Aurelia Butler

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    ‘Bogart: Life Comes in Flashes’ Review: The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of

    A new documentary traces Humphrey Bogart’s development from stage actor to the embodiment of brooding cinematic cool.Produced in cooperation with Humphrey Bogart’s estate, the documentary “Bogart: Life Comes in Flashes” is an official portrait that nevertheless offers some insights into how one of Hollywood’s most recognizable and irreplaceable star personas evolved.Directed by Kathryn Ferguson, the film traces Bogart’s development from stage and backlot workhorse to timeless avatar of brooding cool. Louise Brooks, the great silent-screen star who died in 1985, is one of many Bogart friends whose recollections are featured in the film. She suggested that the reason Bogart could bring such complexity to Dixon Steele, the violent-tempered screenwriter he played in Nicholas Ray’s “In a Lonely Place” (1950), was because of how much he and Dix had in common.Bogart is portrayed in “Life Comes in Flashes” as a product of cold parenting. (His mother, Maud Humphrey, was an accomplished illustrator apparently dismissed by her son as a “housewife” on her death certificate, according to one interview subject.) He married three actresses — Helen Menken, Mary Philips and Mayo Methot — before Lauren Bacall. Each one is shown to have sharpened Bogart, even as his fame eclipsed theirs, to varying degrees.Words attributed to Bogart are read by Kerry Shale, an actor whose voice is dissimilar enough from Bogart’s to qualify as a distraction, at least initially. But Bogart’s own memories, and the way they’re illustrated with film clips, give the documentary a certain mystique. And it’s tough to resist gossip about Bogart’s friction with the film executive Jack Warner or even well-worn tales of the adventurer’s attitude that the director John Huston brought to the set of “The African Queen.” The two men drank so much, Bogart says in a much-cited quip that the movie repeats, “Whenever a fly bit Huston or me, it dropped dead.”Bogart: Life Comes in FlashesNot rated. 1 hour 39 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘Red One’ Review: Santa’s Helpers Have Been Working Out

    Starring Dwayne Johnson and Chris Evans, this Christmas offering has the courage to ask: What if the Santa Claus story was like a Marvel movie?Over time, Santa Claus movies have become inherently and forgivably silly. After all, there are only so many reasonable commercial twists you can put on one of the most commercialized characters in the Western world. It’s what has given us the contractual Santa (“The Santa Clause”); the pugilistic maniac Santa (“Violent Night”); the one about Santa’s degenerate brother (“Fred Claus”); and later this month, the Satan Santa (“Dear Santa”).Perhaps, then, we should be resigned to the inevitable corporate momentum that produces something like “Red One,” a film that has the courage to ask: What if the Santa Claus story was like a Marvel movie?In this one, directed by Jake Kasdan, Santa Claus (J.K. Simmons) is inexplicably jacked, Dwayne Johnson leads a kind of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. team to protect the Big Red, and Chris Evans has revived the sensibilities of an older superhero alter ego (not the noble sincerity of Captain America, but the slacker snark of Johnny Storm). It’s all a particularly egregious piece of commercial slop — just a little too expensive and passable to qualify for being so bad it’s sort of fun.Cynical and struggling to feel the holiday spirit, Callum Drift (Johnson), the head of security for Santa (a.k.a. Red One), hands in his resignation letter on Christmas Eve before working his final holiday. Of course, Santa is mysteriously kidnapped shortly after, sending Cal into a frenzied search, replete with a dull blur of explosions and far more fight sequences than an earnest Christmas movie should be allowed.With the clock ticking, Cal and his boss, Zoe (Lucy Liu), are forced to call on Jack O’Malley (Evans), the tracker who helped facilitate the kidnapping itself. A deadbeat dad who, naturally, has Jason Bourne’s fighting skills, Jack has been a lifelong naughty-lister who’s only out for himself — until his ice-cold heart begins to melt while reluctantly assisting Cal.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘Dream Team’ Review: Fax on the Beach

    Nothing really makes sense in this homage to ’90s cable thrillers, but that’s sort of the point.Nothing about “Dream Team” is very serious, and it would be a waste of time to force meaning onto it. But that’s not a mistake; it’s the whole idea. Directed by the always adventurous team of Lev Kalman and Whitney Horn (“Two Plains and a Fancy,” “L for Leisure”), the film is shot and structured to pay homage to late-night cable thrillers from the 1990s, complete with a cheekily erotic edge.The story, such as it is, is set around 1997 and follows two Interpol agents named No St. Aubergine (Esther Garrel) and Chase National (Alex Zhang Hungtai) as they investigate a strange conspiracy that might involve murderous coral. Their journey takes them to Mexico, where they encounter a bevy of weirdos as well as a seductive scientist named Veronica Beef (Minh T Mia) with that most ’90s of jobs: marine biologist. Back in the office in British Columbia, two young women (Fariha Roisin and Isabelle Barbier) are supposed to be researching the case, but mostly seem interested in working out.It’s pretty silly, but that’s clearly a feature, not a bug. “Dream Team” is broken into episodes with titles like “Coral Me Bad” and “Fax on the Beach” (there is, in fact, a fax machine on the beach) and some naughtier wordplay. The movie was shot on 16-millimeter film, the grainy, smudgy look of which may make you feel like you’ve either dozed off or ingested hallucinogens. For long stretches, we’re just observing underwater corals, watching people dance in a club, or lingering in a desert littered with discarded aerobics equipment. The storytelling only enhances the disjointed sensation: The central plot waxes and wanes, and by the end seems to have trailed off into the sunset.That’s not to say that this is a bad movie, though whether you think it’s a good one will depend a bit on your tolerance for irony and the absurd. It is undoubtedly diverting. I dare you not to chuckle when one character begins researching a case by declaring, “I’ll start searching Lexis,” and the reply is, “got it — I’m on Nexis.” For viewers of a certain age, the nostalgia is enjoyable as well: There are dial-up modems and very old computer graphics and one of those abdominal crunch rocker devices I remember my father keeping in the basement.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    John Krasinski Is People’s ‘Sexiest Man’ With Help From His Stylist

    John Krasinski may not have the raw energy of Glen Powell, but a collaboration with the stylist Ilaria Urbinati has paid huge dividends.Forget the office debates. At a deeply polarized time and in a conservative-leaning era, the editors of People magazine were never going to go for a sex-in-the-hot-tub candidate in selecting the latest “Sexiest Man Alive.” And so it was hardly a surprise when, on Tuesday night, during an episode of “The Late Show With Stephen Colbert,” the host revealed that this year’s crown had gone to the actor and filmmaker John Krasinski.An amiable hunk and devoted family man with the requisite multiplatform audience appeal (“The Office,” “Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan” and “The Quiet Place,” among other star vehicles), a cozy throwback celebrity marriage (his wife is the actor Emily Blunt), two young daughters and solid East Coast roots (a Boston boy, he lives in a multimillion dollar apartment in Brooklyn) — Mr. Krasinski exudes an erotic energy suggestive less of the bedroom athlete than of the proverbial stable provider. His vibe, riffed the social media gadfly Blakely Thornton, is “giving country home, Volvo hybrid and a 401(k).”Naturally, fans of the actor Glen Powell were distressed about the decision. Why Mr. Krasinski and not Mr. Powell, the “Twisters” actor, with his V-shaped physique and a smile that seems to encourage moral delinquency? But what were they expecting? In a nation battered and exhausted by a grueling political season, Mr. Krasinski was the ideal middle-of-the-road ticket, visually coded as preppy adjacent, in affect both familiar and humorous, evidently secure in his heterosexual identity and so generally inoffensive as to be the Switzerland of onscreen virility.And what he is clearly not is one of the scandal-plagued hunks (Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt, Ben Affleck), serial Lotharios (Richard Gere, George Clooney, again Johnny Depp) or obvious thirst traps (Michael B. Jordan) who have been anointed the world’s sexiest by People in the decades since the publication inaugurated its popular “Sexiest Man Alive” franchise with Mel Gibson back in 1985.While his stylist prefers to keep him away from black-and-white clothing, Mr. Krasinski was dressed in a bird’s eye tweed jacket over a basic white T-shirt on the cover of People.Julian Ungano, People MagazineAt 45, Mr. Krasinski also lands in the franchise’s demographic sweet spot. If he was the obvious choice in that sense, his low-key sexiness also developed out of fashion choices that evolved through a collaboration with the stylist Ilaria Urbinati over the past decade and produced their own form of curb appeal.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘Emilia Pérez’ Review: A Song and Dance of Transformation

    The star of Jacques Audiard’s showy new musical about a trans Mexican crime boss, Karla Sofía Gascón, adds soul to the melodrama. Zoe Saldaña also shines.In the floridly off-kilter “Emilia Pérez,” the director Jacques Audiard throws so much at you — gory crime-scene photos, a menacing cartel boss, a singing-and-dancing Zoe Saldaña — that you don’t dare blink, almost. Set largely in present-day Mexico City, the fast-track story follows a beleaguered lawyer, Rita (a very good Saldaña), who’s hired by a powerful drug lord, Manitas (a wonderful Karla Sofía Gascón), for an unusual job. Manitas, who presents as a man but identifies as a woman, wants help with clandestinely obtaining gender-affirming surgery and with tidying up some of the complications that come from a violent enterprise.Audiard, a French filmmaker and critical favorite with a string of impressive credits, likes changing it up. He’s partial to people and stories on the margins, though is especially drawn to crime stories; much of one of his finest films, “A Prophet,” takes place in prison. He also likes dipping in and out of genres while playing with and, at times, undermining their conventions, embracing an unorthodoxy that can extend to his characters. The protagonist in “The Beat That My Heart Skipped,” for one, is an outright thug but also a would-be concert pianist who, at one point, shows up at a recital bloodied after nearly beating another man to death.The complications in “Emilia Pérez” emerge in quick succession. After the brisk, eventful opener — featuring a murder trial, an unjust verdict and two musical numbers — Rita is being driven to a secret location by armed strangers, her head shrouded. Before long, she is seated in a truck, face to face with Manitas, a jefe with facial tattoos, a stringy curtain of hair and an ominously threatening whisper. Manitas delivers a staccato, tuneless rap that promises Rita “considerable sums of money” in exchange for her help. “I want to be a woman,” Manitas reveals sotto voce through soft lips and a mouthful of golden teeth.Rita agrees to help, though there’s little to suggest that she could deny Manitas’s request. To that end, Rita begins jetting around the world looking for a discreet, willing surgeon for Manitas, an expedition that, during one stop, finds her in a circular-shaped Bangkok clinic where she, the surgical team and gowned, bandaged patients are soon singing and striking poses. As Rita and a surgeon discuss options for Manitas, the doctor begins sing-chanting words like “mammaplasty” and “vaginoplasty” and “laryngoplasty,” which others pick up as a refrain. As bodies and the camera spin inside the clinic, Audiard cuts to an overhead shot of the facility, exuberantly tapping into his inner Busby Berkeley.The song-and-dance numbers — the score and songs are by Clément Ducol and Camille, and the choreography is by Damien Jalet — range from the intimate to the outsized, and are integrated throughout. Most seem like manifestations of private thoughts, as in an early number in which Rita voices aloud a trial argument that she’s mentally prepping while in a grocery store. When she exits into the jeweled city night, she is met by a rising rumble of voices from passers-by who are chanting “rising and falling.” As she walks on, her words shift into song, her movements become stylized, and the passers-by turn into an ensemble. Audiard then begins folding in images of Rita typing on a laptop as she sings.At first, this shift between inner and outer realities, between the ostensibly material world of contemporary Mexico and the metaphysical world of the characters, is jarring and amusing. From the start, the movie hooks you because of its abrupt turns, how it veers into places that, tonally, narratively and emotionally, you don’t expect. Yet while Audiard has productively combined classic genres and present-day sensibilities before, even the more personal, confessional numbers here add little more than novelty. It’s galvanizing when Rita belts a song — to herself, to us — about the corruption of Mexican leaders assembled at a banquet, but only because the movie is acknowledging a world that it otherwise uses as a fanciful stage.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Review: Lise Davidsen Meets Puccini in ‘Tosca’ at the Met

    The powerhouse soprano, already a company stalwart at 37, still seems to be figuring out a character whose moods change on a dime.Aficionados have sometimes criticized the Metropolitan Opera for waiting too long to engage singers with starry careers in Europe, like a sports team that acquires only veterans. Even the loudest complainers, though, would have to praise the Met’s early, deep investment in the powerhouse soprano Lise Davidsen, a generational talent from Norway.Davidsen, 37, made her house debut five years ago in Tchaikovsky’s “The Queen of Spades.” The title role in Puccini’s “Tosca,” which she sang on Tuesday in a gala honoring the centenary of the composer’s death, is already her seventh part with the company.With a huge, marble-cool voice that she can pull back to a veiled shadow or unleash in a floodlight cry, Davidsen has been most memorable in works by Wagner and Strauss that have broad vocal lines for her to sail through.She has embodied the mythic longing of Ariadne in Strauss’s “Ariadne auf Naxos” and brought opulent purity to Eva in Wagner’s “Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg.” Last season, venturing into Verdi with “La Forza del Destino,” she captured Leonora’s eternal woundedness.For saintly, long-suffering figures like Wagner’s Sieglinde and Elisabeth, she’s perfect. Davidsen is tall and statuesque — noble, yet modest. She’s not slow-moving onstage, but there’s something glacial about her. She seems most comfortable when she can settle into a character’s steady state for a few hours and just sing.Tosca is a different beast, and Davidsen still seems to be figuring her out. Puccini’s operas are nothing but endless, changeable business: pocketing letters, discovering keys, spying a knife. Every tiny response is illustrated in the music, and moods shift on a dime. His works require hair-trigger agility, even febrility.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Daniele Rustioni, Fixture at the Met Opera, Will Be Its Guest Conductor

    Beginning next fall, Rustioni will lead at least two operas each season and help provide continuity for the Met as it rebuilds after a wave of retirements.Daniele Rustioni, an Italian conductor who has become a fixture of the Metropolitan Opera in recent years, has been named its principal guest conductor, the company announced on Wednesday.When he joins the Met next season, Rustioni, 41, will be tasked with helping to bring stability and continuity to the Met Orchestra whenever the company’s music director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, an ever-busy maestro, is away. The ensemble is still working to rebuild after a wave of retirements during the pandemic.“The chemistry I feel with this orchestra and chorus is quite special,” Rustioni said in an interview. “They give an incredible amount of energy, and they are always super committed.”Rustioni, who will serve an initial three-year term, will lead at least two operas each season, the Met said. He is only the third person in the company’s 141-year history to hold the title of principal guest conductor. Fabio Luisi, the last maestro to occupy the post, was hired in 2010 when the Met was grappling with the unpredictable health problems of James Levine, its former music director.Nézet-Séguin, the Met’s music director since 2018, said that he and Rustioni had shared artistic values, and that “having Daniele in this elevated role is good for the orchestra, good for the chorus and good for opera.”Under Nézet-Séguin, the Met Orchestra has worked to recover from the pandemic, filling 17 vacancies and going on high-profile tours in Europe and Asia. But critics have raised concerns about the Met Orchestra’s quality and consistency.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More