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      ‘Summer of 85’ Review: Denim Embraces and Stolen Kisses

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      A gay teenagers’s fleeting romance goes off the rails in this coming-of-age story from the French director François Ozon.When the moody, baby-faced Alexis (Félix Lefebvre) capsizes while on a solo trek off the coast of Normandy, France, he looks up and sees lightning in the distance accompanied by a grinning, Adonis-like boy named David (Benjamin Voisin), his savior and the embodiment of the coming storm.The two teenagers throw themselves into an intense friendship that quickly blossoms into a passionate affair filled with blissed-out motorbike rides on country roads, denim-padded embraces and stolen kisses between work shifts. Frothy pop tunes by ’80s bands like the Cure and Bananarama place Alexis’s sweltering coastal romance in the realm of starry-eyed nostalgia.The prolific French director François Ozon wants “Summer of 85” to be more than a gay coming-of-age romance in the vein of “Call Me By Your Name.” With an elliptical narrative that jumps back and forth from Alexis’s summer fling to an unspecified future in which he is being interviewed by a suspicious caseworker about the death of David, the film also aims to be pulpy and provocative, teasing the idea that its lovesick protagonist turns homicidal with jealousy. It ultimately stumbles in this balancing act and loses sight of its emotional core, but its efforts remain compelling and delightfully bizarre.Loosely adapted from Aidan Chambers’s young adult novel, “Dance on My Grave,” “Summer of 85” sees adolescent romance as outrageous and suffocating in its hormonal potency, yet also fleeting and illusory.Less a character study than an exercise in genre, the film leaves Alexis’s working-class background and the nuances of his sexual awakening unconsidered and undeveloped. Scenes become increasingly bonkers as the film hurdles toward tragedy. For instance, David’s cool mom (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi) cracks after his death and turns into a resentful, wild-eyed psycho-biddy. Alexis teams up with a flirty British au pair who gives him a drag makeover and smuggles him into a morgue. Alexis’s glib narration of the scene unintentionally heightens the absurdity.Yet unlike many recent L.G.B.T.Q. romances that deploy retrograde views on homosexuality as a convenient tool for conflict, “Summer of 85” uses its vibrant throwback aesthetic to situate two gay men in a cultural fantasy typically reserved for straight couples: the date at the carnival that ends in a fistfight with an embittered “ex,” the star-crossed lovers who sneak around and make morbid, lifelong pacts.Toward the end of the film, reflecting on his time with David, Alexis realizes how he has become a character in a fantastic story — a story full of intrigue and drama, yes, but also one that is light and joyous. Too few queer characters, who are often saddled with tragedy, are so capable of moving on.Summer of 85Not rated. In French and English, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Les Nôtres’ Review: Hidden Suffering in Plain Sight

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      In this moody film, a 13-year-old girl in a Quebec town hides her pregnancy, but her trauma deepens as the identity of the father emerges.Jeanne Leblanc’s “Les Nôtres” goes beyond depicting the pain of harboring a terrible secret and into the realm of the numbness that follows. The 13-year-old Magalie (Émilie Bierre) is hiding that she’s pregnant, and when her condition is found out, many in her small Quebec suburb suspect the father to be the boy next door, Manuel (Léon Diconca Pelletier). Gradually the film reveals her connection with another neighbor, Jean-Marc (Paul Doucet), the town’s mayor and an insidious predator.Magalie’s fairly clueless mother (Marianne Farley) is shocked to learn about her daughter, but the film’s strength isn’t the delayed suspense around unraveling the truth. It’s the sense of suffocation that Magalie feels while putting on the agreeable face of a child going about her school days. Leblanc and her cinematographer Tobie Marier Robitaille suffuse the film’s palette with tamped-down colors and send the camera creeping and looming around Magalie.“Les Nôtres” roughly translates to “Our Own,” which might suggest a condemnation of ineffectual communities. But any societal judgment is less notable than the mood (which feels filtered through Magalie) and the sheer ordinariness of the middle-class neighborhood. That extends to the banal manipulator-in-chief, Jean-Marc (so underplayed by Doucet that one nearly expects some twist).Magalie is able to vent some rage at a certain point, but the film’s drama wrestles itself to a standstill (along with leaving some characterization sketchy, like that of a concerned social worker). Yet Leblanc might come closer to the sensation of concealed trauma than movies with more familiar storytelling beats.Les NôtresNot rated. In French, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 43 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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      Sparks, a Musical Curiosity With a Big Following for Half a Century

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      Edward Wright knows Sparks and you will too, once you see his documentary about this singular cultural phenomenon.Sparks, the musical entity invented and fronted by Ron and Russell Mael, is sometimes rock, sometimes pop, sometimes art song, always idiosyncratic. They’re a cult band with an ever-renewing cult and a career that spans 50 years. “The Sparks Brothers,” an energetic documentary directed by Edgar Wright, explains their appeal in part by emphasizing how it cannot be explained.Sparks’s image is one of contrasts. In the 1970s, the lead singer Russell’s slim physique, bouncy hair and matinee-idol face made him prime rock star “snack” material. Hunched over a keyboard was Ron, the songwriting brother, spindly and pale, whose mustache has been described as uncomfortably poised between Charlie Chaplin’s and Hitler’s. Then there’s what came out of Russell’s mouth — an arch falsetto that might cause a dog to wince, singing ditties about Albert Einstein and breast milk (not in the same song), over precision-tooled guitar riffs and baroque song structures that evoked both Bach and a calliope.“I thought they didn’t really exist,” the musician Nick Heyward says, recounting his surprise when he saw them on the street. “The Sparks Brothers” humanizes the two, who, despite their Euro-vibe were raised in California. Russell was a high-school quarterback, even. Their adored father, an artist, instilled a love of both film and music in the boys. He died when Ron was 11 and Russell 8.Wright, the virtuoso director of “Shaun of the Dead” and “Baby Driver,” among others, and an ace soundtrack assembler, is uniquely suited to make this tribute. Both director and band revel in formal play. Their eccentricity doesn’t entirely shut out earnestness.About sex, the brothers keep relatively mum, although when the subject of Russell’s short-lived romance with his musical collaborator Jane Wiedlin of the Go-Go’s comes up, there’s a bit of mutual humble-bragging by the still-friendly exes. As for drugs, they kept away. Rock ’n’ roll motivated them initially, but it’s something they now have an arm’s-length relationship with, in part because in its purest form it is not entirely hospitable to Sparks’s particular brand of irony.Does the movie slather on the contemporary celebrity love a little too thickly? Maybe. But even the contributions from arguable wild cards — Jason Schwartzman, Amy Sherman-Palladino and Daniel Palladino, Neil Gaiman — are pertinent.The Sparks BrothersRated R, inexplicably. Running time: 2 hours 15 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘My Name Is Bulger’ Review: A Boston Saga

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      The documentary tells the tale of two brothers who rose to the top of very different professions: a politician, William, and a mob boss, Whitey.Few family sagas were as ready-made for Hollywood (“The Departed,” “Black Mass”) as the tale of the brothers Bulger: William, a titan of Massachusetts politics and university president, and Whitey, a crime boss and F.B.I. informant.“My Name Is Bulger” seems to attempt to exonerate William of guilt by association, but, almost amusingly, the director, Brendan J. Byrne, can’t resist fleshing out Whitey’s world.A sunny biography of William and his rise in the State Senate is punctuated by the downplaying of his involvement with Whitey by grown children and siblings from the bustling Bulger clan. William does hold the room in clips of breakfast roasts and news conferences, but my mind went blank after one chilling question-and-answer about shakedowns with an affable associate of Whitey’s, Kevin Weeks: “What were they giving you money for?” “For their life!”You can feel the Bulger family’s frustration at how William’s career in public service could be overshadowed by the activities of his brother. But the “nothing to see here” focus gives the homey-feeling film the whiff of a sanctioned production. Interviews with Massachusetts political figures (Michael Dukakis, Bill Weld) and journalists broaden the perspective, though the standout might be Whitey’s former girlfriend Catherine Greig, who went into hiding with him in 1995. (Whitey was caught by federal authorities in 2011, and beaten to death in prison seven years later.)Greig’s loving, tearful delivery suggest another thesis lurking beneath: the unknowability of certain relationships from the outside. That will remain true of William and Whitey Bulger — one living, one dead, but neither telling any tales.My Name Is BulgerNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. Watch on Discovery+. More

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      ‘Sweet Thing’ Review: Little Caregivers, Little Fugitives

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      The filmmaker Alexandre Rockwell cast his wife as a negligent mother and his children as runaways in this shimmering black-and-white drama.In the glittering drama “Sweet Thing,” responsible, reserved Billie (Lana Rockwell) loves to sing. She imagines her namesake, the jazz legend Billie Holiday, as a companion and savior. Caregiving is familiar to Billie, who’s a teenager, because the role of protector is one she plays for her younger brother Nico (Nico Rockwell). The pair’s parents are separated, a state of affairs that has plunged their loving father Adam (Will Patton) into a booze-fueled depression. When Adam’s alcoholism lands him in a rehabilitation facility, Billie and Nico are forced to face the darker demons of their mother’s house, where Eve (Karyn Parsons) lives with her abusive boyfriend.Longing for escape, the children meet Malik (Jabari Watkins), a neighborhood boy with every hot-wiring skill an aspiring runaway could ever need. With Malik by their side, Billie and Nico take off from their mother’s home. For the first time, these little fugitives are responsible only for themselves.What makes this simple story special is the style that the writer and director Alexandre Rockwell brings to the screen. Rockwell cast his wife and two children as Eve, Billie and Nico, and their ease and familiarity lends the film naturalistic warmth. His high contrast black-and-white film photography captures the shimmer of light in Billie’s hair. The shadows of her mother’s home sink into oblivion. The movie’s eclectic soundtrack — with songs from Billie Holiday, Van Morrison and Arvo Pärt — sets a nostalgic mood.Here, there are no cellphones, no video games. Instead Rockwell intentionally reminds his audience of the rich history of American independent cinema, where filmmakers across decades have built dreamscapes out of the textures of everyday interactions.Sweet ThingNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 31 minutes. In theaters and in virtual cinemas thorough Film Movement. More

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      ‘The Birthday Cake’ Review: Baked Hoods

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      This mob drama folds family secrets and fading power into a story of operatic vengeance.“With tragedy comes strength,” a priest (Ewan McGregor) tells Gio (Shiloh Fernandez) early in “The Birthday Cake,” so we can anticipate trouble. But it’s not the fairly predictable tonal arc that makes this first feature from Jimmy Giannopoulos click: It’s the deftness with which he weaves multiple threads of unease into a single strand of throttling tension.As we learn in flashback, Gio has so far resisted his family’s efforts to toughen him up. Now, on the 10th anniversary of his father’s death, his mettle will be tested as he crosses his Brooklyn neighborhood to a memorial hosted by Angelo (Val Kilmer), a mob boss and one of Gio’s many uncles (mostly played by familiar screen wiseguys like Paul Sorvino and Vincent Pastore). A drive-by shooting has claimed Angelo’s voice and his family’s primacy, but Gio’s immediate concern is the safety of the chocolate cake he’s carrying, carefully baked by his mother (Lorraine Bracco).Updating the Mafia drama, Giannopoulos (who wrote the screenplay with Fernandez and Diomedes Raul Bermudez) folds family secrets and fading power into a story of operatic vengeance. Warnings and threats — from rival thugs, acquaintances and the F.B.I. — follow Gio from bakery to bodega, turning his journey into a gantlet of anxiety and distrust. Friends hint darkly of looming conflicts, and a terrifying scene at a cousin’s apartment (featuring a menacing William Fichtner) leaves Gio shaken.Unfolding mainly over one long night, “The Birthday Cake,” punchily photographed by Sean Price Williams, is brash, a little hokey and endearingly melodramatic. Giannopoulos might be inexperienced, but he’s canny with mood and unafraid to experiment with the rhythms of violence. I, for one, am keen to see what he does next.The Birthday CakeRated R. No worse than any season of “The Sopranos” that includes the Bada Bing. Running time: 1 hour 33 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, FandangoNow and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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      ‘12 Mighty Orphans’ Review: A Team Effort

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      Based on a true story of Texas high school football in the Great Depression, this film treats viewers like children.Inspired by a true story of parentless teenagers whose tenacity on the gridiron raised spirits in the late 1930s, “12 Mighty Orphans” is a plodding football drama in which the characters talk to one another like folksy social workers. The condescending tone extends to a voice-over from Martin Sheen, who plays an orphanage physician. He brings viewers up to speed on American history (“It’s hard to remember which came first, the Dust Bowl, or the Great Depression”) and the movie’s message. The team’s coach, Sheen’s character narrates, “knew that football would inevitably bring self-respect to these boys.”That coach, new to the Fort Worth, Texas, orphanage, is Rusty Russell (Luke Wilson), who bears the scars of World War I and of having grown up an orphan himself. Here, with the help of a sketch his daughter draws, he will pioneer the spread offense. His players will develop into a swift and strategic team, with Hardy Brown (Jake Austin Walker) becoming the most fearsome among them. Hardy also delivers one of the purplest halftime pep talks in memory.If the film’s version of events can be believed, F.D.R. himself (Larry Pine) intervened to help the team. But any hope that the movie, directed by Ty Roberts, might leave room for nuance is dashed by two cartoonish villains — a scheming rival coach (Lane Garrison, also one of the screenwriters) and an authority figure (Wayne Knight) who embezzles money and hits the students with a paddle. “12 Mighty Orphans” displays a similar lack of restraint when manipulating its audience.12 Mighty OrphansRated PG-13. Football violence and corporal punishment. Running time: 1 hour 58 minutes. In theaters. More

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      Lizzie Borden’s ‘Working Girls’ Is About Capitalism, Not Sex

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      While the 1987 drama takes place in a Manhattan brothel, its true concern is labor. (And it’s is definitely not to be confused with Mike Nichols’s rom-com.)A fictional day in the life of a Manhattan boutique bordello, Lizzie Borden’s “Working Girls” is as witty, gimlet-eyed and discomfiting as when it won a special award at the 1987 Sundance Film Festival.The movie, not to be confused with Mike Nichols’s 1988 rom-com “Working Girl,” has been digitally restored and, in advance of a Blu-ray release, is having a theatrical run at the IFC Center in Manhattan.“Working Girls” opens with Molly (Louise Smith) waking at 7 a.m. in an East Village tenement, making breakfast for her partner’s young daughter and bicycling uptown to her place of employment. Her first order of business is inserting a diaphragm — the matter-of-factness provides the movie’s first jolt.Borden’s previous film, “Born in Flames,” (1983) is a vision of urban insurrection led by a largely Black and lesbian army now considered a classic of revolutionary cinema, militant feminism and Afro-futurism. “Working Girls” is no less political. Sex is almost incidental; the movie’s true concern is labor, much of which consists in massaging the egos of the brothel’s clients.While offering a smorgasbord of mildly kinky tastes, “Working Girls” is far from prurient. When, midway through, Molly makes a drugstore run to replenish the supply closet, the movie suggests a Pop Art composition of brand-name packages: Listerine, Kleenex and Trojans. The New York Times reviewer Vincent Canby noted that, although fiction, “Working Girls” “sounds as authentic as might a documentary about coal miners.”Coal miners with ambition, that is: Molly, who has two degrees from Yale, is an aspiring photographer. Dawn (Amanda Goodwin) is a volatile working-class kid putting herself through college. Gina (Marusia Zach) is saving to open her own business. The women, who have amusingly little difficulty handling their generally well-behaved johns, are in control but only up to point. Midway through, their boss Lucy (Ellen McElduff) sweeps in, and as a gushingly saccharine steel magnolia, she is far more exploitative, not to mention manipulative, than any of the customers.Borden belongs to a group of filmmakers, including Kathryn Bigelow and Jim Jarmusch, who emerged from the downtown post-punk art-music scene of the late 1970s. Back then, “Born in Flames” and “Working Girls” seemed like professionalized versions of the incendiary work produced by scrappy Super-8 filmmakers like Vivienne Dick and the team of Scott B and Beth B. Revisited decades later, “Working Girls” appears closer to Chantal Akerman’s epochal “Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles.”The similarity between the films is not so much subject (Akerman’s eponymous protagonist is a housewife prostitute) as attitude. “Working Girl” is notable for its measured structure, analytical camera placement and straightforward cool. Borden only tips her hand once, when she allows Molly — who has been sweet-talked into working a double shift — to ask Lucy if she’s ever heard of “surplus value.”“Working Girls” is an anticapitalist critique that has scarcely dated, save for one bit of hip social realism I neglected to note when I reviewed it in 1987 for a downtown weekly. Asked how she heard about the job, a new recruit reveals that she answered a want ad for “hostesses” in The Village Voice.Working GirlsOpening June 18 at the IFC Center in Manhattan; ifccenter.com. More