More stories

  • in

    ‘Petrov’s Flu’ Review: Roaming a Grim, Rowdy Underworld

    In this fever dream of a movie by Kirill Serebrennikov, a Russian man wanders a wild urban landscape that he regularly hallucinates his way out of.When the phantasmagoric “Petrov’s Flu” opens on a crowded bus — a nightmare of jostling, babbling bodies — it seems obvious that there’s more troubling its hero than a typical seasonal malady. Sweaty and unsteady, he navigates through the other surging, grumbling passengers. Then a man yanks him off the bus, someone hands him a gun and Petrov is suddenly in a firing squad mowing down prisoners — and then he gets back on the bus and rejoins the clamorous horde he never wholly escapes. Welcome to Russia!For the next two and a half hours in this droll, chaotic, fitfully dazzling movie (it was at the 2021 Cannes Film Festival), Petrov (Semyon Serzin) continues to sweat and stagger as he roams a derelict urban landscape. Feverish and often plastered, he is in bad shape, and so is his world, with its ominous faces, soupy gloom and rowdy human comedy. His reason for rambling isn’t obvious. But as he wanders, he keeps slipping into outlandish reveries amid meeting friends, drinking and drinking some more. It’s unclear at first whether he’s seeking to escape reality or whether it is eluding him.Much of what happens in “Petrov’s Flu” is intentionally and enjoyably destabilizing. It takes place over a fairly compressed period of a day or two (maybe!), but includes several long flashbacks that expand the overall time frame by decades. And while the story is relatively straightforward — Petrov travels through a strange, at times hellish realm, evoking Odysseus and Leopold Bloom in their respective underworlds — the filmmaking is richly imaginative and unbound by the usual time-and-space constraints. When Petrov enters one location, he sometimes exits someplace entirely different.In recent years, the director Kirill Serebrennikov has been best known abroad for his difficulties with the Russian government. In 2017, he was placed under house arrest, accused of embezzling around $2 million. The charges have been seen as retaliation from the Kremlin for both Serebrennikov’s work and his expressed views on, among other issues, Russian censorship, the country’s aggression abroad and its persecution of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people. He was put on trial and sentenced, but in March, after the remaining sentence was suspended, Serebrennikov fled to Germany, where he remains.It’s hard not to take this history into account while watching “Petrov’s Flu,” which paints a bleak, wistful, tragically funny portrait of a man, a people, a world. Yet despite the grimness, the violence and the grotesque bleating of some hateful, prejudiced trolls, the movie never drags you down (though it might exhaust you) because it’s buoyed by Serebrennikov’s bravura, unfettered filmmaking. As the gorgeously restless camera travels alongside Petrov — as walls disappear and locations melt into one another — it starts to feel like both the character and director are trying to imagine a way out.As Petrov dreams and boozes and meanders, a sketchy portrait of him emerges. He has a family, though it’s complicated. He says he’s divorced but refers to his ex, Petrova (Chulpan Khamatova), as his wife. Like Petrov, she too experiences lurid, vicious fantasies. The pair have a young son, and all three seem to live in the apartment where Petrov draws comics. He and Petrova also sleep together, having sex that turns uneasily aggressive and, at one point, inspires Petrov to get out of bed and draw. Some of the comic panels he’s working on seem to mirror what happens onscreen.Part of what gives the movie its tension and kick is that it’s not always clear how much of what transpires is happening in Petrova’s and Petrov’s heads. The movie is based on the Russian novel “The Petrovs In and Around the Flu,” by Alexey Salnikov. Despite the English-language title, the movie regularly shifts from Petrov to Petrova, who also experiences hallucinations. These take place during fraught, frustrating encounters with other people. She pauses, as if possessed, her eyes briefly blacken, and she wreaks terrible violence: She pummels one man’s face and slits another person’s throat.Whether these dark thoughts originate in Petrov or Petrova seems beside the point. What matters is that these frenzied visions recurrently engulf the characters — and the movie — transporting them from their everyday brutish reality into an equally brutish fantasy world. Asleep or not, they are dreaming, but their dreams are nightmares that are, by turns, inventive and liberating, grotesque and suffocating. At least Petrov flashes back to his relatively pacific childhood, a period of light and tenderness, a time before Russia’s current regime. And of course Petrov is an artist, which I imagine is finally his salvation as much as it is for the wildly talented Serebrennikov.Petrov’s FluNot rated. In Russia and English, with subtitles. Running time: 2 hours 25 minutes. In theaters. More

  • in

    ‘The Greatest Beer Run Ever’ Review: Vietnam on the Rocks

    Zac Efron plays a man trying to deliver brewskis to his Vietnam War buddies in Peter Farrelly’s film.In the early winter of 1968, the 26-year-old civilian Chickie Donohue arrived in Vietnam with a duffel bag of brewskis and an errand that could be reasonably called idiotic, patronizing, suicidal — and, even, as this shaggily appealing comedy insists, “The Greatest Beer Run Ever.” Donohue (Zac Efron) has been double dog dared by his drinking buddies back home in Inwood, then a working-class Irish neighborhood in Manhattan, to hand-deliver a beer to four of their buddies serving in the war. “A sudsy thank you card!” Donohue exclaims, delighted by his own moxie. His farcical mission is mostly true and just the sort of crowd-pleaser about lunkhead enlightenment that intoxicates the director Peter Farrelly in the wake of his Oscar for “Green Book.”Farrelly and his co-writers, Brian Currie and Pete Jones, see the national id reflected in Donohue’s patriotic, ill-reasoned rationale for his quest, which is clearly a few cans short of a, you know. To this layabout slacker, his blustering pals and their jingoistic barkeep, the Colonel (Bill Murray, near-invisible under a gruff flattop), a pull-tab of domestic ale supports the troops by reminding the fighters abroad that America reigns supreme. For a while, Farrelly feigns to agree; the film starts like a Super Bowl commercial and ends like a hangover.When Donohue sets sail for Saigon, public opinion supports the conflict, an innocence Efron embodies by hitchhiking toward the front with a schmucky grin affixed like a shield. (Grunts one soldier, “Every once in a while, you run into a guy who’s too dumb to get killed.”) But by the time Donohue returns home, the Tet offensive — which he witnesses — will have turned the majority of Americans against the war, including him. After all, if a dingbat like him is able to bluff his way past officers to get to the battlefield, things are not under control.The script is grounded in Donohue’s memoir of the same name (written with J.T. Molloy) and captures his bravado. (“I was a four-star general when it came to slinging BS,” he writes.) While the film makes his onscreen portrayal more oblivious, it backs his claim to have seen a United States tank blow a hole in the wall of its own embassy, only to later blame the blast on the Viet Cong.A local traffic cop (Kevin K. Tran) and hard-living photojournalist (Russell Crowe with a brusque, sleeves-rolled-up cynicism) are invented amalgamations of the many people who stepped in to save Donohue’s neck. (If pressed, the movie would rather label its protagonist a dangerous distraction over a hero.) To heighten the tension — as well as extend empathy toward the Vietnamese villagers — Farrelly also concocts a scene where Donohue is forced to hide in the jungle from his own countrymen.A few horrors are embellished from the book, particularly those that inspire the cinematographer Sean Porter to shoot in dramatic slow motion: a herd of napalmed elephants, a prisoner plummeting headfirst from a helicopter, a wounded soldier backlit by flames. Otherwise, the film’s style is, like its subject, stubbornly chipper (albeit with a marvelous psychedelic rock soundtrack that pulls from lesser-known acts like The Electric Prunes). Depth comes from Efron’s visible difficulty maintaining a smile as he comes to sense that he’s crossed the ocean only to discover a permanent gulf between him and his childhood friends. They’ve endured agonies he’ll never understand — and a barfly like him can’t deliver a cheers that will set things right.The Greatest Beer Run EverRated R for language and violence. Running time: 2 hours 6 minutes. In theaters. More

  • in

    ‘On the Come Up’ Review: Battle Rap’s Next Big Thing?

    This film adaptation of the Angie Thomas novel follows a teenage rapper with a dream.If you’ve seen “8 Mile” or the more recent cinematic delight “The Forty-Year-Old Version” you already know that in a movie with battle rap at the center, the would-be MC with something to prove always chokes in the first battle. “On the Come Up,” the new movie based on the Angie Thomas novel of the same name and directed by Sanaa Lathan, is no different.Brianna Jackson (Jamila C. Gray), nicknamed Bri and known as Lil’ Law on the mic, freezes in the face of an opponent and spends the rest of the film chasing her titular come up.The movie seems geared to teenagers in the way that it over explains events and leaves little room for subtext. Yet at the same time, Kay Oyegun’s script often feels out of touch with the way real teenagers actually behave. Bri and her friends Sonny (Miles Gutierrez-Riley) and Malik (Michael Cooper Jr.) seem to always know the most mature things to do and say. And the predictable narrative arc, the happenstance lighting from scene-to-scene and Lathan’s minimalist take on the material all adds up to something you might watch once and promptly forget about.Da’Vine Joy Randolph’s performance as Bri’s Aunt and manager Pooh stands out from a crowded ensemble cast of supporting players whose many background stories distract us from connecting with Bri and her family as much as we might like. But even Randolph — and Lathan, who also delivers a solid performance as Bri’s formerly drug-addicted mother Jay — can’t overcome a clunky script that bites off more from the novel than it can properly chew in under two hours.The real missed opportunity here is making full use of the battle rap scenes that form the spine of the story. Gray as Bri delivers the expletive-free rhymes penned by the real-life rapper Rapsody well enough, but the canned applause baked into the scenes often doesn’t ring true. Bri’s rhymes sound more like spoken word poetry than the no-holds-barred battle rap that the film is continuously saying she, the daughter of a revered slain rapper, has in her DNA.Yet even with its flaws, the film, by bringing a character like Bri into the cadre of battle rap, is a welcome update to the male bravado types we’re used to seeing dominate the mic. And the lyrics feature a steady stream of word bending metaphors worth savoring:Cranes in the skyI might a be a little sisterSaid I might be like Bey’s little sisterGoin’ up against a bigger guy but this fight only gonna elevatorElevate her, like Solange, watch me riseTo the seat at the table.In other words, turn on the closed captions.On the Come UpRated PG-13 for violence and adult language. Running time: 1 hour 55 minutes. In theaters and streaming on Paramount+. More

  • in

    ‘Invisible Demons’ Review: Capturing an Air Quality Crisis

    The filmmaker Rahul Jain assembles a series of devastating panoramas in this documentary about air and water pollution in New Delhi.The title of “Invisible Demons,” a patiently observed documentary, refers to the tiny toxic particles polluting the air in the Indian capital of New Delhi. But the name may also denote another culprit: the leadership officials removed from the crisis who fail to find a solution for city residents.Through a series of arresting images, the director Rahul Jain presents a city on the verge of apocalypse. Hazardous foam coats the murky Yamuna River, which teems with sewage and industrial waste. Towering garbage heaps speckle the streets. And, on a particularly polluted day, Jain manages to record individual flecks of hazardous haze, the microscopic matter whizzing across the screen in golden streaks. Breaking up the soaring cinematography are a series of casual interviews with Delhi residents.Implicit within these pictures — and explicit in the testimonies — is a striking demarcation of the effects of the crisis based on wealth and access. Only some can afford air-conditioning and air purifiers, and families without running water must take time out of their days to fetch it from tankers.Intermittently, Jain, a native of Delhi, offers additional information through voice-over; at one point, he even acknowledges his own position in the society, recalling how he “grew up as an air-conditioned child who couldn’t even imagine the natural world outside the city.” One wishes for more of such narration, to contextualize the devastating panoramas he has assembled. But, for the most part, Jain lets the images speak for themselves.Invisible DemonsNot rated. In Hindi and English, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 10 minutes. In theaters. More

  • in

    ‘Nothing Compares’ Review: Sinead O’Connor’s Rise and Fall

    This new documentary shows many faces of Sinead O’Connor and highlights her genuinely incomparable voice.The ascent of singer-songwriter Sinead O’Connor’s star was arguably matched by its implosion, which began when, with the longtime abuses of the Catholic Church in Ireland and around the world in mind, she tore up a photograph of Pope John Paul II on “Saturday Night Live,” exclaiming, “Fight the real enemy.”The Irish artist’s sense of rebellion stems from many sources, the first of which is her Irishness. A couple of other factors are the Bobs — Dylan and Marley, both major influences on her thinking and her music. This documentary, directed by Kathryn Ferguson, doesn’t have any contemporary talking-head interviews; instead, it relies on O’Connor’s own speaking voice, both today — it is husky and slightly weary, sounding older than her 55 years — and on archival footage, in which she is quiet, shy, and remarkably tolerant of interviewers harping on her shaved head.The movie chronicles a fraught childhood and a rapid musical development. “How could I possibly know what I want when I was only 21,” she asks in her song “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” After her worldwide breakthrough, she knew she didn’t want the United States national anthem played before her stateside shows, and that she wanted to shed light on sexual abuse in the Catholic church.The reaction to these activist moves was vehement and often incredibly stupid and sexist, as nearly countless short clips of insults delivered by radio callers and celebrities (including Madonna and Joe Pesci) demonstrate. While her stardom was derailed, her music career continued, and the movie ends with a recent performance clip. (She announced this year that she was withdrawing from the music industry, however.)At no point during the movie proper is it mentioned that O’Connor’s biggest hit, “Nothing Compares 2 U,” was composed by Prince, which is peculiar. At the movie’s end, a title card notes that Prince’s estate denied the filmmakers permission to use the song in the movie. This jarring instance of what looks like narrative grudge-holding notwithstanding, “Nothing Compares” is a worthwhile appreciation of the artist.Nothing ComparesNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 37 minutes. In theaters. More

  • in

    ‘Carmen’ Review: You Will Live in Bliss

    After her priest brother dies, a woman masquerades as a village’s irreverent new spiritual leader in this delightful drama.Thanks to a lineage from Bizet to Beyoncé, Carmen is a name associated with temptation. The new drama “Carmen” is not based on the famous opera and tells an original story, but its heroine calls her community toward earthly delights nonetheless.Carmen (Natascha McElhone) is the sister of a priest in rural Malta, the kind of holy man who chastises parishioners for singing too beautifully in church, and her joyless lot in life has been to act as his housekeeper. When her brother dies, Carmen is left without a home, money or a profession. But she’s free to live without the imposition of church authority.Carmen steals the keys to the vacant church and begins to masquerade as the village’s new priest. She doesn’t say Mass, but from the privacy of the confession booth she happily advises long-suffering wives on how to rid themselves of their husbands. Donations to the church explode, and Carmen repurposes the funds liberally: She buys herself a makeover and sends a neighbor to Rome to pursue her dreams. The only danger to her good works is the possibility that a pious churchgoer might expose Carmen’s deception and reimpose rules that weren’t working before she took over.There is a fable-like quality to this film, which plays a little loose with the details of the plot. It doesn’t quite make sense that in such a small village, Carmen’s schemes go largely unnoticed. But in a movie where the central theme is a divorce from orthodoxy, the writer and director Valerie Buhagiar makes the wise decision to orient her film toward what’s pleasurable rather than what’s logical. The Maltese countryside sparkles in the sunlight, and McElhone delights with a charming and slightly loopy performance as the irreverent spiritual leader.CarmenNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 27 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

  • in

    ‘Railway Children’ Review: A Nostalgia Trip, With Lessons

    This winsome reboot of a British children’s classic, directed by Morgan Matthews, also addresses racial segregation in the armed forces during World War II.The Railway Children universe originates in Edith Nesbit’s 1905 serialized novel about a mother and three children at the turn of the century who leave London to live just off a country rail line. A popular 1970 adaptation starring the British actress Jenny Agutter followed (among others), but the most recent “Railway Children” is set during World War II. The three youngsters in Morgan Matthews’s winsome new film, are shipped to the northern countryside as part of the evacuation of children that occurred during German air raids.Thirteen-year-old Lily (Beau Gadsdon) and her younger siblings Pattie and Ted (Eden Hamilton and Zac Cudby), are taken in by Annie, a kindly schoolmistress (Sheridan Smith) and Bobbie, her mother (Agutter). The city kids go through an adjustment period, but they soon settle into an idyllic Yorkshire, which is bathed in the film’s burnishing glow.Dotted with lessons, this is initially a nostalgia trip handled with the cherubic faces of a children’s show. Tom Courtenay (“45 Years”) turns up as a beloved uncle to deliver a Churchillian speech at the dinner table.Drama arrives with the American soldiers who add fresh drama of a troubling sort. Lily and her siblings secretly give refuge to a very young Black enlistee, Abe (KJ Aikens, a bit wobbly), who’s sought by the military police. Perhaps unexpectedly, “Railway Children” takes up the fact that Jim Crow segregation was enforced within U.S. armed forces.Decency prevails in a somewhat ludicrous finale involving an army of children and a train containing a high-ranking officer. It’s an ending so tidy as to undercut the effort to broach a shameful side to the American war effort.Railway ChildrenRated PG. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes. In theaters. More

  • in

    ‘Catherine Called Birdy’ Review: Ye Olde Lady Bird

    Bella Ramsey plays a 13th century adolescent in Lena Dunham’s winning film.To flip through the pages of a 13th century manuscript, one might believe the medieval era was beleaguered by more snaky dragons and man-murdering bunnies than temperamental tween girls. Young women’s stories weren’t recorded — certainly not in their own hand, as literacy was low and paper costs were high — an absence that has prodded later generations to imagine the adolescent of the Middle Ages as demure and obedient, neither seen nor heard. Here comes “Catherine Called Birdy,” a headstrong comedy written for the screen and directed by Lena Dunham, to fill in that silence with a shriek.Birdy, played with zest by Bella Ramsey, storms into the frame baring her teeth and flinging mud pies. The 14-year-old daughter of a broke lord (Andrew Scott) and his oft-bedridden wife (Billie Piper), Birdy is mercurial, mulish and emphatically irritated by nearly everyone and everything in her shire. She logs her grievances in her diary, which riffs from Karen Kushman’s 1994 Newbery Medal-winning children’s novel. The film drops Kushman’s unromantic runner about pestilence (“Picked off 29 fleas today,” her Birdy writes) to focus on the girl’s passion for inventing curses (“Corpus bones!”) and her campaign to scuttle her father’s intention to save his estate by marrying his only surviving daughter to a flatulent creep she dubs Shaggy Beard (Paul Kaye).Husbands, as seen here, are either too old (81!), too young (9!) or too selfish, in the case of Scott’s repugnantly weak Lord Rollo, who wasted the family money importing tigers and silken robes he wears open-chested with beads, as if presaging Lord Byron’s fashion sense six centuries sooner. No wonder the girl would prefer to suffer a saint’s gruesome tortures than live on as one more forsaken wife.Dunham sets out to make life in 1290 feel as vibrant as if Birdy was rocking the glitter eye shadow of “Euphoria” instead of drawstring underpants. Occasionally, the movie overplays its bid for modern relevance — it’s dubious that a medieval teen would be able to come out as gay with just a knowing look — and the soundtrack’s twee covers of girl power anthems are a warble too far. (No need to perform Elastica’s “Connection” on what sounds like a lute.) But Dunham prevails in convincing audiences that coming-of-age in a so-called simpler time was equally tumultuous, and crams the corners of her movie with images of other female characters discreetly seizing their own moments of satisfaction — glimpses of joys which realize that it’s in the margins of a medieval tale where the best stuff happens.Catherine Called BirdyRated PG-13 for adult innuendo. Running time: 1 hour 48 minutes. In theaters. More