$37 for a movie? Even for London that's pricey

I know London is expensive, but I never expected to pay this much for a movie ticket! At the end of one fine day walking around central London this month I stopped at my favorite UK movie palace, Picturehouse Central, a block east of Piccadilly Circus in the heart of London’s entertainment district, the so-called West End. It’s a magnificent complex, carved out of a one-time famed cavernous restaurant. It has multiple floors, two cafes, a member’s bar and several floors of cinemas. I attended last year during the London Film Festival. But then I had a pass and discounted tickets. This time I was a said member of the public (though not a Picturehouse, a Brit chain, member). I decided to

see Italian director Paolo Sorrentino’s (The Great Beauty, 2013, The Hand of God, 2021) latest, Parthenope. I rolled up to the ticket counter, told the clerk what I wanted and touched my card for pavement. There it was - 19.60 pounds. What?! I did a double take. But typically, when you’re stunned, it doesn’t quite register. I walked to the cinema, took my seat and enjoyed the film, with the nagging thought of how damned expensive this thing was. I vowed to check it out affer the movie. Sure enough, that was the actual price. In Canuck dollars that was $37.36. Needless to say I hesitated before seeing another movie at any Picturehouse – or any other – London cinema.

As for Parthenope, it has its usual Sorrentino mix of fabulous images and obscure storytelling. Parthenope is the early Greek forerunner city to Naples, and a mythical character. Parthenope was said to have been washed ashore, having thrown herself into the sea after she failed to entice Ulysses with her song. Our modern Parthenope in Sorrentino’s film is played by newcomer Celeste Dalla Porta, a beautiful and stunning actress. It’s about her life’s journey from birth in the 1950s until the present day. Despite her physical allure and brainy persona, she eschews men who fall over themselves while charting her own intellectual course as a polymath. Along the way she encounters various iconic symbols (usually men) who try to influence her and present life alternatives, often representing good and evil. Sorrentino’s films are filled with stunning visuals in opulent settings. But the stories tend to the convoluted and stultifying. Nevertheless, he is one of the more creative directors working today - and working on a grand scale - something rare in 2025 cinema. 

Last night I decided to watch a Netflix film, The Good House (Maya Forbes 2021) starring Sigourney Weaver and Kevin Kline. Set in bucolic north shore Massachusetts, Weaver is Hildy Good, an attractive but lonely alcoholic middle-aged woman. I didn’t know if this watchable film was more about real estate or alcoholism. I say “watchable” except I didn’t finish it. Two-thirds of the way in I’d seen enough commercials to turn me off. I’ve been a basic Netflix subscriber since rejoining Netflix and never complained about the relatively few commercials that dot films. Until last night. The ads were hot and heavy often in clusters totaling more than one minute at a time.  Like watching bloody television!

Cinemas vs online, one degree of Kevin Bacon & woke turnoffs

Cinemas continue to close. In Detroit two art house palaces shut their doors in recent years – the Main Art in Royal Oak and the Maple Theater in West Bloomfield. Windsor has expanded cinema offerings with the new Landmark in the former Silver City. Great but its offerings are a carbon copy of the other area multiplexes. And thankfully the Windsor International Film Festival (WIFF) has created a kind of monthly repertory series which helps fill the art house void. For me, the experience of watching a movie online and in a theatre is intrinsically different. And I’m trying to figure out why. I would/will drive miles and take great swaths of time out of my day, to go to a real live bricks and mortar movie house to see a film that looks even somewhat interesting. I also subscribe to Netflix and the Criterion Channel. For all intents and purposes Criterion is an art house cinema in your computer. Its array of independent and foreign films, and classic greats, is absolutely terrific. Besides a mammoth inventory there are monthly curated series like current films starring Penelope Cruz, Donald Sirk’s post-war noir, gritty 70s-era NY cinema, horror maestro David Cronenberg (photo) and a Vietnam War series. Yet I have to slog my way to the computer to watch. If even a small fraction of these films were featured at the local Bijou my interest would no doubt be excitedly piqued, I’d circle the date and clear my calendar to attend, forking over $10-$20 per. When my CC yearly sub is just over $130 with hundreds of movies at my fingertips - an incredible deal by comparison. It just doesn’t make sense. What’s the difference? Is it the actual getting-up-and-going experience to a physical entertainment venue that breaks up the monotony of being housebound? It it the “shared experience” with other moviegoers? It is that attending a cinema seems more of an “event”? It’s a conundrum that I feel won’t be broken.  

I just finished watching Leave the World Behind (Sam Esmail 2023) on Netflix, starring Ethan Hawke, Julia Roberts, Mahershala Ali and Kevin Bacon. It’s a mildly interesting horror thriller, enough to keep me watching to the end. But, my goodness, the similarities between Hawke and Bacon are uncanny. It’s not just Six Degrees of Separation (the famed Bacon cliché) but in this case, one.

More on movie wokeism, something which continues to turn me off cinema. My thoughts mirror those of UK columnist Sarah Vine, satirizing products she’d put tariffs on: “WOKE movie remakes: the all-women Ghostbusters; last year’s Mean Girls; Sex And The City without the sex, and now, disastrously, Snow White starring Rachel Zegler plus CGI dwarfs. Has Hollywood never heard of the phrase ‘Go woke, go broke’”?

Two vintage Canuck actors - one who didn't do well, the other who did

This is the tragic story of a long ago Canadian film actor who tragically descended into oblivion. It didn’t start out that way. Peter Kastner (top photo), born 1943, starred in the great Canadian Don Owen 1960s acclaimed hit, Nobody Waved Good-bye (1964), an anti-establishment film of the era. But, in one of Francis Ford Coppola’s earliest films, he stars in You’re a Big Boy Now (1966), a delightful coming-of-age film. Bordering on corny and implausibility it’s still enticing as Kastner’s Bernard Chanticleer rebels again, this time moving out of his parents Long Island home and setting himself up in a Manhattan flat. To the recurring tune of, well, Robert Prince’s bubble gummy “You’re a Big Boy Now,” Bernard tries to shake his adolescence, essentially a virgin literally and figuratively though he seems relatively old for that. Nevertheless, we follow his escapades as he tries to live independently and enmesh himself in the “cool” world of adult bohemia, even though he’s a dork all along. Coppola’s bouncy cinematography may show signs of a novice but there are some sophisticated cuts and innovative shots, perky dialogue, and most important, he always holds the audience (a great cineaste he will one

day become!). Besides Kastner there is a stellar cast of Julie Harris, Karen Black (so young!), Rip Torn and Geraldine Page. And the streets of mid-Sixties New York City shine (or don’t). But what about Kastner’s tragic end? He went on to an ill-fated TV career, including the badly reviewed sitcom The Ugliest Girl in Town, really the death knell. He ended up as a high school teacher and carried out a vendetta against his family, including allegedly embezzling money. Poor guy – he seemed so innocent and fresh in Big Boy!

Another Canadian who actually did well in Hollywood was Joseph Wiseman (bottom photo) (born 1918), who stars in Sydney Lumet’s 1968 Bye Bye Braverman. Wiseman had many film roles including in the first Bond film as Dr. No (Terence Young 1962) and in the Crime Story TV series. In Braverman he captivates as the elderly wise Jew, sardonically mocking his (Jewish) pals for their faith inconsistencies. 

These films are part of Criterion Channel’s current Fun City series, focusing on films made in NYC late 60s-early 70s, giving a raw view of Gotham’s considerably grittier streetscapes than exists today. 

Photos: Wikipedia

Easy does it in this absorbing Netflix series

I'm not in the habit of binge-watching Netflix series. In fact I can only remember one I've done before, Catastrophe (see Sept. 22 2023 post), which apparently was only available in the UK, where I was travelling at the time. Last week I found an equally engrossing one, Easy.  Created and directed by Joe Swanberg, the three season series tells the stories of a myriad cast of characters, pretty much all of a certain age (Millennials) and proclivities (creative). Some were based on Swanberg's friends and circles he no doubt runs in.  Some are recurring between episodes or show up in others' stories or obliquely in entirely different plots or episodes. All are bright, articulate, introspective, liberal, open-minded and in many ways self-obsessed. Does the word narcissism come to mind? Many are couples. Seemingly every episode pivots around conflict, either within themselves or others related to love, friendship, lifestyle or career. The scenarios can be dramatic or humorous or both. Some specific storylines revolve around sexuality, passively-aggressively interacting with one another, insensitively undermining someone's psyche. Even more pedestrian storylines but ones deliciously told such as a teenager giving her church-going parents a lesson in humility, or neighbors trying to chase down a porch pirate.  Storylines can border on the wild and transgressive, such as when a techie at a closed circuit camera shop plays PI and finds himself in a BDSM party. Some of the more prominent recurring characters are Andi (Elizabeth Reaser) and Kyle (Michael Chernus), who experiment with an open marriage with varying results. Or Jacob (Marc Maron), an intense older graphic novelist who exploits personal relationships for his art. I found every one of these 25 episodes absorbing. The stories take place in Chicago, with hip restaurants, bars and coffee houses serving as backdrops. These actors, none of whom were familiar to me, are stunningly good, the scenes and writing flawless. I did look up one of the most memorable characters, Jane Adams as Annabelle Jones. Turns out she played Dr. Mel Karnofsky on Frasier; age and lifestyle have much changed her.  

Oscars - no; three great movies - yes

As per not my want I didn't watch the Academy Awards. I never do, nor do I even look forward to them and this year read nothing about the nominations. I was so turned off or bored with most of what was on offer I  had no interest. And when I saw Anora winning as predicted - it's hard to miss a headline - I almost felt physically sick. (See my Dec. 30 post). Instead I spent the evening watching old, and well, classic films, that showcased good stories and good acting. The first was It's My Turn (Claudia Weill, 1980) with Jill Clayburgh and Michael Douglas. Clayburgh, in her prime, stars as Kate, a college mathematician at odds with the man in her life, Homer, played by the irascible Charles Grodin, and meets ex-pro ball player Ben (Michael

Douglas). It was refreshing to see Clayburgh again. What struck me is her charisma of cuteness undercut by the seriousness of the "nobody's fool" variety. Douglas, dark black hair and beard, looked very young.....The next film was Frankie and Johnny (Garry Marshall 1991) with Michelle Pfeiffer and Al Pacino, based on the Terrance McNally play. Wow, can these two act!  Pfeiffer and Pacino are effortless in this push-pull romance with Frankie's (Pfeiffer) simmering and outright doubt to Johnny's engrossing honesty. I kept thinking: Pacino, an actor's actor, the Method School, etc. And Pfeiffer ain't so bad herself......The third film (part of Criterion Channel's New York

Love Stories) was Carol (Todd Haynes 2015). I forgot I'd never seen this when it came out and Cate Blanchett as the title character is currently my fave actress. Based on a Patricia Highsmith novel - so you know there's something to it - the film is about an illicit and smoldering attraction in the early 1950s. Blanchett plays opposite Rooney Mara as Therese. This slow-paced and nuanced drama is just right, underlined by Carter Burwell's melancholy score.

Bridget charms, ho hum, a fourth time. But there's another...

I was ambivalent about seeing the fourth Bridget Jones movie (I've seen them all) but being in a Spanish town where it was an accessible English movie, and the time of day was right, I paid my Euros and sauntered into Puerto Banus' Red Dog Cinemas. The film Mad About the Boy (dir. Michael Morris) was in original English with Spanish subtitles ('VOSE'). There were only about a dozen in attendance on a sunny Costa afternoon and, yup, mainly women, with a good variety holding glasses of white wine - hilarious. But the "print" (isn't everything digital?) had a sepia bleached out look that made it difficult to watch. Nevertheless our girl, Bridget (Renée Zellweger) was back. Now 55 and a widow after the love of her life (Darcy - Colin Firth) died as a humanitarian aid worker. Friends coax her to try to start anew. But you know how it is for "women of a certain age." But one day an Adonis in the name of Roxster (Leo Woodall) comes to her aid embarrassingly on the Hampstead Heath (I guessed the movie was filmed in Hampstead - ain't I good?). Her gal pals - and women in the audience - swoon at the new boy toy (especially his doffing of a wet white shirt). All goes, initially, according to plan and our girl is in seventh (sexual) heaven. The film has generally had good response but what Bridget film hasn't through I found Bridget Jones Baby (2016, Sharon Maguire) a little dull. But maybe that's because I was in a Paris cinema expecting the movie to be in English! Let's face it, Zellweger is perfect in the role playing the frumpish awkward singleton that LOADS of women, even beautiful ones, can identify with. Though in reality Zellweger is a sex bomb and in personal life has wrapped arms with some of the biggest names in show biz. I'll give this film three and half out of five stars because its script is tight, it is overall sprightly though some of the characters are forced (think school teacher Wallaker - Chiwetel Ejiofor) and the whole genre is getting a bit repetitive. 

It just so happened that the night before, on Criterion Channel, I caught the same Z girl in a 2003 film Down with Love (Peyton Read), a hilarious take on the old Rock Hudson - Doris Day movies, full of misunderstandings in the then battle of the sexes. Doris Day a feminist icon? Think about it. I hadn't heard of the film or had forgotten about it or it didn't get wide distribution. Anyway, it was great to see a pretty accurate re-creation of the early 1960s - fashions, sets and even hackneyed era dialogue - with Ewan McGregor in the Rock Hudson role. Even Tony Randall, RIP, stars. The Z girl shines as she usually does in a movie worth seeing because it's a modern throwback that's pretty accurately done. 

Is my desire for movies fading?

Is my desire for movies fading? Lately, after rather a full fall season of seeing some of the most talked-about films, am I losing my desire to go to the local cinema (there’s Windsor’s new Landmark though it’s playing the same films as our other two cineplexes, Criterion Channel or Netflix, not to mention hometown Windsor film festival’s monthly series)? Perhaps it’s because I was disappointed if not put off by some of the biggest titles. I loathed Anora (Sean Baker), which could end up sweeping the Oscars, about a Russian expatriate drug dealer and a Brooklyn hooker who go on a wild drug-fueled ride through the neverlands of New York. Why glorify this depravity? I was looking forward to Conclave (Edward Berger & Peter Straughan), the politicized maneuvers of electing a new pope, which admittedly had sound acting and stunning visuals but cardboard liberal and conservative stereotypes and a damp squid of an ending. Or The Substance (Coralie Fargeat) with Demi Moore as a washed-up TV host paranoid about her declining looks and her transmogrification into a younger double with enough sticky entrails on the floor to last me a lifetime. Bird (Andrea Arnold) was a sickening claustrophobic story about an off the rails father-daughter relationship; I’m surprised I lasted through it. Maria (Pablo Larraín) was okay but just, with Angelina Jolie reprising the famed Maria Callas in her melancholy sunset years. I did enjoy – okay, Joy (Ben Taylor), a Brit film about the scientific team pioneering IVF - and the equally English We Live in Time (John Crowley), a slow burn romantic drama with subtle above par acting. Other notables were Speak No Evil (James Watkins), a gripping real life type horror story and Nightbitch (Marielle Heller), a horror story about marriage starring Amy Adams. But I avoided both Emilia Pérez (Jacques Audiard) and Queer (Luca Guadagnino) because these seemed gratuitously sexual flavors of the month. I loved A Real Pain (Jesse Eisenberg) (see review below), A Different Man (Arnold Schimberg) and The Apprentice (Ali Abbasi), the latter two starring the extraordinary and (literally) pliable Sebastian Stan, the first because of its utter black comedy, the second because of its tour de force, even though I like Trump. But on the whole movies lately seem kind of a downer, listless and trying too hard with few compelling stories. For goodness sake, after discarding a myriad Netflix films this month I ended up watching Queen Bees (Michael Lembeck, 2021). At least it held my attention, kind of.