real world life and family during these especially perilous times in 21st century America, where old battles long fought and barriers believed to have been, if not broken, severely damaged, are all being re-erected by a cabal of White supremacists of money, influence and enormous power. 

Is Paul Thomas Anderson as a White male human being, as well as being one of our most prominent filmmakers, a figure with the capacity for the understanding needed to remove himself from the grander narrative to place his non-White family members and characters first? Is it his responsibility to try? This may not even be the point to be taken from the film but this is what the great movies are supposed to do, to create thought, questions and debate while also being enormously entertaining.

Paul Thomas Anderson's "One Battle After Another" more than meets this moment during these precarious times, as it simultaneously explores our past and gives dire warnings towards the future, making it a perfect companion piece to Alex Garland's devastating "Civil War" (2024). It is a staggering achievement propelled by exhilarating filmmaking and captivating, compelling storytelling, a quality in lessening supply during our most generically driven and conceptually toothless cinematic era.

This film's teeth are sharp, fully bared and ready to strike and sink deeply to the marrow.

HE LED WITH HIS HEART: a review of "The Uncool" by Cameron Crowe

 

THE UNCOOL: A Memoir
CAMERON CROWE

Published by Avid Reader Press/Simon & Schuster
October 28, 2025
336 pages

"Seek out heroes and role models. Most will not disappoint you."

-Alice Crowe

Despite my own intense desires and vivid imagination, I am not entirely certain that I am one who fully ascribes to the adage of "never meeting one's heroes."

Now, for the ones who have been heroes to me throughout my life, I do have to admit that the prospect of meeting any of them certainly would've tested that adage. If I were ever to have met Prince, for instance, I do not have any idea of what I could have possibly done or said to even be able to brake through a persona that felt impenetrable to the point of being alien. To that end, I wonder if John Hughes would've been dismissive or if Todd Rundgren would prove to be mercurial. 

However, there have been a few moments in my life, where I am more than thankful for the times when I found myself in positions where I was able to meet figures who have deeply influenced or enriched me. Molly Ringwald, for instance, I met while she was on a book tour stop promoting Getting The Pretty Back (2010), her self described "girlfriend's guide." Or the time, when I met musicians Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman of Prince's band The Revolution, behind the theater after a 2016 performance in commemoration of the then recent passing of their bandleader and collaborator. Or another when I met keyboardist Greg Hawkes of The Cars, right on the sidewalk outside of the venue where he had just performed as a member of Todd Rundgren's touring band. Or especially, and whole not face to face, the time in which I was able to conduct an extended interview with Moe Berg, leader of The Pursuit Of Happiness-one of my favorite bands-for my Savage Radio program on WVMO 98.7 FM (an experience in which I thought to myself, "I have to 'Cameron Crowe' this," so I don't waste Berg's valuable time).

In all three of those occasions, I was thankful to have encounters that were warmer and more engaging than they perhaps any right to be as I was just one face of many, hearing words that they have all heard variations of time and again. And still, they each found something to ensure the meeting was unique to me, creating a moment, while most likely not overtly memorable to themselves, but one that would be  everlasting for me. 

What else could I truly ask for? All I could wish for is just enough time to deliver a "thank you" as heartfelt as I could possibly elicit in a manner that did not exploit their time and energy as well as one where I didn't embarrass myself profusely. As I think about public figures-or better yet, a hero--whom I wish that I could meet, Cameron Crowe has long existed at a peak...and honestly, that desire has only elevated further.

Cameron Crowe has existed as an instrumental figure in my life, creative and otherwise for so long, it is actually a little difficult to think of a time when he was not a passionate influence. Granted, during his time as an adolescent writing music articles and interviews for Rolling Stone, I was too young (I am a little over 10 years his junior) to have experienced his work, despite our shared passion for music. Yet, by the time I was 13 years old and experienced Director Amy Heckerling's "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" (1982) for which he wrote the screenplay and the original novel from which the film was based, he became a fixture. It was the film I felt that officially began what I like to think of as the "Golden Age Of Teen Films" during the1980's and I watched it repeatedly, knowing full well the truth of what I was seeing, even as I was just a hair too young to have had the similar experiences of those as depicted within the film. It felt real and because of that, I would've followed Crowe anywhere,  

While not nearly as prolific as John Hughes, Cameron Crowe, like Hughes, had this uncanny ability to reveal a new project at precisely the perfect time in my life, at an exact point when I needed to experience it. 

I was a 20 year old college student when his directorial debut "Say Anything..." (1989) arrived in theaters, and for me, brought that aforementioned "Golden Age Of Teen Films" to its beautifully melancholic conclusion. I was exactly 23 years old, a college graduate, living with my then girlfriend now wife, just trying to figure out a life direction when his deliriously romantic cinematic short story collection "Singles" (1992) was released. By the time of his filmmaking artistic breakthrough of "Jerry Maguire" (1996), I was 27 years old and had experienced just enough of adulthood to receive that film as a work of spiritual deliverance so profound that I would need an entirely different essay to convey every moment that spoke to me as guidance, as truth, and as the wise words from a treasured older figure reminding me that integrity is not weakness, having empathy is not a fault and the act of just trying to be a good human being in an unforgiving world is an act of heroism. 

And of course, there is his magnum opus, "Almost Famous" (2000), a film to which I have expressed my towering love on this blogsite many times over, still contending it as existing as one of the finest films of the 21st century unquestionably, artistically and emotionally. 

I could continue through his creative life and my relationship with it, but I think you get the picture. And through everything over time, I still harbor my deepest hopes that I could one day meet Cameron Crowe, for if I could just have the chance, I would love to not only thank him, but to be able to have a conversation. His eloquence and loquaciousness precedes him and I would be forever grateful.

While the likelihood of such a meeting is highly unlikely, I am feeling that I have just experienced what has got to be the next best thing. The Uncool, Cameron Crowe's recently released memoir, is masterful. It accomplishes a tremendous feat of being simultaneously nostalgic and so very present as Crowe returns to the same conceptual territory of "Almost Famous" to weave a more extensive tale of his family and upbringing alongside his teenage experiences on the road writing about and interviewing rock stars, making for a work that informs the beloved feature film, grounding it in a more emotionally precarious context than maybe already felt. From end to end, Crowe's literary voice is elegantly warm with a meticulous sense of time and place firmly injecting the reader into periods and spaces, both external and internal, where emotional truths rise to the surface within every anecdote, adventure and aphorism, whether victorious or painful, ensuring every passage is felt purely and deeply.

And there are surprises to be felt as well. The memoir's opening section, during which Crowe recounts his own sense of mounting anxiety during rehearsals towards the opening of the stage version of "Almost Famous: The Musical," coupled with his relationship with Alice Crowe, his formidable Mother, who at this stage, was nearing the end of her life, I was instantly struck with the brave fragility of which Crowe revealed of himself upon the page. He pulled me in closer, as I was sensing that I was about to read something not dissimilar from the very best of his writing and filmmaking efforts. 

It is not easily achievable, to conjure the emotional liminal space of what Crowe celebrates as the "happy/sad," which to me is greater and deeper than mere bittersweetness. It is the existential space where hearts connect, ache, break and somehow find the strength to uplift, hope and rise again. Cameron Crowe's The Uncool accomplishes this feat consistently with honesty and grace, making for an enormously rewarding reading experience where the stories and the emotions linger in the air much like the afterglow of a treasured concert experience. 

As Cameron Crowe's The Uncool returns to the same conceptual ground as "Almost Famous," what has been delivered is no retread whatsoever. Our understanding of Crowe's life and the tender and tenuous relationships within his family is expanded to include his Father, James Crowe, and both of his older sisters Cathy and Cindy, who tragically ended her life when Cameron Crowe was a child, and with whom music served as a connective tissue and understanding even in a home where rock music was banned. 

From here, The Uncool details his journey of self discovery and attaining a sense of belonging with the figures who would make up his chosen tribe of rock writers, including mentors like the inimitable Lester Bangs, and the musicians they each revered. In doing so, and like "Almost Famous," The Uncool allows the reader to live vicariously through Crowe's teenage rock journalist experiences making for us wheat feels to be a magic carpet ride through a crucial period of rock music history precisely when it was all happening. If that were all the book offered, it would still be compulsively readable but this is Cameron Crowe we're talking about and salacious, superficial tell-alls are the furthest thing from his mind when there are deeper emotional waters to plunge into.  

The Uncool firmly exists as a collection coming of age stories. First, there is Cameron Crowe himself, where he is exactly like the teens he chronicled in "Fast Times At Ridgemont High," as he willingly exposed himself to, and therefore experienced and endured, a life that was indeed too fast and he was clearly not developmentally ready for but was forced to adapt in order to achieve his dreams let alone survive.    

To that end, it is a coming of age story for the rock stars Crowe wrote about for so many of these larger than life figures were also relatively young people just trying to gain footing in an unpredictable, uncompromising world where art, business, creativity and fame often collided and clashed. 

In one vignette after another, Crowe elicits what could almost be lost songs from the individuals profiled. Interior moments, like ones of pensive sadness with Jim Croce, an 18 month chrysalis phase with the ever shape shifting David Bowie and especially, a brutally striking sequence of grief and sorrow starring Gregg Allman, succeed tremendously with humanizing those who have always been quite unknowable and have existed as out of reach legends. Now that many of whom have passed on, The Uncool graciously opens up windows reminding us that these same legends were also once kids with talents and dreams all trying to discover just how to navigate this thing called life. 

The book is also a coming of age story for a family, as we witness the respective odysseys of Crowe's parents, through their occupations, as marriage partners and as parents to three children navigating triumphs and tragedies. Wisely, we regard the process of  "coming of age" as not being limited to the young but as an ongoing, lifelong process where, if we truly allow ourselves, we are able to try, fail, try again, learn, discover, unlearn and re-discover all the while hopefully formulating precisely the person we wish to become in the lives we are blessed to have with the people, experiences and the music we love all playing essential puzzle pieces. And as the perfect bookend, Crowe returns to himself at the book's outset, at his present age, a myriad of life lessons learned while openly acknowledging that he is still learning. 

The Uncool often reminded me of Crowe's beautiful documentary "The Union" (2011)--now, extremely difficult to find as it is not available on physical media and is not streaming anywhere in the HBO archives, the format in which I saw the film--starring Elton John and Leon Russell and surrounding the creation of their duet album of the same name (released October 19, 2010). For me, it was a film that fully transcended the fly-on-the-wall making of aesthetics to become a work of supreme gratitude, from Elton to Leon certainly, but for everyone who wishes to reach back to the key individuals who first inspired you, championed you, who somehow noticed that inexplicable spark in you, to just say "Thank you." 

The Uncool accomplishes the same feat as every encounter led to another and then another, each one inspiring confidence to keep placing one foot in front of the other onto every stepping stone. I loved  how this book, much like how Writer/Director James L. Brooks' peerless "Broadcast News" (1987) meticulously captured the pinpoint when television news crossed the Rubicon from the ethics of  journalism into the heartless business of entertainment, Crowe offers a love letter to journalism, physical print media publications and passionate writers who once existed in a healthy fashion for readers desiring a window into an otherwise unattainable world. It is a love letter to every music journalist, like himself, who harbored a genuine, unassailable passion towards their favorite art form as well as for writers who simply harbored an equally genuine, unassailable passion for the art of writing. 

It should be noted that The Uncool is not necessarily a complete memoir Crowe takes the narrative largely up to his beginnings in the film industry. That being said, over and again, Crowe offers his gratitude to all who showed him, in gestures both large and seemingly throwaway (a tiny moment with Tom Petty, in particular, is seismic), a path forwards and in all honesty, and Crowe's thankfulness, we would not be holding this book in our hands without any of them. In turn, Crowe's memoir offers all of us reading an opportunity to think to those who aided us and how we can inspire those coming up alongside or behind us whatever our station in life happens to be.

Which of course, brings me to what might be the book's greatest love letter, from Cameron Crowe to his Mother--which then made me ponder my own relationship with my Mother, who is, like Alice Crowe, a formidable, force of nature of a woman. Even now, at her advance age, she remains seemingly unstoppable, forever busy and involved with one excursion or another, and unshakable in her beliefs and lifelong role as a leader, guide, mentor and teacher (which was indeed her profession--a Chicago public high school Science teacher). 

My Mother is the one who shaped my love of libraries. She was the one who read to me as we shared books together. She was the one who refused to allow me to fully slack off during Summers as it was expected that I continue with Math workbooks and other learning excursions to keep my brain operating as she saw fit. She ensured I had swimming lessons and was involved in church activities and alongside my equally formidable Father, she was uncompromising with my academic progress. And, also like Alice Crowe, she is forever armed with aphorisms. This, of course, led to considerable friction as the person she wanted me to be clashed with the person I already knew that I was. Even now, seven years after my Dad's passing, there is still something tenuous between us that rides directly with the love we share. For can we truly accept each other for who we each happen to be, especially now as the remaining time we have to share is lessening as we age both separately and together.

The final sections of The Uncool, which crosscut between Alice Crowe's last days on the eve of the musical's opening night free fall into the happy/sad majestically. If you allow me to set the scene for you...

I was reading these sections to the end of the book, two evenings after Christmas while listening to Ben  Watt's wintry album "Fever Dream" (released April 8, 2016). As I reached this portion of the book, the album coincidentally reached its finale, the plaintive, meditative track "New Year Of Grace," and within that combination, an emotional, ephemeral alchemy began to just...happen. The words on the page were augmented by the song, which I began to play on repeat so as to not lose the spell being weaved, and before long, my face was flushed with tears. Trust me, while films and songs can easily bring forth tears, I am able to count on one hand the books that unlocked that level of emotion and I firmly believe that The Uncool accomplished this not through any sense of unearned manipulation but for the purest thing...Cameron Crowe led the storytelling with his heart. 

Cameron Crowe's The Uncool is as warm and as personal as if he is right in the room with you speaking directly to you. Writing this book is one that he clearly wrote for himself as the pleasure of just writing is palpable. But...it also feels like a book he wrote directly to you, inspiring feelings and memories, creating a dialogue even though he is unable to hear our side of the conversation.

Perhaps this book really was my way to meet a lifelong hero...even so, I still wish for a day when I can have that chance to say "Thank you." And for someone who has always been uncool, that is possibly them most uncool wish to have. 

HAPPY 16TH BIRTHDAY TO SAVAGE CINEMA!!!

It's New Year's Eve and a significant milestone occurred just yesterday and it did sneak up on me. On December 30th, 16 years ago while visiting my parents during my Winter break, Savage Cinema was born!!!

This was the day when I began writing in earnest and fully engaging with my creative spirit and while I have not been writing nearly as much these last few years, i remain proud of this milestone for it is still here and everything that I have ever accomplished since this day only happened because of this day.

Without Savage Cinema, Synesthesia never happens.

Without Savage Cinema, my Savage Substack never happens, especially as I am using that space as a means to re-inspire myself by re-posting previously written pieces, giving myself the confidence that what I have accomplished before can be accomplished in the future. Yes, it frustrates me that I have a few reviews that have begun but were never finished or others that I just never had the time to even begin writing at all. But, I am determined. I remain intrepid. I know that I can continue. 16 years ago told me that I could.

To that end, I doubt I would have found the courage to even try to create Savage Radio for WVMO, which then led me to do midday and late night guest DJ mini shows as well as the monthly Vinyl-A-Go Go alongside two of my DJ brothers.

My artistic life really started 16 years ago yesterday and none of it could have ever happened without your encouragement and support because if you only knew how scared I was to hit that “PUBLISH” button for the very first time.

I can talk myself out of anything and somehow, on this day 16 years ago…I didn’t.

I listened.

Thank you.

BEWARE OF DARKNESS: a review of "Weapons"

"WEAPONS"
Written and Directed by Zach Cregger
***1/2 (three and half stars)
RATED R
Running Time: 2 hrs 8 min

Just in time for Halloween indeed...

Over the course of Savage Cinema, I have long expressed that my attraction to the horror genre as a whole is faint at best. Of course, there are many films that I have seen over my lifetime that I will easily agree are classics or ones that I deeply enjoy and even revere, my lack of desire to place myself into a cinematic situation where my sense of fear is to be ignited remains as strong as ever. That being said, every now and again, there are films the pique my curiosity enough where I am willing to take a chance. 

For instance, and just last year Writer/Director Coraline Fargeat's body horror phantasmagoria "The Substance" (2024) was one where I not only took myself to the movie theater to experience, it is one that I genuinely loved and have seen three times to date. This year, I was intrigued again after seeing trailers for Writer/Director Zach Cregger's "Weapons," and for whatever reasons, I opted to not go to the movie theater--possibly due to not wanting to willingly deliver myself into a film fear factor. Yet, just this weekend, the film has arrived upon streaming and cable television services and after having seen it, not only do I feel that I could have made it through just fine if I had seen it in the theater, I thoroughly enjoyed the film. 

While not quite in the same high wire league of either "The Substance" or Writer/Director Ryan Coogler's masterpiece "Sinners," Zach Cregger's "Weapons" delivers in high storytelling gifts, style and a palpable mounting tension that boils over into its cathartic climax. Most crucially, it is yet another powerful quenching of the intense hunger and thirst in the 21st century movie-going audience possesses for experiencing original material in lieu of the latest sequel, prequel, remake, reimagining and the like.

Set in the small town of Mayfield, Pennsylvania, Zach Cregger's "Weapons" opens with an inexplicable and undeniably traumatic event for at 2:17 a.m., seventeen children from one third grade classroom awaken and leave their homes, running with arms outstretched deep into the night, never to be seen again. Only one classmate from the same classroom, named Alex Lilly (Cary Christopher) remains at home and therefore, arrives at school the next day. 

From here, Cregger unfolds his tale in a non-linear format where we are introduced to several key characters including...

Justine Gandy (Julia Garner), the teacher from whose classroom her students have disappeared, and has now become the town pariah triggering her sense of paranoia and rising alcoholism.

Archer (Josh Brolin), a construction worker and Father to one of the disappeared children. 

Paul (Alden Ehrenreich), a police officer and ex-boyfriend of Justine's. 

James (Austin Abrams), a local drug addict and burglar. 

Marcus (Benedict Wong), Justine's school principal.

And finally...Alex Lilly's eccentric, elderly Aunt Gladys (Amy Madigan).     

To reveal anything further would end up producing spoilers but I am happy to report that Zach Cregger's "Weapons" is first rate, character driven horror executed by fine performances from the entire cast and supported richly through Cinematographer Larkin Seiple's ghostly visuals lending just the right  amount of Gothic otherworldliness overlaid upon a non-descript sleepy small town. 

For as rightfully creepy as the film is, there is also a sheer amount of genuine fun to be had as "Weapons" essentially functions as a modern day version of a Grimm's Fairy Tale, and I mean the original tales that we do not read to children anymore due to the severe darkness of their nightmare fueled tenor combined with the explicit macabre violence contained within. It struck me for as dark as "Weapons" is, Cregger often utilizes a slyly playful side to the proceedings that simultaneously raises and releases the tension as the various parts of the narrative begin to click together. 

I deeply appreciated Cregger's commitment to not unveiling a horror film that is nothing more than jump scares every few moments, relentless torture porn, gratuitous gore and not even one character to give a damn about. He clearly has a story to tell and I deeply admired how his "Rashomon" tactic allowed us to weave ourselves into this town and its inhabitants where we become fully invested in their lives, giving us actual people to care about when all is unleashed and the inevitable carnage begins. 

Returning to the Grimm's Fairly Tale concept for a moment, I also appreciated how "Weapons," could even be viewed as a cautionary tale for our current social/political moment in 21st century America as the film depicts how characters indeed weaponize themselves at the expense of others for either their own sense of self-preservation, desperation, or an individualized sense of judgement regardless if the means are valid. Further, we are given a story where we can witness how communities weaponize themselves against its own citizens to combat a threat that is too outsized to even comprehend with any sense of rationality. Therefore, this is the darkness that threatens to consume us all and by our own hands...even before those aforementioned outsized threats arrive.

Now, dear readers, I know my reviews tend to stretch out a bit but really, Zach Cregger's "Weapons" is best experienced as cold as possible and so, there is not much more that I feel at liberty to express. .So, trust me, after the Trick Or Treaters come and go, dim your house lights, settle in and be spun a well crafted, entertaining, involving and richly dark yarn that is perfect for any Halloween night.