BAD TIMES AT THE EL ROYALE (2018)

Rated:  R

STARS: Jeff Bridges, Cynthia Erivo, Dakota Johnson, 
Chris Hemsworth, Lewis Pullman, Jon Hamm
DIRECTOR: Drew Goddard
GENRE: Mystery/Suspense

Bad Times At The El Royale is one wild-ass ride of a movie--if I may speak in the vernacular--a jigsaw puzzle that slowly assembles itself into what becomes a clear picture only near the end. It's not going to be for everyone, as evidenced by the older couple I saw getting up and walking out of the theater half way through...you could tell they just didn't get it, and didn't want to wait any longer to see if the pieces were eventually going to fit together.

It's the late sixties. Four strangers show up at a seedy and otherwise deserted Lake Tahoe hotel. The shaggy priest (Jeff Bridges), a cheeky vacuum cleaner salesman (Jon Hamm), a soul singing soul sister (Cynthia Erivo), a bored and uppity mystery woman (Dakota Johnson), and the slacker desk clerk (Lewis Pullman) make up our principal players. It doesn't take long to realize that none of them are really what they appear to be outwardly (including the hotel itself).  These are the surprises that develop along the way. And when what you think is going to be a major character gets taken out fairly early on, it's a wake up call that jolts you out of any notion of getting in a short catnap, and you say...ooookay... what's next???  Which is good because it carries you through a lot of backstory and some scenes that go on too long, most of which serve only to showcase the singing talents of Cynthia Erivo. It's what stretches the film to its bloated two hours and twenty minutes.

 The more Bad Times At The El Royale goes on the more you can see it's getting ready to jump the tracks, and I was trying to think of another flick that gave me those same vibes and flashed on Dusk Til Dawn, a movie that had its moments but then got too crazy and went on for too long. Way too long. 

Still, I've got to admire the effort of a film that shoots for the moon in a quirky art house kind of way, even if it falls short and ends up crashing back into the lake. Three quarters of the way through we're still pretty clueless as to where director Drew Goddard will ultimately lead us, until a villain (Chris Hemsworth) from outside the core group appears, and it's game on for a bloody Tarentino-esque climax. Through it all there's a message about killing that emerges--it's wrong no matter what the context or justification (as in war)--which has to be brought out, of course, through a lot of the same.

Jeff Bridges is the reason why we are here in the first place (I'm a fan) and he doesn't disappoint with his portrayal of the dissipated, hard drinking priest.

Dakota Johnson, who's made her name of late in the world of soft-core kink with the Fifty Shades franchise, tries for a step up in class here and accomplishes at least that much--after all she's in a Jeff Bridges film--and opted for a part where she keeps her clothes on the whole time!  .

Bad Times At The El Royale is fascinating in the way that a train wreck is fascinating. You can't look away. But that doesn't make it any less of a disaster.

Grade:  C +

JILL'S TAKE

I'm with the older couple who left early, Tim. Only I've never, in my life, left a movie before it's over. On principle. I kept musing all through this turkey that last week I saw 'the best film of 2018' (A Star Is Born) and now I'm watching 'the worst film of 2018.' There has to be another word for slow to describe this puzzling piece of cinematic drivel.... Sluggish? Stagnant? Snail like? Those synonyms don't begin to describe Bad Times at the El Royale.

The only thing I kept asking myself throughout was "What the hell is this movie about?" (I had to read Tim's review to get the jist of what director/writer Drew Goddard was trying to convey.) The descriptive blurb on IMDb also helped "Over the course of one fateful night, everyone will have a last shot at redemption - before everything goes to hell."

The only thing I really dug about this movie were the wonderful closeups of that vintage Wurlitzer jukebox. Made me miss the days when those music machines were housed in every restaurant and bar across America.

I also liked Cynthia Erivo's chops. Who is she, anyway? According to Wikipedia, she's a Brit who won a Tony (Best Actress in a Musical) in the Broadway revival of "The Color Purple." What a voice! Still. It wasn't worth the reduced price I paid. In my view, 'a bad time is what you'll get if you go to this mawkish mystery."

Grade: F

RUSH (2013)

Rated:  R

Stars: Daniel Bruhl,  Chris Hemsworth,  Alexandra Maria Lara,  Olivia Wilde

Director: Ron Howard

Genre: Action-Adventure/ Drama

There is a reason why those new car commercials on TV have some stunt driver careening wildly around hairpin curves, and turning doughnuts in a cloud of dust.  It speaks to the inner race car driver (or maniac) in most of us. That's why you don't have to be a racing fan to get off on Rush,  Ron Howard's new film based upon the true story of Niki Lauda and James Hunt--rival drivers at the top of their game on the Formula One racing circuit back in the seventies.There is something primitively sexual about the deafening roar of an engine that will propel you around the track at 170 mph.  That's why race drivers are surrounded by beautiful women. (Danica Patrick, not sure.)  

Hunt and Lauda were polar opposites. Englishman Hunt (Chris Hemsworth) was a pretty boy. A wild party-goer and a womanizer who hacked his guts up at the track before each race--presumably out of nervousness, or maybe it was just carried over from the night before. (And in the name of realism, we get to witness it multiple times.) Lauda, (Daniel Bruhl) an Austrian, was the cold, analytical type  who knew how to tune his cars to make them go just a little faster than the competition. He tried to calculate the odds of getting killed in any given race in terms of a percentage figure.  

With those engines roaring in your ears, jump-cut editing that matches the frenetic pace of the track, and an exhilarating music score from Academy Award (R) winner Hans Zimmer, Rush puts you in the driver's seat to experience all the heart-pounding, bang-up action--and there is plenty of it-- of the 1976 duel between Hunt and Lauda for the Formula One world championship. 

Of course, there's more to the film than that. It's a poignant tale of two rivals who drive each other to be the best that they can be, and in that sense--much like the legendary thoroughbreds Affirmed and Alydar--they feed off of each other 

I did a little research and found that the film sticks pretty close to the facts, except for portraying these guys as snarky adversaries with nary a kind word to utter to one another, at least in the beginning. In truth, Hunt and Lauda were friends. 

I'm going to declare Rush as the Rocky of racing films--in future years I think it will be regarded as such. And in a supporting role, Lauda's wife, Marlene, (Alexandra Maria Lara) makes a fine Adrian, as she gazes upon her man putting his life on the line, 
( forty-nine drivers have perished driving a Formula 1 car) outwardly composed, but her eyes reveal what her body language tries to conceal.

For some, the closer they come to death, the more alive they feel. That would be the only way to explain why these hyped-up adrenalin junkies keep tempting fate the way they do.  Lucky for you, all you need do is survive the city traffic and get to a theater to experience one danged realistic rush of a movie.
GRADE:  A

JILL'S TAKE

As Tim and I were leaving the movie theater, I got to thinking about other car racing movies and couldn't come up with a single one. Whereas horse racing flicks have always been a lucrative staple in the film business. (Or should I say 'stable'?) I decided to type in 'car racing movies' in my search window and, believe it or not, Netflix supplied a bunch of 'em: Dust To Glory, On Any Sunday, Love The Beast, Once Upon A Wheel, Yank Tanks, Octane, to name a few.

More amazing is the fact that I am not familiar with any of these gems. The only other movie I can think of that deals with car-racing--motorcycle racing, actually--was a brilliant movie starring Anthony Hopkins. Like RUSH, it was based on a real person, New Zealander Burt Monro, who spent years building a 1920 Indian motorcycle that helped him set the land-speed world record at Utah's Bonneville Salt Flats in 1967. The name of the movie was The World's Fastest Indian and, like the two rivals in RUSH, the main character was obsessed with speed and winning. 

Although Formula One racing is a subject I know nothing about, I was still hooked on the movie because of these two diametrically different racers. Director Ron Howard made me feel like I, too, was crammed inside one of those pricey machines with Hunt or Lauda. Of course, Howard also took some liberties with reality when he prolonged the tire-changing scenes for dramatic purposes. True racing aficionados would have taken exception to this. 

Despite his brilliance, Daniel Bruhl seemed unfamiliar to me (although he did have a fairly decent part in Inglorious Basterds). I was blown away by how much the actor resembled the real life Niki Lauda pictured at the end of the film.

Grade: B+

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