Amazing Grace (2019): A Review (Review #1285)

AMAZING GRACE (2019)

Amazing Grace had a tortured journey to its ultimate release. Made as a television special in 1972 to record Aretha Franklin's live gospel album, technical issues scudded the first attempt, then legal issues tied things up until after Franklin's death in 2018. Now finally released with the synchronization and legal issues resolved, Amazing Grace lives up to its title, a marvelous recording of an artist at the heights of her powers rendering R-E-S-P-E-C-T to The Almighty.

Directed by Sydney Pollack, Amazing Grace was recorded over the two days that the album Amazing Grace was itself recorded live at the New Temple Missionary Baptist Church. Accompanying 'the Lady Soul' was Reverend James Cleveland, a gospel legend in his own right, and the Southern California Community Choir led by Alexander Hamilton.

Not "that" Alexander Hamilton.

On the second night, unexpected guests attend in the forms of The Rolling Stones' Charlie Watts and Mick Jagger, as do Aretha Franklin's father, the Reverend C.L. Franklin and gospel great Miss Clara Ward. The film primarily involves the actual recording with a live audience, which is reminded by Rev. Cleveland that this is also a religious service. There is only one brief clip of rehearsal footage before transitioning to How I Got Over, one of the many numbers Aretha sings.

Amazing Grace more than lives up to its title, as The Queen of Soul pays homage to the One True King. One cannot complain that the film is essentially a filmed concert, for who would not want to be in such a presence? For those who are curious, it takes ten minutes before Sister Aretha starts singing after an introduction by Rev. Cleveland and the SCCC marching out to On Our Way.

Her first number is surprising, a cover of Marvin Gaye's Wholly Holy, an interesting mix of the secular and the sacred and a reminder of how what is now R&B and soul music has strong roots in gospel music. Amazing Grace also shows this when it does a medley of Carole King's You Got a Friend with Precious Lord, Take My Hand, a magnificent blending that erases the border between spiritual and worldly.

One is thoroughly enraptured at Aretha Franklin's power and conviction when singing. She's intense and committed both spiritually and artistically, an elegant and devoted performer who serves both her audiences: her fellow worshipers and the object of said worship.

We see in Amazing Grace not just the power of Franklin's extraordinary gifts but also the power of the music. I imagine that even the strongest atheist or agnostic will feel something stirring within hearing the deep passion and belief the audience and participants. When Rev. Cleveland softly calls out, "Can I get a witness here tonight?" before the title song, I wouldn't blame anyone responding "Amen, Brother James!"

Cinematically, there's nothing especially extraordinary in Amazing Grace. Apart from a quick scene of rehearsal the film is content to show just the two-night event, but what an event it was. You even see some of the lightness and joy as The Spirit moves people at the New Temple. Near the end we see a piece of crunched-up paper thrown directly at the camera with the miscreant laughing.

I think it was the Reverend James Cleveland, a sign that to worship is to have joy and even some fun.

Amazing Grace is a joyful, moving, almost spiritual experience, a chance to join in metaphorical worship and see these Precious Memories once more.

DECISION: A-

Judy (2019): A Review (Review #1284)

JUDY

Despite what some may think Judy the film is not the first biopic on Judy Garland, this legendary yet troubled performer. A very good miniseries, Life with Judy Garland: Me and My Shadows, covered the entirety of Garland's surprisingly short 47 years, winning Emmy Awards for both actresses that played Garland as a teen (Tammy Blanchard) and as an adult (Judy Davis). Judy, unlike Life with Judy Garland, covers the final months of Garland's life before her death from an accidental drug overdose in 1969. Judy has a very strong performance from Renee Zellweger in the title role, and while the film overall could have been stronger it is quite good, even moving, as it is now. 

Judy Garland (Zellweger) is in deep financial straits. Desperate to keep her children Joey and Lorna Luft with her, she is forced to take a booking at the Talk of the Town Theater for a five-week engagement. Garland being Garland, she can be temperamental and terrified, a despondent, destructive diva, insufferable and insecure. Will she show? Will she do the show if she shows?

While her assistant/minder Rosalyn (Jessie Buckley) does her best to keep Garland going, Garland marries her fifth husband, Mickey Deans (Finn Wittrock), a nice-enough goombah of a man. She also works against her third husband, Sid Luft (Rufus Sewell) who insists the children would be better off with him. Sid can give them stability versus Garland's peripatetic and perhaps pathetic life. Undaunted and unwilling to bend, she keeps singing for her supper and her kids. As Judy struggles with her addictions, her neuroses and her struggles to function, occasionally flashing back to her MGM days, she keeps plugging away, fighting to the bitter end.

When both Cary Grant and Judy Garland were alive it was routine for Grant impersonators to say "Ju-DY! Ju-DY! Ju-DY!" as part of their act despite as far as I know no evidence that Grant ever actually said "Judy! Judy! Judy!" in any film or to Garland herself. Ever the raconteur, Garland joked that she'd love to make a movie with Grant so she could reply "Ca-RY! Ca-RY! Ca-RY!". Yet that side of Garland, the fun and funny wit who could spin yarns and celebrate the joy of life, does not exist in Judy.

Instead, we see the 'tragic' Judy: the insecure, neurotic woman who could be hard to work with but who also be terribly sympathetic. Perhaps this is why we had a gay couple pop up in Judy, who at one point literally take her home to make her breakfast and spend time with her, albeit at her request. In retrospect, these two male practitioners of Judyism don't add much to the plot save for the stereotype of gay men passionate about Judy Garland.

Also in retrospect, I don't think Garland would like Judy. Perhaps she would have enjoyed the flashbacks that pop in and out which detail just how horrid MGM was with her, starting her out on the pills that eventually overtook her. She also perhaps would appreciate the joy her children gave her and her determination to keep them with her. However, Judy, again while good, does not give us much about Garland the person apart from how she stumbles then rights herself.

Judy, however, has one major positive: Renee Zellweger in what almost feels like her own comeback. She, thanks to some good makeup work, resembles Garland, and her performance gives us a very sympathetic image of this diva. I think at times it does a bit more like mimicry than a genuine performance, but Zellweger excels in scenes that require a gentle touch such as whenever she is with Joey and Lorna.

It's a curious thing that Zellweger can get Garland's physicality during the musical numbers but curiously her voice seems higher and softer than Garland's. Garland's singing was lower and stronger than Zellweger's. Renee Zellweger is a good singer (it can't be that long since Chicago to have people forget she has musical abilities) but I found her voice rather whispery compared to the brassier manner Garland had.

On the whole though, Renee Zellweger did a strong job in the title role.

As much as Zellweger is being praised, right so, I think not enough attention has been paid to Buckley's role as Rosalyn, forever juggling the temperament with the torment that is Judy Garland. Wittrock continues to steadily impress with his Mickey Deans, part idiot part sincere fellow. I would say Sewell came off the worst as a one-note Sid Luft, but I think Tom Edge's adaptation of Peter Quilter's play End of the Rainbow gave him precious little to work with.

Everyone was competent to great in their roles, and while director Rupert Goold did not make a mess he did not overwhelm either.

Finally, in my view Gabriel Yared's score was a bit misplaced in that it tried to cue the emotions when the scenes and performances are perfectly able to do that.

On the whole I think both Life with Judy Garland: Me and My Shadows as well as Garland's final film I Could Go on Singing are more accurate portrayals of Judy Garland than Judy. I'd add that I Could Go on Singing is closer to the real Judy Garland in this period than Judy itself. That being said, Judy is a good film that serves as a primer to this most extraordinary of talents. It's less a portrait of the artist and more a sketch but a good sketch nonetheless.

1922-1969

DECISION: B+

Angel Has Fallen: A Review

ANGEL HAS FALLEN

I will make this clear: Angel Has Fallen, the third film from an increasingly oddball and unexpected franchise, is nowhere near good. It isn't clever. It isn't original. It's silly bordering on stupid, with a baby managing to out-act almost the entire cast.

So yes, I thoroughly enjoyed Angel Has Fallen, though whether for the camp value or the mindless romp I cannot fully pin down.

Secret Service Agent Mike Banning (Gerard Butler) is still guarding the President, though there's been a change in administrations with the President now being Alan Trumbull (Morgan Freeman), formerly the Speaker of the House in Olympus Has Fallen and Vice President in London Has Fallen.

Mike is secretly suffering from physical and emotional wounds which he keeps secret from both the President and Leah (Piper Perabo), Mike's wife and which he self-medicates with copious amounts of pills. In the good old American tradition of 'I ain't got time to bleed', Banning keeps at it until an assassination attempt on the President is made.

Worse, Banning is framed for the attempted assassination. With Trumbull in a coma, Vice President Kirby (Tim Blake Nelson) is in command. He is also in cahoots with the real assassins, paramilitary company Salient Global and its chief Wade Jennings (Danny Huston), who happens to be Banning's BFF. It's all part of a conspiracy to essentially have a war with Russia and give lucrative contracts to Jennings as mercenaries.

Banning manages to escape, albeit with the accidental help of Salient Global, and now must both clear his name and save President Trumbull while avoiding FBI agent Helen Thompson (Jada Pinkett Smith). This requires some help from his woodsman father Clay (Nick Nolte), with whom Mike has not reconciled. It ends in a spectacular hospital battle where Trumbull, now out of his coma, is still in danger.

ANYONE who thinks he or she is going to see an intellectual exploration into the tortured soul of Mike Banning when seeing Angel Has Fallen is a fool unto him/herself. This is clearly a dumb action film, one that delights in being big, loud, chaotic and obvious.

Anyone with an ounce of brain knows who the villains are. It's so patently obvious that the only real suspense is waiting for both Jennings and Kirby to reveal themselves, and I think that was by and large the point. Angel Has Fallen is not a film to think on or over, and that's not a condemnation. It's an acknowledgement of reality. Angel Has Fallen is open about its own outlandishness and as such one should recognize it isn't even going to try to be anything else.

In short, Angel Has Fallen is a hoot: silly, loud and even comical both intentionally and not, but at least it knows it. Granted, it does try to add some elements of 'character' and 'drama' via Banning's health and Daddy issues, but those get forgotten or tossed whenever we need more explosions.

Gerard Butler is almost 50 and it is beginning to show. While his weathered look adds a touch of weariness to Mike Banning, it is starting to look more odd to see him outrun, outlast and overpower single-handed a platoon of men half his age. Whatever promise he had early in his career is almost extant, but Butler knows his way around weapons.

Freeman was blessed by being in a coma for most of Angel Has Fallen, so this was a nice paycheck that required little of him. He makes a fine replacement for Aaron Eckhart, a fine actor who had enough sense to decline a third round of being beat up. Perabo also replaced the original Leah, Radha Mitchell, and despite the rather thankless role of 'wife in danger', I think she did quite well.

Smith was also in an equally thankless role as the FBI agent who let's say won't make a return appearance in any future Has Fallen feature. She did a good job with a nothing role and worse, the film opted to eliminate a potentially good counterweight to Butler's Banning to where a teaming might have done wonders.

I think we will always look fondly on Nolte's bonkers Clay, full of paranoia and growls. Huston shows he can use firepower and yell like the best of them. These roles are so beneath the collected talents of just about everyone involved, but again no one is pretending that Angel Has Fallen is anything other than action-packed and mindless entertainment.

The best performance came from the child/children who played their daughter. She cried on cue and had almost an uncanny ability to react to everything. Whether you think it is good or bad that a baby managed to do better acting than those deemed 'professional actors' I leave to you. 

At this point, should we actually get another Has Fallen film, we might just as well make Mike Banning the President and get it over with. Angel Has Fallen, even for the schlock that it is, has issues. Sometimes the action scenes are hard to follow with the jumbled editing and at two hours seems longer than it should be.

On the whole however, Angel Has Fallen is clear about what it is: a big, loud bombastic film that is not meant to be taken seriously on almost any level. Embrace the outlandishness of it all and you'll have a good time.

DECISION: C+

WWE in El Paso: Some Thoughts

Yesterday, I went to the WWE Live event in El Paso and found it most entertaining even if I had no idea who anyone was apart from Sin Cara. The 'women's division' was nice, though I believe that technically they are not 'divas'. What differences lie between Natalya, Lacey Evans and Sasha Banks are things I could not fathom a guess.

Shows how much I know about the goings-on in World Wrestling Entertainment.

I have vague memories of Sgt. Slaughter, the Iron Sheik, Hulk Hogan and for some reason The Great Kabuki, but as to who all the people in the ring last night were, I wouldn't know a King Corbin from a Ricochet or AJ Styles. I'm someone who thinks The OC is a television show, so a lot of the theatrics was lost on me.

Nevertheless, I loved it all: the spectacle, the matches, the rivalries, the wild over-the-top nature of it all. I had an awesome time: thrilling whenever a wrestler got flung out of the ring, exhorting others to get back in when they scurried off. It was wild hijinks and I had a blast. I cheered the heroes and booed the villains, though I declined to join in the "O-C/ A-J Sucks" chants going around.

Part of me was surprised at how in particular children were into this gaudy show, but I shouldn't. I too as a child found the intricacies of wrestling fascinating, and I figure way back then I knew whom 'hated' whom. Granted, in time I moved away from all that to grow into the somewhat more snobbish fellow we all know and love, but I can understand why kids and their parents thrill on seeing these figures live in person.

I give WWE credit for this: they are perfectly aware of their audience, particularly children. The 'evil' OC (and I'm figuring this trio is meant to be hated) never used one profanity while spouting their taunts. The matches might be staged in that the outcomes are predetermined. They may even follow a routine: my BFF Gabe accurately predicted when The Viking Raiders would storm in to confront their nemesis, but I'm reminded of something I have long referred to as 'The Agreement'.

'The Agreement' is the unwritten acknowledgment that everything you see and hear is purely for entertainment, not to be taken literally or seriously. There is an 'Agreement' between the audience and the performer that the latter will put on some kind of shtick and the former will suspend disbelief long enough to go along with it. In short, a good time will be had by all (or at least as much a good a time as one can get after landing on one's back with force).

This 'Agreement' goes with every kind of performance: WWE, film, television, the stage. I suspect that outside the ring, A.J. Styles and Lacey Evans (IF those are their real names) are probably very nice people; from what little I know many WWE stars are very respectful, even fond of their fans and do various charity work along with USO tours.

Watching all the spins and drops, I was reminded of what the character of Bill Sampson said in All About Eve.

Yes: while watching WWE I was reminded of All About Eve. That's just how I roll.

When the title character shows disdain at Bill going to Hollywood to make a film and leave 'The THEATER', he gives a brilliant and impassioned speech against her snobbery (courtesy of IMDB):

The THEATER! THE THEATER! What book of rules says THE THEATER exists only withing some ugly buildings crowded into one square mile of New York City? Or London, Paris or Vienna?...Want to know what THE THEATER is? A flea circus. Also opera. Also rodeos, carnivals, ballets, Indian tribal dances, Punch and Judy, a one-man-band: ALL 'Theater'. Wherever there's magic and make-believe and an audience there's 'THEATER'!...You don't understand them all, you don't like them all, why should you? THE THEATER's for everyone, you included, but not exclusively, so don't approve or disapprove. It may not be your "THEATER", but it's theater of someone, somewhere.

Bill Sampson, or more accurately Joseph L. Mankiewicz, is absolutely correct. WWE IS 'theater': the lights, the entrance music, the rivalries and storylines. It's openly and unapologetically 'theater'. The performers know it. The audience knows it. It's 'The Agreement' in bold print.

No one is fooled. No one is deceived. Everyone knows up-front that this is, as my cousin George would say in Spanish "Puro Show" (Pure Show). Some may take it a bit overboard but what I saw last night was a lot of people, myself included, having a great deal of fun, entertained and leaving joyful.

Perhaps children are fooled, but we should cut them some slack. Innocence is a beautiful quality, and once wisdom comes, it makes all those memories much warmer.

I'm someone who can enjoy both a WWE Live event and an Itzhak Perlman concert and recognize both as 'theater'. I see little difference between them. Yes, they are not the same and may cater to different audiences, but both work to delight their audiences with their specific and unique skills. In short, their goals are to create something wonderful for those who come to see them.

Unfortunately, many of my fellow film reviewers and some performers come from the Eve Harrington School of Artistic Theology. Meryl Streep immediately comes to mind. Her impassioned Golden Globes speech denouncing President Donald Trump also included a snide jab at the hoi polloi. She bemoaned that without her or Dev Patel or Amy Adams or Ryan Gosling or Natalie Portman, people would be condemned to watch nothing but football and mixed martial arts, which she helpfully reminded us are not 'the arts'.

I don't know anyone who would confuse the Octagon with the Louvre, but there it is.

Far be it for me to once again remind one of our great actresses that I figure many people would find a world where there was nothing but football or MMA to be nirvana and not a vast wasteland. I imagine more people would rather watch an AFC championship game than they would Florence Foster Jenkins, The Shape of Water or Nocturnal Animals.

They are not 'stupid' or 'uneducated' for enjoying the various matches and grandiose nature of professional wrestling, or football or MMA. They are not morally or intellectually inferior for preferring the styling of AJ Styles over the musings of Meryl. Streep and her cohorts forget 'The Agreement'. Far from being hicks or rubes, WWE fans are shrewd in their awareness of the illusion. They willingly suspend disbelief but unlike what their 'betters' believe WWE fans do not take things at face value.

Madame Streep and those who think like her have a wild misreading of their audience and perhaps of people in general. Streep and those who think like her do believe 'THE THEATER' is something specific. Perhaps not those ugly buildings within one square mile of New York City but something grand, elevated and elegant, reserved for those with refined tastes and far above those who enjoy seeing three women in sparkling costumes fling each other about.

The same disdain for certain elements in film also, sadly in my view, colors the opinions of my cinematic brethren. I believe a film should be judged by what the filmmakers aim for, some some grand 'statement' on art. This is why I can with a perfectly straight face laud both Seven Samurai and The Hangover. They are nowhere equal in terms of cinema, but both did what they aimed to do and did it exceptionally well.

Why my fellow critics hold some idea that "CINEMA" must be "THEATER" in the Eve Harrington mode I do not understand.

I am always amazed at why despite the harsh, almost enraged reviews from critics and the cinematic intelligentsia Bohemian Rhapsody is generally loved by audiences while the critically and Film Twitter-adored Rocketman flopped. My colleague Christian Toto insists it has to do with lip-synching: that because Bo-Rhap used Freddy Mercury's voice while Rocketman used Taron Egerton's voice audiences embraced the former and rejected the latter.

I don't quite fully agree. I think for all its flaws (of which it has quite a few) Bohemian Rhapsody was a more conventional (read: accessible) film with a more upbeat ending than the more artistic (read: eccentric to bizarre) Rocketman.

Seeing an HIV-positive Mercury rise to give a breathtaking performance at Live Aid is something people will embrace easier than seeing a child dressed as Sandy Cheeks belt out Rocketman to a drowning Elton John before the Esther Williams Revue comes to his rescue.

In conclusion, I do not look upon with contempt those who love WWE, and I think it's a mistake to do so. Professional wrestling and mixed martial arts are most certainly not 'the arts', but they are 'theater'. Maybe not Meryl Streep's 'theater', but it's theater for someone, somewhere, which does not require Madame Streep or her ilk's approval or condescension.

Brian Banks: A Review

BRIAN BANKS

I don't follow football, so I am unfamiliar with the Brian Banks story. Brian Banks tells his story of wrongful incarceration and efforts to clear his name while attempting an NFL comeback at an age when most players contemplate retirement. Brian Banks, while in many ways a standard 'inspirational' biopic with so many of its trappings, at least knows this and does not fail in its aim to be audience-pleasing. It also takes time to be instructive on the many important issues Brian Banks tackles.

No pun intended.

Told in slightly non-linear fashion, Brian Banks chronicles our title character (Aldis Hodge), a decent young man whose dreams of gridiron glory were deferred due to a false accusation of rape when he was in high school. He was advised to take a plea rather than go to trial with the idea he'd get some probation but ended up sentenced to six years in prison, four years on probation and a lifetime as a registered sex offender.

This endlessly hampers his ability to get a job, but he has the loving support of his mother Leomia (Sherri Shepherd). Brian has already been rejected by the California Innocence Project when he was in prison, but now time is running out. His probation is coming to an end, and Brian is determined to clear his name before he essentially has a lifetime sentence: physically free but hampered by being a sex offender. Brian's stubbornness on the issue along with his surprisingly adept handling of a writ of habeas corpus impresses Justin Brooks (Greg Kinnear), head of the CIP who somewhat reluctantly agrees to help.

Armed with nothing but truth, along with some revelations by his original accuser Kennisha Rice (Xosha Roquemore) and his new love interest Karina (Melanie Liburd), Brian and Justin fight to clear his name, culminating with justice finally being served.


Brian Banks is a combination of a feel-good  and topical film. The audience I saw it with, small as it was, reacted strongly to it: I heard cheers and applause at its climatic ending. As such, I think director Tom Shaydac and screenwriter Doug Atchison accomplished what they set out to do: tell Banks' story in a way that general audiences would embrace.

It is not hard to embrace Brian Banks when almost the whole cast works so well. Hodge is an absolute winner as Brian Banks. He makes Banks into a good man caught in an unfair world. From when he quietly mourns his inability to find employment to his frustration when his parole officer (Dorian Missick) keeps making his life difficult by being so by-the-book, Hodge wins us over.

He is equally complimented by Shepherd as his mother, forever loving and supportive. It may be a one-note character but Shepherd is so endearing as this strong yet vulnerable woman that when she talks about the pain of seeing your son in prison for something he didn't do, it moves you deeply. Primarily known for comic roles, Shepherd is an untapped talent as a dramatic actress and someone who should work more.

Also earning high praise is Liburd as Karina, the personal trainer and aspiring grad student who falls for Brian. Karina is not a one-note supportive type but a strong individual with her own haunted past. Brian Banks was smart in allowing for a complicated subject such as sexual assault & accusations of it to each have a moment.

While clearly Banks was falsely accused, Karina tells her own story of actual sexual assault and the school's inaction. As such, both sides have their moment: the dangers of false accusations and the dangers of real sexual assaults not being believed.

I would argue that Kinnear was probably the weakest as this crusading attorney. To his credit it was not a showy performance as the temptation to play righteous fury is there. There was a quiet manner to Kinnear's performance, but I don't think he was particularly strong. It was serviceable, and I can't fault him for that.

In many respects Brian Banks is a better set of ideas for a film than a film itself. It touches on important topics: sexual assault and false allegations of such, the higher incarceration rates for African-American men, the expediency of plea deals versus the true search for truth and justice, the stigma against formerly incarcerated men forcing them to a secondary sentence. Brian Banks touches on them but doesn't stick to one. I would argue its impossible to stay with one as the story spreads over all of them.

It also has elements that seem slightly far-fetched and moments that veer close to parody. Morgan Freeman has a cameo as Mr. Johnson, a teacher at the prison Banks is in who serves as a de facto mentor to Banks. Literally and metaphorically seeing the light while Brian is in solitary is probably a touch much. However, I didn't think badly of these elements as I thought the film was being open about such elements.

Brian Banks, film and story, is one that I think should be better-known. Dealing with important subjects and with strong and sympathetic performances, Brian Banks simultaneously entertains and informs. It tells an important story with wide implications on the justice system, and while perhaps a touch maudlin it tells its story effectively to appeal to all audiences.

Born 1985

DECISION: B-

Gillette's "We Believe: The Best Men Can Be" Ad. Some Thoughts.

While shaving this morning the Gillette We Believe: The Best Men Can Be ad came to mind.

Having seen the ad again, part of me genuinely thinks that Gillette meant well. Up to a point there is a good message about 'men holding other men accountable', something that churches routinely do with their Men's Groups.

HOWEVER, Gillette came across as smug, arrogant and worse, insulting to their customers by suggesting that they, Gillette consumers, were this collection of boorish, mansplaining, violent & bullying sexual harassers. One wonders why the company opted to portray their customers in such a surprisingly negative light and expect there to be a sales increase and/or customer satisfaction.

It's an oft-told story in advertising and filmmaking: We think you are horrible people...now buy our product or see our film/television show.

Moreover, one wonders why Gillette decided it was their place to tell men how to be. Do companies routinely go about instructing their customers how to live and behave? Is this a trend I have missed?

The backlash was strong both in terms of anger and financial losses to the tune of $8 billion. That's $8,000,000,000.  Some outlets appear to suggest that the We Believe ad had little to nothing to do with its loss, citing a declining market share and competition from other brands.

That, I believe, is disingenuous. It is likely that the We Believe ad in and of itself did not cause Gillette such losses. However, if an ad exists to increase sales, We Believe did not do that. I don't think it was meant to do that. Instead, it was meant to impart us with Gillette's moral wisdom. One would hope fathers would teach their sons and daughters how to be genuine men, not corporations.

Add to that how the We Believe ad left a very negative impression with its targeted audience. The impression left is that all men would harass women, belittle them and terrorize children; add to that the idea that fathers not only condone such acts but almost encourage them on a regular basis. The dads grilling away say 'Boys will be boys' in a unison monotone, suggesting not only indifference but dismissiveness from men. Also note that it is the woman, not the man, who comforts a bullied child.

What message is Gillette sending, particularly to its customers? It's one thing to say 'Men Can Do Better'. It's another when you seem to say 'Men Are the Worst'.

Gillette's ad, in short, basically implies that all men are toxic and that only via Gillette's website (and perhaps their product) they can go from demonic monsters to semi-rational beings. We Believe, whatever the merits of its intended goals, came across as almost virulently hostile towards men.

Most men I imagine, even men sympathetic to Gillette's suggestion that all men are bullies chasing down kids and seconds away from hassling a woman until a more woke man comes along to set them right, did not take kindly to the company's messaging. The ad felt and came across as antagonistic towards its customers.

I don't begrudge Gillette's hopes for better men. I do think their method of all but attacking its customer base was a bad one. They may have the accolades and applause but they also earned enmity and hostility from men who have been loyal customers and did/have done nothing to deserve being trashed like this.

Pointing out flaws in society is not a bad thing. Suggesting your customers are essentially evil and 'toxic' is a bad thing.

Despite what Gillette and its parent company Proctor & Gamble say, I think many surprisingly decent men did opt for other products in response to being told what horrible people they are. As it is Gillette's right to put out ads like We Believe, it is the consumer's right to reject the company's characterization of said consumer and turn to other brands that don't think badly of them.

It is not toxic men who left Gillette. It is men tired of being accused of being toxic with no evidence to support that accusation who left.

We will be seeing things like this in the future from other companies determined to put virtue-signaling over market shares. I hope things settle down to where a company like Gillette tells me about their product rather than telling me what a horrible man I am in general.

I may have grown up without a father, but I don't need Gillette to instruct me on how to be a man.

As for myself, I too opted to no longer use Gillette products after I finish out their shaving creme that I already have. We Believe was not the sole reason: I find their blades far too expensive when Harry's is cheaper and to my mind better. To be honest I was leaning towards ending my relationship with Gillette prior to We Believe. It was not the final nail in the coffin. It just came along and I decided I could do without them for something more effective and less expensive.

I wasn't angry or horrified by We Believe. I was however, irritated by it. Surprisingly, I was as irritated by We Believe as I usually am after using a Gillette razor.

Breathe: A Review

BREATHE

Any actor with a modicum of artistic (and Academy Award) aspirations will invariably be drawn to 'inspirational' biopics. If the character has a disability, all the better. Gives one a chance to show his range by showing his limitations, or rather showing how skilled he is by not using his whole body.

Eddie Redmayne is the worst of this lot for he was actually rewarded for his monstrous performance in and campaigning for The Theory of Everything. However, his shameless Oscar-bait and more brazen Oscar campaigning inspired many an actor to give 'Redmayning' a go in his efforts at Oscar immortality. A case can be made that Matthew McConaughey did succeed in Redmayning his way to an Oscar via Dallas Buyers Club. For the most part though, the streets are littered with failed efforts to build on Redmayne's Machiavellian cinematic career.

Then again, we're still waiting to see if Tom Holland will also try a little Redmayning by eventually playing Louis Braille in something with a faux-inspiring title like The Sight of Touch or something equally awful.

Jake Gyllenhaal tried to Redmayne his way to an Oscar via Stronger. Benedict Cumberbatch tried to Redmayne his way to an Oscar via The Imitation Game. Granted, homosexuality is not a disability but the film played up Alan Turing's potential Asperger's as said disability.

Scattered among the dashed hopes for lofty praise and statuettes is Andrew Garfield in Breathe.

All three failed to win Oscars for their films, with only Cumberbatch managing a nomination, but bless them for trying.

As a side note, it's interesting that these 'respected thespians' are now working in franchises post-Oscar glory, with only Redmayne himself not shilling in comic-book films, but I digress.

Breathe plays like a parody of these 'inspiration' biopics, parody made worse by the fact that everyone involved is so totally sincere.

Robin Cavendish (Garfield) and Diana (Claire Foy) quickly fall in love, marry, and move to Kenya where Diana finds she's pregnant. Robin, however, contracts polio, nearly dies and is condemned to a few months of immobility before death.

Diana will not accept this diagnosis nor Robin having to live out what little life he has in a hospital. Insisting on taking him to their new home and son Jonathan, they build as idyllic a life as possible. Robin also pushes his friend Teddy Hall (Hugh Bonneville) to build a chair that will give the ventilator-bound Robin something akin to mobility. With his portable breathing machine, Robin now lives his life working to bring his device to those forced into iron lungs until his years of ventilator use has corroded his lungs to where he may end up drowning in his own blood.

With that, he decides that his time is up, throws a farewell party and elects to die, Diana and the teen Jonathan at his side.

For a film titled Breathe, the whole thing is surprisingly airless, drowning in its good and noble intentions. Jonathan Cavendish produced Breathe, and one can have a great deal of fun speculating exactly whether Breathe was a tribute to his parents or a way to work out any psychological issues he had about them.

The Robin and Diana in Breathe are simply not human. There is never a sense of conflict or sometimes emotions apart from 'joy' and 'triumph'. It takes an hour for Diana to show even a slight sliver of anger or fear about Robin's condition, but for the rest of Breathe she is the doggedly cheerful, loyal wife, forever standing by her man.

As a side note, the Oscar campaign for Breathe slotted Foy for Supporting Actress consideration. How could anyone think hers was a supporting role given she was clearly a co-lead and was probably on screen for the same time or slightly longer than 'Lead Actor' Garfield? Her character was supportive to an almost saintly manner, but Foy was clearly a Leading Actress.

Foy's performance really gave Diana nothing of substance apart from looking on adoringly and with nary a complaint at Garfield, though I confess laughing out loud when she was given the grim news of Robin's polio. Her face was hilarious, expressing more irritation than devastation.

I also laughed heartily at Garfield's performance. It consisted mostly of grins, but at one point where the film wants us to be terrified that his life was in danger, Garfield's face and clicking elicited howls of laughter from me. I kept telling myself 'I shouldn't laugh! I shouldn't laugh!', and I was certainly not laughing at a disabled man's potential death but in how Breathe portrayed it. Garfield had no real emotion in Breathe, nothing to make Robin a genuine person or even personality.

He, Foy and everyone on screen really was so blank in Breathe, forever suggesting these were people but never coming across as people. It's a poor sign when Diana Rigg in a cameo showed more of a character than the leads. You had the prissy and racist lead doctor Entwhistle (Jonathan Hyde) forever complaining, stomping about and saying how "You'll be DEAD in six weeks!" Entwhistle's racism was directed at the Indian Dr. Khan (Amit Shah), as close to comic relief as Breathe gets with his slightly befuddled doctor.

In short, Breathe had character types, but not flesh-and-blood characters.

William Nicholson's screenplay was simultaneously slavishly worshipful and accidentally hilarious, and perhaps that is where Breathe's greatest issue lays (though it has other problems). The film is simply far too worshipful towards its subjects. Robin and Diana have no flaws, and the film romanticizes them to the point where one almost wants to mock them.

When the Cavendishes go to Spain, I actually was hoping the stranger giving Diana's brother Bloggs (Tom Hollander) a ride to get a to a phone would end up murdering him.

I was also hoping General Franco would pop up too. Certainly would have livened up the film. That the film ends up having a fiesta amid all this makes it look faker even if perhaps this actually happened and wasn't artistic license.

Nicholson's script was also shockingly cliched. When we see the toddler Jonathan playing with his dog near Robin's bed, who here didn't expect said puppy to literally pull the plug? When, while driving in Spain, Diana asks Bloggs to plug in the ventilator, who here didn't expect said ventilator to blow a fuse? Not only does it not come as a surprise that these things happen, the film all but screams that we should wait for said things to happen.

Breathe has other odd choices. While Nitin Sawhney's score is at times appropriately lush, other times it seems wildly out of step with the scene. For example, when Bloggs has to get to the phone after accidentally blowing Robin's fuse, the music seems curiously cute and light for what should be a very serious moment. It's almost comedy music. That Lee Marvin's version of Wand'rin Star plays when Robin rides for the first time in the front seat or Robin twice enters a large gathering to Verdi's Triumphal March from Aida playing only punctuates the oddness of it all.

Andy Serkis in his directorial debut I think really wanted to make an inspirational and lush film. He got the latter part right but the former was floundering. The subject alone is not enough to make the film inspirational or moving. It should be a fascinating topic, but Breathe was so hung up on making Robin and Diana Cavendish this oh-so-perfect and loyal and 'courageous' couple that they and their circle end up rather dull and distant.

Breathe is a film more interested in being pretty than in being good. To its credit it is very pretty looking, as are Garfield and Foy. If the film had ended with the creation of the basic rudimentary portable breathing machine and spent more time introducing Robin and Diana, then we might have had a film.

Instead, what Breathe ended up as was either a case for canonization of Mr. and Mrs. Cavendish or worse, a spoof of so many 'inspirational' biopics. Either way, it's a poor way to chronicle this story.

1930-1994

DECISION: F