“XX” begins with a promising premise: It’s a horror anthology consisting of four short films by women, about women. But the result is frustratingly inconsistent. Each film has its moments, but some are way stronger than others. Still, it’s encouraging to see so many women in one place working in what traditionally has been a male-dominated genre. My mixed RogerEbert.com review.
That ear-splitting, glass-shattering sound you hear is me, yodeling. I’ve been doing it for the past several days, ever since I took Nicolas to see “The Sound of Music,” and I can’t stop. It’s fun and it drives my kid nuts, which provides an extra layer of enjoyment.
I’ve seen “The Sound of Music” a million times. It was a childhood favorite of mine, as it has been for so many people, and my parents and I always looked forward to its annual broadcast on television. It was event viewing, back when such a thing still existed. But! My father, who loved musicals and taught me to love them, too, taped it one year (on Beta, no less), so eventually I could watch it whenever I wanted. And I did — along with listening to the soundtrack album and rehearsing a stage production with the neighborhood kids. (As the youngest, I got the part of Gretl, naturally.)
Still, I hadn’t seen “The Sound of Music” in its entirety since my youth in Woodland Hills, and I’d never seen it in an actual theater on a big, beautiful screen. So when I got the chance recently to revisit the movie in 70mm on the Fox lot, of course I had to jump at it, and I had to bring my own child with me. Now, Nicolas insists he hates musicals — which is clearly untrue, since one of his favorite TV shows is “Phineas and Ferb,” where they cleverly break into song in every episode. But I knew that, as a 7-year-old, he’d enjoy himself on the most basic level, just as I did long ago. He’d giggle at the kids’ antics and get into the catchiness of all those classic Rodgers and Hammerstein songs.
I also wondered how I’d respond to it, decades later, through grown-up eyes as a longtime film critic. Would I cringe at its earnestness, or cry out of sheer nostalgia? The answer is: a little bit of both. I noticed much more in terms of subtext and subtlety of performance — both of which would seem to be in short supply in such a rousing, crowd-pleasing musical. But I also appreciated the complexity of the lyrics and the choreography, and the brisk pacing that makes Robert Wise’s three-hour Oscar-winner zip by. (Besides best picture and director, the 1965 film also won Academy Awards for sound, film editing and music.)
It began as a battle, though. Nicolas complained the whole way over, insisting he didn’t want to see it and complaining he was bored during the 10 minutes or so that we had to wait in our seats beforehand. When Julie Andrews crests that grassy knoll at the film’s start, twirling and singing joyously about the hills being alive with the sound of music in the film’s signature image, Nic leaned over to me without missing a beat and said: “Terrible!” in sing-songy tones.
But I knew it would be OK. And it was. I caught him laughing when the Von Trapp children march their way down the stairs and stomp forward to announce their names at the sound of their whistle signals. (The frog they secretly stuffed in Fraulein Maria’s pocket also was good for a cackle.) He was totally into “Do-Re-Mi” — he had a huge smile on his face and tapped his hand on his knee to the beat of the music. And as Captain Von Trapp is driving home after being away in Vienna wooing the Baroness (Eleanor Parker), with his seven children dangling from the trees in play clothes made of drapes, Nicolas asked me: “Is he back? Are they in trouble? Gulp!” And again soon afterward: “Spoil if they get into trouble or not.”
“You’ll see …,” I said.
Later, he burst into a wide smile at the very sight of the first ridiculous-looking puppet during “The Lonely Goatherd.” (And he’d already heard me singing that song around the house — hence, the aforementioned yodeling.)
But this number was one of many that made me realize, as an adult, the great talent and craft that went into making this movie. These people are working their asses off. And even though it’s relevant to the scene that Maria is noticeably wiped after such a taxing performance, Julie Andrews makes it all look so breezy and effortless. She just radiates joy in this film, and has such a winning presence that she even makes some of the cornier moments bearable. (The reprise of “Sixteen Going on Seventeen,” which Maria and Charmain Carr’s Liesl sing to each other after Maria and Captain Von Trapp return from their honeymoon, is a prime example. It’s a totally needless song — it’s a stretch — but she sells it because she’s such a pro.)
Other things I noticed as a grown-ass person:
— The first shot of the movie is not, in fact, what you see in the above photo but rather helicopter images of clouds and snow-covered mountains accompanied by the sound of chilly wind. It was a little disconcerting at first.
— Wise, working from Ernest Lehman’s script, really takes his time creating a sense of place at the convent before Maria leaves to serve as governess of the Von Trapp children. I found myself crying at “Maria,” possibly out of a sense of nostalgia, but also because of the sheer beauty of the nuns’ voices and their harmonies. Plus, the imagery in the lyrics is so vivid: “How do you keep a wave upon the sand? … How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?” They don’t write ’em like they used to.
— Christopher Plummer: Good lord, he was a babe.
— I was fascinated by the bike choreography in “Do-Re-Mi.” How did they all not crash into each other? How many takes did that section require? Wondering all this nearly took me out of the rapturous glee of that song.
— Wise and editor William Reynolds move so well between songs. The pacing throughout the film is really fluid and spry, but never at the expense of character or story.
— I never realized what a bad-ass Peggy Wood was. As the Reverend Mother at the abbey, she’s the voice of reason, which sounds like an understated role. But she brings such wisdom and presence to it, she’s a quietly powerful force.
— Max Detweiler is gay???
— Baroness Schrader’s body-clinging, gold-shimmering party dress: It is a stunner. I want it now.
UPDATE, Sunday, Feb. 12: Nicolas is singing “Do-Re-Mi” absentmindedly to himself around the house while he plays. I WIN.
For a movie about two people who loved each other so deeply, they risked losing everything to be together—their families, homes, even their countries—“A United Kingdom” plays it frustratingly safe. David Oyelowo and Rosamund Pike can do no wrong, but they can only do so much to convey passion in a film that’s well-made but restrained to a fault. My mixed RogerEbert.com review.
“The Space Between Us,” about the romance between a boy from Mars and a girl from Earth, plays like a “Muppet Babies” version of “Starman.” It’s nutty. Not nutty enough that you should run out and see it, but still. It features an exploding barn. My 1 1/2-star review, at RogerEbert.com.
This psychological thriller marks a return to form for M. Night Shyamalan, featuring a tour de force performance from James McAvoy as a kidnapper suffering from multiple personality disorder. The big twist is, there is no big twist: It’s just a suspenseful, well-acted film. My RogerEbert.com review.
Bryan Cranston and James Franco are stuck in one-note roles as an uptight father and his wild, would-be son-in-law, respectively, in this raunchy, R-rated comedy. Meanwhile, the young woman at the center of their squabble, a Stanford University senior played by Zoey Deutch, doesn’t seem to have much agency in her own future. Merry Christmas to us all. My RogerEbert.com review.
“Two Lovers and a Bear” does indeed contain two lovers and a bear — and the bear can talk. The story of tortured people (Tatiana Maslany and Dane DeHaan) in a fiery romance in the icy Canadian Arctic is beautiful and strange, and it heads in directions you won’t expect. My RogerEbert.com review.
The latest musical extravaganza from Walt Disney Animation Studios follows the adventures of a young woman who finds her own voice and forges her own identity as she becomes the first female leader of her people. It’s a complete blast with a great message. But for all its thrills, laughs and musical joys, it’s hard not to recognize a certain poignancy as it relates to our current political landscape. Maybe that’s just me, though. My rave, at RogerEbert.com.
“The Edge of Seventeen” is a strong successor to John Hughes’ legacy with its mix of biting humor and bittersweet heart. But writer-director Kelly Fremon Craig also dares to go to places that are darker and truer in her feature filmmaking debut. Hailee Steinfeld is just radiant as a high school junior whose hormones and immaturity won’t allow her to enjoy being the smartest person in the room. If you were a teenager in the ’80s — or the parent of a teenager now – you’ll love this. My rave, at RogerEbert.com.
The book wasn’t great. It was solid trash — a juicy page turner. The movie version isn’t even that. It’s a surprisingly flat and suspense-free tale of pretty people in peril. Emily Blunt gives it her all, though, as the title character: a damaged woman on a misguided quest for redemption. My RogerEbert.com review.