DownStream – The Big Red N-velope, Part Three: The Undercard

We’re but a few more days away from this year’s Oscar nominations, and as such, it’s time to continue our marathon through Netflix’s “For Your Consideration” campaign (click here for Part One and Part Two of this mini-series). I have to admit this marketing strategy doesn’t make all that much sense to me, as the platform releases dozens of movies per year, many of them accompanied by a qualifying theatrical run. Yet somehow, the vast majority of their output gets no support come Awards Season. It baffles me, but then again I only make content. I don’t sell it.

When it comes to narrative features, you can tell there’s a split between what Netflix thinks has a shot at big-time hardware, and what will only compete in one or two categories. That’s what we’ll be focusing on here tonight. Each of the three films in this installment is shortlisted in one field (with one of them also making a push for one of the so-called “major” contests), so it feels appropriate to group them all together before we get to the final piece in this quartet, featuring the entries that have the full weight of the streamer’s influence behind them in hopes of multiple nods in the headlining competitions. It also makes my job a lot easier from a critical standpoint, as I can give general thoughts about the movies themselves, and then muse on their potential nominations.

There’s a lot to go over as we inch ever closer to the Blitz, so let’s get to it!

Rustin

This is the entry that could potentially see two nominations come Tuesday. There’s been a push to get Colman Domingo a Best Actor nod, and if past is prologue he’s in with a really good chance, as he’s made the cut for the Golden Globe, Critics’ Choice, SAG, and BAFTA Awards. He hasn’t won either of the ceremonies that have already taken place, but it looks like he’ll at least get recognized the Academy, and frankly, it’s warranted.

Domingo plays Bayard Rustin, one of the unsung heroes of the Civil Rights movement, instrumental in organizing the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom in 1963, where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his immortal “I Have a Dream” speech. I can honestly say I had never heard his name before this movie came out, so it’s definitely a story worth telling, especially given the backdrop of Rustin’s journey and the political climate we see in the modern day.

As the film asserts, essentially Rustin became a pariah in the NAACP and other organizations because he was gay. Regardless of his talents, drive, or intellect, he became a lightning rod for controversy even within the circles advancing the cause of equal rights because the country just hadn’t progressed enough to be accepting of homosexuality. At the time it was still categorized as a mental illness and personal choice. Because of this, he was seen as an anchor weighing the movement down. It’s one thing to try to convince intransigent white politicians to accept black equality, but it was another to potentially add sexual diversity to the mix, and as a result, associating with Rustin became bad optics for some, and for others their own biases and bigotry for this particular demographic outweighed his potential value for their common goals.

Domingo suffers the slings and arrows quite effectively, carrying himself with emboldened dignity and integrity throughout. He makes no apology for who he is (he delivers the Oscar bait line, “On the day I was born black, I was also born a homosexual” about as perfectly as you can imagine), but is still shown to be flawed. He gets himself into compromising situations as it relates to his love life, including cheating on his boyfriend Tom Kahn (Gus Halper) with Elias Taylor (Johnny Ramey), a closeted pastor and rally participant invented for the film. It’s also brought up by Congressman Adam Clayton Powell (Jeffrey Wright) that Rustin was arrested for perversion after being caught with two other men, essentially trying to blackmail him out of his role in the march. Through it all though, Domingo only loses his cool long enough to be incredulous at the infighting and character assassination being aimed his way when they’re all supposed to be on the same side, and the voice he affects is just “off” enough to get the point across that Rustin is a man working with who and what he is, warts and all. It’s a really strong performance.

Not to be ignored though is the strong supporting cast. Aml Ameen does fine work as Dr. King, forced to make calculated political decisions that he knows will piss off half of his allies no matter which way he goes. Similarly, CCH Pounder and Audra McDonald shine in limited roles, ensuring that in this male-heavy tale, the contributions of women are not ignored. And most surprising of all, Chris Rock does some absolutely solid work as NAACP leader Roy Wilkins, the largest voice in the room in opposition to Rustin’s participation. He’s empathetic but pragmatic, trying to find the most effective way to get the needed results from all group activities, not just the march, and sees Rustin as an impassable obstacle to success. However, when the decisions are made, he abides by them, knowing that it’s in everyone’s best interest to present a united front, even if he disagrees. It’s rare to see Rock playing any kind of antagonistic character, and he pulls it off spectacularly.

The plot is pretty basic and formulaic, following the standard beats for an historical biopic. You can set your watch by the predictable arcs of setbacks and victories, when the score swells and when it falls. That doesn’t mean this is a bad story by any means, just that there won’t be an real surprises. Director George C. Wolfe (who previously helmed the superb Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom) knows this well in advance, and so frames the scenes to make them as visually compelling as possible, which includes keeping Domingo centered as often as can be managed without looking trite.

As for the film’s other potential nomination, it’s a crapshoot. The end credits track, “Road to Freedom,” is shortlisted for Original Song. Written and performed by Lenny Kravitz, it’s meant to be a call to action once the film concludes, and the music certainly has that thematic heft. It was nominated for the Globe, Critics’ Choice, Hollywood Music in Media, Black Reel, Society of Composers and Lyricists, and Satellite Awards, so it’s got a decent shot to be acknowledged on Tuesday, and I’m sure there are Academy voters who would just love to see Kravitz perform on Oscar Night. It also lost all four of the contests that have occurred so far, so if it does get in, don’t expect it to win.

This is a good film that’s definitely worth seeing, if nothing else than to learn about a man who was kept out of the history books even by his contemporaries. Depending on where you live in this country, it may also be your only opportunity to do so, because there are sadly a good number of states passing laws to prevent schools from teaching about racial and sexual diversity as individual topics, so you know any figure who belongs to both groups will be banned faster than you can say, “Murica!” It’s by no means stellar, but it is important.

Grade: B+

Rebel Moon – Part One: A Child of Fire

There are exactly two reasons why I watched Zack Snyder’s latest effort. One is that it’s shortlisted for Visual Effects, and I had already seen the other nine films, so it was easy to get it out of the way. The second is that my friends over at No Rest for the Weekend goaded me into it, telling me that it was “good enough,” and worth seeing if nothing else than to bear witness to what happens when Snyder gets carte blanche to do whatever he wants. I can certainly see the appeal of such an examination, as there can be a degree of ironic enjoyment out of seeing a director go batshit when the training wheels come off. Sometimes it’s an underrated gem like Batman Returns. Sometimes it’s utter garbage that misses the point of what made the previous output so great, like Wonder Woman 1984. It’s definitely something to consider, even if it’s not exactly compelling.

As I told my colleagues in Brooklyn after viewing it, I’m a very forgiving man, but it’s going to take a while before they’re off the hook for this one. This is one of the biggest steaming piles of trash I have ever laid eyes on. Rebel Moon is not so much a movie you watch, but more of a trial you hope to survive, the fetid stench of toxic fecal matter forcing itself into every pore of your body with each passing second in hopes that the fumes will consume your mind to the point of numbed acceptance and embrace. This isn’t a piece of entertainment. It is a symptom of a virulent disease infecting the industry. The creator has already teased another “Snyder Cut” with this project, and after seeing what he’s put out so far, one can only hope that it’s a literal one where we just stick a camera in a toilet and watch him pinch off a turd, because at least then you would know that there used to be something of substance in it at some point.

I could almost endorse this as a “so bad it’s good” flick, but that would defeat the purpose of even an ironic hate-watch, because it still results in Zack Snyder making money and being encouraged to keep going. When a uniquely bad movie comes along every once in a great while, there’s still something to analyze, something to pore over to see what the intent might have been, how they could have gotten it right, and how we as an audience might actually be richer for the shoddier experience. This especially happens in projects where you can tell the filmmakers are amateurs who don’t have the skill or judgment to know any better. Snyder does know better, which means he made this thinking it was genuinely brilliant, and because of that, he must be stopped.

To go over the plot in detail would be to only make you dumber, so I’ll sum it up as quickly as I can. He tried to make a Star Wars, only without any idea of what made Star Wars great, like he read the CliffsNotes of the CliffsNotes of whatever George Lucas might have written in a journal during a really bad acid trip. He posits an “Imperium” based on a “Motherworld,” whose military is led by the villainous Admiral Noble (Ed Skrein), a naming convention that I’m sure Snyder thinks is the most amazing contrast ever put to film. They’re tracking a “Rebellion” that wants to “restore peace to the galaxy,” and arrives on a moon called Veldt which houses a rural farming community that makes a shit-ton of grain. Seriously, you will hear the word “grain” in this movie more than the word, “the.” The humble community, which celebrates their harvests with orgies, politely refuses to become a colony, and so their leader Sindri (Corey Stoll) is quickly murdered, because Noble is a Nazi, right down to the uniform and haircut. In a scene ripping off the opening of Inglourious Basterds to a degree that warrants legal intervention, the village becomes little more than an internment camp, until the stoic Kora (Sofia Boutella) intervenes, along with Sindri’s deputy Gunnar (Michiel Huisman) and a robot named Jimmy voiced by Anthony Hopkins who’s basically just a discount K-2SO. He’s also the only remotely interesting thing in the entire flick so naturally he’s left out of the rest of the story.

Kora, having been taken in as an orphan (just wait to you hear her completely novel and never-before-seen origin story), does not feel emotions or desires, sort of like a band of monks from an Old Republic, and thus had no desire to take part in the agricultural boinking, even though Gunnar has a, erm, gun, for her. Knowing that the village will run out of food within weeks, they decide to set out to various worlds to recruit fighters to join their cause of driving out the Imperium.

And that’s pretty much it. The stakes are laid out in the first half hour, and we spend the next 100 minutes collecting the cinematic equivalent of baseball cards. They pick up a bunch of knockoffs in the form of Charlie Hunnam’s Kai (meant to be an even scruffier nerfherder), Djimon Hounsou’s Titus (an older exiled warrior with lots of knowledge and wisdom to pass on), Staz Nair’s Tarak (he literally tames and rides a hippogriff, an actual fucking hippogriff, with the bowing and everything!), and Doona Bae’s Nemesis (she fights using this totally original laser sword thing that can cut through stuff and cauterize it at the same time… except the BLADE IS FLAT! NEW IDEA!). Not a single one of these characters has an ounce of personality, their plot utility is almost non-existent, every word they say is forgotten the instant they say it, and there’s no logic whatsoever in their recruitment.

Take Titus, for example. They find him in a gladiator arena (WHERE HAVE WE SEEN THAT BEFORE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!), drunk and wallowing in self-pity because he lost a battle sometime in the past and his soldiers died. Kora at first tries to plead with him to come with, and then does a complete 180 and screams, “I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR PITY!” in a line reading that would make Tommy Wiseau proud (Boutella’s a great stunt performer and occasional badass, but she was never meant to be a dramatic actress), and instantly he’s on board. That’s what counts for character development and plot progression in this movie.

Because we all know what’s really important to Snyder, the visuals, which are about as vibrant and inspiring as projectile vomit. There’s an incredibly fake sheen on everything, the lighting is so poor – especially in the climax – that you can’t follow a goddamn thing, and the editing is so slapdash that the simple act of exchanging a few punches requires more than 20 cuts. The designs of the aliens and environments make M.O.D.O.K. look like fucking Avatar by comparison. I know the Academy was scrambling for potential nominees when Dune Part Two got pushed to this year, but how desperate could the Visual Effects Branch be to give this a one-in-ten chance of taking home an Oscar? I’ve seen better effects in Birdemic. The layouts look cheaper than the Star Wars prequels, only without the excuse of them coming out 25 years ago! But hey, Snyder gets to do a slow-mo shot, INSIDE A SLOW-MO SHOT! Aren’t you amazed?! I know he only has the ability to write 30 minutes’ worth of story, but that doesn’t mean you have to film your movie so slowly that if we ran the thing at normal speed it would actually be just a half hour long.

Nothing about this works. Absolutely nothing. Zack Snyder spent over two hours telling half a story, and it’s so bad that literally no one should even be remotely curious how it ends. He wanted the chance to do his own Star Wars movie, and after Disney said no, THIS was the best impersonation he could do. That’s all the evidence you need to never watch anything this man makes ever again. Rebel Moon should stand as a monument to directorial hubris being rewarded by studio suits who don’t know any better. At least with Tim Burton and Patty Jenkins, they were able to make something that people found entertaining either because of, or in spite of, the quality of the characters they previously put on screen. What has Snyder done? Rather than create interesting characters or story, he simply took Netflix’s money – because they were stupid enough to give it to him – and made an unconscionably bad imitation of someone else’s interesting characters and story. That’s the major difference. Even if you didn’t like Batman Returns – or if you actually liked WW84 – you can at least acknowledge that those directors, and others like them, earned their blank checks to go nuts. Snyder didn’t earn shit, ended up stealing shit, and thus made an irredeemable pile of shit. To subject yourself to this film is to carve a pit in your very soul, to leave yourself bitter and angry at the world around you, questioning how any just and loving God could exist if He allowed this to happen. When you can’t even laugh at how stupid it is, because you know the creator thinks he’s made a masterpiece, all you can do is weep. And in doing so, you’ll have shown more emotional depth and personal growth than anyone involved with this drivel.

Grade: F

The Killer

Okay, rant over, let’s end on a much more positive note, shall we? One of my favorite things to see in a film is when it challenges conventions in a way that’s both clever and insightful. For instance, I’m a firm believer in the ideas of “show, don’t tell,” “what AND why, not just what,” and “keep narration to a minimum.” These are pretty solid rules if you want to write a good and compelling screenplay. However, there are always exceptions that ultimately prove these theories, and if anyone can perfectly demonstrate them, it’s David Fincher. With The Killer, he does exactly that.

Adapted from a series of graphic novels, the film is an action thriller that keeps the action tight, focused, and limited, instead emphasizing the journey of the unnamed protagonist (Michael Fassbender) as he guides the audience through his deadly process. The bulk of the plot and character development comes from a constant string of noir-esque narration, with Fassbender laying out the stakes of his operation in intricate detail. This allows the viewer to get lulled into the false sense of security that he always has the situation well in hand and under control, so in the rare instances where things go awry, we can be genuinely surprised. This begins right from the first “chapter,” where our anti-hero is set to assassinate a powerful political figure, having staked out a sniping vantage point in a building across the street from a fancy hotel. After several minutes of meticulous planning and explanation of his dispassionate approach to his vocation, the moment of truth comes, and his target is spared by a bystander inadvertently getting in the way of the shot. We’ve had this massive build-up, only to have the moment go wrong, and thus create suspense and tension as he makes his escape. Even though he’s already assured us that he has his outs, once the key aspect of the job falters, everything else is a variable that he has to account for minute to minute, and even though it’s far from high-octane, it’s still quite exciting.

After the botched assignment, Fassbender tries to make things right with his handler, a lawyer named Hodges (Charles Parnell). However, a contract has now been put out on him, and his girlfriend (Sophie Charlotte) has been attacked at his safe house in the Dominican Republic. Now on a quest for vengeance (and to save his own skin), he systematically tracks down everyone who had a hand in turning on him, including Hodges, rival assassins (played by Sala Baker and Tilda Swinton), the original client who financed the first hit (Arliss Howard), and anyone who might have aided them intentionally or unwittingly, to make sure the slate is wiped clean.

Somehow, in spite of his merciless nature, Fassbender delivers this lethal comeuppance with a surprising degree of charisma. He shows almost no emotion whatsoever, speaking matter-of-factly in almost every situation, but still comes off as funny and almost endearing. Part of it is an excellent running gag where every alias he uses is the name of a classic sitcom character. The fact that no one catches on to this, even in areas where the names should be very recognizable – using Sam Malone in Boston, for example – is a delightfully silly plot hole of convenience to counteract the persona he cultivates as one who accounts for all contingencies. The rest of it is down to his body language, as Fassbender carries himself with an unassuming swagger in even the most absurd of situations, daring anyone to underestimate him, or worse, trust him.

The film is shortlisted for Sound, and the overall audio profile is laudable. Not only are the effects edited well, but attention to the tiniest variation in what Fassbender can hear in a given environment plays an active role in how the story plays out. He wears a watch that constantly monitors his heart rate, as he’s trained himself not to pull the trigger (literally or figuratively) until he’s under 60 BPM, and you can listen for his pulse as part of the anticipation, adding to the intensity of the moment. His beats go down, but yours go up. Small touches and little beeps and boops aid Fassbender’s character in assessing the situation, formulating his next move, and executing it with deadly precision. It’s not the most active element of the production, but since the shortlist cued me in, I made a point of listening for the minutiae, and you can definitely spot it. Once those bits are combined with the stellar use of narration (seriously, I can think of only a handful of films – like The Shawshank Redemption – that do it better), you can see why it has a shot at some hardware.

But even without this potential honor, this movie is just a ton of fun, thanks to Fassbender’s great performance, some very clever writing, and Fincher just doing what he does, taking an oddly specific character archetype and using unconventional means to tell an unconventional story within a familiar framework. Normally such a heavy emphasis on exposition dumps via narration would be a death sentence for a picture like this. Fincher knows how to make it so the only death we see is in the form of excellent and righteous kills when it’s time for Fassbender to tie up another loose end.

Grade: A-

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One more post to go in this lengthy look at the biggest streaming push for this year’s Oscars. Join me again in a couple of days for the conclusion, and then get ready for the Blitz!

Join the conversation in the comments below! Have you seen these films? Which was your favorite? Can the next “Snyder Cut” be in the form of castration for either himself or his most problematic fanboys? Let me know! And remember, you can follow me on Twitter (fuck “X”) and YouTube for even more content!