Aurelia Butler

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    Another ‘Gomorrah’ TV Series About the Mob? Some in Naples Say, ‘Basta.’

    With another “Gomorrah” spinoff being filmed, some Neapolitans say they’re fed up with all the shows portraying the “malavita,” or the lawless life. “Why must only bad things be said about us?”A banner fluttered in March over a narrow alley in Naples crammed with tourist shops selling Nativity figurines. Naples, it proclaimed, “doesn’t support you anymore.”The “you” is the wildly successful Italian television crime drama “Gomorrah,” which days earlier had begun filming a prequel — “Gomorrah: Origins” — in the city’s gritty Spanish Quarter, tracing the 1970s roots of the show’s leading Camorra crime syndicate clan.Perhaps no modern pop culture reference has clung more stubbornly to Naples, Italy’s third-largest city, than “Gomorrah,” the title of Roberto Saviano’s 2006 nonfiction best seller about the Neapolitan mafia. A critically acclaimed movie followed in 2008, and the TV series premiered in 2014 and ran for five seasons. Two more movies debuted in 2019: “The Immortal,” a spinoff, and “Piranhas,” based on a Saviano novel about crime bosses as young as 15. And now there’s “Origins.”So excuse some Neapolitans if they say they’ve had enough.“They filmed the first one, they filmed the second one,” said Gennaro Di Virgilio, the fourth-generation owner of an artisanal Nativity shop. “Basta.”Once too dangerous and corrupt to attract many foreigners, Naples has been in the thrall of a tourism boom for years. Social media has lured visitors to the city’s history, food and sunshine, helping Naples shake off some of its seedy reputation, though youth unemployment and crime remain stubbornly high.But the city keeps getting typecast, some Neapolitans say, as Gomorrah, reducing its residents to those engaged in the “malavita,” the lawless life.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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    George Romero’s Daughter, Ex-Wife and Widow Take On His Zombie Movie Legacy

    When George Romero died from lung cancer in 2017, he left behind several ideas and screenplays for zombie movies.One was a treatment, “Twilight of the Dead,” and his widow, Suzanne Desrocher-Romero, described it as a “summing up” of the franchise, an ending to what began with “Night of the Living Dead” in 1968 and continued for five decades and six flesh-gnawing movies.George Romero was the rare artist who invented a major modern monster, one whose popularity rivals that of vampires and ghosts. The popularity of the TV series “The Last of Us” or the highly anticipated arrival of a new entry in the “28 Days Later” series this month tells us that the zombie is not going to end anytime soon. Its whole thing, after all, is to keep coming back.But what about the Romero zombie? The original strain. What will happen to this fabled creature now that its creator is gone?Three women in the Romero family are grappling with their memories of him at the same time as they’re trying to answer this question. His director daughter, his producer ex-wife and his producer widow are each developing movies with a distinct vision of the future of the undead. They don’t exactly share the same vision even as they’re pressing forward. The Romero zombie is very much alive — and very messy.Clockwise from top left, the original “Night of the Living Dead,” “Martin,” “Land of the Dead” and “Dawn of the Dead.”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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    ‘The Life of Chuck’ Review: Don’t Worry, Be Happy

    Tom Hiddleston dances his way through a movie about death and dystopia, based on a Stephen King story, that has an incongruous feel-good vibe.It’s the end of the world as we know it, or at least that’s how it seems in “The Life of Chuck.” A strange, feel-good fantasy about the end times, the movie traces a loose network of characters going about life while facing multiple personal and planetary catastrophes. When the story opens, Earth’s big clock, a.k.a. life itself, seems close to running out: Cataclysmic disasters, both natural and otherwise, are raging worldwide, species are rapidly going extinct, people are checking out and the internet is about to do the same. That’s bad, though given our enduring connectivity issues, it can also seem like just another day on Planet Reality.“The Life of Chuck” is a curious movie, starting with its relatively relaxed, almost blasé attitude toward extinction of any kind. It uneasily mixes moods and tones, softens tragedies with smiles and foregrounds a title character — Chuck, an accountant with a tragic past, played as an adult by Tom Hiddleston — who has a tenuous hold on both the story and your interest. Chuck is present from the start but only comes to something like life midway through. He has a kid and is happily married, at least according to the narrator (Nick Offerman), whose dry, lightly detached voice-over winds throughout. That the narrator proves to be a more vivid presence than Chuck is another oddity, one that’s presumably unintentional.Written and directed by Mike Flanagan, the movie is based on a vaporous three-part novella by Stephen King, also titled “The Life of Chuck,” that’s included in the author’s 2020 collection “If It Bleeds.” Flanagan’s adaptation is scrupulously, unwisely faithful to the source material. As in King’s tale, the movie unfolds in three sections in reverse chronological order. Also as in the original, Chuck first appears on a billboard that doesn’t seem to be selling anything. It just features a photo of a suited Chuck at a desk smiling out at the world, a mug in one hand, a pencil in the other. “39 Great Years!,” the billboard reads. “Thanks Chuck!”The billboard catches the eye of the movie’s most fully realized character, Marty (Chiwetel Ejiofor), the focal point of the disaster-ridden inaugural chapter. A schoolteacher whose slight connection to Chuck emerges much later, Marty is dutifully plugging away in class despite the world’s looming end. “I contain multitudes,” one of his students unpersuasively reads from the Walt Whitman poem “Song of Myself.” Given everyone’s palpable listlessness, Marty’s included, T.S. Eliot’s “The Hollow Men” would probably have been too on the nose: “This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper.”A sensitive, appealing performer, Ejiofor is a master of melancholy, and he gets the movie off to a fine start. His soft face and large, plaintive eyes naturally draw you to him, but even when they water, as directors like them to do, it’s Ejiofor’s talent for emotional nuance and depth that holds your gaze. That skill is particularly useful for characters as vaguely conceived as Marty, a nice, lonely guy who’s still close to his ex, Felicia (Karen Gillan). There’s not much to either character or their relationship, but Ejiofor fills in Marty with dabs of personality and a sense of decency that suggests that while humanity is lost, not every individual is. It’s too bad the movie doesn’t stick with Marty, who warms it up appreciably.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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    ‘The Last Twins’ Review: A Rare Holocaust Story

    Erno Spiegel was spared because he was a twin. He went on to help others at Auschwitz, as detailed in this documentary by Perri Peltz and Matthew O’Neill.The documentary “The Last Twins” tells the harrowing true story of Erno Spiegel, a Jewish man who was sent to Auschwitz concentration camp, but was spared for one reason: He was a twin. Dr. Josef Mengele, the Nazi physician, considered twins to be the ideal subjects because they allowed him to conduct what he believed were controlled genetic studies. He made Spiegel preside over a group of around 60 twin boys — many of whose lives Spiegel would save.Directed by Perri Peltz and Matthew O’Neill, “The Last Twins” is a conventional documentary made up of talking heads, archival materials and somber narration by Liev Schreiber. The speakers are mostly Holocaust survivors — some of the very boys whom Spiegel protected by forging documents or keeping crucial information secret. After the camps were liberated, Spiegel ended up leading his group of twins on a brutal winter trek through Poland and back home to Hungary.Hearing these survivors, now well into their 90s, talk about their experiences is devastating and poignant. But a cynical part of me wonders to what extent a documentary like “The Last Twins” simply scratches the same itch, allowing viewers to indulge a kind of morbid (if sympathetic) curiosity in the Holocaust. Should every unique survival story be packaged into the same kind of storytelling blueprint?One answer might be that real heroes — in the Holocaust and other histories of genocide — are often the stuff of fiction. Here, heroism is presented less as a feat of preternatural bravery than a series of choices made by someone who simply refused to give up his humanity.The Last TwinsNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 25 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘I Don’t Understand You’ Review: Murder and Mayhem in Italy

    The film follows dads-to-be Dom (Nick Kroll) and Cole (Andrew Rannells) as they make a series of disastrously wrong turns during their anniversary trip.Dolly Parton has often joked that gay people deserve the right to legally marry and “suffer just like us heterosexuals.” That cheeky spirit of equal-opportunity relationship struggles underpins the film “I Don’t Understand You.”Written and directed by real-life husbands David Joseph Craig and Brian Crano, the film follows dads-to-be Dom (Nick Kroll) and Cole (Andrew Rannells) as they make a series of disastrously wrong turns during an anniversary trip to rural Italy that could threaten their chances of adopting a child. Intercultural misunderstandings lead to chaos and eventual bloodshed. If only they’d done their homework before boarding the plane.Like the unhinged 2023 gay comedy “Down Low,” this movie uses accidental murder as a darkly comic device. Lines like “What’s my hair doing?” and “I don’t want to break her stemware” — uttered after serious transgressions — land with snappy comedic timing. But this plays like a bloated “Saturday Night Live” sketch, the increasingly implausible plot getting out of step with a sincere story about queer parenthood. In trying to be both subversive and sincere, “I Don’t Understand You” ends up not quite pulling off either.One recurring idea is that Dom and Cole may fear homophobia more than they actually encounter it — self-preservation is their sharpest weapon. Even if they don’t realize it, their suffering isn’t because they’re gay. The couple is suffering because, unlike in queer films of decades past, they actually have the freedom to screw things up.I Don’t Understand YouRated R for murderous farce and meltdown-level expletives. Running time: 1 hour 36 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘Dangerous Animals’ Review: Here, Sharky Sharky!

    The Australian director Sean Byrne combines the serial killer and shark movie subgenres into a trashy good time.The horror movie owes sharks an apology. Despite what countless scenes of ominous blue fins cutting through the water have led us to believe, humans are much more of a threat to sharks than they are to us. The “Hostel” director Eli Roth even made a nonfiction movie making this argument, but no documentary can compete with a suspenseful cinematic blood bath.Enter Sean Byrne, an Australian director with a taste for the unhinged, whose viscerally violent debut, “The Loved Ones,” conflated the prom-night revenge of “Carrie” with the family dinner of “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” His new effort, “Dangerous Animals,” is another 1970s horror mash-up, this time combining the serial killer and shark movie subgenres into a trashy good time. Byrne is at his most articulate with visual language, flipping the script on a famous Spielberg shot of dangling legs underwater. Early on, he takes us out with tourists to the sea and shows us that underwater perspective, but this time we’re looking at sharks, not humans, who, this movie suggests, are the real predators.It’s hardly the only nod to “Jaws.” Even the maniac at its center, the roguish tour guide Captain Tucker, played with charismatic gusto by Jai Courtney, looks a little like Richard Dreyfuss from that movie if he were on a steady diet of steroids. After a traumatic event in childhood, Tucker has taken to abducting tourists, locking them up on his boat and theatrically feeding them to sharks, all while filming these set pieces, beefing up an impressive collection of VHS snuff films. At one point, this maniac/indie director tells us he likes horror movies, but he didn’t need to.It’s an outlandish premise that inevitably leads to some dopey, implausible places. Byrne’s previous movies got down in the grimy muck. This one is glossier. Everyone speaks in quips and movie quotes. And no one has an ounce of flab. This is a horror movie about horror movies made by people who seem to have spent more time observing horror movies than the real world. Making this work requires wit, the right tone and a ruthless sense of pace. Byrne manages all three with a sure hand.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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    ‘Ballerina’ Review: Ana de Armas Twirls Into ‘John Wick’ Franchise

    Ana de Armas twirls into the franchise as a ballerina-assassin with vengeance on her mind in this by-the-numbers cash grab.With a title as cumbersome as its germinating mythology, “From the World of John Wick: Ballerina” is a stone-cold, self-infatuated effort to couple another boxcar to the franchise money train. I regret to report that Keanu Reeves’s titular assassin does not appear in a tutu.He does pop in, though, ever so briefly, lest we lose interest before the promised fifth installment. Set during the events of “John Wick: Chapter 3 — Parabellum” (2019), “Ballerina” is besotted with Eve Macarro (Ana de Armas), a lithe and lovely orphan who saw her father murdered and is obsessed with revenge. Inducted into the Ruska Roma, a cultlike clan whose ballet school fronts a contract-killer training facility, Eve practices pirouettes and punches with equal enthusiasm. Her toes are bloody, but her resolve is undimmed.A luxe orgy of mass murder, “Ballerina” dances from one bloody melee to another, its back-of-a-matchbook plot (by Shay Hatton) driven solely by arterial motives. As Eve defies the ballet school’s director (Anjelica Huston, more formidable than a roomful of Baryshnikovs) to pursue the well-protected head of a rival clan, the movie tends the franchise flame with a Wick-world checklist of familiar tropes. Like the impossibly creative, perfectly executed, utterly ridiculous fight sequences, which include Eve’s father single-handedly overcoming a literal boatload of would-be assassins, or Eve laying waste to the lethal residents of an entire Austrian village. Outlandish weaponry is a given, and “Ballerina” delights in deploying everything from expensive cookware to ice skates. There’s even a hulking, Dolph Lundgren type wielding a flamethrower.From time to time, the feverish slaughter pauses respectfully to allow English and Irish acting legends to inject brief moments of gravitas. Ian McShane’s menacingly dapper Winston is around to offer foster-fatherly advice and drop murky hints about Eve’s true parentage, and Gabriel Byrne appears as the mysterious head of the rival family and the bearer of further familial secrets. It’s all a bit much for Eve, who seems more relieved than scared when Wick himself shows up with a contract to stop her one-woman rampage. I suspect the audience will be equally thankful.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