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    ‘Dream Horse’ Review: A Familiar Bet

    Toni Collette and Damian Lewis play two underdogs in Wales who invest in a race horse in this comedy-drama ripped from the headlines.In the comedy-drama “Dream Horse,” a woman who works two jobs gets an idea. Remembering her glory days of training animals — pigeons, to be exact — she is determined to buy a mare and birth a race horse. She doesn’t have the resources to do it on her own, so she turns to her sleepy community in Wales to pool their assets.This sports underdog story, which is based on true events, has several features endemic to the genre. But “Dream Horse,” an unabashed crowd-pleaser directed by Euros Lyn, earns its smiles and cheers.Toni Collette plays Jan Vokes, who works in a supermarket by day and draws pints in a pub at night. While her husband Brian (Owen Teale) is a terrible listener — the couple play a game when he’s engrossed in television, in which he “um-hmms” at any outrageous lie Jan concocts — he is invested enough in their marriage that he doesn’t blink when Jan proposes to spend a big chunk of change on a horse.Damian Lewis is Howard, a put-upon salaryman who brings his racing expertise to the pub where Jan tends bar. He and Jan decide to form a collective to back the young foal named Dream Alliance, and it’s off to the races.It’s lovely to see Collette and Lewis, who are largely known for playing intense, difficult people, bringing genuine life to likable “ordinary” characters. Director Lyn, a Welshman himself, includes credible local detail and does knockout work with the racing sequences, leading up to a finale in the rousing “Rocky II” tradition. The final credit sequence, reprising and expanding a karaoke scene from earlier on, is a kick as well, practically worth the price of admission.Dream HorseRated PG. Running time: 1 hour 53 minutes. In theaters. Please consult the guidelines outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention before watching movies inside theaters. More

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    ‘Into the Darkness’ Review: Making Excuses for Collaboration

    This film from Anders Refn shows how a Danish family in the 1940s justifies its complicity with the Nazis.“Into the Darkness” follows an industrialist’s family in early-1940s Denmark as its members rationalize their complicity with the occupying Nazis. Through politeness and denial, they variously decide aiding fugitives is too risky, that demonstrations are irresponsible, that they’re less pro-Nazi than anti-Communist and that doing business with the Germans is acceptable if it keeps the factory open. Also, while it’s distasteful that a German naval commander has designs on the industrialist’s daughter (he gives her a U-boat pin with a swastika on it), he’s not necessarily a party member. Right?The stakes are set high early, when Karl Skov (Jesper Christensen), the factory’s director, and his wife, Eva (Bodil Jorgensen), are visited by two Jewish friends who have escaped Germany and need passage to Sweden. Aksel (Mads Reuther), the son who will eventually join the resistance, could sail them there that night — but why bother, Karl reasons, when the constable will help? Later Karl is told that the Jews were sent to a “model camp,” which he appears to think sounds civilized enough.The director is Anders Refn, the father of the provocateur Nicolas Winding Refn (“Drive”), and he is much more aesthetically conservative than his son. While the plot is absorbing, the movie continually has characters voice their motivations, leaving little to subtext. This is not Luchino Visconti’s “The Damned,” which turned a similar premise into a nearly unwatchable miasma of grotesquerie. But neither is “Into the Darkness” more than watchable. And in allowing the Skovs their quiet reservations (and ending without resolving their fates), it may absolve them too easily.Into the DarknessNot rated. In Danish, German and Swedish, with subtitles. Running time: 2 hours 32 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Google Play, FandangoNow and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. Please consult the guidelines outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention before watching movies inside theaters. More

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    ‘Spring Blossom’ Review: Youth’s Fickle Desires

    An alienated teenager finds questionable companionship in this playful coming-of-age romance by Suzanne Lindon, who was in her teens when she wrote, directed and starred in the film.In the opening scene of “Spring Blossom,” a teenage brunette with downcast eyes spaces out as her peers prattle on around her. Suzanne (Suzanne Lindon) is not interested in what her fellow students have to say, yet her options for companionship are limited. In her humdrum existence — an endless back and forth from home to school flecked with the occasional unfulfilling party — it’s her fantasy life that sustains her.That is, until she meets Raphaël (Arnaud Valois), a 35-year-old stage actor who puts a spring in her step.Lindon wrote “Spring Blossom” at the age of 15 while attending high school in Paris and directed it at age 19. The movie owes a debt to naturalistic coming-of-age dramas by French directors like Maurice Pialat, but Lindon’s interpretation of that work occasionally feels like a pastiche. At the same time, she rejects the trope of the angsty teenager, capturing adolescent alienation with buoyancy and subtle whimsy.Raphaël, himself bored by his actorly milieu and constant rehearsals, falls for Suzanne as well, though their tender relationship remains chaste — and mostly wordless. Their feelings, potent as they are, are abstract: Lindon captures the odd couple’s connection by rendering their most intimate moments as synchronized dance numbers.Crucially, Suzanne is not a hopeless romantic. She falls for the idea of adulthood that Raphaël embodies, and realizes rather abruptly — well before things get messy — the impossibility of their love. Lindon stages an intentional anticlimax that feels confusingly abrupt and unconvincing. Yet her point is well taken: that the desires of young people are as fickle and ephemeral as flowers in full bloom.Spring BlossomNot rated. In French, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 13 minutes. In theaters. Please consult the guidelines outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention before watching movies inside theaters. More

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    ‘Army of the Dead’ Review: Thieving Las Vegas

    Zack Snyder’s zombies-in-Vegas extravaganza is an exhausting pivot from brilliant to boring, accomplished to shambolic.Leave it to Zack Snyder to wonder if “Ocean’s Eleven” could have been improved by the addition of zombies. Netflix, at least, entertained this possibility, and the result is “Army of the Dead,” a prolix heist-horror hybrid whose undeceased are a sight more fun than its living.That’s just as well, as this supersized bloodletting feels as interminable as a Las Vegas summer. Yet the movie’s prologue — an inspired collision of comedy, camp, carnage and back story — is downright masterly, laying out the origin of the infection that has turned showgirls, Elvis impersonators and a tiger named Valentine into crazed flesh-munchers. In other words, Vegas is still bleeding visitors dry, only now the exsanguination is literal.Outside the hastily walled-off city, a handful of displaced survivors (led by Dave Bautista with all the expressiveness of a flak jacket) is planning to brave the infected to rob a vault containing $200 million. Aside from Matthias Schweighöfer as a jumpy safecracker and Tig Notaro as a hard-boiled helicopter pilot, the would-be thieves — whose tiresome motivations only cripple the story’s momentum — are singularly unmemorable. All we need to know is that they have just hours to grab the loot before a nuclear bomb will obliterate the city. On July 4, naturally.With its sticky pacing and divinely unsubtle soundtrack (though The Cranberries’ “Zombie” is always excusable), “Army of the Dead” is an ungainly, yet weirdly mesmeric lump of splatter-pop filmmaking. Its grim images of quarantined refugees and rotting hordes summon a bleakness at odds with its most fun creation: An elite zombie power couple with functioning brains. Snyder should probably have given them final cut.Army of the DeadRated R for slain humans and slaughtered dialogue. Running time: 2 hour 28 minutes. Watch on Netflix. More

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    Playing the Role of New York? Toronto. That View of Paris? It’s Montreal.

    At the Venice Biennale, Canada examines its cities’ ability to stand in for television and film locations.As visitors to the 2021 Venice Architecture Biennale make their way through the broad, leafy pathways of the event’s main exhibition space, the Giardini di Castello, they will quickly notice that one of the national pavilions is wrapped almost completely in green fabric. More

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    ‘It’s Magic What We Do.’ Movie Theaters Get Starry-Eyed Once More.

    The industry was decimated by the pandemic, with theaters shut across the country and new films delayed by Hollywood studios. But now cinemas are ready to fill up their seats again. Will audiences follow?LOS ANGELES — It’s time to go back to the movies! Now!That was the message sent on Wednesday over and over and over again when all five of Hollywood’s major studios, their independent subsidiaries and the stand-alone indie labels like A24 and Neon gathered in person at an AMC theater to show off their coming summer films and remind moviegoers who have become used to streaming their entertainment during the pandemic why they liked going to the movies in the first place. More

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    Dr. Aaron Stern, Who Enforced the Movie Ratings Code, Dies at 96

    He was a New York psychiatrist who went to Hollywood to help lay down guidelines for sex and violence in films. Not everyone was pleased.Dr. Aaron Stern, a psychiatrist who as head of Hollywood’s movie rating board in the early 1970s established himself as filmgoers’ sentry against carnal imagery and violence, died on April 13 in Manhattan. He was 96.His death, in a hospital, was confirmed by his stepdaughter Jennifer Klein.An author, professor and management consultant who had always been intrigued by corporate ladder-climbing, he jousted with egocentric studio executives, producers, directors and actors — providing ample grist for his 1979 book, “Me: The Narcissistic American.”From 1971 to 1974, Dr. Stern was the director of the self-policing Classification and Rating Administration of the Motion Picture Association of America, which had been founded only a few years earlier. It replaced the rigidly moralistic Production Code imposed in the early 1930s and censoriously administered by Will H. Hays, a Presbyterian deacon and former national Republican Party chairman.The new ratings board, which was struggling to gain credibility when it began, graded films by letter to let moviegoers know in advance how much violence, sexuality and foul language to expect on the screen.The board’s decision that a film merited a rating of R, or restricted, might lure more adults, but would immediately eliminate the pool of unchaperoned moviegoers under 17; an X rating would bar anyone under 17 altogether.Dr. Stern recast the PG (parental guidance) category to include a warning that “some material might not be suitable for pre-teenagers.” He also tried, but failed, to abolish the X rating — on the grounds, he told The Los Angeles Times in 1972, that it wasn’t the job of the Motion Picture Association to keep people out of theaters. (The X rating was changed to NC-17 in 1990, but its meaning remained unchanged.)Not until last year, with the release of “Three Christs,” a movie about hospitalized patients who believed they were Jesus, did Dr. Stern receive a screen credit (he was one of the film’s 17 producers). But the lack of onscreen recognition belied the power he wielded as director of the board, which privately screened films and then voted on which letter rating to impose.Even some critics gave the new letter-coded classification the benefit of the doubt in the early 1970s, agreeing that its decisions, in contrast to those of the old Production Code, were becoming more grounded in sociology than theology. Still, two young members of the rating board, appointed under a one-year fellowship, wrote a scathing critique of its methodology that was published in The New York Times in 1972.They accused Dr. Stern of megalomaniacal meddling, editing scripts before filming and cropping scenes afterward, and of tolerating gratuitous violence but being puritanical about sex. They claimed, among other things, that he had warned Ernest Lehman, the director of “Portnoy’s Complaint” (1972), that focusing on masturbation in the film version of Philip Roth’s novel risked an X rating.“You can have a love scene, but as soon as you start to unbutton or unzip you must cut,” Dr. Stern was quoted as saying in The Hollywood Reporter about sex in movies.The Times article prompted letters praising Dr. Stern from several directors, including Mr. Lehman, who said that Dr. Stern’s advice had actually improved his final cut of “Portnoy’s Complaint.” To which The Times film critic Vincent Canby sniffed, “If Mr. Lehman was really influenced by Dr. Stern’s advice two years ago, then he should sue the doctor for malpractice.”Dr. Stern argued that the rating system, while imperfect, served several goals. Among other things, he said, it fended off even more restrictive definitions of obscenity by Congress, the courts and localities; and it warned people away from what they might find intrusive as mores evolved and society became more accepting.“Social growth should make the rating system more and more obsolete,” he told The Los Angeles Times.Members of the movie rating board privately screened films and then voted on which letter rating to impose. An R rating might lure more adults, but would immediately eliminate the pool of unchaperoned moviegoers under 17.Motion Picture Association of AmericaAaron Stern was born on March 26, 1925, in Brooklyn to Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe. His father, Benjamin Israel Stern, was a carpenter, and his mother, Anna (Fishader) Stern, was a homemaker. Raised in Bensonhurst and Sheepshead Bay, he was the youngest of three children and the only one born in the United States.After graduating from Brooklyn College in 1947, he earned a master’s degree in psychological services and a doctorate in child development from Columbia University, and a medical degree from the State University of New York’s Downstate Health Sciences University.In addition to his stepdaughter Ms. Klein, he is survived by his wife, Betty Lee (Baum) Stern; two children, Debra Marrone and Scott Stern, from his first marriage, which ended in divorce; two other stepchildren, Lauren Rosenkranz and Jonathan Otto; and 13 grandchildren.Dr. Stern was introduced to Jack Valenti, the president of the Motion Picture Association, by a neighbor in Great Neck, N.Y., Robert Benjamin, an executive at United Artists. He initially began reviewing films for the association and was recruited by Mr. Valenti to run the ratings administration in mid-1971.He left there early in 1974 to join Columbia Pictures Industries and eventually returned from Los Angeles to New York, where he revived his private practice. He also taught at Yale, Columbia, New York University and the University of California, Los Angeles, and he served as chief operating officer of Tiger Management, a hedge fund, and a trustee of the Robertson Foundation.A veteran educator at NewYork-Presbyterian/Columbia University Irving Medical Center, Dr. Stern, with his wife, donated $5 million in 2019 to endow a professorship and fellowship at Weill Cornell Medicine to treat patients with pathological personality disorders. The gift was in gratitude for the care he had received during a medical emergency.Dr. Stern had been interested in narcissism even before he went to Hollywood, but his experience there proved inspirational.In “Me: The Narcissistic American,” he wrote that babies are born narcissistic, unconcerned about whom they awaken in the middle of the night, and need to be disciplined as they mature to take others into account.“When narcissism is for survival, as with the infant and the founding of a country,” he wrote, “it is not as destructive as when one is established, successful and affluent.”In 1981, Mr. Valenti told The Times that he had “made a mistake of putting a psychiatrist in charge” of the ratings system. Dr. Stern replied, “I am at a loss to respond to that.”But he had acknowledged, when he still held the job, “There’s no way to sit in this chair and be loved.” He was constantly second-guessed.Why give “The Exorcist” (1973) an R rating? (“I think it’s a great film,” he told the director, William Friedkin. “I’m not going to ask you to cut a frame.”) Why originally give Stanley Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange” (1971) an X for a ménage à trois filmed in high speed? (“If we did that, any hard-core pornographer could speed up his scenes and legitimately ask for an R on the same basis.”) Later, as a private $1,000-a-day consultant, he helped edit Mr. Friedkin’s “Cruising” (1980), about a serial killer of gay men, to gain an R instead of an X.“You can only rate the explicit elements on the screen — never the morality or the thought issues behind it,” Dr. Stern said in 1972. “That is the province of religion, leaders, critics and each individual.” More

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    Charles Grodin, Star of ‘Beethoven’ and ‘Heartbreak Kid,’ Dies at 86

    A familiar face who was especially adept at deadpan comedy, he also appeared on Broadway in “Same Time, Next Year,” wrote books and had his own talk show.Charles Grodin, the versatile actor familiar from “Same Time, Next Year” on Broadway, popular movies like “The Heartbreak Kid,” “Midnight Run” and “Beethoven” and numerous television appearances, died on Tuesday at his home in Wilton, Conn. He was 86.His son, Nicholas, said the cause was bone marrow cancer.With a great sense of deadpan comedy and the kind of Everyman good looks that lend themselves to playing businessmen or curmudgeonly fathers, Mr. Grodin found plenty of work as a supporting player and the occasional lead. He also had his own talk show for a time in the 1990s and was a frequent guest on the talk shows of others, making 36 appearances on “The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson” and more than 40 on David Letterman’s NBC and CBS shows combined.Mr. Grodin with his co-star, Ellen Burstyn, and his director, Gene Saks, in 1975 at the first rehearsal for the Broadway comedy “Same Time, Next Year.” The play was a hit and a turning point in Mr. Grodin’s career.Bettmann, via Getty ImagesMr. Grodin was a writer as well, with a number of plays and books to his credit. Though he never won a prestige acting award, he did win a writing Emmy for a 1977 Paul Simon television special, sharing it with Mr. Simon and six others.Mr. Grodin, who dropped out of the University of Miami to pursue acting, had managed to land a smattering of stage and television roles when, in 1962, he received his first big break, landing a part in a Broadway comedy called “Tchin-Tchin,” which starred Anthony Quinn and Margaret Leighton.“Walter Kerr called me impeccable,” Mr. Grodin wrote years later, recalling a review of the show that appeared in The New York Times. “It took a trip to the dictionary to understand he meant more than clean.”Another Broadway appearance came in 1964 in “Absence of a Cello.” Mr. Grodin’s next two Broadway credits were as a director, of “Lovers and Other Strangers” in 1968 and “Thieves” in 1974. Then, in 1975, came a breakthrough Broadway role opposite Ellen Burstyn in Bernard Slade’s “Same Time, Next Year,” a durable two-hander about a man and woman, each married to someone else, who meet once a year in the same inn room.“The play needs actors of grace, depth and accomplishment, and has found them in Ellen Burstyn and Charles Grodin,” Clive Barnes wrote in a rave in The Times. “Miss Burstyn is so real, so lovely and so womanly that a man wants to hug her, and you hardly notice the exquisite finesse of her acting. It is underplaying of sheer virtuosity. Mr. Grodin is every bit her equal — a monument to male insecurity, gorgeously inept, and the kind of masculine dunderhead that every decent man aspires to be.”The show ran for three and a half years, with an ever-changing cast; the two original stars left after seven months. Mr. Grodin by that point was in demand in Hollywood. (Ms. Burstyn reprised the role in a 1978 film adaptation, but this time opposite Alan Alda in the Grodin role.)Mr. Grodin with Eddie Albert and Cybill Shepherd in the comic romance “The Heartbreak Kid” (1972), one of his best-known films.20th Century-FoxMr. Grodin had already appeared in Mike Nichols’s “Catch-22” in 1970 and had turned in one of his better-known film performances in the 1972 comic romance “The Heartbreak Kid,” in which he played a self-absorbed sporting goods salesman who marries in haste, immediately loses interest in his bride (Jeannie Berlin), and falls in love with another woman (Cybill Shepherd) on his honeymoon. (Elaine May, Mr. Nichols’s longtime comedy partner and Ms. Berlin’s mother, directed.)In 1978 he had a supporting role in the Warren Beatty vehicle “Heaven Can Wait.” Another signature role was in the action comedy “Midnight Run” in 1988, in which Mr. Grodin played an accountant who has embezzled a fortune from the mob and is being pursued by a bounty hunter, played by Robert De Niro.Though Mr. Grodin acted opposite stars like Mr. De Niro and Mr. Beatty, what may have been his best-known role found him working with a dog. The film was “Beethoven,” a family-friendly hit in 1992, and the dog was a St. Bernard. Mr. Grodin played a cranky father who did not exactly warm to the new household pet. In one memorable scene, he crawls into bed with what he thinks is his wife and is enjoying having the back of his neck licked until he realizes that the dog, not the wife, is his bedmate.“You’ve ruined my life,” he growls at the beast. “You’ve ruined my furniture. You’ve ruined my clothes. My family likes you more than they like me. Why? All you do is drool and shed and eat.”The next year he reprised the role in “Beethoven’s 2nd.” If he was frequently upstaged by the title character in these films, he took it in stride.“I don’t complain when the editor chooses my worst take because it’s the dog’s best take,” he told The Kansas City Star when the sequel came out.Charles Sidney Grodin was born on April 21, 1935, in Pittsburgh. His father, Ted, was a merchant who dealt in sewing notions, and his mother, Lena (Singer) Grodin, was a homemaker.He grew up in Pittsburgh and tried the University of Pittsburgh, thinking he might want to be a journalist. But he soon rejected that idea.“I imagined that someday an editor might tell me to ask someone who had lost a loved one how they felt,” he wrote in a 2011 essay for Backstage magazine. “I see that all the time on the news now. Not for me.”He often said that the 1951 movie “A Place in the Sun,” which starred Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift, caused him to shift his focus to acting.“It was two things,” he told the Television Academy Foundation in an oral history. “One is I think I developed an overwhelming crush on Elizabeth Taylor. And two, Montgomery Clift made acting look like, ‘Gee, well that looks pretty easy — just a guy talking.’”Mr. Grodin had a signature role in “Midnight Run” (1988), in which he played an accountant who has embezzled a fortune from the mob and Robert De Niro played the bounty hunter who pursued him.City Light FilmsAfter six months at the University of Miami, he worked at the Pittsburgh Playhouse for a year and a half, then found his way to New York. From 1956 to 1959 he studied with Uta Hagen, though he often found himself questioning her methods, which he said annoyed her.Mr. Grodin made guest appearances on “Shane,” “The Virginian” and other 1960s TV series before landing his first significant film role, as an obstetrician, in the 1968 horror hit “Rosemary’s Baby.”In 1976 he played an unlikable oilman in a remake of “King Kong,” with some reluctance.“I wanted to play the love interest with Jessica Lange,” he said. “I didn’t want to be the guy responsible for the death of the most beloved animal outside of Bambi. But they wanted me for the bad guy.”By popular demand, his character meets a gruesome end.“The only thing they changed after the first screening, I was told, is when Kong got loose and tried to step on me and kill me and missed,” he said. “The audience was so disappointed that they had to recut it.”Mr. Grodin in 2000, not long after his CNBC talk show ended its run. “They brought me in there to be a humorist,” he said, “but pretty quickly I got caught up in social issues.”Suzanne DeChillo/The New York TimesMr. Grodin showed a different side in the mid-1990s when he hosted “The Charles Grodin Show” on the cable channel CNBC.“They brought me in there to be a humorist,” he said in the oral history, “but pretty quickly I got caught up in social issues, and the show became just as much that, if not dominantly that. Some people like it better when you’re funny, and some people prefer that you’re taking cameras up to prisons and trying to help people who shouldn’t be in prison.”Nicholas Grodin said his father had particularly been proud of his work for the Innocence Project, the prison justice organization, and related causes, and his work for groups that help homeless people.After his talk show ended in 1998, Mr. Grodin largely stepped away from show business for a dozen years. Then he began to take roles again, including a recurring one on “Louie,” the comedian Louis C.K.’s series.Mr. Grodin wrote several memoirs full of anecdotes from his career, including “It Would Be So Nice if You Weren’t Here: My Journey Through Show Business” (1989) and “We’re Ready for You, Mr. Grodin: Behind the Scenes at Talk Shows, Movies and Elsewhere” (1994).His first marriage, to Julie Ferguson, ended in divorce. In 1983 he married Elissa Durwood, who survives him, along with his son, who is from his second marriage; a daughter from his first marriage, the comedian Marion Grodin; and a granddaughter.After more than a decade away from show business, Mr. Grodin began to take roles again. He’s seen here in his recurring role as a doctor in a 2014 episode of the comedian Louis C.K.’s series “Louie.”K.C. Bailey/FXA 1985 anecdote Mr. Grodin related on Mr. Letterman’s show was typical of the breath of fresh, if offbeat, air he brought to those appearances. He told Mr. Letterman that he had been gratified when, walking through the lobby on his way to the studio, the crowd that had lined up to get into the show burst into applause.“I turned around to smile,” he said, “and they weren’t applauding me. There was a duck in a tuxedo walking by, and they were applauding the duck.“But,” he added, “for the moment that I thought they were applauding me, it was a lovely, lovely moment.”He offered no explanation for the presence of the duck. More