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      ‘Black Panther’ and the New Blueprint for Female Warriors Onscreen

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      Danai Gurira: For Dominique to be out there now is thrilling. We’re both children of immigrants and, though our journeys are different [Thorne’s family is from Trinidad; Gurira’s is from Zimbabwe], we have that similarity when your parents come from another place and you’re used to a dual cultural existence. There’s something courageous in her; she’s not going to walk into a space unprepared. She’s wise for her years and grounded. There was a tender day on set [for “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever,” filmed after Chadwick Boseman, the franchise’s original star, died in 2020] when we connected deeply. You never expect grief; it just hits when it wants. We had to lean on each other, and Dominique understood what we were dealing with.When I was in grad school [for acting, at N.Y.U.], I was distraught about how terribly African women were portrayed in the West, if they ever were. Putting out stories that countered that — whether through acting in my first play [“In the Continuum,” 2005, co-written with Nikkole Salter] or watching others in my subsequent plays [including “Eclipsed” on Broadway in 2016] — felt like what I was meant to do. The joy for me is to see Black women from around the world getting our stories told: Letitia [Wright, another “Black Panther” actor] is Guyanese British, and she had to learn a ton of Shona when she was the lead in my play at the Young Vic [“The Convert,” 2018-19, in London]. To have her doing our accents and intonations beautifully was like seeing the diaspora embracing itself.culture banner More

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      ‘Chevalier’ Review: A Black Virtuoso Rocks the Court of Marie Antoinette

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      A new movie about Joseph Bologne, the Chevalier de Saint-George, may owe as much to “Bridgerton” as it does the history books.Set in 18th-century Paris, “Chevalier” begins with a flourish. In a concert hall in pre-revolutionary France, a man makes a beeline toward the virtuoso conducting a string orchestra to the rapt delight of his audience. The interloper’s back and his white wig give nothing away of his countenance. Cue the collective gasp when this man is revealed to be Black and suggests that the two play a piece together.The duo’s dueling fiddles will deliver a new star and prompt the hot-under-his-ruffled-collar violinist Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart to ask, “Who the [expletive] is that?”This will not be the only intentionally discordant gesture in “Chevalier” — based on the story of Joseph Bologne, the Chevalier de Saint-Georges — but it is the boldest in a film that bows to “Bridgerton,” while lacing its intrigue with contemporary racial-cultural wounds.The real Chevalier de Saint-Georges looks commanding and impossibly handsome in a rare portrait from the era. And the actor Kelvin Harrison Jr. matches that beauty. He also makes believable Bologne’s celebrated vigor and grace. Harrison’s most recent roles have been in a trio of films — “Waves,” “Monster,” “Luce” — notable for featuring young men who are often as troubling as they are troubled. Here the actor brings swagger and hints of hubris to the slightly more mature Frenchman.Born on the island of Guadeloupe, Joseph Bologne was the son of an enslaved Senegalese woman and a French plantation owner. He was, for a spell, an incandescent figure in Marie Antoinette’s court and later, after a change of allegiance, a military leader during the revolution. Outlier and insider, he’s a figure ripe for reclamation. That this movie — directed by the Canadian filmmaker Stephen Williams and written by Stefani Robinson — leans too mightily on romance to the detriment of exploring more fully his genius feels like a missed opportunity.Joseph’s father’s parting words as he leaves his young son at an elite school will become Joseph’s raison d’être as he excels in music, fencing and pretty much anything else he takes on: “Joseph you must be excellent, always excellent. No one can tear down an excellent Frenchman.” As the movie unfolds, that final assertion will require a qualification — namely, unless that Frenchman is Black — but the drive it instills in Joseph also resonates with the current celebration of ‌Black excellence in the United States.In “Chevalier,” colonialism and paternalism have roles in shaping Bologne. But it’s his relationship with four women that proves crucial: his royal ally, Queen Marie Antoinette (Lucy Boynton); his enemy, the opera singer La Guimard (Minnie Driver); his muse and romantic consort, the Marquise de Montalembert, Marie-Josephine (Samara Weaving); and his mother, Nanon (Ronke Adekoluejo).Driver has wicked fun as the diva who throws her support behind the composer Christoph Willibald Gluck when the position as head of the Paris Opera opens. It is a post Joseph wants and feels he deserves. Whether he gets it is one of the movie’s central tensions.Adekoluẹjo brings a cultural shrewdness to Nanon, who arrives from the Caribbean shortly after the death of Joseph’s father. Their mother-and-man-child reunion is teary but also pointed and will usher in a slow dawning in Joseph’s understanding of his Blackness. Joseph has grown accustomed to operating at the top of his game among Paris’s elite. But as Nanon knows, the rules of the game are rigged.ChevalierRated PG-13 for thematic content, some strong language, boudoir scenes and violence. Running time: 1 hour 47 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Little Richard: I Am Everything’ Review: The Nitty-Gritty Beyond ‘Tutti Frutti’

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      This documentary presents the self-proclaimed “architect of rock ’n’ roll” as a man of contradictions.Judging from “Little Richard: I Am Everything,” the best way to understand the self-proclaimed “architect of rock ’n’ roll” is through his contradictions.In this documentary, directed by Lisa Cortés, Little Richard, who died in 2020, is seen as a musician who could simultaneously lay the groundwork for an entire genre and not get his due. Without him, we probably wouldn’t have the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, David Bowie or Prince — artists who were happy to cite his influence even as they stole his thunder and his style.In the 1950s, he broke with the slower sounds of Ray Charles and B.B. King in favor of fast songs with lyrics not so subtly about sex. Yet over the years he seemed to have a conflicted relationship with his own sexuality. (He is shown in an early 1980s interview with David Letterman claiming both that he believed he was one of the first gay people to come out and that he was no longer gay.) He went from flamboyant rocker to gospel singer and back again.“He was very, very good at liberating other people through his example,” the pop-music scholar Jason King says in the film. “He was not good at liberating himself.”Mick Jagger, who credits Little Richard with teaching him how to work the whole stage, and John Waters, who says his mustache is a tribute, are among the famous faces here who testify to how he liberated them. “I Am Everything” also skews gratifyingly wonky for a pop-music bio-doc. The sociologist Zandria Robinson describes the cultural atmosphere in the South — a space, she says, for the different, the Gothic and the nonnormative — at the time Richard was formed as an artist. King describes Little Richard’s piano playing as a left hand of boogie-woogie and a right hand of Ike Turner-influenced percussion.Little Richard himself, seen in a bounty of archival footage, gives good quotes — “everybody likes to go to orgies,” he says at one point. And even in decades-old video, his musical performances, like a rendition of “I Can’t Turn You Loose” at the 1989 induction of Otis Redding to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, are showstoppers.Cortés tries a few things to upend the humdrum rock-doc template. She has musicians re-create breakout moments in Little Richard’s career, such as a night in the 1940s when Sister Rosetta Tharpe had him take the stage in Macon, Ga., or a spontaneous rendition of “Tutti Frutti,” before its lyrics were sanitized, at the Dew Drop Inn in New Orleans. (A montage depicts the song’s popularity as a cosmic explosion, even as Little Richard is shown complaining bitterly in an interview that Elvis and Pat Boone “sold more of ‘Tutti Frutti’ than I did.”) At the end of the day, though, “I Am Everything” is content to be a thorough, energetic, largely chronological appraisal, more interested in saluting a musical legend who shook things up than in shaking up conventions itself.Little Richard: I Am EverythingNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 41 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Quasi’ Review: Medieval Inanity

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      The new film from the comedy troupe Broken Lizard is a goofy take on the story of the famed hunchback Quasimodo.You’ve heard of Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre Dame, the actor Brian Cox announces at the start of “Quasi,” but you haven’t heard this version. And maybe you shouldn’t — unless, that is, you’re in a certain state of mind at a certain time of night. In “Quasi,” the latest film from the comedy troupe Broken Lizard, the disfigured peasant from the famed Victor Hugo novel is working in medieval torture chambers when he’s suddenly thrust into a web of murderous royal intrigue.After the queen of France (Adrianne Palicki) takes a liking to Quasi, he finds himself at a dinner with the obnoxious king (Jay Chandrasekhar), who asks him to assassinate the pope (Paul Soter), a longtime rival. During the attempt, though, the pope asks Quasi to kill the king, leaving the hunchback in a bind.The high-stakes political affair takes place with the goofy, lighthearted energy you’d expect from the comedy group behind “Super Troopers” and “Beerfest” (“Quasi” is directed by Kevin Heffernan, who stars in the film alongside the rest of the Broken Lizard troupe): It’s dumb fun that is at times entertaining, at times flat.At the heart of this film is a thematic twist that would be at home in a Seth Rogen movie: a repressed bromance between Quasi and his “hut-mate,” Duchamp (Heffernan), both of whom refuse to admit they’re each other’s best friends. The parodic period-piece framework lends an added layer of whimsy and offbeat jokes to the Broken Lizard sensibility — though that is perhaps not enough to justify a film that can, at times, feel like a so-so sketch that didn’t warrant a feature. But you’ll most likely get a few laughs and mild enjoyment when you just surrender yourself to the inanity of it all.QuasiRated R for language, some crude/sexual content and violence. Running time: 1 hour 34 minutes. Watch on Hulu. More

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      ‘Judy Blume Forever’ Review: The Y.A. Author Who Went There First

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      The documentary, streaming on Amazon Prime Video, features Blume narrating the milestones of her life and career, along with interviews of her famous fans.There are few living children’s authors who have connected as deeply to their readers as Judy Blume. That’s the argument of “Judy Blume Forever,” a new documentary from Davina Pardo and Leah Wolchok that pays unwavering tribute to Blume and her imprint on young adult literature. The film, streaming on Amazon Prime Video starting Friday, features the 85-year-old writer narrating the major milestones of her life and career, cut together with interviews of famous Blume acolytes such as the writer and director Lena Dunham, the comedian Samantha Bee, the writer Jacqueline Woodson and Anna Konkle, the co-creator of “PEN15.”Since the publication of her breakthrough novel “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret,” in 1970, while she was a young housewife in suburban New Jersey, Blume has maintained a fiercely devoted audience that has found enlightenment and understanding through her preteen and teenage characters. It’s not uncommon to hear fans of Blume’s work say that reading her books felt as though she was speaking directly to them through the pages. This is thanks, in no small part, to her frank discussion of mature themes that, at the time she was writing, were considered unusual for what we now call Y.A. novels: adolescent sexuality, religion, disability, bullying, and — in many of her books — the unfair expectations of purity and obedience that parents and society place on children.“Judy Blume Forever” does a fine job of synthesizing the influences that Blume’s life had on her writing — in particular her father’s death when she was 21, as well as the marriage and divorce that inspired her first adult-oriented novel, “Wifey.” Blume, a longtime free-speech advocate, also has no qualms about drawing parallels between the Reagan-era book censorship campaigns she endured and the hundreds of attempts to ban books in just the past year.In a successful showcase of what might be lost if Blume’s books were removed from libraries and schools, the film returns to one of the most compelling aspects of career: her correspondence with thousands of children, whose letters to her span 50 years and are now archived at Yale. Pardo and Wolchok interview two of Blume’s pen pals, now adults themselves, and their recounting of her impact on their lives encompasses some of the film’s most moving portions.At times, “Judy Blume Forever” can resemble a highlight reel of Blume’s bibliography, with large sections dedicated to her books’ most memorable excerpts, such as the masturbation sequence in “Deenie.” Given her vast literary output, it’s hard to give complex stories like “Blubber” and “Forever” the nuance they deserve in a short documentary, especially one this preoccupied with showing Judy Blume the person, jogging on the beach and owning a small bookstore in Key West. Compared with her most obvious predecessor, Maurice Sendak, who led an intensely private life, Blume has always been an open book, despite the flurry of controversy around her. That may not make for the most exciting documentary, but it does make Blume herself even more endearing.Judy Blume ForeverNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 37 minutes. Watch on Amazon Prime Video. More

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      ‘Trenque Lauquen’ Review: Lose Yourself

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      This sprawling Argentine film, about a missing botanist, finds liberation in being lost — and treats mystery as an end in itself, not just as a road to revelation.“Trenque Lauquen,” a wondrous multipart epic from the Argentine director Laura Citarella, opens with men on a quest. Laura (Laura Paredes), a visiting botanist working on research in Trenque Lauquen, a town southwest of Buenos Aires, has disappeared, leaving only a cryptic note behind: “Farewell, farewell. I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” Rafael (Rafael Spregelburd), Laura’s boyfriend, and Ezequiel (Ezequiel Pierri), her research colleague turned almost-lover, drive through the countryside, seeking her traces.As the film unfolds across twelve chapters (split into two feature-length parts), the men’s pursuit grows like a wild, proliferating vine: Missing women multiply, and the film’s mysteries fork into new ciphers. Yet it’s only in the seventh chapter that someone questions the very premise of the search for Laura, asking Ezequiel, “What makes you think she wants to be found?”“Trenque Lauquen” undermines the hubris of discovery — a distinctly masculine impulse, and a narrative principle we often take for granted. Produced by El Pampero Cine, an Argentine production company known for sprawling, Borgesian films like the more than 13-hour “La Flor” (2019), Citarella’s film posits that being lost can be a kind of liberation, and that mystery, in movies, can be an end in itself, rather than a path to a revelation. The first, six-chapter part alternates between two timelines and two quests: Rafael and Ezequiel’s search for Laura, and flashbacks to Ezequiel and Laura’s attempts to track down the identity of Carmen Zuna (played in fantasy sequences by Citarella), a schoolteacher who had a passionate affair with a local landowner in the 1960s. Laura finds their erotic love letters hidden away in books at the library and becomes enamored, her passion soon infecting Ezequiel.The second chapter starts to illuminate the circumstances behind Laura’s disappearance, only to unwrap an entirely new puzzle: this time about two lesbian lovers in the suburbs who seem to be conducting a scientific experiment, secretly raising a mutant creature. Frankenstein comes to mind here and also as a metaphor for the film’s patchwork structure. Relayed through letters and notes in the first half, and Laura’s voice-over in the second, the many micro-stories that make up the narrative seem to take on lives of their own, crisscrossing and diverging unexpectedly. Familiar hints of horror and detective stories appear like red herrings, but the ultimate effect is of a campfire tale: The pleasure lies in the telling — the invention of fictions, the performance of emotions — rather than in the details of plot. Once you lose yourself in the thickets of “Trenque Lauquen,” you won’t want to be found.Trenque LauquenNot rated. In Spanish, with subtitles. Running time: 4 hours and 22 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Carmen’ Review: We’re Not in Spain Anymore

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      The choreographer Benjamin Millepied’s directing debut is an of-the-moment but scattered take on a classic love story.You can’t have “Carmen” without the color red.In the choreographer Benjamin Millepied’s debut film — an adaptation of the classic story, previously told in prose by Prosper Mérrimée and more famously in opera by Georges Bizet — it’s there from the start, in the opening titles, the pedals of a rose, the title heroine’s shirt.But nothing more than color signifies that this is a “Carmen” tale, that old psychosexual drama of a male soldier so seduced by a Spanish femme fatale, he forgets his duties and is driven to jealousy and murder. No, here Carmen is instead a young Mexican woman both headstrong and naïve, restless and searching — much like the film itself.That is disappointing for a movie seemingly assembled from promise: in Millepied, an enterprising dance-maker who pioneered small-screen performance during the pandemic; in Nicholas Britell, a composer of knockout, earworm-rich soundtracks; in Rossy de Palma, an alluring, otherworldly fixture of Pedro Almodóvar films; and in Paul Mescal, a fast-rising, Oscar-nominated star capable of conveying swaths of biography and feeling in a sadly handsome smile.They make for a film with elements of dance on camera, musical, of-the-moment melodrama and visual poetry — but without a thorough commitment to any one of those and few, if any, moments of coalescence. The screenplay is spare to the point of meager; characters speak in clichés, like claiming that music won’t pay the bills, and are divided, boringly, into categories of unequivocally good (Mexican immigrants mainly) and bad (all white characters except Mescal’s Aidan).No dialogue, anyway, communicates more effectively than Britell’s soundtrack, a constant presence, tense and evocative, functioning like opera by fully integrating with, if not driving, the story rather than underscoring it. The movie also says more through movement than speech: percussive flamenco; climactic krumping in a fight sequence starring and set to an original song by the D.O.C.; a touching pas de deux of Carmen’s balletic fluidity and Aidan’s awkward, failing attempts to match her.Little seems to keep this couple of lost souls — he a tormented war vet, she an undocumented Mexican immigrant on the run — together other than fear. As Carmen, Melissa Barrera is beautiful but somewhat blank, an obtuse mystery next to Mescal, his face having the shape and solemnity of a Roman statue, but eyes that repeatedly betray his pain. De Palma is a welcome source of levity as Masilda, a nightclub owner who tells Aidan that if she were younger she would eat him up like a plate of chilaquiles.Masilda tells Carmen that her name means poem, that she is “the most beautiful poem made into a woman.” Yet much of the film’s poetry comes from the cinematography of Jörg Widmer — a veteran of Terrence Malick’s sweeping, awe-struck camera gestures — who renders a desert landscape expansive and entrapping, and finds wonder in the otherwise stressful tangle of Los Angeles freeways. Millepied relishes close-ups of bodies in motion, and scatters dreamy symbolism throughout the story, populating his world with angels of death.Carmen and Aidan are connected, before they meet, by small flames that rise spontaneously from the ground. In the end, they are separated by tragedy. Their trajectory couldn’t be simpler, but this film, at nearly two aimless hours, doesn’t seem interested in, or capable of, that kind of focus.CarmenRated R for language, nudity and violent dancing. Running time: 1 hour 56 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Plan 75’ Review: Leaving Early

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      In this quietly bold debut feature, the Japanese government offers a euthanasia program and a 78-year-old woman considers her future.In the lurid 1973 dystopian thriller “Soylent Green,” Edward G. Robinson movingly played a man who embraced euthanasia, dying in a special chamber while being soothed by classical music. That story was set in 2022. “Plan 75,” the quietly bold debut feature of Chie Hayakawa, is on the same page, envisioning a more or less present-day version of Japan that hawks euthanasia services to the aged.As macabre as that sounds, the conceit channels actual anxieties in Japan about providing for a growing population of seniors. The sober drama centers on a 78-year-old woman, Michi (Chieko Baisho), who still has her independence, her health and a karaoke-loving friend circle.The government’s assisted suicide program seems like an over-advertised nuisance to Michi, until she loses her job and finds a friend slumped over dead. Life turns precarious, Michi grows isolated and Plan 75 — the name of the government program — starts to sounds appealing. We are also introduced to a Plan 75 clerk, Hiromu (Hayato Isomura), and a Filipino caretaker, Maria (Stefanie Arianne), who takes an unsavory gig with the program.Hayakawa avoids slipping into satire or a stylized dystopia, making details like a euthanasia spa package seem plausible (and insidious). Yet a somnolence hangs over the film, and Hiromu and Maria are left somewhere between having full-fledged story lines and just being useful foils. Still, Baisho gets across the creeping despair that morbidity and the loss of community can create — a sensation that lets “Plan 75” double as a consummate entry in pandemic-era cinema.Plan 75Not rated. In Japanese and Tagalog, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 53 minutes. In theaters. More