chrstphrtully Reviews

Triangle of Sadness (2022)

Ham-Handed and Derivative Attempt at Class Satire

[3/10 · 19 February 2023]

In a brilliant class struggle satire, a group of extremely wealthy guests arrive at a party, and then are unable to leave, resulting in the group regressing to a primordial savage mob in an increasingly desperate desire to survive. In another such satire, a group of the uber-wealthy repeatedly arrive at a dinner party, and are repeatedly unable to sit down to eat due to a number of increasingly implausible disturbances. In both pictures, the petty vicissitudes of the rich are skewered both with the outrageous and subtle to a masterful effect. Those films are Luis Bunuel's 1962 masterpiece "The Exterminating Angel" and his equally biting 1972 film "The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie." They are films made with wit, style, and a sharp eye for the material. "Triangle of Sadness" is none of these things.

In "Triangle," a group of the super-wealthy (along with two poseur wannabes) take a luxury cruise on a mega-yacht, where the class (and, frankly, racial) lines are clearly defined from the outset, where their every whim is catered to by the plebeian below-deck staff. A night of rough seas and an attack by pirates then upsets the entire social construct, resulting in an Act III in which the survivors of the prior night's events wind up on a deserted island, and are forced to rely upon the wiles of one of the below-deck crew (the Filipino toilet manager, just in case anyone missed the point) to survive, inverting the entire social balance.

The problem with Ruben Ostlund's "Triangle" is that he wants to be Bunuel, but his scriptwriting and directing skills in this film lack any subtlety whatsoever. He forgets that in order for real satire to land, you need to have characters you can identify (either from parts of oneself or of those one knows), rather than simple stick figures, and situations that don't simply double down on one another in succession. For example, in one scene, one of the passengers insists that one of the above-deck crew must go swimming - when the crew member does so, and is taken to task by her supervisor, the passenger then insists that every member of the crew must use the water slide and swim in the ocean, bringing things to a standstill. Östlund doesn't spare the audience one second of this display, and then tops it off with the ensuing scene in which the yacht is tossed by torrid waves, resulting in more projectile vomiting than in the Mr. Creosote scene in "Monty Python's Meaning of Life."

As a result, for the first NINETY MINUTES of the movie, we wind up with no relatable or even identifiable characters beyond mere stereotypes, and even in the last hour on the island (far and away the best part of the film), the only character who's given any chance to show herself is the surviving crew member, Abigail (well-played by Filipino actress Dolly DeLeon). Of the remaining cast, the only ones that really make any kind of impression are Zlatko Buric as a Russian oligarch who at least has something of an unbridled acceptance of any kind of conduct (regardless how depraved) - he actually has the closest to a Bunuelian moment, mourning the dead body of his wife washed up on shore, while making sure to remove and stow away her valuable jewelry - and Iris Berben as an incapacitated German woman whose lost her husband during the voyage.

All of which really is a shame, because the subject of tone deafness to real-life class and social differences is one that could use a lot more effective examination in the cinema, and the cast is a good one that deserves a lot better. That the Academy recognized this in its Best Picture, Best Original Screenplay and Best Director nominations - and that this film actually won the Palme D'Or at Cannes - is kind of depressing. Here's to hoping that there's another filmmaker out there like Bunuel who wants to take the subject matter on.

Glass Onion (2022)

Wickedly Funny Sequel, With Dynamite Work from the Cast

[9/10 · 11 February 2023]

Rian Johnson's "Glass Onion" makes a marvelous sequel to 2019's "Knives Out," with a knockout cast (special kudos to Daniel Craig, Janelle Monae, and Edward Norton), and a loving tribute to the Agatha Christie tradition, as well as to the wickedly clever 1973 "The Last of Sheila." While the mystery itself is easier than one might think to solve (I managed to figure out the killers in both this and Knives Out long before the climax), that's not really the point. Instead, what you get is a very funny satire of the whodunit form, accentuated by some well-deserved swipe at megalomaniac tech sector geniuses and social media influencers - in other words, Agatha Christie or Ellery Queen for this century.

Billionaire tech genius Miles Bron (Norton) invites five of his longstanding pack of "disrupters" and their companions - scientist Lionel (Leslie Odom, Jr.), dimwitted former glam model and now fashion designer Birdie Jay (Kate Hudson) and her devoted assistant Peg (Jessica Henwick), seeming environmentalist governor Claire (Kathryn Hahn), uber macho, misogynistic influencer Duke (Dave Bautista) and his girlfriend Whiskey (Madelyn Cline), and former partner Andi (Monae) - to his elaborately designed island complex in Greece to take part in a murder-mystery game, with him as the victim. Also invited along is private detective Benoit Blanc (Craig). While Miles' game doesn't go as initially planned, a real murder actually occurs, and nothing seems to go as it appears, and Blanc takes it upon himself to solve the real mystery at hand.

Johnson ably demonstrated his love and attention to the whodunit format in Knives Out, and this time he doubles down on the format, while effectively taking the opportunity to take effective shots at the current "hits and appearance are everything substance is nothing" tone of current popular culture. Indeed, what makes the latter so effective is that Johnson uses that as a means of clueing in the audience that not everything may be as the audience would want to make it - the whole metaphor of the Glass Onion itself (explained by Blanc early in the story) is a wonderful use of the concept of doubling back on one's own story. In addition to the Agatha Christie whodunit formula, Johnson effectively borrows from the highly underrated 1973 whodunit film The Last of Sheila, not only borrowing key elements from the story, but also featuring in a cameo one of the two Last of Sheila scriptwriters, legendary Broadway composer Stephen Sondheim (the other scriptwriter for the 1973 film was Anthony Perkins). Johnson's script is nicely tuned, eerily capturing the combination of clickbait- and corporate buzzword-speak in the speech of everyone except Craig and Monae, and using that language as an effective offset to the more logical language that takes over when actual danger arises.

The performances here are also spot-on. Craig again brings a wonderful insouciance to Blanc, while Monae is incredibly impressive (and may well have been shafted out of a Best Supporting Actress nomination). Norton is a hoot as a Steve Jobs-Elon Musk-Jeff Bezos amalgam, and the remaining players are all strong in their roles. And in his direction, Johnson has a really nice eye for framing key moments of the action, playing like a master magician so as to keep everything in plain sight, while relentlessly misdirecting the audience. This is a directorial skill rarely seen in mysteries, and which would probably impress even Agatha Christie herself.

In sum, Glass Onion is definitely a treat to watch, and a mystery that may be easier to solve than you think - or is it?

All Quiet on the Western Front (2022)

Technically Strong and Well Acted, But Narratively Botched

[4/10 · 28 January 2023]

Edward Berger's adaptation of Erich Maria Remarque's classic novel is a perfect example of a director with clear technical skill and resources, a good cast of actors, and a Cliff's Notes approach to the source material. The result is a film that provides plenty of visual and sonic evidence of the horror of war, but strips away much of what made the source material special, like depicting the camaraderie of soldiers on the front lines, in favor of inserting irrelevant collateral material. As such, while this film should definitely be an Oscar contender for technical awards, it really has no place in the Best Picture (and, perhaps, not even the Best Foreign Language Picture) nominations.

First, on the good side of the film, the visuals and the sound are excellent, rivaling Sam Mendes' 1917 on that score, and giving the viewer a real sense of the shock and horror of massive artillery barrages and futile frontal infantry assaults. On this score, Markus Steiner's sound design and James Friend's cinematography and the visual effects are strong contenders for the Oscar. Likewise, the performances of Felix Kammerer as Paul and (especially) Albrecht Schuch as Kat are excellent, especially given the fact that the script removes much of the best character material from them and the rest of their comrades. Indeed, for the first half of the picture, it seems as though this is going to be an adaptation to rival its 1930 and 1979 brethren - that's when it goes wrong.

Much of the problem comes from the fact that the character material at the heart of the book (and the earlier adaptations) has been taken out, giving us no means by which to differentiate the characters at the point in which their fates really start to be jeopardized. Instead, behind the scenes material involving the "negotiations" between the Germans and the French and British (which still feature good, but irrelevant, performances from Daniel Brühl and Thibault de Montalembert, as German Minister Matthias Erzberger and French Field Marshal Foch, respectively), as well as the machinations of a fictional German General who wants nothing more than for the war to continue, regardless of the cost. The purpose of this bait and switch isn't really clear, as it adds absolutely nothing to the film.

The other problem comes with the ending, where in the last push, Paul's last moments come with a mano-on-mano battle with various French soldiers in the trenches, only for him to be stabbed from behind by a hidden French soldier. Rather than a poignant statement on the futility of what soldiers are being asked to die for, it plays more like an effort to gin up the excitement; whatever excitement it might gin up in others (it played more as laughable for me), it obscures what makes the source material and its imagery so powerful. Moreover, I doubt that Berger intended it this way, but the image of Paul being "stabbed in the back" at the proverbial end of the war sends a potentially disturbing - and odious - message for anyone familiar with the inter-war history of Germany.

Directorial vision and license is a critical part of any film, to be sure. Unfortunately, to the extent any directorial vision is apparent in this adaptation, it either comes off as utterly muddled or works directly contrary to the themes and intent of its source material. That's a shame, since this is clearly the most technically accomplished adaptation of Remarque's work to date.

RATING: 4 stars out of 10.

The Twilight Zone: Deaths-Head Revisited (1961) Season 3, Episode 9

Didactic and Broad, but Brilliantly Delivered Television

[9/10 · 9 July 2022]

Rod Serling was a deeply passionate writer, particularly about subjects like prejudice, racism, hatred and injustice that struck a personal chord. Sometimes, this could lead to overly purple or didactic monologues from the characters in his Twilight Zone scripts, usually for the worse. But in "Death's-Head Revisited", such didacticism and eloquence hits the mark in one of the most powerful shows the series aired, thanks to Serling, stars Oscar Beregi and Joseph Schildkraut, and phenomenal direction and editing.

Mysterious tourist Mr. Schmidt (Beregi) arrives in the Bavarian village of Dachau, ostensibly for the purpose of visiting the concentration camp that had been locate there; in fact, "Schmidt" is former SS officer Gunther Lutze, returned to bask in the nostalgia of his prior monstrosities. After vicariously reveling in his memories of torture and murder, he is confronted by Becker (Schildkraut), a former inmate of the camp, who has a very different agenda.

Holocaust-themed stories are always sensitive, as they can never really convey the true horror and depravity of what occurred in the camps of Nazi Germany, and always run the risk of trivializing or deflecting from the enormity of what occurred during that time. What makes "Death's-Head Revisited" work so effectively is that for the first half of the story, it gives us Beregi as a guide to follow, so that we can really get a sense of the character's inhumane tendencies, while still rooting those tendencies in the cruelty that are (sadly) all to familiar to all of us. In this, Beregi is superb, conveying every inch of the "black-uniformed, strutting animal whose function in life was to give pain," using his bulky body and authoritative voice to marvelous effect. By the end of these scenes, the feeling of revulsion at the character is obviated only by his familiarity.

It's at this point that Schildkraut appears on the scene, and with his own reserved, sad and soulful voice speaks for those who suffered at the hands of the Nazis. His voice never rises, and only rarely hits the level of force put forward by Beregi, for a simple reason - he doesn't need to; whereas Lutze's bluster is a mask for the petty hatred and insecurity that drove the Third Reich, Becker's low-key and soulful delivery allows the gravity of his description to sink in. It's one of those few times where the more didactic language from Serling is an asset, rather than a detriment.

The story is further aided by superb direction from Don Medford and Bill Musher's editing, epitomized by the transitions from Lutze's efforts to free himself from the trial and punishment to come to the futile outcomes of those efforts. These make for exciting visual moments, and enhance the sense of otherworldly justice awaiting Lutze.

In sum, the subject matter, and the remarkably effective treatment of it from Serling, Medford, Mosher, Beregi and Schildkraut, make for one of the most chillingly effective episodes of the series.

The Twilight Zone: The Changing of the Guard (1962) Season 3, Episode 37

Simple, Beautifully Understated Episode With a Magnificent Lead Performance

[9/10 · 28 April 2022]

The comparisons between this episode and James Hilton's "Goodbye Mr. Chips" (both as a novel and as a film) are inevitable, but such comparisons do absolutely nothing to diminish the subtle beauty of this Rod Serling script, nor of the power of Donald Pleasence's lead performance. When boarding school teacher Ellis Fowler (Pleasence) is informed that, after a half-century of service that he is to be forced into retirement, he begins to question the legacy he's left, sinking to the point of a suicide attempt. What follows is no doubt sentimental, perhaps even a hair's breadth shy of mawkish, but it's undeniably powerful nonetheless.

The primary reason for the power of this episode is Pleasence's bravura performance. Although only 42 at the time the episode was shot, Pleasence (with the help of very good aging makeup from master William Tuttle) convincingly plays a man at least 35 years old, with his naturally dulcet and halting delivery selling the age difference. More importantly though, in small (almost indiscernible) moments, Pleasence sells the key elements of his character -- his love of the power of poetry, his devotion to his work, and his genuine love of and devotion to his students. Three key scenes drive this home before the climax -- his opening scene delivering A. E. Houseman's "A Shropshire Lad" to his students, completely from memory, but without falling into rote recitation; his end-of-the-semester speech to the boys, in which he jokingly berates them, while at the same time clearly unable to conceal his genuine affection; and his reaction to the news of his termination, subtly conveying the devastating gut punch such news implies without descending into what must have been tempting territory for overacting. By the time Pleasence delivers his brutal monologue to his housekeeper, he's effectively laid the character groundwork that renders the cold (though mistaken) realizations he expresses about the worth of his life and his work all the more devastating. Once Pleasence has laid that groundwork, the supernatural and sentimental elements that ensue are far easier to surrender to.

In this, Serling's script is commendable, in that he doesn't overplay his hand by creating villains where none are needed, and he refrains from unnecessarily stentorian speechmaking -- indeed, to the extent that Pleasence uses florid language, this is entirely consistent with his character, a man with a love of classical teaching, regardless of whether such teaching is still fashionable. Likewise, David Ellis Miller's direction is subdued, as he knows this is a character piece, not fodder for complex directorial touches -- just knowing when to zoom into Pleasence's face or to capture some element of his body language is enough to effectively drive home the point.

But in the end, this is Pleasence's turn. An actor who is known to most Americans for his work in the original "Halloween" series and a lot of schlock work afterwards, he was also an excellent stage actor who could also deliver subtle, moving, and wonderfully eccentric film and television performances when the material allowed -- examples include his quirky work in Roman Polanski's "Cul-de-Sac", his doomed but charming forger in "The Great Escape", or his wonderful turn in the Columbo episode "Any Port in a Storm," as a perfectionist vintner driven to murder. "The Changing of the Guard" is yet another example of such subtle and moving performance, one comparable with the exquisite (and Oscar-winning) Robert Donat rendition of a similar role in "Goodbye Mr. Chips." If one is to be compared to a classic, you can't do better than that.

The Twilight Zone: The Comedian (2019) Season 1, Episode 1

Intriguing Idea with a Nicely Drawn Lead

[8/10 · 3 April 2019]

Having read some of the reviews here, I think I know what many were looking for - namely, shorter vignettes with straightforward morality tales. While that is fair enough if one wants a sort of carbon copy of the classic series episodes, this doesn't appear to be what Jordan Peele is going for here and, in my view, that's all for the better. The mid-80s reboot of the series tried that model, and (while certainly not embarrassing) most of the episodes of that series pale in comparison to the original. Instead, if "The Comedian" is any guide, this version of the series appears to be going for a more thoughtful and fleshed out approach.

Kumail Nunjiani is quite good in the lead as Samir, a floundering comedian, who at the outset is clearly more interested in making political points than entertaining people, but still can't figure out why people don't laugh at his act. At the bar of the club he works, he meets a long-unseen comedy legend (Tracey Morgan), who gives him the advice to make his act more personal, since an audience isn't going to be interested in you unless you give them a part of yourself. He cautions Samir that once you give the audience that, it's lost forever. Samir takes the advice, and starts to climb the ladder of success, only to start losing parts of his life, literally.

While conceivably this could work as a 30 minute episode, the decision to flesh it out to 55 minutes is a sound one here, because the scriptwriter (Alex Rubens), the cast, and the director (Owen Harris) are more interested in the impact of this strange situation on Samir than just resting on the gimmick alone. Although some reviewers have called this episode predictable, I humbly beg to differ - we know that Samir will be able to make people disappear by using them in his act, but the real interest lies in the unintended consequences of his use of this power, and the genuine suspense as to how far he'll go. This is where the depth of the character relationships come into play, and Rubens' thoughtful script doesn't make the mistake of creating or exploiting only one or two relationships. As a result, we have a fuller (and more believable) picture of who is important to Samir, who's not, who he's willing to erase, and who he's not; but all with enough subtlety to lend some real suspense as the episode proceeds. Indeed, one of the most interesting parts of the episode is watching Samir progress from someone truly terrified by this power, to one more and more willing to use it - first for seemingly good ends, later for not so obviously good ones

The direction is effective, keeping us off kilter with some fine camera work and visual choices, as well as some wonderful in-jokes (e.g., the names in Samir's contact list and internet research, the figure of Willie from the episode "The Dummy", and the final shot's nod to "The Shining"). The performances are excellent, with praise owing to Nunjiani and Amara Karan, who as Samir's girlfriend serves as a good reference point for the progression in Nunjiani's character, and create together a relationship that is believable at each progression, as well as to Morgan, who is wonderfully sinister in his two scene role.

If you're simply interested in a show with a compact story leading to a knockout twist (e,g,, "To Serve Man", an episode many love, but I think is a one-joke affair), you'll be disappointed with "The Comedian." If your taste leans more toward character driven episodes of the original series ("In Praise of Pip" and "Mr. Denton on Doomsday" come to mind here), "The Comedian" won't disappoint. Needless to say, I thinK Rod Serling would have been quite happy with it.

Vice (I) (2018)

Fascinating Premise Undone by Inconsistent Script and Direction

[5/10 · 31 January 2019]

Adam McKay's "Vice is one of those films that, at times, left me in thrall to many of its artistic elements, while nonetheless leaving me frustrated -- and, frankly, bored -- at the whole. Certain of these artistic elements -- Patrice Vermette's production design, Susan Matheson's costuming, and the makeup design (done by numerous talented hands) -- are superb throughout the film, setting the framework for what could be a compelling chronicle of the rise to power of former Vice President Dick Cheney. Unfortunately, many of the remaining elements are wildly inconsistent, transforming what should have been a powerful examination of a Machiavellian rise to power into a scattershot and confusing polemic that badly misses its target.

The film's structure is episodic, but linear, with the first half tracking Cheney's life from 1963 (as a directionless young man steered by his driven wife), through his days as an acolyte to then-Congressman Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carell), up through the ladders of power in the Nixon and Ford White Houses, on to a decade as a Wyoming congressman, and culminating in his tenure as Secretary of Defense in the first Bush Administration, overseeing the First Gulf War. The second half tracks his rise to the Vice Presidency and eventual domination of the second Bush Administration, through 9/11, the war on terror, and the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.

While the journey through the first half of the film contains some interesting elements, nothing really grabs hold of the viewer because of the herky-jerky nature of the episodic story telling, and McKay's annoying habit of interrupting what story flow there is with would-be clever asides. These types of asides and episodic storytelling were used to good effect in McKay's "The Big Short", where they were essential to understanding the scope and details of the mortgage and financial crises of the prior decade -- in "The Big Short", they acted a lot like footnotes or comment balloons in explaining matters unfamiliar to those who don't read the Wall Street Journal or Forbes; in "Vice", these techniques fall flat, largely for two reasons. First, because the concepts underlying "Vice" are much easier for a layman to grasp, weaving them more directly into the story would be far less problematic than disrupting the flow with asides -- indeed, this same logic explains why the inclusion of Jesse Plemons as a third-party narrator is a seriously misguided and confusing directorial choice. Second, many of the underlying episodes are dealt with in such a perfunctory, check-the-boxes fashion, that they don't really provide us with anything more than a reference point for later in the film; in "The Big Short", the asides helped to deepen the viewer's understanding of what came next, while in "Vice", they simply provide us with a point of repetition, without any real understanding of the events or impacts on the characters that follow. This jokey approach to the material culminates in a phony credits sequence halfway through the film that is both unfunny and unnecessary.

Although the second half of the film is equally episodic, it works somewhat better than the first half, as it covers Cheney's tenure as Vice President and devotes more time and thought to the various episodes. Some of these sequences are particularly interesting, including the set of episodes leading to Colin Powell's decisive speech before the U.N. justifying the invasion of Iraq (with fine supporting work from Tyler Perry as Powell and LisaGay Hamilton as Condoleezza Rice). Even in these later sequences, however, McKay's weakness for cheap jokes and overstatement gets the better of him. For example, the "restaurant sequence," in which Alfred Molina does a cameo of a waiter serving Cheney, Rumsfeld and other neocons recites the "specials" (i.e., various types of torture and euphemisms for it) is clearly intended as biting satire on the callousness of the architects of the war on terror, but plays instead like an ill-conceived Monty Python skit. Likewise, McKay's lack of subtlety betrays itself with the film's representation of George W. Bush's (Sam Rockwell) speech to the nation announcing the commencement of the Iraq War: rather than subtly emphasize Bush's nervousness/fear by keeping him in full frame from the side (showing both the resolute upper half of his body and his shaking leg), McKay chooses to zoom in on the leg for what seems like forever, and then cuts to an identical mannerism from the father of a terrified Iraqi family undergoing bombardment. This plays more like a bad comic nudging us in the ribs to emphasize a punchline, rather than an experienced director confident in his message.

This lack of subtlety and character depth in McKay's script also undermines what is clearly some very hard work by some of the most talented actors working today. Christian Bale's method acting in this role has been well-publicized, and it's clear he's pulling from some pretty deep reservoirs in playing this role, but that's the problem -- because McKay's script doesn't give the character much dimension, I was never quite able to pull back from the idea that I was watching an actor "acting", rather than seeing a character unfold on screen. Likewise, Amy Adams' Lynne Cheney is laser-focused, but McKay doesn't give her anything else to do, having written her as a one-note Lady Macbeth (without any of the subconscious self-awareness). Their relationship together is equally one-dimensional -- fueled by a lust for power and little else -- and gives us nothing resembling any growth or change in the characters over the course of the film. Likewise, the relationship between the Cheney parents and their daughters (particularly as it relates to Mary Cheney's (Allison Pill) sexuality) feels like little more than another box to be checked off for later reference. Pill and Lily Rabe are fine given the what they are given to do, which is unfortunately not a lot. Nor is Sam Rockwell -- last year's Best Supporting Actor for his superb work in "Three Billboards..." -- given much to work with; he doesn't play George W. as a complete imbecile, but he's drawn so passively as to make the character instantly forgettable. Indeed, one has to wonder how much more interesting it might have been to continue the story so as to play up the tensions of the later Bush administration, when W. began to free himself from Cheney's grip, as it would have added a new dimension to both characters. The best performance in the film comes from Carell, doing Rumsfeld justice as a man who thinks he is building Cheney up in his own cynical image, only to find himself betrayed, eclipsed, and disgraced by Cheney in the end: while Bale and Adams do a weird Shakespearean (or pseudo-Shakespearean) reading in one scene, Carell's Rumsfeld actually gets to play the tragic Shakespearean role.

As noted earlier, "Vice" has a good deal going for it in some of its artistic elements and some of its performances to recommend, but the ambitious take that McKay takes on the material is fatally undermined by his own wildly inconsistent screenplay and direction, and in turn takes down some very talented actors with him.

Darkroom: Make-Up (1981) Season 1, Episode 8

One of the Best of the Series

[9/10 · 4 January 2019]

Down-and-out schnook Paddy (Crystal) is trying to start a new life with his girlfriend (Allen), but is frustrated in attempting to raise money for this cause by sleazy mobster Dennehy. While pawning his belongings to raise money, he meets the widow of a deceased actor, who is trying to pawn his old makeup case which (according to the widow) enabled the late actor to literally become the part he was playing. Feeling sorry for the woman, Paddy buys the case with the money he just got pawning his own stuff, and realizes that the widow's story may have had more to it than he imagined...

Along with "Uncle George", "Closed Circuit", and "Who's There?", "Make Up" rounds out the best four segments of "Darkroom," thanks largely to a wonderfully clever script from Bloom, and a marvelous lead performance from Crystal, following off his success in "Soap." Bloom's script gets where it's going through a number of clever twists, changing the lead character's identity with just enough delineation to make those plot turns plausible, and keeping us in suspense as to how Paddy will deal with Dennehy's attempts to get even with him.

In this respect, Crystal's performance is critical. For those who only know of him in light comedies or from the Oscars, this performance is a revelation, as he creates three completely separate identities through a combination of slight changes in gesture, body carriage, voice and facial expression, all of which is crucial to make the plot work. Crystal also get some nice support from Dennehy as a man who does not take kindly to defeat at the poker table, and 1940s film star Hasso as the widow.

A marvelous little episode with a very satisfying ending, one that would fit in well with some of the best of the "The Twilight Zone" or "Alfred Hitchcock Presents."

Darkroom: A Quiet Funeral (1981) Season 1, Episode 7

Tight, Well-Scripted Episode

[7/10 · 4 January 2019]

After his former partner Charlie (Roche) makes a major counterfeiting score, two-bit hood Marty (Lyons) double-crosses him, stealing the money and leaving him to die. After fleeing to Vegas with his girlfriend, Marty sees Charlie's obituary, and decides to show respect by appearing at the wake, with unintended consequences.

Although this story is the product of four different (though each very good) writers, the script here is surprising coherent and clever, very much in the mode of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" or "Tales of the Unexpected." As the little schnook who gets exactly what he deserves, Lyons is wonderfully slimy in the part, and he receives some good support from old pros Roche and Caridi. Perhaps not the best of this series, but a pretty darn good contribution.

Darkroom: Exit Line (1982) Season 1, Episode 14

Dumb Plotting Sinks an Interesting Idea

[3/10 · 4 January 2019]

When heartless theater critic Eggar pans the opening performance of novice actor Shaw, he resorts to desperate measures to try and get her to change her review.

I have to say I was deeply disappointed by this episode, given the provenance of the writers. Fischer, Levinson and Link are among the best writers ever to put their work on television, so the logical gaps in the plot and shallow dialog are a major letdown. The most glaring plot problem can be stated this way: what on earth possesses either the Shaw character or his manager (Carter) to think that -- after you've already pretty much shown someone that you are at your wit's end -- breaking into that person's apartment and waving a gun around will somehow end well by convincing them you are a great actor, as opposed to simply threatening their life? Likewise, the ways in which Shaw and Carter (who is supposed to know the business) try and get Eggar to change the review before this are ridiculously ham-handed. None of this is helped by a script that draws everyone one-dimensionally, which in turn condemns the actors to give one-note performances.

All this is really too bad, because the concept has promise (the idea has been used many times in TV series, "Taxi" and "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" come immediately to mind). As it is, "Exit Line" is a very disappointing segment to start the last episode of "Darkroom"; fortunately, the last two segments ("Who's There?" and "The Rarest of Wines") are significantly better.

Darkroom: Who's There? (1982) Season 1, Episode 15

Extremely Clever Script

[8/10 · 4 January 2019]

After his quarrelling upstairs neighbors leave town separately, Steve (Goodeve) hears noises in their apartment. Going up to investigate, he finds the jealous husband Barry (Lembeck) lying in wait for wife Claire (Kay), who Barry believes to have been serially unfaithful. Steve realizes that Barry intends to kill her: can he talk him out of it?

When two-thirds of a cast would list "Eight is Enough" as their most significant credit (Goodeve and Kay), the expectations would not normally be set very high, which is why "Who's There?" is such a welcome surprise. Brian Clemens' script is delightfully clever, and Goodeve is excellent as a man on a proverbial tightrope, trying to keep is seemingly paranoiac friend at bay. Lembeck is equally good, balancing the intensity of his paranoia against what comes off as a genuine love for his seemingly unfaithful wife. Rounding out this triad is a nice performance from Kay who, like Goodeve, keeps her motives sufficiently ambiguous to keep the audience on edge.

Paul Lynch's direction is also quite good, using claustrophobic camera setups and effective use of shadows to heighten the tension in the scene between Steve and Barry, all of which helps to accentuate Clemens' dual plot twist that would do Roald Dahl or Cornell Woolrich proud.

Darkroom: The Rarest of Wines (1982) Season 1, Episode 16

Clever Story -- Well Served

[7/10 · 2 January 2019]

Following the death of their mother, ne'er-do-well son Frederick is dissatisfied that she has left the family house and contents to him, while leaving the family business to his much more responsible sister, Pamela. When Pamela refuses to give him part of the business, Frederick resolves to hurt her by dissipating his share of the estate by selling those things that mean the most to Pamela, until she relents. One purchase he makes to squander the estate -- a case of obscenely expensive wine...

Another example of reliance on the "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" format, "The Rarest of Wines" acquits itself very well, thanks to a fine script by Siegel and very believable performances. On the one hand, Chapman effectively conveys Pamela's internal conflict between her anguish at the squandering of her family's legacy, and the risk she knows her brother presents to the rest of that legacy; on the other, Polic is wonderfully smarmy as the entitled Frederick, who cares nothing for what he has, his family, or anyone else. While the ending might not be the most inventive, the conflict leading up to it is sufficiently compelling that it makes the ending satisfying nonetheless.

This was the last episode of "Darkroom," and while it had some duds, its last two segments make one wish it might have lasted at least a little longer.

Darkroom: Guillotine (1982) Season 1, Episode 13

Strong Presentation of Woolrich's Story

[8/10 · 2 January 2019]

After Paul LaRouche (Bernard) is sentenced to death by guillotine, he learns that, if the executioner dies before the appointed date and time of the execution and there is no time to replace him before that date and time, the condemned man will be pardoned. To that end, LaRouche enlists his lover Babette (d'Arbanville) to ensure that Monsieur de Paris (Constantine) never carries out his duty.

Cornell Woolrich was one of those writers whose material naturally suited shows like "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" and "Thriller," and this story was previously done on "Thriller" with Robert Middleton and Alejandro Rey. Fields' script does the story real justice, fleshing out the de Paris and Babette characters which, in turn, lends more gravity to the story, and making the twist ending more satisfying. The script is also well served by fine work from d'Arbanville and Bernard (who fortunately doesn't try to make his character sympathetic), and a wonderfully nuanced turn from Constantine, contrasting the grisliness of his livelihood with the sadness and emptiness of much of his life. Rosenthal's direction is also strong, building the tension effectively for the most part (though he does drag out the finale just a tad), up to Woolrich's twist ending.

All in all, a strong addition to this (sadly) short-lived series.

Darkroom: Lost in Translation (1982) Season 1, Episode 12

Weak, Predictable Story

[3/10 · 2 January 2019]

Unscrupulous archaeologist Paul Hudson "retrieves" several Egyptian artifacts, including a scroll supposedly containing a spell that gives its caster power over his enemies. To translate the scroll, he bullies graduate assistant Ahmed Zamani, and Hudson plans to use the spell's powers for his own purposes.

Segments like "Lost In Translation" are what make the cancellation of a show like "Darkroom" readily understandable. The central conceit is one that is not exactly novel -- the twist in "The Twilight Zone" episode "To Serve Man" is essentially built on the same conceit -- and while the specific comeuppance Hudson is dealt is slightly different, the path Kasica's and Scheff's script takes is utterly predictable. Prine's one-dimensional performance doesn't help, giving us nothing more than an arrogant, power-hungry fraud, and Zand's performance is the only (marginal) asset. It's a real shame that the writers and producers didn't take the time to put together a more innovative take on this old chestnut.

The Twilight Zone: The Mirror (1961) Season 3, Episode 6

One of the Few That Might Have Worked Better As An Hour Long Show

[4/10 · 31 December 2018]

Castro stand-in Ramos Clemente (Falk) has just led his ramshackle peasant army to overthrow the despotic deCruz (Kuluva), and is celebrating with his four trusted lieutenants. Clemente summons the defeated deCruz before him, who in turn introduces his conqueror to a strange mirror in his office, which had been provided to him by an old woman who claimed that it would enable its owner to see his would-be assassins. Before long, Clemente begins seeing his closest friends as potential assassins.

When The Twilight Zone switched to an hour-long format in its fourth season, one of the common knocks on the show was that many of the scripts seemed padded, as the format of the series was best suited for a two-act, thirty-minute format. "The Mirror" presents the opposite problem - because the format gives Serling only thirty minutes to work with, there is barely enough time for him to introduce the four lieutenants in the most perfunctory fashion (as if to emphasize this point, Clemente introduces each of them to us by the use of a single adjective), have the confrontation between him and deCruz introducing the eponymous mirror (easily the best scene in the episode, thanks to some good work from Kuluva), and to have him work through each of the lieutenants before the invevitable epiphany. The format gives no time for any definition of the characters, their prior relationship with each other or what about Clemente led them to follow him. This not only leads to each of the lieutenants being little else but ciphers, but also leads Clemente to being nothing more than a stick figure, which in turn results in an uneven, overacted performance from Falk; while Falk was as capable of overacting as most actors, here, it's difficult to blame him, as Serling gives him nothing to work with.

This is all kind of a shame, because the concept of the episode is a sound one and by fleshing out the characters, it could have added an extra layer of tragedy and irony to the story - "The Mirror" does pass more than a passing resemblance to the last four acts of "Macbeth - that would have enabled the episode to avoid the charge of being an anti-Castro polemic. As it is, the episode still has a decent twist ending and at least one strong scene, justifying the 4/10 rating, as opposed to a much lower one.

Darkroom: Needlepoint (1981) Season 1, Episode 5

Once Again, a Clunker Follows a Strong Episode

[2/10 · 10 December 2018]

After the strong efforts in the previous two episodes ("The Bogeyman Will Get You" and "Uncle George"), "Darkroom" again comes crashing back to earth with this turkey of an episode, one which covers repeated trod ground and is badly underwritten to boot. In a relatively short vignette, a young man (Hilton-Jacobs), suffering mysterious head pains, comes to see the elderly woman (Rolle) he believes are causing them through voodoo.

To be sure, the voodoo vengeance angle has been done hundreds of times before in practically every sci-fi/horror/thriller show aired on TV. When well-written, this plotline can be extremely effective, but when done badly, can be excruciating (not to mention racist). "Needlepoint" suffers from being badly underwritten -- or at least, the script was so badly carved up as to make it unintelligible -- and unimaginatively played. For example, while the plot summary states that Hilton-Jacobs' character is a pimp who presumably caused the death of Rolle's granddaughter by running her as a prostitute, the script doesn't really provide us much in the way of context for that, telling us only that Hilton-Jacobs was responsible for the death, without more. Likewise, the script gives neither actor anything to work with, leading to an uncharacteristically bad performance from Rolle; to Hilton-Jacobs' credit, he shies far enough away from caricature to at least start to pique my interest as to what actually happened between him and the granddaughter, though the script never gives the viewer enough time or exposition to warrant that interest.

How much of the problem was the original script and how much was the result of machete-like script editing is anybody's guess. Suffice to say that the result is a huge letdown.

Darkroom: The Bogeyman Will Get You (1981) Season 1, Episode 3

Horror Tale, Courtesy of Robert Bloch

[7/10 · 10 December 2018]

After forays into an intriguing paranoia thriller and a middling fantasy, the third "Darkroom" installment plants itself firmly in the realm of monster-horror, and does so reasonably well at that.

While spending the summer with her family in the sticks, monster-movie loving teen Hunt is horrified by the death of one of her friends who -- to Hunt's eyes -- was clearly the victim of a vampire. Although the police and her parents try to disavow her of such concerns, her suspicions are further stoked by her father's mysterious protégé (Powell), whose ambiguous behavior stirs not only unease, but romantic feelings as well.

Produced from a Robert Bloch teleplay, it's a pretty solid bet that the story will rest on the gruesome (be it human, animal, or superhuman). Several factors, however, lift this episode above the standard "monster-of-the-week" that might otherwise be expected. First, Bloch's script is careful to avoid the use of obvious shocks and red herrings, relying instead on the unease (believably) felt by the lead character to set the tone of the piece. Hunt's character is not a stick figure heroine from a slasher film, but instead an intelligent and thoughtful teenager who can't quite feel at ease with Powell's charming, but ambiguous graduate student. John McPherson's direction helps as well, shying away from "gotcha" moments, and instead using mood-inducing lighting and careful shot construction to sustain that ambiguity until the end -- as well as a marvelously semi-silhouetted shot at the end to frame the story twist.

Finally, there are the performances, and Hunt and Powell are very good in the leads. While Powell is intriguingly noncommittal as the ostensible vampire, Hunt is very believable as an intelligent teenager who is nonetheless credulous enough of the supernatural to give her character's quandary some real dramatic heft. The leads are supported nicely by Snyder and Armstrong as Hunt's father and a local lawman, both sympathetic, yet obviously dubious of her suspicions.

As for the ending, it plainly works on its own terms, and provides a solid shock true to Bloch's trademark.

Darkroom: Uncle George (1981) Season 1, Episode 4

Possibly the Best of the Series

[9/10 · 10 December 2018]

"Darkroom" takes a hard-left turn from monster horror to the type of pitch-black comedy that was the stock in trade of shows like "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" and writers like Roald Dahl. The result is what may arguably be the best episode of the series.

Bert and Margo Haskell (Akins and Lockhart) are an upper-middle age couple who care for their elderly Uncle George. Because Bert is unable to work due to his heart, he and Margo are desperately reliant upon Uncle George's monthly pension check to survive; so, when Uncle George finally dies, the two take the extraordinary step of recruiting a skid row bum (Taylor) to impersonate Uncle George to keep the checks coming.

As indicated above, this episode is one of the series' high points, due in no small part to Fischer's ("Columbo", "Murder, She Wrote") superb script. He effectively lays out the desperation of all three characters from the moment we meet them, and creates people who are seemingly willing to offer the other(s) anything in order to get what they need. In doing so, it's never clear to the audience until the last moment exactly which character is going to have the rug pulled out from under them, setting up a knockout ending.

The performers help immensely. On the one hand, Akins and Lockhart come off as so nice and genuine, that it's hard to believe they'd need anything more than for Taylor to simply play a part; on the other, Taylor comes off a so delighted to escape his own desperate circumstances, that he couldn't possibly be after anything else, or could he?

From a directing standpoint, Rosenthal takes the smart course by having the story and the actors do the heavy lifting, and minimizing the directorial flourish. This understated direction helps to sell the shocker ending by letting the simple sight (and sound) of a key prop do all the work -- that is, making the viewer's blood run cold. Both Hitchcock and Dahl would have been proud.

Night Gallery: The Doll of Death (1973) Season 3, Episode 14

Wait, Who Are We Supposed to Root For?

[4/10 · 27 November 2018]

On a plantation in the British West Indies, young Sheila Trent (Strasberg) is liberated from her impending nuptials by her former lover (Rey), humiliating her older, wealthy groom-to-be (Atwater); as a result, he seeks the assistance of the local voodoo priest to take his revenge.

As the series was winding down, the quality of the scripts for Night Gallery wound down as well, often falling back on clichéd plots to fill the thirty-minute running time, and Doll of Death is no exception. What should flow as a tense story of revenge and comeuppance, is hampered badly by two characters (Strasberg and Rey) who we're supposed to sympathize with, but instead read more as studies in muddled motivation (Strasberg) or just plain obnoxious behavior (Rey) - a problem caused predominantly by the weak script, which gives otherwise good actors little or nothing to work with. Indeed, Barry Atwater's more subtle and nuanced character makes him far more sympathetic than the two lovers - while his character is contemptible, we have a real reason to understand why. A shame, really, since the production design is above average for episodes in the third season, and this could've have been a solid episode on which to send off the series. As it is, a muddle, only worth watching for Atwater's interesting work.

Night Gallery: Rare Objects (1972) Season 3, Episode 4

Good Story Marred by a Dragged Out Ending

[6/10 · 27 November 2018]

Although Augie Kolodney (Rooney) is the most powerful gangster in New York, he is also keenly aware of the target on his back from the competition. After dodging the most recent attempt on his life, he becomes desperate to do whatever he can to extend his life. The doctor treating his wounds refers him to the mysterious Dr. Glendon (Massey), who is not only a collector of the eponymous rare objects, but also apparently promises his clients extended life.

"Rare Objects" is a fun story to watch, largely due to a tight Serling script and a nice counterpoint in performance between Rooney's over-the-top energy and Massey's cool elegance. Rooney's performance is anything but subtle, but the script gives him more than enough of a foundation to anchor that energy, giving us a flesh-and-blood character who wants to be larger-than-life, but is grounded by his own fear. On the other hand, Massey is all cool control, with a voice and bearing that never loses its menace, even when he's at his most courtly and accommodating, which gives us little doubt that Augie's fate will not be a good one. Serling's teleplay does a good job of setting forth Augie's predicament with a minimum of platitudes or purple dialogue, makes the progression of events believable (rather upon the more believable of two potential plot contrivances), and sets up a pretty decent twist (though it seems better suited to "The Twilight Zone" than "Night Gallery"). Szwarc's direction is equally impressive, effectively using the production design effectively sets the contrast in Augie's world (tight spaces, confining, dark) with that promised by Glendon. The one weakness is that the finale is dragged out just a little too long (quite possibly padding to fill the half-hour running time). Otherwise, a decent third season episode.

Night Gallery: Room with a View/The Little Black Bag/The Nature of the Enemy (1970) Season 1, Episode 2

I Got a Candy Apple/I Got a Chocolate Bar/I Got a Rock

[6/10 · 27 November 2018]

Like the paraphrased reference to Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin, this episode brings two very good entries, and a dud.

"Room With a View" (7 stars out of 10)

While the vast majority of Night Gallery's shorter segments tended to be unfunny flops, Room With a View is a happy exception, one that would be just as at home on Alfred Hitchcock Presents as Night Gallery. Much of the credit for this must go to Dresner's clever script construction, and Wiseman's performance. Dresner's intriguing use of obtuse insinuation, with the edge smoothed down by Wiseman's alternatingly grumpy and faux-nebbishy performance, makes his manipulation of Keaton's character fun to watch. Indeed, half of the fun of this episode is trying to guess which string Wiseman is going to pull next.

"The Little Black Bag" (9 stars out of 10)

Kornbluth's story of near redemption quashed by greed has been adapted several times before, but never quite as effectively as in this segment. Rather than using the greedy wife/daughter as a counterpoint for the down-and-out doctor, in his two derelicts, Serling effectively offset the man with the ability to see his potential redemption against the one who is so far gone as not to care about it. The performances of Meredith and Wills are essential here: you can almost see the life and confidence flood back into Meredith's body and face as he uses the futuristic black bag to recover his lost art, whereas Wills' body language evolves from shambling drunk to a threatening, almost bear-like presence as the story progresses.

Serling's script easily fits this story into his more familiar Twilight Zone style, and this enhances the power and tragedy of the story. Szwarc's direction is also extremely effective, particularly in the scenes where Meredith reassumes his role as a doctor, and where Wills decides to step in.

Segments like The Little Black Bag understandably give the impression that the series as a whole could have been a triumph on the order of The Twilight Zone.

"The Nature of the Enemy" (2 stars out of 10)

The first clunker of the series, this episode strongly suggests that Serling either lost interest in the story half way through, or was trying to play it for comedy (never his strong suit). The story is only mildly interesting for the first two thirds, leaving the viewer to hope there is a knockout ending to pull it over the finish line. Unfortunately, the "twist" is so unfathomably stupid that the natural viewer reaction is less of a laugh or a "wow", than an "oh, come on!" While Campanella manages to retain his dignity throughout the episode, one has to assume he was watching the equivalent of a green screen so as not to show his disdain for the stupid ending.

Night Gallery: The Dead Man/The Housekeeper (1970) Season 1, Episode 1

Two Fine Openers for the Series

[8/10 · 27 November 2018]

"The Dead Man" (9 stars out of 10)

Night Gallery as a series started off with a bang in this spooky and compelling episode. Doing double-duty as writer and director, Douglas Heyes pulled from the "mad scientist" genre, but his script effectively anchors the story in two believable central characters rather than surrendering to the temptation to do this is high camp. The Redford character's rising obsession with manipulating the human psyche to cure disease plays less like Dr. Frankenstein, and more like that of an inventor becoming more and more amazed (and, self-satisfied) with what he has been able to accomplish. This growing obsession helps to fuel the pace of the first half of the story, leading to the tragic plot twist; at this point, the focus shifts to the drive of the Talmadge character to find what has gone wrong to ramp up the energy, leading to the Grand Guignol climax. Heyes' direction is equally up to the task, using his camera to reflect the increasing chaos at the climax of the episode.

If Heyes' script sets the train in motion, the story is helped immeasurably by the two powerful lead performances at its center. Betz is superb as Redford, correctly choosing to rest his portrayal on a believable sense of scientific wonder and self-absorption, tempered by a very believable descent into almost paralyzing grief; Corey is every bit his match as his conventional counterpart - on the one hand, he is Redford's conscience, while on the other he is almost maddeningly conventional. If there is one sore spot in the episode, it is Sorel as Redford's wife, who seems to go from bland to hysterical in almost no time at all. Fortunately, her time on screen is limited.

Although Serling would write the majority of the strong episodes of Night Gallery, this episode served to demonstrate that the format, even at its best, was not of Serling's sensibility, but rather rooted in classic horror. So long as the quality of the horror writing was at this level, the series would succeed; unfortunately, outside of Serling's script, that level of quality was not generally to be seen.

"The Housekeeper" (8 stars out of 10)

One of the more loathsome elements of Night Gallery as a series was the tendency to resort to schlocky "comedy" bits, in the form of the infamous "blackout" skits. The Housekeeper shows that it the series' forays into comic territory didn't have to be so juvenile and, once again, Douglas Heyes' scriptwriting, served by a wonderfully offbeat comic performance from Hagman, deserves the credit. Hagman's portrayal is marvelous just to right or left of center, keeping the audience off-balance as to whether his intentions are sinister or merely eccentric. Nolan is solid as always as a woman with very low self-esteem, who can't quite believe her luck, and while Suzy Parker's performance is not a masterstroke of acting, she's perfectly cast as someone her oddball husband intends to be a literal vessel for his own desires.

Darkroom: Stay Tuned, We'll Be Right Back (1981) Season 1, Episode 2

Very Weak Follow-Up

[3/10 · 27 November 2018]

Following "Closed Circuit," "Stay Tuned..." is a pretty serious letdown.

Ham radio enthusiast Charlie Miller (Pressman) is delighted when his set begins picking up the shows and commercials from his youth; but when he begins picking up German naval Morse code messages about targeting the troop launch in which his late father was lost, Charlie has to decide whether to take the steps to preemptively save him.

Simon Muntner's script takes very well-worn material and does little or nothing with it. While the story relies upon "the butterfly effect" for its ending, it does little or nothing to lend any weight to that ending; the story line had been used repeatedly even as of 1981, but the failure to set any kind of stakes for the consequence really deprives it of its punch. Indeed, the failure to give any kind of underlying tension to Charlie's decision (you pretty much know what he's going to do from the get-go), or to lay any groundwork for why things work out the way they do after that decision, leaves the viewer with the feeling that the ending has been more or less slapped on.

Lawrence Pressman is usually a pretty good character actor, and he gives an earnest performance here, but the script gives him nothing to really play against, as we know what he's going to do from the moment he first figures out the intercepted messages. As a result, there's no internal conflict within his character, nor is there any real pushback from his wife (Joanna Miles is a wonderful actress, but she's really given absolutely nothing to work with). As such, "Stay Tuned..." will pretty much wish you hadn't.

Darkroom: Closed Circuit (1981) Season 1, Episode 1

Wickely Clever Kick-Off to the Series

[8/10 · 27 November 2018]

The image is everything, particularly on television. Aging television journalist Greg Conway (Webber) begins suspecting that something is not quite right with his more senior colleague (Randolph), who also hasn't seen face-to-face in quite some time. Suspecting that the person doing the colleague's broadcasts is an imposter, he begins his own investigation - and learns to his horror just how right he was.

"Closed Circuit" is a sharply written and directed story that would have been welcome in any of the classic anthology series ("Twilight Zone", "Alfred Hitchcock Presents", "Thriller") as well as modern anthologies like "Black Mirror," and was a great choice to kick off the short-lived "Darkroom." Alan Brennert - who would later go on to be a major contributor to the 1980s "Twilight Zone" reboot - crafts an ingenious story that might have seemed fanciful in 1981, but is eerily relevant today in our current virtual reality world. Each of the plot twists is fairly earned and driven by believable character motivations - indeed, the way he sets up Webber's key character shift is particularly inventive and believable. Rick Rosenthal's direction is also solid, effectively utilizing the darkness of several of his settings (e.g., the backstage and control room of a TV studio, a set of emergency stairs) to heighten the tension of the episode.

Best of all are the two key performances. Webber (a consistently underrated character actor) is splendid as Conway - a man who would like to believe that he is seen as something more substantial than his dignified headshot, but worries more and more that this is not the case. He's matched wonderfully by the late and prolific Richard Anderson as the Mephistophelean studio bigwig, who plays the egos and aspirations of his employees like a chess grandmaster. For those who remember Anderson only from his role on "The Six Million Dollar Man," this episode is a nice reminder that he was equally adept at playing villains, be they unctuous sycophants ("Paths of Glory") or borderline psychotic zealots ("Seven Days in May"), and his character's "seduction" of Conway is inspired. Rounding this out is a nicely ambiguous performance from Mary Frann (later of "Newhart"), playing Conway's coolly professional producer, who is either the voice of rationality pooh-poohing Conway's seemingly irrational fears, or studying up on Anderson's playbook to rise to the top of her profession.

For a show that has been relegated to television obscurity, "Darkroom" certainly had a strong launching point. "Closed Circuit" is definitely worth searching out.

Lion (2016)

Remarkable Tale of Love, Obsession, Guilt and Family

[10/10 · 12 February 2017]

It starts with a day in the life of five-year old Saroo (Sunny Pawar): playfully following his beloved older brother Guddu along an unused stretch of rail trackage; helping him as he hustles for work; sharing a meal with his mother and family, before she has to set off to work as a laborer. Guddu plans to go off to work a long way from home, and Saroo insists on coming along. They pull into a train station late at night -- the brother heads off into the train yard to look for work, and Saroo falls asleep on the platform; when Guddu doesn't return, Saroo finds shelter in the sleeper car of a decommissioned train. Then, the train starts its deadhead move to Kolkata, some 1,000 miles away, and a remarkable story is underway.

"Lion" is one of those films that, if it were not based on a true story, might be dismissed as melodramatic fantasy. Instead, in his feature debut, director Garth Davis has created a remarkable, compelling, and deeply moving film of loss, guilt, and the ties of duty to and love of family that can lead to obsession. The first half of the film follows Saroo through the aforementioned scenes, and into the swirling mass of humanity that is Kolkata. These scenes are accomplished with a minimum of dialogue and yet are incredibly effective, thanks largely to a remarkable performance by Pawar. He immediately establishes a bond to the audience with his sweetness, intelligence, and total lack of affect, and we relate to his joys, his fears, and his remarkable defense mechanisms as he navigates dangers that he cannot possibly fully comprehend. Then, he is adopted by an Australian couple (Nicole Kidman and David Wenham), and the next phase of his life begins, growing up in a new culture and with an adoptive brother who, if anything, has borne even more horrific experiences than Saroo.

In some ways, much of "Lion" plays a modern-day parallel to Sanjayit Ray's masterful Apu trilogy, and Luke Davies' script anchors Saroo's quests -- both to survive and, a quarter-century later, to find his home -- in believable relationships and motivations, avoiding the temptation to ramp up the histrionics. The grounded story carries its own dramatic weight without artificial enhancement. The performances are uniformly excellent, with Pawar, Kidman and (as the grown-up Saroo) Dev Patel taking top honors. Patel's scenes with Kidman are absolutely riveting, and the final payoff is not only enormously gratifying, but dramatically well-earned.

The cinematography (Greig Fraser), editing (Alexandre de Franceschi), and score (Dustin O'Halloran and Hauschka) are also top-notch, and Davis does a remarkable job blending them to contrast the openness and freedom of Saroo's world in his hometown and on the beach in Tasmania, with the oppressive world of Kolkata and the increasingly confining mental state of his obsessive quest. Such work plainly belies the fact that this is Davis' inaugural directorial effort.

In sum, a deeply moving and effective film that readily warrants its multiple Oscar nominations (and probably should have been nominated for best director as well). "Lion" plainly stands -- along with "Manchester-by-the-Sea" and "Moonlight" as one of the three best films of 2016.