Review: Brazilian 'Three Summers' is a wry comedy-drama about the oblivious rich and the people left in their wake

Think back to the first episode of “Schitt’s Creek,” and imagine that instead of following the suddenly impoverished Rose family to their small town, you instead watch the mansion’s maid trying to make ends meet. That’s the idea at play in the merrily offbeat Brazilian comedy-drama “Three Summers.”

Madalena (played by Regina Casé) is the head housekeeper for a rich couple, Marta (Gisele Fróes) and Edgar (Otávio Müller), at their ocieanside mansion. When we meet them, the couple s throwing a lavish anniversary party in December 2015, and Madalena is busy trying to keep everything flowing.

Madalena also has a side hustle, a takeout dining service, running through the kitchen. That is a precursor to her dream, of starting her own roadside food kiosk. Director Sandra Kogut (who co-wrote with Iana Cossoy Paro) shows, in the movie’s first scenes, Madalena negotiating with a real estate agent for the land on which to build the kiosk — and later getting a loan from Edgar, a prosperous contractor, to finalize the deal.

Act II is in December 2016, and things have changed. Marta and Edgar are gone, having left behind Edgar’s aged father, Lira (played by Gisele Fróes’ real-life father, Rogério Fróes). Madalena cares for Lira, while also trying to juggle expenses to pay the staff, even holding a yard sale of Marta’s abandoned designer duds and using Edgar’s boats to charter tours of the harbor. Then the police show up with a warrant, looking for the ill-gotten gains from Edgar’s corrupt building deals — which puts Madalena’s kiosk in jeopardy.

Act II is a year later, and Madalena’s entrepreneurial zeal has extended to renting out the house to produce TV commercials.

Kogut deftly switches from comedy to drama throughout the story, as the absurdity of Madalena’s get-rich-quick plans bumps up against the despair that she and the other servants feel at being left behind by their uncaring employers. And she has, in Casé, a quick-witted performer who can keep pace with the hairpin turns of the story’s emotional arc.

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‘Three Summers’

★★★

Available starting Friday, November 27, on streaming via the Salt Lake Film Society virtual cinema, SLFS@Home. Not rated, but probably PG-13 for language. Running time: 94 minutes; in Portuguese with subtitles.

Review: 'Zappa' documentary captures the music and the perfectionism of Frank Zappa

It’s not likely there will be another documentary about Frank Zappa, the iconic and iconoclastic rocker, considering both he and the keeper of his legend, his wife Gail, are now departed — so “Zappa” will serve as the definitive look at the musician’s legacy and prickly personality.

The movie is directed by Alex Winter — yes, Bill from “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.” But deep-six your preconceptions and read the guy’s IMDb profile. He’s got a solid resumé as a director of music videos, TV movies, TV shows, and documentaries on such far-ranging topics as the Panama Papers corruption case and the rise of cryptocurrency.

Winter seems to have plowed through many hours of video of Zappa’s performances, interviews and random bits, and emerged through the other end with a thorough accounting of his career.

The story starts near the end, with the last time Zappa played guitar in public. It was 1991 in Prague, and Zappa was invited by the fledgling democratic government of Czechoslovakia’s president, Vaclav Havel, two years after the departure of the ruling Communists. Havel and his countrymen saw Zappa as a symbol of artistic freedom — and the rest of Winter’s movie makes a good case for that status.

Winter takes a conventionally chronological approach, starting with Zappa’s not-musical childhood in southern California, his discovery as a teen of both R&B and the experimental, cacophonous music of the composer Edgard Varesé. The mix of the two started a lifelong pattern, of being presented with the choice between the commercially viable and the artistically interesting — and always choosing the latter.

This pattern becomes established through his formation of the Mothers of Invention, his move to forming his own independent label (after dropping four complete albums on Warner Bros.’ doorstep to complete his contractual obligation), and his moves away from rock performances to composing orchestral works that are too fiendishly complicated for most orchestras to tackle. (In the end, the movie shows Zappa hiring the London Symphony, just so he can hear the music he’s written.)

Because of his independence, Zappa was one of the few musicians to speak up in defense of the First Amendment when the Parents Music Resource Center — led by Susan Baker, wife of longtime Republican power broker James Baker, and Tipper Gore, wife of then-Sen. Al Gore — ginned up controversy about offensive rock lyrics.

Zappa is depicted as an uncompromising musician, but also a little aloof to his wife, Gail, and their four children. There’s a nice irony that the one time Zappa tried to involve his daughter, Moon, in the music-making process, it led to Zappa’s only Top 40 hit, the culture-defining 1982 song “Valley Girl.” (None of Zappa’s four children, who reportedly have feuded over control of their father’s estate and copyrights, are interviewed in this film.)

An interview with Gail (who died in 2015) and some archival interviews with Frank are the movie’s only windows into his personal side — and those views are fleeting and difficult to read. What Winter brings is a solid appreciation of Zappa’s music, particularly his lesser-known orchestral creations, and the singular passion that went into making it.

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‘Zappa’

★★★

Available starting Friday, November 27, on streaming via the Salt Lake Film Society virtual cinema, SLFS@Home. Not rated, but probably R for language. Running time: 129 minutes.

Review: In 'City Hall,' Frederick Wiseman digs into the mechanisms that make Boston tick

At 90 years old, and with a half-century of methodically fascinating documentaries under his belt, Frederick Wiseman doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone. He can knock out a thought-provoking, richly detailed portrait of municipal government like “City Hall,” and all we have to do is appreciate it.

The city here is Boston, and Wiseman uses his access to show multiple faces of Boston’s government at every level. He takes inside the start-of-shift briefing at a Boston Police precinct, rides along on a garbage truck, and even attends a civil wedding performed by a city clerk. (Congratulations, Becca and Molly!)

Wiseman=s cameras also sit in on a lot of meetings. There’s a lunch meeting for immigrant business owners, with a Chinese noodle cooking demonstration. There are long discussions about caring for Boston’s homeless population. There is a town hall about whether the working-class neighbors of Dorchester want a cannabis dispensary in their part of town. There are earnest city officials discussing how to create an art-friendly space, or helping minority-owned businesses take full advantage of city programs.

And everywhere, it seems, is Marty Walsh, the mayor of Boston. Wiseman finds Walsh congratulating the Red Sox for winning the World Series (this was filmed in 2018), or opening a food bank, or speaking to a Veteran’s Day remembrance, or chatting with the head of the local NAACP chapter about bringing the civil-rights group’s annual convention to Boston. My favorite moment may be when Walsh is serving gravy to homeless Bostonians at a Goodwill Industries Thanksgiving dinner. (Walsh got a gravy boat; Sen. Ed Markey got to serve the mashed potatoes.)

As with all of Wiseman’s films — whether he’s chronicling life in a boxing gym, a Parisian strip joint, or the Jackson Heights neighborhood in Brooklyn — the moments form a mosaic of an organization at work. Here, over four-and-a-half hours, Wiseman shows us not only see how much Boston’s government is overseeing, but we’re seeing how many dedicated people are doing that work. They are the heart and soul of “City Hall,” the faces of a no-longer-faceless bureaucracy.

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‘City Hall’

★★★1/2

Available for streaming starting Friday, November 20, on the SLFS@Home virtual cinema. Not rated, but probably PG-13 for language. 275 minutes.

Review: 'The Last Vermeer' can't settle on being a brooding post-war thriller or a flamboyant courtroom drama

In his directing debut, Dan Friedkin delivers two half-movies in “The Last Vermeer,” and the halves never come together into a satisfying whole.

Based on a true story, the film starts weeks after the fall of the Third Reich, as Amsterdam is starting to rebuild from the horrors of World War II, with the sometimes unwelcome help of the Allied forces. Capt. Joseph Piller (Claes Bang), a Dutch Jew who survived as a member of the Resistance and now wears a Canadian uniform, is at work trying to identify artworks acquired by the Nazis, in hopes of reuniting them with their original owners — some whom were Jewish families.

Piller is onto a big discovery, a rare work by Johannes Vermeer, the 17th century Dutch master, in a train car that held works pilfered by Herman Göring, one of Hitler’s top officials. Piller follows the paper trail, and discovers the painting was sold to Göring by Han Van Meegeren (Guy Pearce), a party-loving Dutch art dealer and unsuccessful painter, for a record sum of 1.6 million guilders.

Soon Van Meegeren is on trial for collaborating with the Nazis. Piller is pressed into helping make a novel defense argument: That Van Meegeren wasn’t selling priceless Vermeers to the Nazis, but rather fooling the Nazis into wasting their money buying worthless fakes.

The performances are intriguing, with Pearce’s overly confident showman striking a contrast with Bang’s morose survivor. Among the supporting cast, the most fascinating is Vicky Krieps (Daniel Day-Lewis’ young foil in “Phantom Thread”), who brings a sexy competence to the role of Piller’s sharp-eyed assistant.

Friedkin and his screenwriting team, adapting Jonathan Lopez’ book “The Man Who Made Vermeers,” have trouble deciding whose movie this really is. Is it Piller’s, following the former Resistance fighter as he tries to uncover the truth about the Vermeer? Or is it Van Meegeren, the self-absorbed bon vivant trying to pull a con on the Nazis? Friedkin can’t seem to choose, leaving a muddled mess between them.

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‘The Last Vermeer’

★★1/2

Opens Friday, November 20, in theaters where open. Rated R for some language, violence and nudity. Running time: 117 minutes.

Review: History takes an abstract turn in Canadian 'The Twentieth Century'

If you took Canadian history and ran it through the visual palette of German Expressionism and the drag sensibilities of The Kids in the Hall, you would get something like Matthew Rankin’s confounding but compelling biographical drama “The Twentieth Century.”

Rankin creates a portrait of the young William Lyon McKenzie King, the 10th prime minister of Canada, and it’s quite an odd portrait. As portrayed by Dan Beirne, McKenzie King doesn’t strike as leadership material, even in the snobbish private school circles in which he lives. He is ambitious and frequently complaining, which seems contrary to the Canadian ethos espoused here: “Do more than is your duty, expect less than is your right.”

McKenzie King is convinced that he is destined to be prime minister, and it’s clear that his bedridden mother (played by Louis Negin, in drag) has spent her life convincing him of this. To further that end, Mother insists that McKenzie King marry Ruby Eliott (Catherine St-Laurent), the beautiful daughter of the governor general, Lord Muto (Sean Cullen), who is busy whipping up a mob frenzy in support of the war against the Boers. Unfortunately for McKenzie King, Ruby is already betrothed to his more attractive classmate, Bert Harper (Mikhail Ahooja). 

McKenzie King aims to show himself worthy of Ruby, and to secure an endorsement from Lord Muto to become prime minister. To do so, he must overcome his sinful urges — namely, a fetish for the smell of leather boots.

The look of Rankin’s scenes resembles such German Expressionist silent films as “Nosferatu” and “Metropolis,” with jagged angles of light thrusting themselves onto the screen at odd angles. There’s also an otherworldly quality, like the darkest and most depressing entrance to hell, that echoes Rankin’s fellow Canadian, filmmaker Guy Madden.

The performances are stilted, as they must be, to make such strangeness work effectively. Beirne is especially strange, conveying a weird mix of Mark Zuckerberg and Alfalfa from “The Little Rascals.” He propels “The Twentieth Century” through the soundstage fakery and frequent drag performances that keep us viewers off kilter. 

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‘The Twentieth Century’

★★★

Available for streaming starting Friday, November 20, on the SLFS@Home virtual cinema. Not rated, but probably R for language, sexual content and stylized violence.

Review: 'Wolfwalkers' is a luminous telling of Irish folklore, with beautiful images and a touching story

Irish filmmaker Tomm Moore shows with his latest folk tale, “Wolfwalkers,” that he and his Cartoon Saloon studio are the most consistently wonderful animation brand since Pixar.

Moore’s first two features — “The Secret of Kells” (2009) and “The Song of the Sea” (2014), both Oscar nominees — combined precisely rendered animation and Irish folk legends. “Wolfwalkers” builds on the magic of those films, and with them creates a beautiful trilogy.

It’s 1650 in Kilkenny, Ireland, and Bill Goodfellow (voiced by Sean Bean) is charged by the Lord Protector (voiced by Simon McBurney), the governor of the colonizing British forces, with hunting down the wolves that live in the woods outside the walled village. Bill also cares for his daughter, Robin (voiced by Honor Kneafsey), a headstrong girl who wants to hunt at her dad’s side.

Robin sneaks out of the village and goes into the woods, where she meets Mebh Óg MacTíre (voiced by Eva Whittaker), a wild girl who communes with the wolfpack. Mebh is a Wolfwalker, and when she sleeps, the wolf spirit in her roams free. Robin can’t convince her father that the Wolfwalkers are more than Irish superstition — even when, because of an errant bite on the arm from Mebh, Robin becomes a Wolfwalker, too.

Moore and co-director Ross Stewart — who, with Jerrica Cleland, created the story that forms the backbone of Will Collins’ screenplay — create a deeply detailed visual palette. The woods are painted in lush greens and autumn reds, a verdant playground for Mebh and Robin. The town is presented as flat and gray, like something out of a 17th-century tapestry. The contrast is striking, and also serves to illustrate the divide between the regimented control of the English invaders and the natural wildness of Irish folk wisdom.

The animation is both detailed and varied, and one of the most stunning images is when Robin discovers that, as a wolf, she can see smells that guide her through the forest. And though there may be some computer-driven augmentation, Moore and his artists use the look of old-school hand-drawn animation to give “Wolfwalkers” a roughhewn humanity that takes one’s breath away.

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‘Wolfwalkers’

★★★1/2

Opens Friday, November 13, in theaters where open; available for streaming on AppleTV+ starting Dec. 11. Rated PG for sequences of violence and peril, scary images, some thematic elements and brief language. Running time: 102 minutes.

Review: 'The Climb' is a brilliant buddy comedy about friends who are really bad for each other

Michael Angelo Covino’s quietly devastating comedy “The Climb” is a hilarious and lacerating look at what happens when your best friend is also your — and his own — worst enemy. 

Covino and his real-life best pal Kyle Marvin wrote the film, and play longtime best friends Mike and Kyle, who we meet while on a long bike ride in the French countryside. Kyle is enthusiastic about his upcoming marriage to Ava (Judith Godrèche), but in the middle of the ride, Mike delivers some bad news: Mike slept with Ava. It was before Kyle and Ava started dating, Mike says — but then he adds “it also happened in the present.”

Kyle, struggling to catch up to Mike on his bike, yells, “if I catch you, I’m going to kill you!” Mike replies, “I know. That’s why I waited for the hill.” Kyle tells Mike he won’t be Kyle’s best man — even though Mike has already written his speech.

The entire bike ride, and the fight with a motorist that follows, is all captured in one fluid take — a real one, not a phony “1917” job. Covino and cinematographer Zach Kuperstein do this neat trick over and over again throughout the film, each long segment carefully choreographed to take in all the action but feeling spontaneous and improvised.

One scene takes place in a hospital. Another is at a funeral. Still another is at a Christmas party with Kyle’s parents (Talia Balsam and George Wendt), where we meet Marissa, a high-school flame who re-entered Kyle’s life after his relationship with Ava fell apart. 

Each time, Mike is there, simultaneously maintaining his friendship and sabotaging Kyle’s life. It’s not that Mike is intentionally cruel or spiteful. It’s just that he’s so screwed up, so full of self-loathing, that his internalized toxicity spreads to everyone else — and since Kyle is his best friend, Kyle gets the strongest dose of that poisonous attitude.

Covino and Marvin — who co-wrote this comedy, adapting their short film of the same name — display a flip, easygoing chemistry of two guys who have known each other for ages, and their back-and-forth banter produces laughs in the most mundane of exchanges. Adding a tart counterpoint to the pair is Rankin, who brings out the best,  by which I mean the worst, out of both guys.

“The Climb” is one of those comedies that so feels so effortless, like a natural progression of events, that it’s easy to overlook how much intelligence and craft that went into it. Covino and Marvin demonstrate that they could be the next great movie comedy team, if they’re willing to keep climbing. 

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‘The Climb’

★★★★

Opens Friday, November 13, in theaters where open. Rated R for language, sexual content, some nudity and brief drug use. Running time: 94 minutes.

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This review originally ran on this site on January 24, 2020, when the movie screened at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival.

Review: 'Freaky' is high-concept horror, with Vince Vaughn and Kathryn Newton giving strong comic performances

When it comes to high-concept horror — scary movies whose premise can be explained in less than a sentence — the current master of the art is writer-director Christopher Landon, and his latest, the funny and bloody “Freaky,” is a good example of why.

Landon’s recent movies include “Scout’s Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse,” whose title explains everything, and the one-two punch of “Happy Death Day” and “Happy Death Day 2U,” which can be summed up as “college student gets murdered repeatedly, like ‘Groundhog Day.’” It ain’t brain surgery, but can be clever and effective.

As the title implies, “Freaky” takes the body-swap concept, most famously used in the Disney family comedy “Freaky Friday,” and grafts it onto the horror genre. Landon and co-screenwriter Michael Kennedy begin with a typical slasher-movie set-up: Four high-school kids sitting around a backyard fireplace, drinking and making out, until a masked killer starts murdering them, one by one. As a final touch, he steals a fancy dagger from its display case.

We’re told later it’s an ancient Aztec dagger, used in rituals. This information comes only after the killer, The Blissfield Butcher (Vince Vaughn), tries to kill the mousy Millie (Kathryn Newton), on the football field under a full moon — and, the next morning, Millie and the Butcher wake up occupying each other’s bodies.

Millie faces the problem of convincing her BFFs, super-gay Joshua (Misha Osherovich) and militant Nyla (Celeste O’Connor), and her crush, Booker (Uriah Shelton), that the 6-foot-5 hulk in front of them is really their good friend. Millie also has to keep the public, as well as her mom (Katie Finneran) and policewoman sister (Dana Drori) from seeing her as a big dude.

For the Butcher, what he loses by being in Millie’s comparatively weaker body is gained by having a high school full of unsuspecting victims at his disposal. Conveniently, the Butcher’s first targets include people who have made Millie’s life hell, including mean girl Ryler (Melissa Collazo) and a cruel shop teacher (Alan Ruck).

The gore is overdone to the point of comedy, which fits in the don’t-take-it-seriously tone Landon is trying to set here. “Freaky” doesn’t have the same level of wit Landon brought to the “Happy Death Day” films, but there are some clever gender-bending moments and a fair share of laughs. The dark humor even extends to the closing credits — which is where it’s revealed that three jock characters are named Brett, Squi and Tobin, a sign that Landon was paying attention during the Kavanaugh hearings.

Vaughn, who has languished in so many forgettable bro-centric comedies, here gives his best comic performance in years, channeling the spirit of a nice teen girl trapped in a huge middle-aged man. Conversely, Newton — who has had standout roles in “Blockers” and “Pokemon Detective Pikachu,” among others — also shines here, toggling from sweet sunny Millie to seductive killer. Together, Vaughn and Newton make “Freaky” an entertaining bloodbath.

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‘Freaky’

★★★

Opens Friday, November 13, in theaters where open. Rated R for strong bloody horror violence, sexual content, and language throughout. Running time: 101 minutes.