Widows

Director Steve McQueen

 

WIDOWS                   B                    

Great Britain  USA  (129 mi)  2018  ‘Scope  d:  Steve McQueen          Official Facebook

Our lives are in danger; our husbands aren’t coming back; we’re on our own.

―Veronica Rawlings (Viola Davis)

This has the steely feel of a Soderbergh film, especially with the percussive musical score by Hans Zimmer, and a luminous look glistening with an accent on artificial surfaces by cinematographer Sean Bobbitt, featuring exquisite locations throughout, including a floor-to-ceiling windowed penthouse suite to die for, resembling a similar upscale hotel room used in McQueen’s Shame (2011), making this one of the better looking films shot in Chicago, where the sleazy criminal vibe of rampant corruption feels like the perfect backdrop.  The script, however, written by the director and Gone Girl’s novelist Gillian Flynn adapting Lynda La Plante’s six-part robbery mini-series (by the same name) made for British television in 1983, just doesn’t live up to the potential of having such a superb cast, assembling one of the best ensemble casts of the year to work with, turning this into something of a politically correct revenge saga, empowering women to do what men typically do in a heist film, with audiences cheering morally bankrupt actions, making this a better looking film than it actually is.  Filled with plenty of plot contrivances, little about this film is actually believable, straining credibility throughout, yet however implausible it may be, its meant to be massively entertaining, filled with supercharged thrills, feeling more like a guilty pleasure.  Taking a lead from Spike Lee’s INSIDE MAN (2006) or Soderbergh’s Ocean’s Eleven series (2001, 2004, 2007), with a women’s version entitled OCEAN’S 8 released earlier in 2018, the key is establishing character first, with viewers becoming familiar with the subjects seen onscreen, in particular four women from different economic and social backgrounds who lose their husbands in the opening moments of the film, blown up in a failed robbery attempt that shows Chicago’s finest actually cornering the bad guys, something they’re completely inept at doing in real-life, with audiences identifying with the manner in which these women are strong-armed into taking extreme measures, having to stand up for themselves after being placed in a precarious position by their criminal-minded husbands who stole $2 million dollars from a loathsome underworld character who is actually running for Alderman, hiding his shady past with a face of respectability.  But this man demands his money back, threatening the wives of the men who stole his money, along with their families, all of whom face dire consequences if the debt is not repaid in 30 days.  Consequences ensue. 

At the center of the picture is Veronica (Viola Davis), a teacher’s union delegate living in a posh penthouse apartment with a view she could never afford, where it’s clear from the outset she’s already living high above her means, but she’s also married to Harry (Liam Neeson), a criminal mastermind behind the operations gone wrong that sets the gears in motion.  This racially mixed marriage produces an awkwardly uncomfortable moment of intimacy, set to the lush music of Nina Simone, Nina Simone - Wild Is The Wind (Original Version) - YouTube (6:46), as the blatantly raw and crude manner in which their mouths and tongues intertwine is just gross, nothing romantic about it, where you realize right away that something is off, despite all the claims of grief expressed at the funeral, where among those paying their respects is Jack Mulligan (Colin Farrell), running for his father’s seat in the City Council, Alderman Tom Mulligan (Robert Duvall).  Their family have been Chicago powerbrokers for generations, where by now they believe they own this position by Divine right.  Ironically the man Mulligan is running against, black gangster and community businessman Jamal Manning (Brian Tyree Henry), is the man Harry was robbing, delivering his heavy-handed message to Veronica personally, making sure she understands exactly who she’s dealing with.  Perhaps even more preposterous is the chauffeur-driven black limousine that escorts Veronica wherever she needs to go, with her own private chauffeur, Bash (Garret Dillahunt), who delivers a message that her husband wished she would receive in the event something happened to him, which is the key to a safety deposit box that contains Harry’s notebook, which contains the meticulously detailed plan for a heist worth $5 million dollars.  Like a message from the dead designed to answer her prayers, she summons the other widows who lost husbands, one with a newborn declines the invitation, Amanda (Carrie Coon), for reasons that are explained later, while two show up, Alice (Elizabeth Debicki) and Linda (Michelle Rodriguez), all duped and deceived by their husbands and now in desperate straits, agreeing to go ahead with Harry’s planned heist, each assigned various aspects of the plan, with Veronica coldly assigning the tasks like a gangster’s moll, refusing to show an ounce of emotion, remaining dead serious, as if their lives depend upon it.  While Davis is a force throughout, haunted by flashbacks of her missing husband (who’s also seen in a beautiful reflection in the window as she peers out), her incessant grief throughout defines the depths she must pull herself out of, becoming the ringleader for this band of sisters.  While the other women find her a bit bossy, they realize she has the notebook so they do what’s asked, even when it seems impossible.        

Delving into side stories, we discover Jack Mulligan is at odds with his father’s old-century way of doing business, getting into a shouting match of profanities, wanting to break free from the nepotism and racial divisions, where he’s only half-heartedly interested in becoming an Alderman, wanting to pursue other interests.  When we see him on a campaign stop in the vacant lot of a rundown black neighborhood, he parades a host of black women as model entrepreneurs, each claiming he helped them become self-sufficient and successful businesswomen, examples of exactly what the neighborhood needs, providing well-needed income into the poorer regions of the city.  But there’s also a reporter hounding him about a corruption investigation hovering over his head that he refuses to discuss, hopping into his chauffeur-driven limousine where he becomes unglued, decrying how unfair it is being a white politician for a black district, as his district has recently been redrawn, making it less of a sure thing this time around.  The neighborhood changes from black to white as he speaks, becoming upscale when he gets out of the limo, living in a palatial estate protected by iron gates and security cameras.  Meanwhile Jamal Manning has his own private hitman in the form of his brother Jatemme, Daniel Kaluuya from Get Out (2017), who is more cartoonish than real, as Chicago politicians have reputations for embezzlement and fraud, basically stealing money, but not murder.  Meanwhile they get to Bash, whose murder leaves the widows without a driver, so Linda, enraged from losing her clothing store, as her husband gambled it away, enlists her babysitter, Belle (Cynthia Erivo), one of the few people she trusts, a fitness nut who also works as a hairdresser, where we quickly learn who her business partner had to pay to go into business for herself, Jack Mulligan, who is basically extorting money from up and coming black entrepreneurs.  But it’s Debicki as Alice who is the real surprise, a trophy wife abused by her husband, then urged by her overbearing mother (Jacki Weaver) to get into the highly profitable escort business, meeting David (Lukas Haas), a wealthy man in high stakes real estate who seems to appreciate being with her, but only on his own terms, paying up front with every visit, never opening up or becoming vulnerable, remaining a control freak, which causes her some concerns.  So we realize what’s at stake when the women go all-in on the plan, as it’s the price of their own freedom, essentially the ability to set the ground rules of their own lives.  McQueen delivers a well-deigned heist, though it’s much more sophisticated than viewers are led to believe, encountering surprises along the way, but they strike back relentlessly, defending their turf while protecting the money, showing a sense of uncompromising resolve when it matters, becoming a badass team, earning cheers from the audience, becoming a crowd pleaser.  While the cast is a delight, and the film well-crafted, along the way it attempts to throw in matters of inclusivity, class, corruption, feminism and race that get easily overlooked in this breezy entertainment venture that is mostly about visceral thrills, with the sultry sounds of Sade playing over the end credits, Sade - The Big Unknown (Lyric Video) - YouTube (3:46). 

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

Brothers Ethan (left) and Joel Coen

THE BALLAD OF BUSTER SCRUGGS                B                    

USA  (132 mi)  2018  d: Joel and Ethan Coen

Things have a way of escalating out here in the West.

―Buster Scruggs (Tim Blake Nelson)

Demonstrating more theatricality than usual, exhibiting a flair for the stage, the Coens have immersed themselves into a traveling Broadway theater troupe, making a series of illustrated short stories come alive onscreen.  Borrowing exclusively from a storybook entitled The Ballad of Buster Scruggs and Other Tales of the American Frontier, the camera scrutinizes a hard-covered picture book while a hand turns the pages to reveal six stories and illustrations contained within.  While it’s a literary gesture, all the stories take place in a budding frontier of the American West, still grappling with its identity, as we examine singing gunslingers, an inept bank robber facing the end of a rope, twice, a lone gold prospector seeking his fortune in a lush and beautiful valley, an exploited thespian of the oddest sort (a damning assessment of the entertainment business), and even a wagon train romance that goes awry, ending with a grim stagecoach ride with passengers who don’t seem particularly thrilled with their destination.  Each exceedingly different in tone, with death a common denominator in all of the stories, the project was begun as a collection of stories for Netflix to be shown in a six-part television series, the first of their films to be shot digitally, but once completed, edited with such economy, it’s been pared down to the size of a typical feature-length movie, so why not enjoy viewing it in a theater?  While the first three are more bizarre, the final three carry more dramatic weight and are easily enjoyable.  While it’s not particularly earth-shaking in terms of Coen’s originality, watching a film in this format feels similar to Kelly Reichardt’s Certain Women (2016), which was itself adapted from a collection of short stories, largely character-driven, each its own version of a morality play.  Reminiscent of the musical numbers from their earlier film, Hail, Caesar! (2016), there’s a healthy dose of singing throughout, some staged intentionally in comic renditions for the viewers, like a kind of surreal musical theater, while others simply appear spontaneously in keeping with the character, all contributing to the overall frontier spirit that feels more than anything like bedtime stories.  

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

Tim Blake Nelson, the “dumb as rocks” country boy in O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000), returns as the irrepressibly cheerful singing cowboy, a man in white, overly polite and seemingly harmless, perhaps modeled after Roy Rogers, the good guy who always wins in a fair fight, taking on a host of unscrupulous characters that he dispatches with ease, though he introduces himself singing ballads, like the old Marty Robbins favorite, Marty Robbins - Cool Water - YouTube (3:10), strumming a guitar while saddled on a horse, riding through the essence of Monument Valley, like a walk down memory lane.  Narrating the saga of his own life through song, while always seen facing the camera, there’s little doubt that we are in a movie, where fables have a larger-than-life impact, spreading the word whether it holds true or not, where every event is an exaggerated adventure story about valor and heroism that ultimately prevails in this lawless outback of derelicts and outlaws, where seemingly one man is responsible for cleaning up these towns.  With malice and a hint of violence creeping out of every dark corner, Buster blithely fends off all contenders with a smile, set in a cartoonish universe of prevailing good fortune, where he always gets his man, even when outnumbered.  This kind of buffoonish novelty wears off, however, when a man in black known only as “The Kid” rides into town, playing a tune on his harmonica.  Dazed by the dulcet tones and overconfident from his earlier encounters, Buster never knew what hit him, where his soul rising from a dead body lying on the ground tells us all we need to know, as Buster slowly rises up to heaven on angel’s wings, harmonizing in a duet with his living rival, still cheerfully singing about heading for a better place where hopefully peace prevails. 

Near Algodones

In the stark emptiness of an open plain, the use of digital cameras is never more apparent than this segment, where a lone bank sits in the middle of nowhere, seemingly the only building constructed for miles in any direction, while next to it is a well with a sign attached saying “Bad Water.”  A rider on a horse (James Franco) approaches and configures the lay of the land, with he and the horse standing silently like silhouettes for a good long while, the quiet before the storm, before he decides to enter.  A lone bank teller sits inside, setting the stage for extreme comic absurdity, as it’s hard to imagine any place like this ever existed except in fairy tales, as banks tend to be closer to populated areas.  The thought of a teller dutifully sitting at his post all day without a single customer shoots into the mind with a smile, but here, once a cowboy steps inside, the teller can’t stop yakking, telling tall stories about how he proudly thwarted prior robbery attempts.  As if he needed to be reminded of his purpose, the cowboy pulls out a gun and stages a robbery.  The quick-thinking teller initiates a diversion that would stop many, but not this cowboy, who sneaks outside with a bag of money prior to being fired on before he can get to his horse, holed up under cover of the water hole as much of the money flies off in the breeze.  The teller, dressed in a suit of iron pots, charges the outlaw, with bullets clanking off the iron, knocking the criminal out with a single blow to the head.  When he awakes, he’s strung up to a tree atop a horse (the only tree seen for miles), hands tied behind his back with a noose around his neck, with a sheriff asking if he has any last words he’d like to say, with the cowboy incredulously unaware of how he arrived in this predicament.  Like something out of a Sergio Leone flick, all hell breaks loose when they are attacked by a band of Comanches, killing the entire posse, but leaving him in the same predicament.  A roving cattleman eventually sets him free, offering a renewed chance at life, but they’re quickly apprehended by the law where he’s charged with cattle rustling, soon finding himself with another noose around his neck.  Sizing up the man next to him breaking down in uncontrollable tears, the cowboy doesn’t mince words.  “First time?”  The irony, of course, is that he’s sentenced to death for a crime he didn’t actually commit, as it was a stroke of good luck that he escaped from his real crime.  The moral:  crime doesn’t pay. 

Meal Ticket

Eerily strange and grim, this features a traveling one-man road show, like something seen out of PINOCCHIO (1940), where the performer (Harry Melling, aka Dudley Dursley from the Harry Potter series) is little more than a caged prisoner, an actor with no arms or legs, yet whose stage presence is amazingly complex and sophisticated, doing Shakespeare readings, Bible and poetry selections, while reciting the popular Gettysburg Address.  The unscrupulous man behind the scenes is the despicable owner, Liam Neeson, who dresses and feeds his artist, but they never say a solitary word to each other.  Instead they are simply passengers drifting in the night, each using the other.  Moving from town to town across the West, people show up mostly out of curiosity, not knowing what to expect, setting up in the middle of town, but the curiously gifted performer has the power to bring audiences to tears, with the owner passing a cup through the audience afterwards for payment.  But as time goes on audiences dwindle and grow smaller, leaving the owner bitterly annoyed.  Noticing a bigger crowd across the street, he discovers a trained chicken that can apparently defy the odds, with the owner deciding to invest instead in the chicken.  After watching the owner practice dropping a big stone off a cliff into the river below, we have every reason to believe that is the fate of his cruelly exploited performer, brutally dispatched, upstaged by a chicken.  The moral:  There is simply no accounting for taste. 

All Gold Canyon   

Adapted from a Jack London story, this one features the most beautiful scenery, with a shaggy white-haired prospector (Tom Waits) coming across a mountainous pass with his mule, discovering a luscious green valley below with a river snaking through it, an alluring sight to behold.  Freely singing “Mother Machree” to the winds, he rambles through the forest muttering to himself throughout the sequence in a way only Tom Waits can do, exhibiting signs of an isolationist, a mountain man in his element seeking his fortune, but also capturing that frontier spirit of independence and entrepreneurship, finding early signs of gold, digging multiple holes searching for that larger pocket that he believes is in the vicinity.  After spending plenty of backbreaking work looking to strike it rich, he finally celebrates his find, only to be shot in the back by a man shadowing his actions, cleverly disguising the seriousness of the wound and surprising his attacker, catching him unawares.  Not only is he furious that the man would shoot him in the back, but how cowardly can one man be for stealing another man’s work, while doing nothing to earn or deserve it.  His cagy actions pay dividends in the end, where his hard work and perseverance pay off, extremely fortunate that the bullet passed right through without causing any internal damage, burying his attacker in the hole he dug after extracting bags of gold, showing rare optimism from the Coens, becoming one of the few to ultimately achieve the American Dream. 

The Gal Who Got Rattled

The most developed sequence of the bunch, not really typical of the Coen brothers style, inspired by a Western tale from Stewart Edward White, a contemporary of Jack London’s, slowly developing, not very flashy, but using very precise language, this actually becomes the most surprising segment, especially the way the story twists at the end, which could never have been anticipated, as little dark turns occur throughout that add immense pleasure to the overall experience, where it’s nice to be able to expect the unexpected.  Starting off in an ungodly boring dinner conversation, a brother and sister team of the overly twitchy Gilbert (Jefferson Mays) and the more stable and levelheaded Alice (Zoe Kazan) head out of the city to Oregon to seek their fortune, and a prospective arranged husband for Alice with a business partner (potentially, as it hasn’t really been arranged), traveling by wagon train, bringing with them their pesky dog named President Pierce, whose constant yapping is getting on the nerves of their fellow travelers.  When Gilbert dies on the trail to a sudden bout of cholera, Alice has nowhere else to go, sticking with the wagon train, though she has no conceivable means of paying the boy her brother hired to help them on the journey.  Bringing this problem to the two men in charge, cowpoke Billy Knapp (Bill Heck) and the grizzly old veteran wagonmaster Mr. Arthur (Grainger Hines), riding partners for 15 years, they believe the agreed upon wage is basically a swindle, far more than what others receive.  It turns out Gilbert never had any business sense, but Alice is still perplexed by what to do.  Knapp makes her an offer that includes a marriage proposal, which will settle her debts but also provide for the future, leaving Arthur speechless, seen muttering to himself.  This romance back doors into the most understated of melodramatic soap operas, with few seeing it coming.  Knapp however fails in his attempt to rid the train of her dog, as it ran away before he could shoot him, thinking they will never see him again.  But when Alice wanders away from the train, Mr. Arthur sets out to find her and bring her back, but is surprised at how far she wandered, finally seen hypnotically transfixed in pleasure at the dog barking at the erratic behavior of prairie dogs, popping their heads in and out of their holes.  But before they can return, trouble lurks in the distance, as they are attacked by a patrol of Comanches, with Arthur handing her a gun with two bullets, with instructions to use it in the event of a dire emergency should he become incapacitated or shot dead.  Heroically, Arthur proves himself a worthy adversary, fending off waves of attacks singlehanded, offering an amusing monologue while doing it, seemingly satisfied with himself, as if he’s seen it all.  But he’s surprised by a rogue warrior who disguises himself, remaining hidden until the last minute, then smacking Arthur in the head with a tomahawk, lying helplessly on the ground.  In the Indian’s excitement to take a scalp, he falls for a trick of his own, playing dead, with Arthur putting a bullet through his head.  Retreating back to Alice, she was unaware of these surprise tactics, having taken her own life when she thought Arthur was dead.  Who would have thought President Pierce would outlive both of his masters?  The real dilemma, however, is Arthur didn’t know what he would say when explaining to Knapp what happened.        

The Mortal Remains

Easily the most macabre of the group, the only segment not to feature a death, though the entire sequence may itself be a strange stagecoach journey into hell and eternal damnation.  The first clue is that the coachman can’t stop, even when asked, riding continuously until they reach their destination.  The second clue is that they are transporting a corpse on the roof of the stagecoach.  But it’s the nature of the conversation that leaves this one in a state of ambiguity afterwards, with viewers wondering just what this is all about.  Inside the coach are an Englishman (Jojo O’Neill) and an Irishman (Brendan Gleeson), both claiming to be bounty hunters responsible for carrying the loaded corpse up above, but what’s implied is the three passengers sitting across from them may already be dead, where they are instead harvesting dead souls, transporting them to their next destination along the way.  Across from them are a lady (Tyne Daly) squeezed between two men, a Frenchman (Saul Rubenik) and a frontier trapper (Chelcie Ross).  Perhaps most illuminating is the choice of songs sung by the Irishman, entitled “The Unfortunate Lad,” The Ballad Of Buster Scruggs Soundtrack - "The Unfortunate Lad ...  YouTube (2:21), featuring a character cut down in his prime, similarly themed and sung to the same melody as “The Streets of Laredo,” Marty Robbins - The Streets Of Laredo - YouTube (2:50), where a dying cowboy sings his lament to another cowboy, which hardly seems fitting for the occasion.  The ghastly choice of color on the passenger’s faces, however, resembles that of a morgue, where they may be sent on the route of the damned, driven into a mysterious underworld.  What stands out here are the clearly distinctive personalities of the three passengers literally crying out to be heard, yet their efforts seem to be in vain, as what they have to say, so valuable in determining their own view and opinion, seems to hold so little significance to the others, literally falling on deaf ears.  While they remain in a state of delusion about their plight, all thinking they are heading for a better place, delving into strains of comic absurdity arguing along the way about just what constitutes better, in the end it’s hard to argue against death.  Only when they arrive at the final station does the inevitable appear to sink in, as no one wishes to depart, leaving a hint of the supernatural to conclude this most unusual film.