THE ONLY LIVING BOY IN NEW YORK (2017)

Rated: R 

STARS: Callum Turner, Jeff Bridges, Kate Beckinsale, Pierce Brosnan, Cynthia Nixon, Kiersey Clemons
DIRECTOR:Marc Webb
GENRE: Drama
Oh, look who's seated at the table...there's Pierce Brosnan...and there's Cynthia Nixon...and there's-there's Wallace Shawn! Looking the same as he has looked for the last fifty years or so. There's no reason for him to do a cameo in The Only Living Boy In New York, except he always seems to show up for dinner. (Maybe he's looking for Andre?)

But let's rewind. In the beginning there was Thomas and Mimi. Thomas (Callum Turner) has just graduated from college and Mimi (Kiersey Clemons) is his hang-around pal. He is smitten by her, but she has consigned him to the dreaded "friend zone." But we needn't feel sorry for nice guy Thomas, because he will find what he is looking for in Johanna (Kate Beckinsale), who just happens to be the mistress of his New York publisher father (Pierce Brosnan). At first Thomas just wants Johanna to stop seeing his still married dad, because he doesn't want his mother (Cynthia Nixon) to get hurt. But he falls under Johanna's spell. And she's the type who goes for the flavor of the day, and figures she can juggle father and son and keep both balls in the air at once (whoops... didn't mean for it to come out quite that way!) To further complicate things, Mimi re-enters the picture, noticing that her friend's affections are being directed somewhere else, so naturally she wants him now. Added to the mix we have Jeff Bridges, looking almost unrecognizable as the mysterious boozy neighbor who acts as a surrogate therapist for Thomas, dispensing worldly advice about women and whatnot. But there's more to that connection than meets the eye, which will lead to the big twist at the end.

This is an interesting, subdued turn for Bridges. For some reason it reminds me of him as the affable alien in Starman.  Kate Beckinsale has tried on numerous  costumes--she played a ninja type in one flick--not believable at all with that willowy body. But here she is perfectly cast as the New York sophisticate...the temptress whose eyes are bigger than her tummy, and manages to bring some depth to the character. Pierce Brosnan has never been taken all that seriously--pretty boy and James Bond and all that--but I imagine the older and uglier he gets (if he ever does get uglier), the more respect he'll receive, and he deserves it. Cynthia Nixon is kind of wasted here, and I can't tell you anything about her performance because all I can think about when she comes onscreen is the one time I saw her full frontal, and I was so surprised...she was a goddess! Of course, that was a while back. Young Brit Callum Turner, as Thomas, has a good face for the movies. Kiersey Clemons, as Mimi, I felt was miscast. There was no underlying romantic tension between Mimi and Thomas, which would have laid the groundwork for her eventual rekindling of interest in him.

Critics are saying harsh things about The Only Living Boy In New York, but all in all, I liked this film. It didn't have me at hello. I was still wavering even in the middle. But it sure had me at the end. It's a sweet movie, and the last truly sweet film I think I saw was Dustin Hoffman in Last Chance Harvey, and that goes back to 2009. Strong points: Impressive cast and a great soundtrack. Simon and Garfunkel, of course. Bob Dylan. Lou Reed. Herbie Hancock. A musical feast.

Dig in, Wallace Shawn!

Grade:  B +

JILL'S TAKE

My poor, misguided friend. Those three-digit Tucson temperatures must have fried your brains. You actually liked this piece of cinematic merde? Oh dear.

Let me start with the boy called Thomas. Callum Turner, a Brit whose acting credits are scanty at best, has about as much sex appeal as a young Woody Allen minus the self-deprecating humor. How the two women in this implausible drama could be attracted to him in the first place made me queasy. As the film unfolded—at least it was mercifully short—this flaw was replaced by myriad others. I won't reveal the ending in case anyone is foolish enough to want to see this turkey. But as I walked out of the (totally empty) movie theater, I kept shaking my head. I'm sure if Jeff Bridges hadn't been one of the producers, this film would never have been made.

I do, however, want to give credit where credit is due. Rob Simonsen's song choices were terrific, as was his understated score. And as much as I thought I was familiar with all of Paul Simon's songs, The Only Living Boy In New York was new to me. For you trivia buffs, Simon refers to Garfunkel in the song as "Tom", alluding to their early days when they were called 'Tom and Jerry.' And the main character in this movie is called Thomas. Obviously, no coincidence.

I don't usually agree with movie critics but there's always a first time!

Grade: D -

FLORENCE FOSTER JENKINS (2016)

Rated: PG-13

STARS: Meryl Streep, Hugh Grant, Simon Helberg
DIRECTOR: Stephen Frears
GENRE: Comedy/Drama

Florence Foster Jenkins was an heiress and New York socialite whose life-long love of music spurred her to become an opera singer. Only trouble was, her "singing" would make alley cats plug their ears.

In Florence Foster Jenkins, Meryl Streep takes on an enormous challenge to come off as tone deaf as the real deal. (Check out the clip of the real Ms. Jenkins at the end of this review!) I'll give Streep a B+ on that score. It's DIFFICULT to sing badly...no, it's difficult to sing badly and sincerely--with a straight face. Streep, who is actually a good singer,  gives a yeoman's effort.

Hugh Grant plays her mate, the opportunistic St. Clair Bayfield, a failed Shakespearean actor who must have seen her as his meal ticket initially--they live in a posh New York hotel--but nonetheless possesses a sincere platonic devotion to the lady. So much so that he orchestrates her singing engagements and packs the house with friends and acquaintances he knows will lend a sympathetic ear. Everyone is expected to play along with the colossal delusion, as Florence is in ill health, and he wants her to spend her remaining days pursuing her dream.(What she's suffering from I will not reveal, because it's an audience "ooh" moment, and most reviewers today GIVE TOO MUCH AWAY--one of my recurring pet peeves.)

As good as Streep and Grant are in their roles--and they are superb--Simon Helberg, as Florence's fidgety and high-strung piano accompanist, Cosme McMoon, steals the show with his comically expressive mug and mannerisms. McMoon--reluctantly at first--backs Jenkins from her initial appearances before The Verdi Club (an organization she herself founded), to her crowning achievement--a 1944 engagement to a packed house at Carnegie Hall.

Florence Foster Jenkins is also a (probably unintentional) commentary on the ability of the rich to buy their way to the immortality of lasting fame, while the masses of  mere "mortals"--many with astounding  talents and abilities--quietly labor through lives of anonymity, their brilliance ultimately recognized by no more than family and friends. But that comes as an afterthought for me, as during the movie I was rooting for Florence all the way.

And while the film is a hoot on many levels, there are moments of unexpected poignancy that may leave you misty-eyed here and there. Because what glimmers through every pore of Florence Foster Jenkins is one person's lifelong love affair with music...and as we all know, love is blind.

Not to be missed!

Grade:  A

JILL'S TAKE

Damn! You stole my thunder, Tim. About the brilliance of Simon Helberg's Oscar-worthy performance? To set the record straight regarding how we write these reviews, Tim writes his impressions first and then I add my two cents afterwards. (Usually five!) I'm not in Tucson right now so we see these reviewable flicks separately. This time, my west coast film companion was quick to whisper in my ear that Simon Helberg has been wowing TV audiences for 10 Seasons in "The Big Bang Theory." What an expressive face!

Knowing the premise of Florence Foster Jenkins beforehand, I didn't think I'd enjoy being treated to an afternoon of off-pitch singing. How wrong I was! Meryl was magnificent as the barrel-sized would-be opera singer. I found myself feeling guilty for belly laughing at Ms. Jenkins' painful vocals, knowing how badly she wanted to be another Lily Pons. And I wasn't the only one in the audience laughing, either.

It reminded me of another film,The Producers – where Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder wanted to produce a bad musical, hoping it would be a flop so they could rake in the investors' money. Instead, it turned into a Broadway blockbuster. Same basic idea applies to Florence Foster Jenkins. For me, though, her popularity (albeit camp rather than coloratura) seemed to seriously stretch credibility. As did many of the other moments in this distinctly delightful film.

Kudos go out to British director Stephen Arthur Frears whose film credits include some of my all-time favorites: My Beautiful Launderette and Philomena. He was able to make an incredibly hard-to-believe situation mostly believable.

Grade: B+

A MOST VIOLENT YEAR (2014)

Rated :  R

STARS: Oscar Isaac, Jessica Chastain, Albert Brooks, David Oyelowo, Elyes Gabel

DIRECTOR:  J.C. Chandor

GENRE: Drama/Suspense

The first thing to remember about A Most Violent Year is that it ain't that violent. Not like the title might suggest, at least. It's a character study, and a very good one, about a man trying to do the right things when all about him are bad influences (like when mom told you to stay away from that nasty neighbor boy). Not the least of which may be his wife. 

The setting is New York City in 1981--statistically one of the most crime-ridden years in the city's history. Immigrant Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac) is living the American Dream. He operates a heating oil distribution business. He wants to do everything above-board and by the book. But what appear to be rival operators are beating up his drivers and hijacking his trucks full of fuel that they can peddle on the black market. Then there is this subtly shady D.A. (David Oyelowo) who's investigating his operation for evidence of improprieties. 

The wild card in all of this is his wife, Anna (Jessica Chastain), the daughter of a Brooklyn crime boss.  Morales bought the business from her father (bad influence number one).  Despite seemingly good intentions, she can't completely escape the influence of her upbringing.  So as the pressure on Morales mounts, she wants to arm the drivers so they can fight back. Then she issues some veiled personal threats toward the D.A. That's when we recognize an intriguing marital role reversal--where she's the tough guy, and he is someone who only wants to do "the most right thing." That phrase is at the crux of the movie's theme, in my opinion, as the most right thing--that line in the sand--is sometimes blurred and ill-defined (as we all know in our own lives, eh?). 

Title notwithstanding, A Most Violent Year is a surprisingly introspective film. A character study that doesn't rely on the usual Hollywood gimmicks to build the suspense. And there is no lack of that. With riveting performances by Isaac and Chastain. And the ever quirky Albert Brooks, who is a character study all on his own.  

GRADE:  B+

JILL'S TAKE

When a movie's title has the word 'violent' in it, I expect to be treated to bullets flying, brutal killings and at least one mafia boss gunned down in a barber shop. No such luck with A Most Violent Year. To make matters worse (from my blood-thirsty point of view), our noble hero, whose ability to stare into the camera in fierce silence for minutes at a time, looks more Italian than Al Pacino and Robert De Niro combined. Misleading? You bet!

Trying to "do the right thing" is an uphill battle in this setting. And I, for one, didn't go to Goodfellas orGodfather I, II & III expecting to come out of the theater pondering the meaning of good. I blame the trailer for this. It certainly led me (and probably the rest of the viewers) to assume A Most Violent Year would be this year's Mafia flick.

Aside from it's lack of savagery, there were no real villains. No Anthony Hopkins (Silence of the Lambs) or Javier Bardem (No Country for Old Men). The acting was good. I'll give it that much. But I walked away feeling as pissed off as those drivers must have felt when their boss wouldn't allow them to carry guns.

GRADE: D

GOING THE DISTANCE (rated R)

Stars: Drew Barrymore, Justin Long, Christina Applegate, Charlie Day, Jason Sudeikis, Jim Gaffigan

Director: Nanette Burnstein

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Going the distance means doing whatever it takes in order to accomplish your goal--such as when you're in your car and you urgently need to find a restroom--sometimes going miles out of your way as a result of this desperate need. Going The Distance is a romantic comedy about the desperate need of long-distance lovers to be together.

Erin (Drew Barrymore) is an intern with a New York city newspaper. Garrett (Justin Long) works in the record industry. They meet at a bar and subsequently develop a love relationship. (Because everybody knows that a bar is the kind of place where you'll meet that quality person you'll want to spend the rest of your life with!) But Erin is moving back to San Francisco to go to college, leaving Garrett to pine away for her in New York.

The long-distance relationship begins, and when Garrett flies out to the west coast, he meets Erin's sister, Corrine, (Christina Applegate) and her dimwit hubby, Phil, (Jim Gaffigan) neither of whom are especially enamored with him. But love survives, and Erin finds herself back in New York, trying to get it on in Garret's bedroom while his whacked-out roommate is orchestrating the couple's tryst by playing what he considers appropriate theme music through the wall.

But distance eventually puts a strain on any relationship, and things begin to sour when the lovers face the reality that one of them will have to give up his or her life as it is and move to where the other resides.

Going The Distance has lots going for it--including a great supporting cast. Garrett's buddies (Charlie Day and Jason Sudeikis) are creatively foul-mouthed and goofy, and a good share of the laughs in this film come as a result of their antics. On the distaff side, Christina Applegate is refreshingly lewd in her sisterly banter with Erin ( always nice to see an actress you've originally noticed in some inane TV sitcom completely shedding that image and just letting the gutter talk fly). In fact, once or twice I found myself thinking WHOA--did they REALLY say that? The dialogue (crisp, but seldom clean) hits new heights for an R-rated film on the potty-mouth meter.

The pacing of Going The Distance is euphoria inducing, buoyed by a lilting soundtrack that features one of my all-time favorite songs: "Don't Get Me Wrong" by the Pretenders--and, perhaps, the best editing job I've seen. It moves seamlessly from scene to scene with a homogeneous momentum. (Eat, Pray, Love film editor, take note!)

A bit where Garrett goes to one of those spray-on tan places in preparation for his trip to the west coast--fumbling about inside the cubicle, holding onto his privates, (for some odd reason...why shouldn't they be tan too?) and getting sprayed in the eye, induces a laugh-and shake-your-head-at-the-same-time reaction. An awkward attempt at long-distance phone sex is silly-- but funny/silly--compounding the sense of frustration the lovers feel about their predicament.

Romantic comedy equals formulaic plot, but I was enjoying this movie to the point of where I didn't think much about making any big deductions for that.

GRADE: B +

WHEN IN ROME (PG-13)

STARS: Kristen Bell, Josh Duhamel

DIRECTOR: Mark Steven Johnson

Ah, the ambience of Rome. The fountains, the statues, the ruins, the pigeons, the pigeon poop...WAIT A MINUTE! Why does a movie called When In Rome take place primarily in New York City? In fact, the actual scenes of Rome are few and far between--just like the laughs in this dreadful, made for nothing but profit disappointment.

Geez, I really need to start being more selective.

Kristen Bell is Beth, curator at the Guggenheim museum in New York. She travels to Italy to attend her sister's wedding. Sis is getting hitched to this Italian guy she's known all of two weeks. (Those Mediterranean dudes ARE persuasive!) Still reeling from a failed relationship, Beth gets drunk and totters into the Fountain of Love, where she lifts five coins that were tossed there by hopeless romantics looking for amore. But legend has it that if you take someone's coin, that person will fall head over heels for you.

Thus begins an odyssey where these four weirdos, who've become magically smitten, stalk Beth back to New York. What transpires there is supposed to be funny, bit it's not. The fifth coin apparently belongs to sportswriter Nick, (Josh Duhamel) best man at the wedding, where he and Beth have a mild flirtation. But then, Beth sees him with this Italian babe...

Cut to the chase. Will Nick and Beth get on the same page long enough to end up in connubial bliss? Or will the four weirdos who are pursuing her around New York (Danny DeVito-- as a sausage magnate--is one of them) become such a distraction that our romantic leads fall short of the runway? (Or in this case, the bed.)

In my opinion, neither Kristen Bell nor Josh Duhamel have the charisma to carry a film--even one that falls flat on its face in the middle of a fountain where naked cherubs are piddling on it. Watching When In Rome has made me so disgusted about what some people are willing to do just to make a profit, I'm vowing not to watch another formulaic romantic comedy this year... unless, of course, Zooey Deschanel is in it.

GRADE : F