Of Mongoose and Men

Animals can’t talk, right?  I mean, a few can, birds mostly mimicking our speech, but it’s not like they’re out there having conversations in English with each other.  So when you hear about an animal that can, you’re probably going to pull a Charlie Cale on the claim.  But in the 1930s, this caused a legend to be born and nearly a century later in 2023, someone made a movie about it. And then I watched it.

Nandor Fodor and the Talking Mongoose (or The Case of the Talking Mongoose if you’re looking it up on Rotten Tomatoes to see its 44% critics rating and 58% audience score) is a movie about just that.  Real life Hungarian-American parapsychologist Nandor Fodor receives a letter from another parapsychologist who has investigated the case of locals in village on the Isle of Man who claimed that there was a talking mongoose living primarily on the farm of the Irving family and that it was an Earth spirit—or something otherworldly, at the very least—called Gef (pronounced Jeff).  Very few people have seen it, but many have heard it.  And for some reason or another, they’ve come to believe in his existence, even though the Irving family’s only daughter just happens to be an accomplished ventriloquist.  When this comes across Dr. Fodor’s desk, he’s intrigued enough to journey out to the Isle of Man at the behest of his former colleague to see what’s up.

Accompanying Fodor, played with a curious case of an accent by Simon Pegg (Hot Fuzz, Shaun of the Dead), is his trusty assistant Anne, played by Minnie Driver (Good Will Hunting, Will & Grace), who not only manages just about everything for him, but also has adopted his way of thinking.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The movie opens on VO and vintage-style footage about the earliest reports of talking animals and species of animals, mostly birds, that can speak or make noises that sound human. It gave strong Wes Anderson vibes before transitioning to an interview with Fodor where he discusses his profession.  You see, as a parapsychologist, he looks into things like ghosts other claims of the paranormal, like Oh No Ross and Carrie but with more hats.  He was a skeptic, which is why his former colleague Dr. Harry Price, played by Christopher Lloyd (Back to the Future) has distanced himself from him, wanting only to meet in a place where they wouldn’t be seen together—apparently Fodor’s scientific approach to the paranormal left a bad taste in the mouth of his colleagues.  So, as he’s explaining this approach and this concept to the interviewer, he describes a man that he can see in the studio with them.  A man that no one else can see.  As he describes him in more and more detail, he tries to answer the question asked to him—are ghosts real?  Which then turned into a question of what is real in the first place—if someone experiences something, is it real to them even if it isn’t objectively real?  And this is where the movie introduces its thesis statement, its main theme.  Objective and subjective reality.

Fodor—and Anne, of course—believe in an objective reality.  One that can be defined scientifically, by scientific methods, repeatable and provable phenomena that can be experienced.  They believe in what can be proven, not just what is told to them  There is a moment, when they reach their destination on the Isle of Man, when Anne tells this to a man called Maurice after he tells his tale of meeting Gef for the first time after his wife’s funeral, and he remarks that is as sad a story as his own.  Living in a world where the only things you believe in are the things you can prove, he felt, made the world small.  Is it belief—faith, really—that gives the world wonder?  In that moment, it didn’t feel about religion; in fact, religion isn’t mentioned at all in the movie, outside of some allusions to the afterlife, especially in regards to Harry Houdini’s quest to find a real psychic or medium and the message he supposedly gave to his wife after his death.  But it certainly adds something to your subjective reality when you believe in the paranormal or superstitions.  Personally, I don’t.  It made me wonder, is this something we need?  Is experienced, objective reality not enough for us?  Do we need to keep looking for unicorns when we have rhinoceroses?  And those are the questions Nandor Fodor keeps asking.

Upon arriving at the Irving farm, Fodor is informed that once the Irvings told Gef that he was coming, Gef scarpered, saying that he knew he was real, so he had no need to prove it to anyone else.  They go through Gef’s haunts trying to find him, from one of his favorite spots to another, leading them up to a cave where Gef is said to hang out and hide objects that he steals from the townspeople.  Alas, he is nowhere to be found, and Fodor returns to the Irving farm feeling a bit silly, being asked to yell into an empty cave that he believes in a talking mongoose and that he would like to speak to him.  At the farm, Anne has an encounter with Voirrey, the Irvings’ ventriloquist, who was singing in her room and throwing her voice; at least that’s what Anne thought at first.  After a conversation with Voirrey about throwing your voice, she’s directed to a hole in the wall (which are all over the Irving house; Gef supposedly lives in the walls and communicates through the holes).  The experience leaves Anne visibly shaken.  Something has changed with her.

Then, after all that, Fodor is awaken in the middle of the night by Maurice, who is the mayor of their little town, by the way, to tell him that there’s a call for him.  When he reaches the phone, he’s greeted by the voice of Gef (voiced by a man who does not deserve mention), who speaks largely in riddles and then tells him something that he couldn’t know.  That no one could know who was still alive but Fodor alone.  This greatly distresses Fodor, because it spoke directly to his deep regrets.  Gef then invites him to the Irving farm to ask him a question.  So when they trek back up to the farm the next day, he sees a group of people who also received a phone call from Gef and also were told a piece of information that no one could know—secrets, old nicknames, that sort of thing.  When Fodor confronts Gef about what he said, Gef speaks in more riddles, leading to a man fainting and then Gef running off again, nary a tuft of fur left to see.  Curiously, the ventriloquist daughter is nowhere to be found, falling just too ill to be there on that day.

Admittedly, not that much more happens in this movie that I can tell you about without spoiling the whole thing (I may have already said too much; the danger of trying to describe a movie where not much happens), but while it had its issues and I can understand why it didn’t really connect with audiences or the critics very well, I did find something here and it left me asking myself some questions with incongruous answers.  I consider myself a rational person, I don’t believe in the paranormal or anything like that (though, of course, nothing against you if you do, just my personal feelings), but I also don’t like watching recorded sporting events because it feels like my cheers from my sofa can’t reach Liverpool if they’re not only playing all the way in England, but also in the past.  I mean, I am a pretty big fan, but I don’t think I’ve cheered so hard at something as to break through the fabric of time and space.  Not yet, anyway.  But still, this little superstition holds firmly in my mind.  At the end of the day, Nandor Fodor is another comedy that lacks laughs, though I’m not even sure calling it a comedy, even a dark comedy, is appropriate, just because it’s stylistically idiosyncratic.  Very little is played for comedy and I didn’t laugh or even chuckle once through the whole movie, but it managed to make me feel something and it got me thinking, even pushing me to the dreaded introspection, and for that, I very much found this movie to be worth my time. 

Yes, it’s a quietly quirky movie that would probably have been more successful as a narrative if it were helmed by a name like Wes Anderson or Rian Johnson or Sofia Coppola, and it’s a deeply flawed film, but it managed to move me.  Don’t get me wrong, it has some serious pacing issues that make its relatively compact 1 hour, 37 minute runtime feel fairly inflated.  While any movie needs setup—the meeting between Fodor and Price being crucial to Fodor’s emotional journey through the film, it takes about half an hour for Fodor and Anne to even get to the Isle of Man, let alone actually get a glimpse of the magical mongoose himself.  The opening scene with the voiceover and brief history of talking animals could have been cut completely and the movie would have lost nothing, with perhaps those minutes being spent going deeper into characters, especially Anne, who struck me as the most interesting character in the film and could have used some more fleshing out.  That said, this movie is decidedly up my alley—an offbeat, meandering film where not that much happens but leads to the kinds of thoughts that leave you awake at night, starting at your ceiling, with a curated aesthetic and a boatload of European charm is aimed exactly at me.  That’s why it piqued my interest in the first place.  Gef seems to come to people at times of extreme emotion, particularly grief and regret—Maurice’s wife’s funeral, Fodor’s relationship with his deceased father—and it feels allegorical to people finding what they need in hard times to get through them.

And I’m a huge Simon Pegg fan—I’ve seen Hot Fuzz more times than I can count, his addition to the Mission: Impossible franchise made me nearly leap out of my seat in the theater, and I even enjoy comfort watching Paul, which is not a good movie.  So this is very much my kind of film.  At one point, a character who doesn’t believe in Gef’s existence gets into a heated argument with Fodor, asking why he can’t just let people believe what they want to believe if it makes them happy and it left me wondering.  Is it better just to let people have their subjective realities, to allow themselves to see ghosts in reflections and tricks of the light, to believe that our life here isn’t all we have, to believe that the ones we’ve lost are still somewhere for us to find?  Or is it better to live in the objective reality, limiting ourselves to what we can touch, taste, feel, and prove?  Like most things in life, it’s probably somewhere in the middle and, again, like most things in life, finding balance is key, because we know from experience that extremes are bad.  Nandor Fodor poses the deep question, albeit clumsily at times, what if this is all there is?  What if there is no afterlife, no mysticism, nothing but the time we have here while our eyes opens and close?  If so, all that marks our existence are the things we leave behind and those who are there to remember us and the things that we are remembered for. 

While this is a movie that has more than its fair share of issues and won’t be for everyone, I still found something here. I found some value to the questions the film poses, even if it doesn’t pose them in a terribly skillful manner. Absolutely Hamilton gets at its points better when it comes to the meaning of legacy, most definitely The Brothers Bloom is more successful in its storytelling, but something about Nandor Fodor worked just enough for me and made me feel like I had to tell you about it.  Streaming on Prime Video, it might just be worth a look for you too.

The Ides of Farce

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the world is kind of on fire right now—sometimes more literally than figuratively—so it can feel a little frivolous to focus on entertainment at the moment, especially when the entertainment itself is fairly frivolous itself.  Especially when it touches on the real things that are stoking and fanning the aforementioned flames.  So I was a tad bit hesitant to watch Heads of State, Amazon Prime’s new streaming film about a movie star American President fumbling through global relations while an embattled UK Prime Minister struggles to tolerate his counterpart who seems to be doing it for the Vine.  But ultimately, the star power of John Cena (Vacation Friends, The Suicide Squad) and Idris Elba (Knuckles, The Office) reuniting again was too much for curiosity to not get the better of me.  And boy am I glad I succumbed to temptation.

Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not a good movie by your (well, my) film standards.  In many ways, it’s monumentally stupid.  In most ways, really.  It’s whimsical, it’s meaningless, it’s dumb, and it’s kind of stupid fun.  Politicians are hard for me to make fun of in this current climate—not because they don’t deserve it, not because they’re not dumb and insidious, but because what they’re doing is hurting real people in horrible ways.  Making light of them sometimes makes me feel like I’m making light of what they’re doing and we’re relying on comedy to get us through a time when it feels like there’s no real leadership in the world other than Jon Stewart.  But I’ve said many times before that things like movies and TV are as important now as they’ve ever been, because in troubled times, we can allow ourselves to be weighed down by the problems of the world as we go down deeper and deeper doomscrolling rabbit holes.  Good news is hard to find, but bad news is all around us.  So as hard as it can be to allow yourself some escapism, it’s also important.

And that’s precisely what Heads of State is.  Pure escapism.  A movie where a celebrity becomes POTUS and gets together with the British PM to spearhead a global clean energy initiative while trying to strengthen our relationship with our allies is a surprisingly comforting thing to watch.  Sure, President Will Derringer (of course he’s even named after a gun) is a big dummy and a sucker for public adulation, but he actually wants to use his celebrity to make the world a better place.  That’s not something I’ve been used to seeing lately and it’s refreshing.  Elba’s Prime Minister Sam Clarke is no-nonsense, getting up early run in his Arsenal FC cap before getting to the thankless work of governing a country that doesn’t like the job he’s doing.  And it’s clear that he doesn’t respect Derringer, who unlike Clarke, has never done a day’s worth of public service before reaching the highest office in the land, whereas Clarke was a member of the British armed services.  Like any buddy action film, it always starts with polar opposites who don’t like each other and these two do not like each other at all.  It certainly checks that box; it’s quite comedic to see them at odds, with their advisors doing their best to make things at least look copacetic.

Although, this movie doesn’t quite start with them at odds.  It starts with an overly serious scene where British intelligence agent Noel Bisset, played by Priyanka Chopra Jonas (Quantico, Baywatch), oversees a joint British MI6/American CIA operation to take down notorious arms dealer Viktor Gradov, played by Paddy Considine, fresh off his great turn in Deep Cover.  On her team is the red shirtiest of red shirts that I’ve seen since the opening scene of Twisters, who predictably get immediately killed, leaving her missing in action and the countries reeling over a very public failure.  But once we get to our politicians playing nice, the movie loses its pretense of being too serious for its own good and leans into the silliness.  Cena’s fully in his funny, warm-hearted big man phase and has been for some time now and it just always works.  Cena has so much charisma as Will that you can’t help but enjoy every moment he’s on screen.  He had me laughing at just about every turn; his comedic timing is excellent.  Yes, he can very much beat you up; in fact, I’m almost certain he could pick me up, roll me into a ball, and then throw me down a bowling alley lane and get a strike without breaking a sweat.  Cena looks unimaginably strong, to the point that it feels like if you were to actually try to punch him, your fist would bounce off and knock you out, leaving you seeing stars.  But he brings his natural warmth to the role, which makes him feel soft and cuddly, like a big wooly mammoth on roller skates.

After a disastrous joint press conference between the two of them, their advisors (played by Ted Lasso’s Sarah Niles and Coupling’s Richard Coyle) devise a plan to have them fly together on Air Force One to the NATO summit where they’re sharing their clean energy initiative with their allies.  It takes some cajoling, but eventually they’re convinced and the setup for the film is complete.  By the time we see the Air Force One moment that’s promised in the trailers, in which one of the nameless bad guys emits some real White House Down Jimmi Simpson energy, you’ve had enough time to grow a genuine fondness for our two politicians, with Elba’s seriousness as a politician playing a great foil to the over-the-top Cena.  There’s some contrived details that don’t really feel like they hold water as to why they can’t just wait for a rescue, but in this film’s mix of today’s political climate and general silliness, I kind of have no recourse but just to go with it, because I don’t know what’s realistic in politics anymore.  And thus, they begin the long hike from Belarus to Warsaw and encounter some difficulties along the way.  Usually in silly action movies, there’s at least one thing that’s so over the top that it bothers me, but here, everything is so cartoonishly over the top that it just seems to work.  You’ve got two great actors who are both accomplished in action and comedy and they are in top form here, carrying a movie with a very ho-hum plot and generic villains, leaving you having fun in a way that you really didn’t expect. 

You can tell that Elba and Cena were having a good time filming it and it comes through—it’s like watching a team that’s really in form out on the pitch just having a good time and dribbling through the opposing team, bagging no look goals and the odd rabona in the process.  It shows.  They’re just having a good time and trying to make sure you have a good time too and more often than not, it works.  Seeing two action stars trying to play at fighting like they have no training at all works comedically on its own, with the juxtaposition of their physical statures and action film filmographies (in the case of Cena, both in and out of character) being played to great effectiveness.  Watching fist fights unfold like accidents, as they clumsily attempt to get back to safety, the sole survivors of a terrible tragedy is very satisfying to watch; Clarke’s training kicks in and Derringer’s fighting feels more like Looney Tunes than Peacemaker.  While the movie doesn’t shrug off the loss of life, it doesn’t dwell on it either—but it does address it.  One of the things that can almost always turn me off to a character, especially a protagonist, is when they’re callous about death, particularly the deaths of innocents.  But in this case, the movie takes a breath and lets you know that they do care before moving on.

And it’s in those small moments that this big, stupid, fun movie shows that it, like Cena himself, has a heart and doesn’t mind showing it (seriously, John Cena seems like a really good dude).  Both Derringer and Clarke care and it takes this movie into something above simple slapstick parody.  Again, I’m not going to say this is a good movie, but there’s something there that makes it genuinely enjoyable.  It’s almost quaint—in the midst of this huge amount of unlikely action, you see two politicians at the top of their elected offices who actually just want to help people lead better lives finding a way to get along.  And yes, there’s a fairly obvious mystery at hand that is resolved far too quickly, but as far as conspiracies go, it’s handled in some easy exposition dumps that don’t bog down the movie too much and inflate its runtime, which is already a bit long at 1 hour and 56 minutes.  But it doesn’t really lull, so you don’t feel it.  Off the top of my head, I can’t really think of many scenes that felt completely unnecessary, bar perhaps an early one with Paddy Considine’s Gradov being a full on comic book villain at his estate, that perhaps could have been snappier, and the aforementioned opening sequence with Priyanka Chopra Jonas does overstay its welcome by some time.  When the marketing material around a movie centers almost solely on its two main stars, opening with a scene that neither of them are in leads to a foregone conclusion that takes a little too long to be realized.  From the first frame, you know everyone in the scene is going to get killed (although it was nice to see, however briefly, Sharlto Copley getting some work because District 9 is a modern classic), and the scene does nothing to make you care about any of them or feel their loss through the movie.  Even Solo did a better job of setting up its sacrificial lambs, and that’s saying something.  But, as that scene sets up the central conflict (and establishes Chopra Jonas’s love for bad puns), you couldn’t cut it completely.  But like the scene at Gradov’s estate, it just needed to be cut down to a shorter, faster paced vignette.  After that, though, the movie really does even out and keeps you laughing most of the way through.

That’s not to say it’s otherwise flawless in pacing or characterization, there are a few inconsistencies (like Clarke mentioning that he did deep research into Derringer in one scene and shortly after being surprised to learn his middle name), and there are scenes you’d have expected to happen that never do, but overall, if you’re looking for a good time, Heads of State delivers.  It’s an easy watch—in the same vein as movies like White House Down, but doesn’t take itself too seriously like the Olympus Has Fallen movies, which were mostly funny because of how good they thought they were (and then a bit sad because of how many they made when I still can’t get a sequel to The Nice Guys)—that takes no big swings and makes no big misses.  The film relies heavily on Cena’s and Elba’s easy chemistry and strong charisma, with some great scene-stealing cameos along the way, and, really, that’s enough.  It’s the kind of movie you could watch on a Sunday afternoon when you’re trying to forget that Monday is around the corner or that you could put on when just needing something to lift your spirits a little and help you forget the world.  And I’ve got to say that I really appreciate that.  It lacks the depth of a movie like Prime’s own Deep Cover or even White House Down, but for an action-comedy that isn’t couched in a century of comic book lore, it does the job admirably.  Will this reach 2 Fast 2 Furious levels of bad movie enjoyment for me?  Only time will tell, but I know that this is one I’ll be leaving on my watchlist to watch again later.   

Solo Deviling

Navigating the vast sea of content is an adventure that I sometimes like to call Streaming in Rebootland and it makes it easy to miss things.  And with the fractured marketing avenues now—I mean, how many people are watching live TV and sitting through commercials or going to the movies and watching trailers?—it’s gotten harder and harder to even know what’s out there.  So while there’s so much content available, we end up streaming Brooklyn Nine Nine or Parks and Recreation again and wondering why there’s nothing to watch.  So I’m here to tell you about a show that I missed when it came around and just concluded its fourth and final season, Evil.

Evil follows a team of assessors, who are basically investigators who analyze unexplained events for the Catholic Church.  But it’s not what you think—the head of the team is David Acosta, played by Mike Colter (Luke Cage, Plane), an aspiring priest with a past, but his team is rounded out by tech expert and skeptic former Muslim Ben Shakir, played by Aasif Mandvhi (The Daily Show) and their tether to the real world of psychology, atheist/lapsed Catholic Dr. Kristen Bouchard, played by Katja Herbers (Westworld, Manhattan), who often acts as a psychological expert witness for the New York DA.  Not only is she the linchpin of the team, she’s arguably the star of the show.  She and her four daughters, anyway.  Now, a lot of these unexplained events take the shape of some sort of demonic possession they need to come in, figure out, and then resolve.  It has that monster-of-the-week structure with an overarching story that strings them all together, where they deal with a new problem just about each episode, but there are connections being made all the time.  Working the other side of the aisle is Leland Townsend, played by Michael Emerson (Lost, Person of Interest), who works against Kristen both in the courtroom and out of it.  Aptly described as a psychopath, Townsend is, at least for the first season, which is what I’ve seen thus far, the primary antagonist of the show.

I admit to having a hard time with shows like this and that comes down to my own biases.  Media is so entrenched in Christian iconography that it feels inescapable.  Take vampires, for example.  Why do they respond to some religious symbols and not to others?  The mythology there is inherently implying that one religion is right.  The Bible shows up in Jeopardy! categories all the time and unlike my resistance to learning where rivers are (come on, they all end up in oceans anyway, what’s the point of learning the rivers?), I grew up with a big handicap on learning Bible stuff.  It can be othering.  I resisted watching Father Brown for the longest time for the same reason, but I’m glad I caved because that is a wonderfully uplifting cozy mystery show that has no interest in proselytizing.  And so far, neither does Evil.  By composing the team the way they have, the show focuses heavily on real world explanations for claims of demonic possession and hauntings and the like and continues to keep not just the characters, but the audience, guessing as to what is happening and what isn’t.  Through the first season, it’s kept ambiguous—after all, a lot what might have once been called demonic possession has been explained by advances in science and mental health, and the show is quick to point that out.  So you’re often kept from knowing exactly what is going on—is a killer’s case one of a desperate legal play at insanity or lesser sentencing, is it is a case of psychosis manifesting as demonic possession due to the pervasiveness of religious iconography or their upbringing, or is it real demons puppeteering the actions of ordinary people in the real world who otherwise wouldn’t have done anything as sinful as shoplifting a pack of gum?  Perhaps the answer to that will come, but so far, I’ve been enjoying not knowing the show’s stances.

What follows is a show that feels much more like the spiritual successor, excuse the pun, to The X-Files, more so than the mystery box in a mystery box (in another mystery box made out of mystery boxes) that was Fringe and even more so than the actual X-Files reboot attempt.  Except, instead of unwavering belief in the extraterrestrial and paranormal, it’s a belief in the religious supernatural that frames the conflicts.  And the skeptics are put at the forefront of the storytelling.  Kristen’s job is to find the scientific explanation for what’s going on.  Ben’s job is to analyze any sort of evidence that may be obscuring the truth.  There are times that Ben feels like the Professor from Gilligan’s Island, where he is able to just take care of the things or fills in knowledge of things that don’t fall anywhere on the Kristen/David Venn diagram.  So not only can he analyze digital footage for evidence of tampering, he can also trace hacks and test kitchen and bathroom fixtures for contaminants that may be causing heavy metal poisoning, and he knows his way around pharmaceuticals and is very observant.  Someone has to do it, but he’s more than a perfunctory character.  He often seems to get the short straw of the work here and his character has thus far been less of a focus than Kristen or David, but he still has an important role to play and Mandvi does a good job with it, playing against type.  While he may provide the majority of the comic relief here, his role is a serious one and he’s not just playing a jokester—in fact, some of the claimed demons offer more laughs, especially with their mundane names like George and Roy (I mean, would you be worried about taking on George in Diablo IV the same way you’re worried about fighting characters named Mephisto and The Wandering Death?).  He’s self assured and competent in a way you don’t usually see comedians play and to see representation of a Muslim-born atheist who is just a normal guy goes a long way to making someone like me feel seen in a television landscape where that doesn’t usually exist.  I hope to see his character deepen in later seasons, because I think there’s a lot there that we just haven’t seen yet.  Emerson, on the other hand, after his socially awkward hero turn in Person of Interest, returns to playing type as the creepy and, well, evil guy who aims to sow chaos and despair at every chance he gets.  His venom drips from the screen when he wants it to and turns it off when the situation calls for it.

If we continue with the X-Files analogy, David is the Mulder of the team.  The true believer. Though he’s had his troubles in the past, he found his path through the world in the form of training to be a priest and somehow fell into this line of work where he’s putting himself in the line of fire constantly and more than occasionally getting himself into exorcisms, which seem much more intense than the ones Bob Larson teaches people to do.  But despite his faith, it’s not blind—he’s a nuanced character with doubts and feelings just like any other person would have.  Even though he truly believes in the power of his religion and his god, he doesn’t let it blind him to secular causes for unexplained happenings.  I was very impressed with the way Mike Colter plays David, not just with his Luke Cage intensity, but also with humility and devotion to the truth, not just to his religion.  But the real star of the show here is the Scully, newcomer to the team Kristen.  A self-professed atheist and lapsed Catholic, she joins Ben in his skepticism and comes at it from a psychological perspective.  It’s not like I’ve calculated screen time, but we spend a lot of time with Kristen and her four daughters, whom she raises with the help of her mother while her husband is away climbing mountains in Nepal.  Her kids are endearingly cacophonous in a way that’s properly kid-like.  They talk a lot and talk over each other—I mean constantly, they all talk at the same time almost all the time—but Kristen’s parent ear is far more trained than mine and she’s able to tell what they’re saying even if I get lost in the chatter.  Played the wrong way, they could have been annoying, but more than anything, you just see some adorable kids who are, unfortunately, being put in danger and you just want to see them protected.  Annoying kids can ruin a show, but these little buggers enhance it and really make you care about their wellbeing.  Kristen, much like David, is a complicated and fully realized character; she used to be a mountain climber herself, but now focuses on her work and raising her kids while her husband does the climbing (whether it’s a second source of income or he’s just an absentee father isn’t really clear to me, but either way, he’s not around).  Her scientific beliefs are often at odds with her religious upbringing and she’s clearly conflicted by what she’s doing, but deems it both important and practical.  After all, with four children and a husband off re-enacting that scene from Mission: Impossible 2, a steady income is pretty important, especially when she’s still paying off student loans.

And one of the more surprising things about this show—even though it’s this thing about devils and demons—is that there are real world, practical concerns that are in touch with our reality as well.  It’s not hard to imagine the state of the world in the grips of some sort of evil—whether it be supernatural, too common run-of-the-mill depravity, or something else entirely, we are surrounded by evil acts everyday.  The reason behind them may be debated and has been for centuries, so I’m hardly going to solve it in the span of one blog post, but when you see the world of Evil, it’s very easy to see ours in it.  And the show is keen to remind us that it’s meant to exist in our world, bringing up big topics like generational trauma, the echoes of slavery, and more.  But perhaps the most surprising thing about Evil is how much it doesn’t feel like an exclusionary show.  I’m sure there is quite a bit of religious symbolism I’m missing, but there’s some I’ve caught and the series has a definite color theory and so much of the way the show is presented feels very considered and intentional.  While there’s a lot of Catholicism here, it’s not so mired in ritual and tradition that I need a Catholic-to-nonbeliever dictionary like I did with Conclave (which is an excellent movie, by the way; definitely see it if you haven’t yet), and in the first season, it never takes a side fully.  In The X-Files, we the viewer know that there are aliens and the ghosts and the like the Scully is always just too late to see that they are real, but in Evil we can never be sure of what we’re seeing.  Dream sequences, psychoses, lies—the show itself acts as an unreliable narrator and keeps you seeing, in some ways, what you want to see, and also keeps you veiled in the mystery of the overarching story.  Did the team cure a demonic possession through exorcism?  Or did the act of the ritualistic exorcism free a person of a genuinely held belief in their own possession? 

It’s far from the cozy mystery of Father Brown’s quaint English countryside, but it’s nonetheless a show somehow brings comfort.  After all, no matter the root cause of evil, whether it’s supernatural, paranormal, or just sadly normal, there is comfort in knowing that there are good people willing to stand up and do something about it.  I’ve said many times that I love to see shows and movies about good people doing good things, especially as the real world becomes increasingly chaotic, divided, and violent, and Evil delivers that in a way I really didn’t expect.  Each episode ends with a kinetic cliffhanger that leaves you wanting more—I generally try to space TV shows out so I don’t burn through them and then have to wait years for the next season like I’m doing with Stranger Things, but I can’t stop myself from watching episode after episode, going through the entire first season in just two days.

I wish I had found this show while it was still airing, but I’ve read that even though it was cancelled after just four seasons, it was given an extended final arc in order for the series to have a satisfying ending.  And while I am dreading getting to the end and no longer having this genuinely enjoyable show to watch anymore, I’m excited to see how it concludes.  And luckily, Evil is available for streaming on both Netflix and Paramount+, though Netflix doesn’t have the fourth season yet.  If you were a fan of The X-Files or want some spooky mysteries to solve along with some properly good characters, I highly recommend giving Evil a try.  The show, not the concept.

Close Encounters of the Bird Kind

Last week, I gave Jack Black quite a bit of stick, and while that was definitely warranted, I inadvertently stumbled across a movie that unexpectedly brought him back into my good graces.  Surprisingly, with a movie I watched years ago and didn’t like.  And the critics—and audiences—didn’t like it either, with the film garnering only a 41% RT score and a matching 41% audience score.  But, while mindlessly scrolling Max (I still hate calling it that) and looking for a time waster to do chores by, and with birding fresh in my mind having recently watched Netflix’s flawed, but watchable quirky whodunnit The Residence, I decided to give The Big Year another gander.

A big year, in birding (which still sounds silly to me, but apparently is the correct term over bird watching; though, truth be told, it seems like it’s the birds who do the birding and the humans who do the watching, I’m not going to argue with how birders want to be referred to and end up like Tippi Hedren) terms, is when a birder decides to see as many species of birds as they possibly can.  It’s a personal challenge that can turn into an informal competition amongst the birding community.  In The Big Year, it’s presented as a dream by Brad Harris, played by Jack Black (that one episode of Community), Stu Preissler, played by comedic legend Steve Martin (Only Murders in the Building, Father of the Bride), and reigning champ, with 732 species of birds spotted as evidenced by his vanity license plate, Kenny Bostick, played by the man who wowed his way into America’s hearts, Owen Wilson (that same episode of Community that Jack Black was in, Loki).  Brad has a full time programming job, an ex-wife, and not much else, Stu has a career he’s trying to retire from and a grandchild on the way, and Kenny has a wife who wants to start a family and is frustrated with her husband’s one track mind.  Rounding out the cast are talented names like Rashida Jones (Parks and Recreation, Our Idiot Brother), Rosamund Pike (Gone Girl), Dianne Wiest (Bullets over Broadway, The Birdcage), Kevin Pollack (The Usual Suspects, The Whole Nine Yards), Joel McHale (Community, Animal Control), Brian Dennehy (who was in perhaps my favorite duel ever from the western Silverado, First Blood), Anthony Anderson (Romeo Must Die, Black-ish) and more.  Oh, and did I mention it’s narrated by John Cleese (Silverado, Fawlty Towers) in the manner of a nature documentary?  This is such a talented cast with so much comedy pedigree, you can expect some big laughs.

But you’d be disappointed.  The Big Year presents itself as a comedy; this informal personal challenge has the look of a massive, all-consuming competition with an economy that rivals the ridiculousness of the competitive tornado-chasers in Twisters, but it’s not particularly funny.  I can tell the scenes which are supposed to make me laugh, like when an announcement that a specific species of bird has been spotted and two dozen grown adults rush Black Friday style to bicycles to race each other to see it before it flies away or when Kenny figures out how to make Stu seasick on a birding tour boat.  But they don’t land comically—they’re quirky, but not funny.  The idea of all this, it’s supposed to be completely ridiculous and hilarious and it just isn’t.  In fact, Jack Black’s Brad here is almost understated—and very understated by Jack Black standards—playing a lonely computer programmer who wants to have his big year and has little else on his mind other than that, isolated from just about anything but birds and his job.  Normally when a comedy fails at being comedic, that’s the end of it.  And this was largely my memory of it from watching it the first time.  It was a comedy that didn’t make me laugh, which is why I haven’t revisited it in over a decade.  Watching through the whole movie again, I still can’t remember a moment where I got more than a chuckle, though admittedly, I did get a few and handful of smirks as well.  So, at this point, you’re probably wondering why I’m taking the time to tell you about this forgotten birding movie from 2011.  And I don’t blame you.

But the thing that makes this movie good are the moments that weren’t meant to be funny.  It paints a picture of three very different men, all at very different stages of life.  Kenny is a successful business owner on the verge of starting a family with a frustrated wife who doesn’t want to play second fiddle to his winged first love.  Stu is an extremely successful entrepreneur who is so afraid of the stage that comes after the stage after retirement that he retired once and it didn’t take, so he’s now trying to retire again, as much as his employees don’t want him to go.  His wife supports his passion, but his son and daughter-in-law are expecting their first child as he takes this opportunity to have his big year.  And Brad…well, Brad is a little lost.  His ex-wife is getting remarried, his father doesn’t understand his bird obsession, and his mother is trying her best to support him, and he’s working a full time job while trying to have his big year (yes, all the main characters here are white men, those were the times, with a few gender stereotypes thrown in along the way, but nothing that offends the ears too much).

They compete with each other—Kenny is the leader of the flock, the holder of the record, the king atop the hill that everyone wants to overthrow, but along the way, they find ways to connect with each other.  One of the most quaint things about this big year concept, something that to me still sounds ridiculous, but perhaps I’m too jaded by this modern world in which we live, is that it goes by the honor system.  People fill out their journals with the birds they’ve seen—or even just heard, as long as they’re sure they can identify the birdsong—and that’s taken at their word.  When a dubious opportunity to cross off a rare bird arises, it’s rejected until there’s real confirmation that the birder heard what he thought he heard.

Kenny is positioned as an antagonist here, and yet he’s not really a bad guy.  He’s certainly his own worst enemy and a pretty bad husband, and he has a few tricks up his sleeve to deal with the competition, but he’s never so underhanded that you hate him.  Stu and Brad are underdogs, despite Stu coming from a place of serious privilege, and they form a friendship out of their shared love of birds and birding that was actually heartwarming in a time where so much of the world’s aim is to divide us from each other and we gatekeep hobbies to shame those who are newer or more casual at it.  And yet, Stu and Brad, competitors at the opposite ends of life—chronologically and financially, as Brad is spending basically all his life savings and then some on this quest and Stu can afford the finest things in life (though he refuses to fly in private planes or hire guides, because he feels that’s not in line with the spirit of the big year; to him, that’s the equivalent of big game hunting from a helicopter)—find real friendship with each other.  They share this passion, they share their lives, their fears, their concerns.  They’re there for each other and that touched me in a way I didn’t expect from this unfunny comedy.  It showed that there’s more to this movie than a lack of laughs.  In a moment where Brad is explaining to his father about his favorite bird, a rather plain looking grayish brown feathery fellow (I think that’s the scientific name) and why it’s his favorite, well, readers, I fully admit to some water spraying into my eyes, forcing me to wipe it away. Complete freak occurrence, I wasn’t tearing up at all.

We don’t just get to see plenty of birds and absurd scenarios in this film, but we also get to see a year in these men’s lives and everything that entails.  We get to see the parts of their lives that happen around birding, the things they miss, the things that make them feel alone, the things that make them feel a part of something.  We see the cost of their passion, the toll it takes on them and the people around them.  The moments where The Big Year isn’t trying to be funny are the moments where the movie truly, truly shines.  It’s in those moments where the movie pecked its way into my heart and went from a failed comedy to a mildly comedic slice-of-life film, the kind I really enjoy.  So often in media and society, we praise the sacrifice; we praise those who eschew all of life’s normalcies in order to achieve their one thing, the one thing that makes the quiet nights and lonely holidays worth it.  We deify those who give up everything to achieve something, we give Oscars to movies about assholes whose great accomplishments outweigh the dirt on their souls.  But The Big Year isn’t about that.  It’s not about the relentless pursuit of perfection, it isn’t about the need to give everything up to attain your goal at any cost.  It’s about the costs, it’s about the need to balance our lives, our passions, our relationships.  The Big Year is a movie about remembering that there’s more to life than that one thing.  That there’s so much that’s important in life and that it’s important to be present for that too—to be there for the big moments, to be there for the people you care about, to be there for yourself, to make connections with people.  It’s a movie that on its surface is about the destination, but in the end, is about the journey.  And whether that journey is one that should even be taken.

It wasn’t that long ago that I lamented the state of the adventure film and wondered how adventure films are supposed to move forward without leaving that uncomfortable, culture-pillaging, colonizing taste in your mouth.   Yes, the movies has its flaws.  Much of the supporting cast, while stacked with talent, is fairly one-dimensional and under-utilized.  Rosamund Pike’s character in particular is reduced to a stock wife who just wants a baby, even though she plays the hell out of it. But maybe this is it, as imperfect as it is.  Small stories about regular people having low stakes adventures as part of their daily lives.  Maybe critics and audiences alike missed a trick here 14 years ago when this movie first came around.  Yes, it could have been done better, it could have had more depth to it, more time spent fleshing out the supporting cast.  But maybe The Big Year isn’t a comedy after all—maybe it’s an introspective adventure movie that serves to remind us of the things that are really important in life and celebrates the things that surround our adventures more than the adventures themselves.  When I put on this 1 hour, 44 minute (4 minutes longer than the theatrical release, both of which are on Max) film I didn’t like, I was looking for something that was meaningless and filled up the empty space while I did some chores.  What I got was much, much more than that and much, much more than I bargained for.  I didn’t plan on writing about this.  I didn’t think of it as a hidden gem I needed to bring to you or some important film that made me feel something.  But I do now.  And I do hope you give it a chance with an open heart.  Because it helped open mine up a little.

If you’ve made it this far, I should give you a bit of a programming note.  I’m in the middle of a move and may not be able to stick a weekly schedule in July, but I will do my level best to keep this coming to you.  I love sharing movies and TV shows with you, dear readers, and I appreciate every single one of you.  As Pride Month comes to a close, I want to tell you all that I appreciate you and who you are.  Thank you for being here.