rubyfruit76 Reviews

Legal Eagles (1986)

Too Far Fetched Even for Popcorn Fare

[3/10 · 13 March 2024]

It's fluff. The real problem, though, is it's bad fluff.

After watching several films of significant gravity, I was in the mood for light and easy. Legal Eagles is not easy. It's uncomfortable to watch something so bad and almost painful to see the skilled Robert Redford and Debra Winger trying to work with such a lousy script. Surprisingly, the story is not even easy to follow: the narrative gets lost in all of the attempts to distract you from the fact that there's nothing coherent to follow anyway. Not even lots of fire, car chases, and a big bomb blast can hide everything that doesn't work here unless the movie is what was incinerated. Even the fiery blast is done so badly that it only calls more attention to the lazy and ludicrous choices that make up this film.

There are three redeeming qualities to be found in Legal Eagles: every now and then the contrivances get out of the way enough to let you enjoy watching the boyish charm and natural appeal of Robert Redford. Likewise, there are a few cute moments between Redford and the charismatic Winger. Lastly, if you pay close enough attention, which granted, is probably something you won't want to do with this mess of a movie, you may notice the excellent character actor, Christian Clemenson, in a quick moment in a courtroom scene. Since, he has his head down most of the time and has maybe one line of dialogue, if that, he would be wasted except for the fact that the next case on the docket is announced by the judge as "the state of New York versus Christian Clemenson:" a witty use of an Easter egg.

Unfortunately, those "three redeeming qualities" can't actually redeem this particular waste of a big movie budget. It's too far-fetched even for popcorn fare. It's convoluted, incohesive, and simply ridiculous. If you decide to give it a go, make sure the popcorn is good enough to justify the time spent.

73 Cows (2018)

A Gentler Path for Protagonist, Viewer, and '73 Cows'

[9/10 · 30 December 2022]

Form and function work together beautifully in this short documentary. The protagonist, Jay, has been a beef farmer for decades but is seeking a gentler life and the film's director, Alex Lockwood, uses gentle sounds and images to tell Jay's story. Even the length of the storytelling is gentle: the film is a pleasant 15 minutes long. The director is so efficient and Jay so concise that those 15 minutes are all that's needed to be very compelling.

The changes we see Jay make do, in fact, succeed in giving him a "kinder, gentler" existence but Jay's life is not the only life that is changed. Jay's cows are certainly the beneficiaries of his more pleasant life. What we see develop is cyclical: what helps him, dramatically helps the cows, which in turn provides Jay with a way to make a living doing something that isn't, as he describes, "soul defeating."

The audience of this film is also lucky enough to get in on the Zen that proliferates. There's an inspirational, feel-good story of real life that we get to witness, all the while being treated to palettes of both colors and sounds that are enjoyable and, at times, soothing. Even Jay's voice, vernacular, and mannerisms are gentle.

I wouldn't be at all surprised if many viewers question their food choices after seeing this movie but that never seems to be the point. It's not even completely clear that the filmmaker has an agenda here beyond making a lovely film. If he does, he's far more successful than he is obvious. Often the way films and other entertaining mediums have nudged people towards healthier, more sustainable, and more cruelty-free food choices is through transparently educational dictums that show the route of unspeakable horrors that our food often takes before it gets to our plates. '73 Cows,' however, just tells a story that is quaint and we're just along for the telling, which is also done gently. We watch not because we're on a mission or feel like we're completing an assignment but because we just want to spend time with the characters, including the cows and especially Jay, and see their story. The larger issues do make their way into your head, but gently, quietly, and stay there, not haunting you, but giving you beautiful images and beautiful dialogue upon which you'll find yourself reflecting. My guess is that it will renew vegetarians' and vegans' commitment and also change, to some degree, meat eaters' food choices. And it will do it gently, which I can't help but think, after seeing this, may be more effective and more lasting.

And we get to see our reluctant hero, the unassuming Jay, get the happier life he wanted. Not through grand revelations, nor through depicting gut wrenching suffering, the filmmaker uses a different route to depict a protagonist who takes a different route. Along for the scenic ride, we see lush green fields, the muted tones of hay and modest living, beautiful non-human animals, and, at the center, a man made more human. After the running time of just 15 minutes, I felt a bit more human, too, and the happier for it.

Flack (2019–2021)

First few episodes are an excellent start

[7/10 · 29 January 2021]

All of the leads are women; this should be applauded. When only one-third of women and girls in movies and TV have speaking parts at all and "speaking part" is a very low bar, women-led series need to be recognized. The protagonist, while no perfect feminist icon, is keenly aware of both misogyny and the ways in which she perpetuates it. She's beautifully self-aware and actively struggles to be better to herself and others: as she says, "I am trying to be better, but what if I actually don't have better in me?" In both TV and the real world, we need more honesty, nuance, and willingness like that. Oh, and did I mention it's well-written, entertaining, and funny?

Maudie (2016)

Maudie: The whole of a life, beautifully painted

[7/10 · 20 November 2017]

This is a quiet, slow film. During an era when time is counted by seconds and illustrated with the clownish stunts of a President seemingly more concerned with ratings than with any fabric of life, with society's shorter and shorter attention span, when movie screens are deluged with computer generated images, million dollar special effects, car chases at maximum speed, and lead characters with superhuman physical powers, Maud Lewis stands in her space occupied by Sally Hawkins, the actress who gracefully captures the heroine's awkwardness and beauty for film, and says, "I am to be counted." This film is to be counted. And I'll pass on films faster than a speeding bullet and choose Hawkins and Ethan Hawke as they steadily tell the story of the real-life painter and her troubled husband, Everett.

The film is much like a painting, using images to portray a life. There are few words and barely one is wasted. The dialogue, like the house in which much of the lives are spent, is spare, using colors, landscapes, objects, and faces to tell a simple, amazing story. Much like the artist, Maud Lewis, did, the filmmaker shows us how he sees her world through the sense of sight: a single, still wooden wheel against a backdrop of a brown and gold wheat field, the wooden houses of reds and blues sitting on the hills of Nova Scotia, next to the sparkling sea, still clouds against a radiant sky, a woman's face suddenly opening with a large smile. The photography is dazzling, stunning, yet soft. With all to see, the ear is not neglected: Michael Timmons, the creative force behind the band The Cowboy Junkies, uses his moody, smokey hues to gently orchestrate the score that is true to the woman at the center of the film, and a few lovely songs dot the soundtrack with emotion, language, and beginnings and ends, stirring the canvass of the lives we are invited to witness and, through adroit performances by the actors, even enter.

'Maudie' is what Maud said of windows: "The whole of life, already framed, right there - " and anybody would be lucky to see how it reveals itself.

7.5/10.

Who Killed the Electric Car? (2006)

Entertainment and Integrity in a Compelling Caper

[7/10 · 1 July 2014]

This is an important film. What you will learn is disconcerting but the manner in which you'll learn it is enjoyable.

It is well organized, revealing "clues," in the form of convincing evidence, as this whodunit unrolls into a persuasive case against corporate money in politics, the power of the oil industry over both the auto industry and government, and the power of all three to subvert the will of consumers and the well-being of the citizenry.

Some documentaries are dry, and while they may present strong cases, they offer little in the way of keeping the audience engaged. Some documentaries, on the other hand, are little more than empty entertainment in the guise of serious exploration. Some are so polemical as to alienate the viewers they're trying to persuade. 'Who Killed the Electric Car' is entertaining, unfolding the way a great mystery does, while also maintaining journalistic integrity and evidentiary rigor.

I couldn't help but to compare it to, for example, many Michael Moore movies. Moore can be an excellent filmmaker in many ways but, while I agree with him on the issues, he too often ignores empirical evidence and cogent argument, even though there is much of both to buttress his conclusions. Instead, Moore too often appeals only to the viewer's emotions, lessening his credibility. Chris Paine, the writer and director of 'Who Killed the Electric Car,' doesn't exchange logos and ethos for pure pathos. Rather, he combines all of the essential elements of documentary filmmaking and offers us a product that is simultaneously engaging, convincing, and credible.

7/10.