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    ‘Sorry, Baby’ Review: Life and Nothing but, Beautifully

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    In her tender, funny feature directing debut, Eva Victor tells the story of a woman, the trauma that changed her and the life she kept on living.In its intimacy and naked truth-telling, “Sorry, Baby” is the kind of independent movie that can seem like a gift. It’s an outwardly unassuming story of a woman, Agnes, grappling with the aftermath of an assault that has rearranged both her head and her world without destroying either. The movie has moments that can make you wince, but it’s often wryly and tartly funny because life is absurd and complicated, and people are, too. Something horrible happened to Agnes, and that horrible thing remains in her, body and soul. It changed how she lives, has sex and sleeps. Yet every morning it’s still Agnes who gets up; she’s still here.“Sorry, Baby” is the striking feature directorial debut of Eva Victor, who also wrote and stars as Agnes. Quick-witted and sharp-tongued, Agnes is a tenured English lit professor when the movie opens, teaching in a university in a New England town. She seems relatively happy or at least settled, though also unsettled. With her cat, she lives in a pleasantly ordinary, two-story house with white clapboards that could use a paint job. It’s cozy inside, with comfortable chairs and stacks of books. Sometimes, when the wind blows, the house’s bones creak, prompting Agnes to see what’s outside. And then she locks the door.Arranged nonchronologically in titled sections, “Sorry, Baby” opens in the present with Agnes eagerly expecting a visit from her close friend Lydie (an excellent Naomi Ackie). The two used to live together in the house when they were grad students at the same school where Agnes now teaches. Nothing particularly eventful occurs during Lydie’s visit, although everything that these two women say and do — their unforced ease, how they readily laugh together and exchange loving, knowing looks — adds detail and texture to the emerging story, as does the unexplained sight of them both tucked into Agnes’s bed when they’re sleeping.It’s easy to like Agnes and Lydie, and want to fall into their little circle and, by extension, the movie. The performances are natural and nuanced; the characters attractive, with bright smiles, sharp minds and a tender, easy way of sharing space and quiet, a feeling of comfort that comes from a deep, shared history. Victor slips exposition into the realistic dialogue, but for the most part she doesn’t overexplain. Instead, she uses everyday chatter, glances, pauses and intonations to flesh out the characters and their relationships. When at one point Lydie asks — her face now still and serious, her voice briefly coloring with discreet emotion — if Agnes ever leaves the house, this seemingly simple question takes on great weight.The heaviness of Lydie’s question, what’s behind it and why she’s posed it, emerges gradually. Not long after Lydie returns home — don’t leave, Agnes says, jokingly but not — the movie shifts back several years to when they were both in grad school. Rearranging time, deploying flashbacks and flash-forwards, can be a lazy filmmaking tic, but it’s integral here. The assault separated Agnes’s life into distinct periods: a before and an after. Real life may not be a series of tidy chapters that’s framed by a once upon a time and a happily every after, but shaping time into stories that we share, revisit, revise and keep reworking is how we make sense of life. And, as Victor gently insists throughout, this is a story about a life, not its trauma.American independent film is rife with tragedies and characters suffering nobly or messily, with cascades of tears and snot and sometimes splashes of blood. Such stories can be obviously moving and at times a relief, especially when compared with mainstream cinema’s stubborn, Hollywood-style insistence on happy, heroic and triumphant endings. Shoulders will invariably be squared, eyes thoroughly dried. Characters will move on so that the audience can make it to the exit in one reassuring piece (and come back for more entertainment). Our movies are filled with extraordinary violence that grievously victimizes characters. Yet nobody, filmmakers very much included, likes a victim. It carries a taint, like loser.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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      ‘Brokeback Mountain,’ Onstage, Lacks Some Intensity

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      A new West End adaptation, starring Lucas Hedges and Mike Faist, recasts Annie Proulx’s 1997 short story as a memory play.“This ain’t no little thing,” Jack Twist (Mike Faist) says of the depth of attraction he is experiencing in “Brokeback Mountain.”But the rodeo cowboy could equally be referring to the ongoing life of Annie Proulx’s celebrated short story. First seen on the pages of The New Yorker in 1997, Proulx’s distilled account of a tragically foreshortened affair has been an Oscar-winning film, an opera and now a self-described play-with-music.This latest iteration opened Thursday night in the @sohoplace theater in the West End, where it is scheduled to run through Aug. 12, offering a passing glimpse of some powerfully familiar characters. The bare bones of the narrative are there; the dramatically necessary flesh and blood and sinew are not.I was pleased to renew my acquaintanceship with the gregarious Jack and the more indrawn, troubled Ennis del Mar (Lucas Hedges), the two men who begin a furtive relationship in 1963 while herding sheep in the rural Wyoming locale of the title.But I’m not sure that the American writer Ashley Robinson’s adaptation actually deepens our understanding of material that many will inevitably associate with Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger in a lauded movie that lasts a good 45 minutes longer than the play (Jonathan Butterell’s atmospheric production clocks in at 90 minutes, no intermission).In the production, the Scottish singer-songwriter Eddi Reader performs original songs by Dan Gillespie Sells to give voice to the characters’ emotions. Manuel HarlanTold piecemeal across 20 years, the play comes punctuated with an attractive sequence of original songs by Dan Gillespie Sells, the English musician with whom Butterell collaborated on the (very sweet) homegrown stage and screen musical, “Everybody’s Talking About Jamie.”The seductive country twang of his music is punchily delivered here by the Scottish singer-songwriter Eddi Reader and an ace band visible at the side of the stage: look closely and you’ll see the pedal steel guitarist B.J. Cole, who has worked with Elton John and Joan Armatrading, among others.The music exists to express emotions to which the men, and the women they marry, are reluctant to give voice outright. Reader, billed as the Balladeer, is granted an articulacy missing from the characters nearby onstage who live in their bodies and not their minds.A standout number, “Sharing Your Heart,” comes at the point at which Ennis’s wife, Alma (a sympathetic Emily Fairn), realizes that her husband’s lasting affections lie elsewhere. In a separate track, lyrics describe “the lavender sky,” which a film can easily depict but which here has to be taken on faith. Tom Pye’s evocative set keeps closer to the ground, bringing to life kitchens, campfires and the tent inside which Ennis and Jack first allow themselves to be intimate.Alma (Emily Fairn) and her husband, Ennis, onstage.Manuel HarlanThe two seek shelter from the cold only to find further comfort in each other’s arms, and the tent shakes on cue to signal the carnal activity going on within it. What we don’t get, beyond stolen kisses, is the layered unfolding of a relationship with an intensity that takes the pair by surprise, so movingly evoked in both the original story and the film.It’s one thing for Jack to look on, clearly intrigued, near the start of the play as Ennis washes himself. But the writing is too synoptic and the action too abbreviated to allow the full weight of what is happening between them to be felt.“I ain’t no queer,” Ennis says early on, eager to disavow the feelings that will come to consume his life. What’s missing is time properly spent in the pair’s company, so that we feel the ebb and flow of this impossible romance. As it is, we get a sequence of highlights, a seeming annotation of the play rather than the thing itself, with the advancing years indicated by the ages of Ennis’s two daughters and Jack’s son. Mentions of the Vietnam War and the draft offer a perfunctory nod to the wider world beyond.Onscreen, of course, you can age up the actors on the way to the story’s bleak conclusion. The innovation here is to recast the story as a memory play, with the Older Ennis (a grieving Paul Hickey) on hand throughout to show the continued impact of Jack upon Ennis. The effect, at least for me, was to cast a glance back to Sam Shepard’s “Fool For Love,” another play about a combustible relationship defined by a character named solely as The Old Man.The two leads, in their West End debuts, acquit themselves well given the formidable challenge posed by their screen forbears. Hedges may not have the immediate physical command that Ledger had onscreen, but he shares his late predecessor’s furrowed brow and a sense of roiling anguish at society’s intolerance, and to some degree his own. This is someone who will never know peace.And Faist, so memorably springy and vital as Riff in the Steven Spielberg remake of “West Side Story,” is really wonderful: engaging and likable from the start, only to reach a psychic abyss on the way to Jack’s signature comment to Ennis: “I wish I knew how to quit you.” Pausing to play a mean harmonica, Faist more than justifies a play that can otherwise feel a tad superfluous.You may or may not weep at this “Brokeback” — I did not — but just as Jack is to Ennis, I expect Faist’s performance will be impossible to forget.Brokeback MountainThrough Aug. 12 at @sohoplace in London; sohoplace.org More

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      in Theater

      ‘Brokeback Mountain’ Is Now a Play in London’s West End

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      Much has changed for L.G.B.T.Q. people since Annie Proulx’s short story was published in 1997. But a new theatrical version is a reminder that homophobia is far from over.In 2016, when the theater director Jonathan Butterell was considering a proposal to adapt Annie Proulx’s 1997 short story “Brokeback Mountain” for the stage, he wondered how to translate the prose’s vast landscape and insular emotions into a play.Last month, in a central London rehearsal studio, Butterell and Ashley Robinson, who wrote the play, tried to answer that question. To help the cast connect with Proulx’s story of a cowboy and a ranch hand falling in love against the wide-stretching landscapes of 1960s Wyoming, black-and-white photographs of American plains and mountain ranges were tacked to the walls during rehearsals.“The vastness has been there from the very beginning,” Butterell said in a recent interview. When it came to evoking the story’s emotional landscape, the director had stuck one sepia-toned photograph, of a lone cowboy in a snow-covered Wyoming, behind a pillar. The image “speaks to the bit of us that feels alone in the world,” Butterell said. “Maybe he’s at peace with this, maybe it’s the source of his agony.”Butterell’s “Brokeback Mountain” opened in previews May 10 at @sohoplace in London’s West End. It’s the first time the story has been adapted for theater — an opera by Charles Wuorinen premiered in Madrid in 2014 — and each version now follows in the footsteps of Proulx’s text and the film that popularized it: Ang Lee’s 2005 Academy Award-winning adaptation, which is often cited as one of the best L.G.B.T.Q. films of all time.Faist, left, and Hedges at @sohoplace. During rehearsals, black-and-white photographs of American plains and mountain ranges were tacked to the walls.Suzie Howell for The New York TimesButterell said he was aware of his audience having expectations based on the film. “They’re inevitable,” he said, “but I don’t mind that.”This theatrical version also has some Hollywood clout. Its lead characters, Jack Twist and Ennis del Mar, are played by the BAFTA-nominated actor Mike Faist and the Oscar-nominated actor Lucas Hedges.In late 2016, Robinson first wrote a treatment for what he called a “memory play” based on the short story, after speaking with the composer Dan Gillespie Sells and Butterell. Robinson’s script stated that the Wyoming setting should not be conveyed “in a purely literal sense,” and his story is set in 2013, with an older version of del Mar reflecting on the years he spent with Twist between 1963 and 1983.Proulx approved of Robinson’s vision. She has “high hopes for the play,” she said in a recent email interview. “When I read Ashley’s script several years ago, I thought he had done a fine job.”In Proulx’s story, del Mar and Twist’s interior worlds are conveyed by an omniscient narrator. In the stage adaptation, music does much of that work.“These two men can’t sing,” Gillespie Sells said, because “they don’t have an emotional dialogue.” Instead, a character called The Balladeer — played by the Scottish singer-songwriter Eddi Reader — sings with an onstage country and western band. “She takes us through time,” Butterell said. “Sometimes it’s from night to day. Sometimes it’s 10 years.”“Brokeback Mountain” will be the first time its two lead actors have appeared onstage in five years. Faist, who plays Twist, originated the role of Connor Murphy in “Dear Evan Hansen” on Broadway, and has had more recent success in film, including Steven Spielberg’s 2021 remake of “West Side Story.”Hedges “hadn’t acted in a while” when he was sent the script, he said, having been focusing on writing instead. The “Brokeback” offer and playing del Mar changed that. “There wasn’t an angle I didn’t love about this,” he said.“As terrifying and frustrating as it is, I really am having the time of my life,” Faist, left, said of the production.Shona LouiseAs the project entered its final week of rehearsals, both actors were grappling with the process in different ways. Hedges said he was experiencing “tragic and triumphant ups and downs” about his own work. “I have a day where I think I’ve figured it all out, and then a day when it all disappears,” he said. The “collective experience” of theater was daunting compared to working in film, he said, adding that onstage, “I can’t use tricks to make it through.”Faist concurred: “It’s a challenge, and it’s terrifying,” mainly because of the expectations of having to match the source material and 2005 film, he said. “But as terrifying and frustrating as it is, I really am having the time of my life,” he added.Butterell said that Faist and Hedges were “as men, as actors, very different creatures.” Faist, he said, had “a sense of life and vivacity,” while Hedges “has this deeply complex interior landscape that’s very much of Ennis.”Neither Hedges, Faist nor Butterell had revisited Lee’s film since they were approached for the project. “The truth of the matter is, no matter what, he’s not Heath Ledger and I’m not Jake Gyllenhaal,” Faist said of the film’s two lead stars, who both earned Oscar nominations for their performances. He and Hedges, Faist added, would both bring their “own weird things” to the roles.The production has forced Faist to confront his “traumas,” he said. “We can take those traumas, turn them around,” he added, and, he hopes, make the audience “think deeply about their own lives.”Following the success of the “Brokeback Mountain” film, Proulx said fans of her text sent her fan fiction that rewrote the ending of her short story, claiming the original was too sad. She told the The Paris Review that those fans had “misunderstood” the story and stated that it was, most importantly, about “homophobia.”Jonathan Butterell, the play’s director, said his two lead actors had different strengths: Faist, left, has “a sense of life and vivacity,” while Lucas, right, “has this deeply complex interior landscape that’s very much of Ennis.”Suzie Howell for The New York TimesThis is the first adaptation of “Brokeback” to be released since the Supreme Court made gay marriage legal in all 50 U.S. states. Robinson — who lives in Brooklyn but was raised in the tiny town of Lockhart, S.C. — said he wrote it to remind audiences that gay trauma still exists.“These stories aren’t necessarily being told anymore because of a trend to put onstage what we want the world to be,” he said, referring to the theater community. “That’s a wonderful thing to do, but we shouldn’t cancel out all of the opportunities to talk about what’s going on underneath it.”Butterell added that the fight against homophobia was “not over” in Britain either, citing a recent spike in the number of attacks on L.G.B.T.Q. people.“This is a tragedy,” Butterell said of the play. “Of course love exists — I don’t want it to be solemn — but the tragedy of this piece is that fear wins.” More

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      in Movies

      ‘French Exit’ Review: A Not-So-Merry Widow

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      #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }What to WatchBest Movies on NetflixBest of Disney PlusBest of Amazon PrimeBest Netflix DocumentariesNew on NetflixAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main story‘French Exit’ Review: A Not-So-Merry WidowMichelle Pfeiffer is sensational as a newly insolvent socialite in this strange, sad comedy.Michelle Pfeiffer in “French Exit.”Credit…Lou Scamble/Sony Pictures ClassicsFeb. 11, 2021, 1:24 p.m. ETFrench ExitDirected by Azazel JacobsComedy, DramaR1h 50mFind TicketsWhen you purchase a ticket for an independently reviewed film through our site, we earn an affiliate commission.As if rebounding as far as possible from her hard-luck character in the 2018 drama “Where Is Kyra?,” Michelle Pfeiffer glams it up as an imperious New York dowager in “French Exit.” Floating through scenes in fur-trimmed coats and slinky peignoirs, nose in the air and martini glass in a death grip, Pfeiffer is Frances Price, a diva of disdain.The role is far juicier than the movie around it, a melancholy farce of disappearing privilege and insouciant parenting.“It’s all gone,” Frances’s accountant says, referring to her money. Yet the line encapsulates the essence of a movie that trembles with loss: Looks, home, love and life itself are on the fade. After years of ignoring her dwindling fortune, Frances, along with her depressive adult son, Malcolm (Lucas Hedges), must sell up and accept the loan of a friend’s vacation apartment in Paris. The length of stay is undefined, but, this time, Francis doesn’t intend to outlast the dribble of cash that remains.Too listless to fizz and too peculiar to win us over, “French Exit,” directed by Azazel Jacobs, is hampered by clockwork quirkiness and disaffected dialogue. What little there is of a plot — which includes multiple séances and a talking cat — doesn’t so much progress as coagulate around a coterie of eccentrics: A pathetically lonely expat (Valerie Mahaffey), a mirthless fortuneteller (Danielle Macdonald) and a smooth private investigator (Isaach De Bankolé), all of whom will eventually congregate in the Paris apartment. Not-so-high jinks ensue.Adapting his 2018 novel of the same name, Patrick DeWitt holds fast to his amoral heroine, a woman whose sometimes appalling behavior is neither apologized for nor regretted. Its reverberations, though, have shaped Malcolm into a passive companion, so devoted he’s willing to dump his fiancée (Imogen Poots) to accompany his mother to Paris. The character is a drip, and Hedges, despite a commendable refusal to steer into the skid for comic gain, never makes him remotely interesting.Pfeiffer is flat-out fabulous here, at once chilly and poignant. As Frances dispenses the last of her money to homeless men in the park, her largess seems more to do with weariness than compassion, her beneficiaries simply useful receptacles for something she no longer needs. A strange mixture of highbrow looniness and quiet rue, “French Exit” is finally less about one woman’s desire to die than about her inability to summon the energy to live.French ExitRated R for a disgusting death and a great deal of drinking. Running time: 1 hour 50 minutes. In select theaters. Please consult the guidelines outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention before watching movies inside theaters.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      ‘Let Them All Talk’ Review: That Ship Has Sailed

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      #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best MoviesBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest TheaterBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main story‘Let Them All Talk’ Review: That Ship Has SailedMeryl Streep plays an author trying to reconnect with college friends in Steven Soderbergh’s film.Meryl Streep and Lucas Hedges in “Let Them All Talk.”Credit…Peter Andrews/HBO MaxBy More