(3) "Three Identical Strangers." Everyone loves this, so it's not news to say it's one of the best movies of the summer.
What may count as news: This movie has *craft* ...You might not notice it the first time you watch. The two surviving brothers are splendid narrators. They are relaxed, and they know they have a good story to tell; there's something splendidly *unforced* about their narration. So many details linger, and linger, in your memory: The moment Madonna recruits the three for a cameo in "Desperately Seeking Susan," the moment the cop pulls over one speeding brother and learns of the I-have-a-secret-twin discovery, the shadowy cabal drinking champagne in secret in Manhattan, the way the neighbor asks for family permission before confirming that the unwell brother has shot himself...Unforgettable.
You don't have a story without a transgression. A plot takes shape when one character has a covert manipulative interest in another character; if Emma Woodhouse did not attempt to do some mischievous, under-the-table matchmaking, then we wouldn't have "Emma." "Three Identical Strangers" is a rare real-world case where there actually is an elaborate conspiracy, and the victims are able to piece together many parts of the mystery before the credits roll. (So satisfying, and so infuriating.) Contrast this story with "The Staircase"--another real-world scenario where there clearly is a transgression, where someone isn't being fully honest with others. (At the very least, the transgression is Michael Peterson's hidden bisexuality.) "The Staircase" doesn't have the oomph that "Identical Strangers" has, because "Staircase" can't provide many answers. It simply raises a million questions, and we don't get a fun Agatha Christie "unveiling" moment.
One last thing to love in "Identical Strangers": the subtext between the two surviving brothers. Blink, and you'll miss it. We know that the deterioration of the business and the big suicide have been a kind of death knell for the love between the two remaining brothers. (And how could things be otherwise?) So, toward the end, when the two brothers reunite in front of the camera, it's quite moving. "Good to see you," says the more gregarious brother. The quieter one does a small nervous laugh. That tension and that depth of the feeling is, to me, one of the more haunting moments caught on camera this summer. It suggests a world of sorrow we can only begin to guess at. Priceless.
(2) Ali Wong, "Hard Knock Wife." I have to admit I'm hesitant to watch "Nanette": That this-is-the-death-of-comedy somberness really irritates me. (I know, I should see the show before I attempt to take it down.)
By contrast, it's clear that Ali Wong is brilliant, and one of several ways she shows this is by "unpacking" many common and infuriating questions: "How do you maintain a work/life balance?" ("This is a question never asked of men, and the answer is that I don't. I pay someone to raise my kid.") "Do you worry what your mother thinks of the show?" ("My sister is an unemployed lesbian, so my mom thinks I hung the moon.") "Is your husband threatened by your success?" ("My husband is very much enjoying being the kept woman.")
The other story I'll remember: Ms. Wong, irritated by her fame, goes off to buy a used bike helmet from a Craig's List vendor. She haggles: "I will pay ten dollars." The vendor: "I'm a penniless undergraduate. Pay more. Aren't you Ali Wong?" The inevitable--the only--response: "How dare you lump all Asians together. We don't all look alike! Also, I can't speak English. Take the ten dollars!"
(1) "First Reformed." If you missed this bizarre and disturbing film, you must immediately rectify the situation. Basically, Ethan Hawke works as a minister at a tourist church; it's there simply because it's of historical interest; Hawke's main job is to sell tee shirts and mugs. But he believes he has a vocation.
Hawke goes on a journey. Or, rather: A stranger comes to town. This guy doesn't want his wife to give birth, because how can we bring new life into the world when we're spinning toward the apocalypse? When polar bears won't be around much longer, and Manhattan is destined to get swallowed (pretty quickly!) by the ocean?
Hawke listens to this man, and it's clear he is unnerved. It's clear a part of him believes that the stranger has a point. But he can't really say that. "What hubris," he says, "to imagine that you know God's plan. Where is your hope? You have to have hope with despair. The two things can exist together."
Yeah, right. The guy ends up killing himself. Hawke is despondent. He begins to fall in love with the guy's widow, but also, he can't stop thinking about the destruction of the planet, and the cynicism built into his own church (cynicism represented powerfully, and weirdly, by Cedric the Entertainer).
Things build to a "Taxi Driver"-ish finish (and, yes, the director also wrote "Taxi Driver"). We have had great, queasy fun watching Ethan Hawke unravel, and the final question is: "Will he bomb his own congregation? Will he simply drink Drano, and die, and leave it at that? Will he see the light and embrace the widow, and live a simple, productive life, maybe even one with children?" There's a great deal of glorious, ballsy melodrama, and you leave feeling as if you've seen something you hadn't seen before. And, also: You're briefly humbled and awed, once more, to be alive on the planet.
Is that overstating my case? Guilty as charged. These are my three "movies of the summer."
What may count as news: This movie has *craft* ...You might not notice it the first time you watch. The two surviving brothers are splendid narrators. They are relaxed, and they know they have a good story to tell; there's something splendidly *unforced* about their narration. So many details linger, and linger, in your memory: The moment Madonna recruits the three for a cameo in "Desperately Seeking Susan," the moment the cop pulls over one speeding brother and learns of the I-have-a-secret-twin discovery, the shadowy cabal drinking champagne in secret in Manhattan, the way the neighbor asks for family permission before confirming that the unwell brother has shot himself...Unforgettable.
You don't have a story without a transgression. A plot takes shape when one character has a covert manipulative interest in another character; if Emma Woodhouse did not attempt to do some mischievous, under-the-table matchmaking, then we wouldn't have "Emma." "Three Identical Strangers" is a rare real-world case where there actually is an elaborate conspiracy, and the victims are able to piece together many parts of the mystery before the credits roll. (So satisfying, and so infuriating.) Contrast this story with "The Staircase"--another real-world scenario where there clearly is a transgression, where someone isn't being fully honest with others. (At the very least, the transgression is Michael Peterson's hidden bisexuality.) "The Staircase" doesn't have the oomph that "Identical Strangers" has, because "Staircase" can't provide many answers. It simply raises a million questions, and we don't get a fun Agatha Christie "unveiling" moment.
One last thing to love in "Identical Strangers": the subtext between the two surviving brothers. Blink, and you'll miss it. We know that the deterioration of the business and the big suicide have been a kind of death knell for the love between the two remaining brothers. (And how could things be otherwise?) So, toward the end, when the two brothers reunite in front of the camera, it's quite moving. "Good to see you," says the more gregarious brother. The quieter one does a small nervous laugh. That tension and that depth of the feeling is, to me, one of the more haunting moments caught on camera this summer. It suggests a world of sorrow we can only begin to guess at. Priceless.
(2) Ali Wong, "Hard Knock Wife." I have to admit I'm hesitant to watch "Nanette": That this-is-the-death-of-comedy somberness really irritates me. (I know, I should see the show before I attempt to take it down.)
By contrast, it's clear that Ali Wong is brilliant, and one of several ways she shows this is by "unpacking" many common and infuriating questions: "How do you maintain a work/life balance?" ("This is a question never asked of men, and the answer is that I don't. I pay someone to raise my kid.") "Do you worry what your mother thinks of the show?" ("My sister is an unemployed lesbian, so my mom thinks I hung the moon.") "Is your husband threatened by your success?" ("My husband is very much enjoying being the kept woman.")
The other story I'll remember: Ms. Wong, irritated by her fame, goes off to buy a used bike helmet from a Craig's List vendor. She haggles: "I will pay ten dollars." The vendor: "I'm a penniless undergraduate. Pay more. Aren't you Ali Wong?" The inevitable--the only--response: "How dare you lump all Asians together. We don't all look alike! Also, I can't speak English. Take the ten dollars!"
(1) "First Reformed." If you missed this bizarre and disturbing film, you must immediately rectify the situation. Basically, Ethan Hawke works as a minister at a tourist church; it's there simply because it's of historical interest; Hawke's main job is to sell tee shirts and mugs. But he believes he has a vocation.
Hawke goes on a journey. Or, rather: A stranger comes to town. This guy doesn't want his wife to give birth, because how can we bring new life into the world when we're spinning toward the apocalypse? When polar bears won't be around much longer, and Manhattan is destined to get swallowed (pretty quickly!) by the ocean?
Hawke listens to this man, and it's clear he is unnerved. It's clear a part of him believes that the stranger has a point. But he can't really say that. "What hubris," he says, "to imagine that you know God's plan. Where is your hope? You have to have hope with despair. The two things can exist together."
Yeah, right. The guy ends up killing himself. Hawke is despondent. He begins to fall in love with the guy's widow, but also, he can't stop thinking about the destruction of the planet, and the cynicism built into his own church (cynicism represented powerfully, and weirdly, by Cedric the Entertainer).
Things build to a "Taxi Driver"-ish finish (and, yes, the director also wrote "Taxi Driver"). We have had great, queasy fun watching Ethan Hawke unravel, and the final question is: "Will he bomb his own congregation? Will he simply drink Drano, and die, and leave it at that? Will he see the light and embrace the widow, and live a simple, productive life, maybe even one with children?" There's a great deal of glorious, ballsy melodrama, and you leave feeling as if you've seen something you hadn't seen before. And, also: You're briefly humbled and awed, once more, to be alive on the planet.
Is that overstating my case? Guilty as charged. These are my three "movies of the summer."
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