Candice Frederick – Bitch Flicks

‘The Eyes of My Mother’ Is a Gorgeous Coming-of-Age Horror You’re Not Likely to Forget

With ‘The Eyes of My Mother,’ writer-director Nicolas Pesce explores the nature of human instinct and arrested development in a way that is uncomfortable to watch yet immersive just the same.

This guest post written by Candice Frederick originally appeared at Reel Talk Online and appears here as part of our theme week on Women in Horror. It is cross-posted with permisssion.

Oh, how I love this age we’re living in in which women characters on the big and small screens are allowed to be inappropriate, messy, b**chy, and sexual. It just further illuminates the myriad complexities women embody, painting a more thorough profile of inclusive feminism. But even while Hollywood has been consistently pushing these boundaries in more recent years, few films have explored morbid sensuality through the gaze of a woman better than writer/director Nicolas Pesce’s The Eyes of My Mother.

Part provocative horror and part WTF-is-this, The Eyes of My Mother tells the story of Francisca, a young woman (Kika Magalhães) living on a humble Portuguese farm who has been fascinated with death from a very early age. Her unusual enchantment, influenced by her surgeon mother (Diana Agostini) who introduces her as a little girl to the art of removing eyeballs from dead animals, has desensitized her to death, leading her to a life of intense solitude. It isn’t until she reaches adulthood, marked by a horrible tragedy, that she begins to yearn for human connection — at any cost.

At the hands of a less inspired filmmaker, The Eyes of My Mother would have surely been reduced to yet another silly iteration of the Addams Family-meets-The Beverly Hillbillies fish-out-of-water trope. (It’s important to note here that I love both these series immensely, but The Eyes of My Mother they are not). Instead, Pesce delivers a haunting coming-of-age, semi-goth drama that presents Francisca as a three-dimensional villain who’s more The Girl from A Girl Who Walks Home Alone at Night than Wednesday Addams. But very much alive, living in the countryside, and illuminated by Zach Kuperstein’s gorgeous black-and-white cinematography. Magalhães consumes each scene ready to burst from sheer isolation, so much so that even when she’s sharing a scene with the few people Francisca has put in her path, you still feel her overwhelming loneliness and sad desperation. Crafty yet naive, confident yet deeply mournful, Magalhães’s singular portrayal is so seductive that you almost forget that you’re rooting for a sociopath. Almost.

So what happens when a woman comes of age, develops sexual urges and a fierce maternal instinct, after being socially barricaded on a farm all her life? When you’ve grown up surrounded by death and decay, how do you react when it takes someone you love? Does it matter? And if so, how do you show that? With The Eyes of My Mother, Pesce explores the nature of human instinct and arrested development in a way that is uncomfortable to watch yet immersive just the same. It becomes increasingly clear that none of the characters, including our protagonist Francisca, realize that they are trapped in a horror narrative until it’s too late. That’s what makes it all the more bone-chilling.

Candice Frederick is an award-winning journalist and the founder of Reel Talk Online, a website devoted to providing honest and often irreverent reviews and commentary about film from a woman’s perspective. Find her on Twitter @ReelTalker.

‘Queen of Katwe’ Is a Gorgeous, Inspiring Look at a Young Black Life Fully Realized

But at its core lies a story of redemption, cultural pride, feminism, and economics — elements of a young life contending with extraordinary challenges. … ‘Queen of Katwe’ is a mesmerizing story of a life fully realized, a life that’s often overlooked and not given a chance. Its young cast, led by Nalwanga’s nuanced performance, help illuminate layers of humanity resting deep in the “slums” of Uganda, exhibiting talent well beyond their years.

This guest post written by Candice Frederick originally appeared at Reel Talk Online. It appears here as part of our theme week on Women Directors. It is cross-posted with permission.

A few months ago at the Tribeca Film Festival, I had a chance to catch the first episode of the new Roots mini-series on the History Channel (which later became a ratings success), as well as the pre-screening discussion with the actors, including the series lead Malachi Kirby, who marveled over his experience working on the project in Africa. Rarely do big screen depictions of the continent highlight its joy and beauty, he said.

I thought of his statement again recently while watching Queen of Katwe, which tells the true story of a young girl from Uganda who rises to become a chess prodigy amid challenging circumstances. Sean Bobbitt’s radiant photography, capturing the crease in each character’s smile line, the wistful yet determined furrow of their brows, and the movement of their hips as they dance with excitement, combined with the vibrant costumes and gorgeous landscape, immediately invites you into the narrative. That’s because you never feel like you’re watching the typical somber meditation of life in Africa that is relentless and one-dimensional. Rather, you’re watching life in all its shades: joyful, messy, devastating, and triumphant. Powerful.

Based on a remarkable true story, which later became a bestselling book, Queen of Katwe shines a light on the journey of 9-year-old Phiona Mutesi (portrayed by astonishing newcomer Madina Nalwanga), who, lured by the smell of porridge in her nearly depleted belly, stumbled onto a makeshift chess group and defied all the odds to become an international hero.

If this sounds like a quintessential Disney film to you, then you’re half right. Yes, it’s wholesome and finishes on a heartwarming high like many other cherished Disney stories. But at its core lies a story of redemption, cultural pride, feminism, and economics — elements of a young life contending with extraordinary challenges. As one of few girls in war refugee-turned-missionary Robert Katende’s (charmingly played by David Oyelowo) group of budding young chess stars, Phiona’s genius is at first an unwelcome threat against her male counterparts. But with time she was embraced, and was even looked up to, by everyone from her teammates to her firm yet loving single mother (Lupita Nyong’o) and even Katende himself. And years later (the film spans several years of her life, beginning in 2005), when the little Katwe team battles the upper class prep school prodigies when she takes her first ever flight across Uganda, Phiona comes face to face with the realization of how Katwe (and more specifically, the people of Katwe) are regarded–or disregarded–to everyone else. With a fighter’s passion and a fierce yearning to overcome her circumstances, Phiona simultaneously comes of age and transfixes a world of fans — ultimately going on to compete in the 41st Chess Olympiad in 2014.

Queen of Katwe is a mesmerizing story of a life fully realized, a life that’s often overlooked and not given a chance. Its young cast, led by Nalwanga’s nuanced performance, help illuminate layers of humanity resting deep in the “slums” of Uganda, exhibiting talent well beyond their years. Meanwhile, Oyelowo and Nyong’o’s performances temper the film with heart-wrenching emotion. And Mira Nair’s touching portrait of Katwe’s inspiring young queen with a dream is one to remember.

Movie You Need to Be Talking About: ‘Advantageous’

Directed and co-written by Jennifer Phang, ‘Advantageous’ is a surprisingly touching and purposeful film that revitalizes certain elements of the sci-fi genre while presenting two powerful voices in women filmmakers: Jennifer Phang and Jacqueline Kim.

This guest post by Candice Frederick originally appeared at Reel Talk Online and appears as part of our theme week on Women Directors. It is cross-posted with permission.

You may remember when I first mentioned Advantageous among several other Sundance films I was anticipating this year. Well, full disclosure, I kinda forgot about it until it popped up in my “recommended” Netflix queue last weekend. Why didn’t anyone tell me it was out this weekend?! Anyway, I caught up with it and I have to tell you, it exceeded my expectations. It’s a small film that tackles a massive issue in a very vulnerable way, yielding a story about a mother’s love, self-worth, and youth obsession.

Advantageous is set in a not-so-distant future (actually, if not for the flying cars, it would be identical to modern times), and follows Gwen (Jacqueline Kim, who also co-wrote the screenplay), a woman working for a technically advanced wellness company that equates beauty with youth and helps women sustain their value by offering a unique procedure that preserves their age. Ironically, as the spokesperson for the company, Gwen finds herself in the position where she has to consider this procedure for herself once she is let go from her job due to her “advanced age.”(By the way, she’s probably, like, 40 — if that — but still bad for business). As I said, not very far off from today’s times.

Though the basis of this film is familiar, what makes the film so special are the relationships between the characters and Kim’s compelling performance of a woman drawn to desperate measures. As the mother of a young daughter in a society quick to invalidate women, Gwen sees a hopelessness in Jules’s (her daughter) future and wants to be able to at least be a role model for her, someone she can be proud of. Through Kim’s visceral performance, you feel the agony of each passing day which is only making Gwen older. Another day without work, without promise, and without a real life for herself. You feel that in every scene Kim is in (which is most of them, if not all), the utter claustrophobia of Gwen’s life.

There’s a heart-crushing moment in the film in which Gwen admits that Jules is the only thing that makes her happy. You feel this most in the quiet, bittersweet scenes the mother and daughter share, which ultimately serve to hasten her life-altering decision. But it is only toward the end of film that we realize the cost.

Directed and co-written by Jennifer Phang, Advantageous is a surprisingly touching and purposeful film that revitalizes certain elements of the sci-fi genre while presenting two powerful voices in women filmmakers: Phang and Kim. I look forward to seeing what they have in store next.

https://youtu.be/hgTgRBxY0nw

Creator/blogger of Reel Talk Online, Candice Frederick is a writer for hire, lover of snark, former magazine journalist, and co-host of the podcast, “Cinema in Noir.” She is also a Personal Lifestyle Contributor for Black Girl Nerds, and member of the Online Film Critics Society, Alliance of Women Film Journalists, and LAMB (Large Association of Movie Bloggers).

On Indie Rom-Coms, The Duvernay Test, and ‘Already Tomorrow in Hong Kong’

It was Viola Davis who commented about the lack of substantial roles as love interests for women of color on the big screen. … We see that familiar and very white narrative unfold between an interracial pair in ‘Already Tomorrow in Hong Kong,’ except this time it’s infused with cultural nuances that, while they don’t reinvent the wheel, offer a fresh perspective.

This guest post by Candice Frederick was originally published at Reel Talk Online and appears as part of our theme week on Interracial Relationships. It is cross-posted with permission.

It was Viola Davis who commented about the lack of substantial roles as love interests for women of color on the big screen. They’re often prostitutes, sexual victims, or practically asexual (meaning, their characters help the protagonist — a white woman — with her romantic dilemmas with no sexual desires of her own). It’s preposterous.

That said, I love that Jamie Chung plays the romantic lead in Already Tomorrow in Hong Kong, a film she also co-executive produced with her real-life hubby and co-star, Bryan Greenberg. I also love that Davis, Chung and other women of color in Hollywood are taking matters into their own hands by creating their own films and narratives (Davis even has a film production company). Chung partnered with writer/director Emily Ting on a story that lends itself pretty closely to Richard Linklater’s Before series in that it focuses on the dialogue between two strangers flirting with ideals on love, companionship, and ambition.

We see that familiar and very white narrative unfold between an interracial pair in Already Tomorrow in Hong Kong, except this time it’s infused with cultural nuances that, while they don’t reinvent the wheel, offer a fresh perspective. Take for instance, the fact that Ruby (Chung) is the fish-out-of-water American visiting Hong Kong for the first time, and Josh (Greenberg) is the white American living in Hong Kong for the past decade, who shows her around town. Too often it’s been the other way around where the Asian woman who lives in the non-American city, doesn’t speak any English, and falls for the mysterious (and culturally tone deaf) white American (this is is, of course, if the Asian female character isn’t playing a sex worker).

Another intriguing aspect of the film is that Ting is unafraid to approach dialogue that doesn’t avoid the fact that the two have different ethnicities and are enveloped in an open conversation where comments like “Oh, you have an Asian girl fetish?” aren’t out of place. In fact, they’re completely appropriate given the narrative.

But it takes a lot more than diverse romantic leads and authentic dialogue to make a great film. People of color characters don’t automatically legitimize a film. Though the conversation around “The Duvernay Test” (named after filmmaker Ava Duvernay), which challenges Hollywood to cast actors of color in substantive roles, is an important one to have, we must still advocate for characters that are interesting and three-dimensional. Sadly, Already Tomorrow in Hong Kong is just not enough — even with its commitment to depicting society as it really is: diverse. Both Ruby and Josh are underdeveloped and we don’t feel invested in their characters outside of the conversation that’s driving the plot. For a romantic comedy starring a real-life couple, it remarkably left me quite cold.

I want to see more of Jamie Chung on the big screen, and I am intrigued enough by Ting’s passion for the project to be interested to see what she does next. But I’m all set with this project.

Already Tomorrow in Hong Kong opens in theaters and On Demand February 12.

Rating: C

https://youtu.be/m4ATqbLDoNs

Why Isn’t Naomie Harris in All the Movies?

To say that Harris is a revelation in this film may be an understatement. It not only prepared her to tackle the complex layers of Winnie Madikizela a few years later, but it also proved yet again that she is able to take on a variety of different roles–from heroic to villainous. She solidified a sci-fi fan base with her totally badass performance in “28 Days Later” showed that she can steal scenes from 007 himself, and continues to surprise audiences in roles across all genres.

This guest post by Candice Frederick previously appeared at her blog Reel Talk and appears as part of our theme week on The Great Actresses.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Naomie Harris is an international treasure. But why do I feel like I’m the only one who knows this? Though she’s been acting for nearly two decades, delivering one great performance after another, she continues to fly under the radar. Even after her riveting portrayal of Winnie Madikizela in last year’s otherwise derivative Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom, she’s still seriously slept on as one of our finest talents. I mean, the fact that she was shut out of every major award (not even as much as a nomination) for Mandela is a tragedy in and of itself.

Her IMDb page is shockingly bare in regard to future projects. Other than an as yet “rumored” role as Moneypenny in the 2015 Skyfall follow-up Bond 24, there’s nothing listed. Let’s hope this changes soon because Harris is the type of actress who deserves her own franchise. She is a talented force to be reckoned with and she she deserves far more attention than she gets.

I thought of this the other day while I was watching The First Grader (2010). In Harris’s previous performance under the direction of Justin Chadwick (Mandela), she plays Jane Obinchu, a Kenyan schoolteacher whose professional and personal lives come under conflict once she admits an 84-year-old first-time student and ex Mau Mau freedom fighter (Oliver Litondo) after the Kenyan government announced universal and free elementary education in 2003. To say that Harris is a revelation in this film may be an understatement. It not only prepared her to tackle the complex layers of Winnie Madikizela a few years later, but it also proved yet again that she is able to take on a variety of different roles–from heroic to villainous. She solidified a sci-fi fan base with her totally badass performance in 28 Days Later, showed that she can steal scenes from 007 himself, and continues to surprise audiences in roles across all genres. And on top of all that, she manages to somehow also be a red carpet fashion titan. Here’s some of her best looks:

Need I say more?

Candice Frederick is an NABJ award-winning print journalist, film critic, and blogger for Reel Talk.

‘Friday the 13th’: In Defense of Pamela Voorhees

So I asked Twitter the following question: “Who’s scarier: Jason or Jason’s mom?” Surprisingly, despite all the movies (12 in total) in which Jason is seen slashing throats and hanging victims, his mom (who’s only alive and running amok in the first film in 1980) is apparently considered the more horrifying killer. But I’ve always had a soft spot for Pamela. Not that I condone the gruesome murders of innocent people (of course not). But, unlike Jason, Pamela committed crimes of passion. Her crazy antics were actually revenge for her young son’s fatal drowning, which she felt was caused by the unjustifiable neglect of the camp counselors who failed to watch him (a longtime rumor has faulted the counselors for being too busy fornicating and not paying attention to Jason’s cries for help).

Friday the 13th

This guest post by Candice Frederick appears as part of our theme week on Cult Films and B Movies.

Raise your hand if you remember the chilling first Friday the 13th movie in which–spoiler alert–Jason Voorhees’ mom, Pamela, is the wild-eyed killer. Those final few moments when she, hobbling and bloody, is chasing down one of the Camp Crystal Lake camp counselors all over the grounds (to her impending death) are forever etched in my mind.

I'm Mrs. Voorhees — “I’m Mrs. Voorhees.”

Meanwhile, Jason, who is supposed to be dead, has been on an aimless bloody mission. He is maniacal in the true sense of the word–no trigger, no reasoning, just brutal killing sprees that seem to result only to keep his mother’s legacy alive. I always thought there was nothing scarier than a villain with no real motive. Because he can be coming for you, too. Why? Just because. You’d think his mother took care of all the culprits in the first movie. What’s left for Jason to do? He’s a terrifying, malicious machete-slinging corpse running around with mommy issues and no motive (cue disturbing Psycho score). This is who you should be most frightened of.

"Kill her, mommy." — “Kill her, mommy. Kill her.”

Upon further research, I’ve learned a very interesting back story for Pamela. She got pregnant at 16, and was married to a reckless abuser who she ended up chopping into pieces while he slept. Carrying her unborn son, she burned down the house with her husband’s body still in it. Guys, this is what happened in The Burning Bed (which was released in 1984), and remember, you rooted for Farrah Fawcett’s character in that.

But back to Pamela. Jason was apparently born in June 1946. Pamela and her son moved into a house that was said to be haunted, but of course Pamela, being the boss she is, braved the rumor (and probably got an excellent deal on the mortgage). In the summer of 1957, she later got a job as a cook at the now notorious Camp Crystal Lake. Things were going fairly well for the mother-son pair until Jason drowned. No body was recovered, which means Pamela never got the closure she so needed. And no one was held accountable for Jason’s death. You can only imagine how that could affect someone. This is about the time that I think she started to lose her grip on reality, and began poisoning the water at the then shut-down camp to further delay its reopening. (Her son was killed there and no one seems to care. I mean, I get it.) She did, however, spend six months in a mental institution before she was rehired at the camp in 1958. But she still had that vendetta and understandably couldn’t get her son’s mysterious death out of her mind. Hence, she resorted to her bloodbath, for which she is most famous. This is about where I depart her pity train. I empathize with her because she truly became a broken woman with years of traumatic memories. But she really could have taken permanent residence at that mental institution; it might have saved many lives (and possibly prevented the Jason outbreak).

"My only son, Jason." — “My only son, Jason.”

Now that the antiheroes are having their moment in the spotlight, I have really been thinking about how some of our most dishonorable villains came to be. Pamela’s origin story is particularly intriguing as it inspired one of the most unnerving serial killers in cinematic history. So the next time someone asks you, “Who’s scarier: Jason or his mom?” how will you respond?

This is cross-posted with permission from Reel Talk.

Candice Frederick is an NABJ award-winning print journalist, film critic, and blogger for Reel Talk.

We Need More Coming of Age Films With Female Leads and Characters of Color

“We’ve All Been There” (“we” being young white males).

This guest post by Candice Frederick previously appeared at her blog Reel Talk and is cross-posted with permission.

Lately there has been a lot of attention paid to the new crop of coming of age films turning up everywhere, most recently The Way, Way Back and The Spectacular Now. I get it; we all want to revisit that warm and fuzzy (and sometimes awkward) time in our lives when we weren’t quite sure who we were and what we wanted to become, but we were excited–or fearful–about the possibilities.

But have you noticed that many of these films share one glaringly common theme among them? I’m talking about the fact that in most cases they’re about young white males, or even their older–and apparently still directionless–counterparts. Michael Cera and Paul Rudd aren’t the only ones who could play wondrously clueless wusses on screen. What about all the young girls who struggle with the pains of adolescence, or women who may for whatever reason be looking for a new beginning, or even the characters of color who must contend with a whole other set of challenges as they set out into the world on their own? They’re inexplicably–and unforgivably–being overlooked.

Another white male protagonist.

While Hollywood has promoted and accepted this trend (relying on the fact that some of the themes may be universal), audiences are starting to take notice and voice their discontent about it. Black Girl Nerds posted a piece questioning “Where Are All The Twenty-Something Black Actresses?” The writer lamented over the fact that young actresses of color are rarely sought after for coming of age tales. You’ll also notice that whenever many writers construct a list of the top coming of age films, you’d be hard pressed to find many (or any) where the main character is a female or of color.

So why the imbalance? Is there any need to rehash the fact that Hollywood’s virtually unwavering focus on the white male goes far beyond the coming of age genre? While the industry timidly tries to break out of that pattern with films like Girl in Progress or The Kids Are all Right, the overwhelming number of white male films not only take precedence but are often the ones that garner more critical accolades.

Girl in Progress

I wonder whether the common misconception that females tend to be the more focused and mature gender has anything to do with their virtual absence in the genre. However, Kristen Wiig seems to be single-handedly fighting against that stereotype as she’s carved out her very own “hilariously hot mess woman who desperately tries to get her act together” category of films. I’m just saying, it would be nice to see more stories like that of Eve’s Bayou, Under the Tuscan Sun, or Eat, Pray, Love–imperfect films that at the very least more eloquently illuminate the term “coming of age.”

Pariah — a coming of age film about a young black lesbian.

And I don’t know about you, but I am tired of the so-called coming of age stories featuring characters of color who “come of age” by taking part in some kind of a crime or witnessing something equally devastating. That image has been played to death and is just a crutch at this point (note: that angle is not restricted to films with characters of color, but still). With the critical success of Pariah, you’d think Hollywood would be interested in promoting similar films, ones that illuminate that the drama that comes along with growing pains is often triggered by internal not external circumstances.

Let’s do better, Hollywood. It’s 2013.

Candice Frederick is an NABJ award-winning print journalist, film critic, and blogger for Reel Talk.

Brit Marling Co-Writes and Stars in the Murky Yet Gripping Drama, ‘The East’

Sarah (Brit Marling)

This guest post by Candice Frederick previously appeared at her blog Reel Talk and is cross-posted with permission.

Brit Marling is one of the most authentic actresses of her generation. Remarkably so. She’s not a method actor, not someone who is particularly possessed by a character. Rather, her performances are organic, like they’re peeled from her own person, and not a distant portrayal. No matter how flawed her characters are, she plays them with the same amount of caress and kinship as if they were all varied parts of one whole.

And that’s just the type of actress needed to serve as the ambiguous moral compass in the riveting new drama, The East. In a film that right from its start questions its own intent, Marling (who co-wrote the script with the film’s director, Zal Batmanglij, who also teamed with her for 2011’s Sound of My Voice) quietly yet fiercely redefines the political drama genre in which it exists. Marling plays Sarah, a smart, recent college grad who’s just landed a job at an elite private intelligence firm. Her first task? To infiltrate a dissident group of individuals, a freegan collective, whose sole mission it is to punish and take down various pharmaceutical companies that they feel have indirectly poisoned consumers with their products (in a sense, giving them a taste of their own medicine). The East refers to their latest, largest, target company in which they have a more personal interest.

Despite their cause and their ultimate actions, this cartel, so to speak, isn’t an aggressive batch. They live not too far away from the political heartland, Washington D.C., in a wall-less house torched several years ago by their leader, Benji (Alexander Skarsgård in a solemn yet passionate role), who once lived there as a young boy. They munch on earthly cuisine mostly found on the ground or in dumpsters and avoid any processed or store-brought items to eat, wear, or consume in any way. Needless to say, they appear as vagrants, even though they consist of once-valued members of society who played their parts in the America machine. When one of them, Doc (Toby Kebbell), a physician, experiences first hand the effects of the industry’s conspiracy, he completely changes his life focus to join the cause. Each of the players, including Izzy (Ellen Page), who’s a little feisty firecracker, have had similar paths where the cause has affected them personally.

Izzy (Ellen Page) and Benji (Alexander Skarsgard)

It is Sarah’s job to learn their tactics and plans and report back to Sharon (Patricia Clarkson), her manager at Hiller Brood in D.C. But things change once she learns the truth behind their efforts.

What The East does that makes it more interesting than many other films that have saturated the political genre is its distinct intangibility. It doesn’t set out with a particular purpose. Rather, it embodies a general sentiment of frustration and complacency. The film paints a portrait of a young woman, already impressionable due to her age and unwavering drive to succeed. Sarah’s not a martyr because she’s not really sure she wants to be, despite an unspecified determination. She’s not sure which position to play; she knows she wants to be in the one that lets her win. Which makes her a prime target for both Hiller Brood and the anarchist group because she’s not on either side, really. She’s extremely accessible, in part due to Marling’s natural vulnerability, which makes her point of view that much more relatable even if it doesn’t specifically resonate with you.

Thankfully, Batmanglij and Marling’s screenplay approaches the subject on a much broader level so that it never comes off as a public service announcement, despite the course of events. Sarah’s strength, even when she becomes submerged with the group, is so magnetic to watch. The film also does a good job of clenching the viewer with a heart-thumping score that increases the intensity and pace of the events. If you’re a fan of Tony or Ridley Scott’s work, you can see their influence there. They are just two of the producers of the film.

When we first meet Sarah (Marling), we know her as a young woman who jogs to the sound of Christian music playing in her ears. With Marling’s introductory narration in the beginning of the movie, you can tell right away that Sarah is a soft, empathetic young woman who could easily fall prey to a more pragmatic personality (like her boss, Sharon, for instance). She’s just trying to do what’s right, what she knows to be pragmatic. She has a steady live-in boyfriend with whom she is in love, though she does not confide in him about her professional escapades. She does everything her boss tells her to do, but her actions become less dependable when she becomes affected by the group’s efforts, providing the film with its murky transition.

The beauty of The East is that it doesn’t take any side; it humanizes both sides and shows the weaknesses and strengths of both arguments. In that sense, it is an honest movie. It doesn’t tell you to think any one way or change your opinion on the pharmaceutical industry. Though the movie takes you inside the lives of those involved in the protest movement, and one pro-industry magnet who’s gone rogue, it doesn’t beat you over the head with either story. It’s the rather sensitive portrayals from each character that you will remember the most.

Candice Frederick is an NABJ award-winning print journalist, film critic, and blogger for Reel Talk.

Foreign Film Week: A Failed Attempt at Feminism Impedes ‘Rust and Bone’

Guest post written by Candice Frederick, originally published at Reel Talk. Cross-posted with permission.

At its core, there’s something very interesting about the small yet much buzzed about French film, De rouille et d’os, which is translated in English as Rust and Bone. Its off kilter premise, which follows the extraordinary love story of an amputated killer dolphin trainer and the lover she befriends during her recuperation, is fresh enough to attract audiences. The lead performances by Marion Cotillard and Matthias Schoenaerts are both layered and beautiful to watch. But where it falters is the latter half of the story (written and directed by notable filmmaker Jacques Audiard of The Beat That My Heart Skipped fame), and the evolution (or lack thereof) of its protagonist and reluctantly drawn heroine.

It’s very easy to write a lead female character and call her a heroine, simply because she’s a woman and much of the plot revolves around her. But it’s another thing for her to actually be a heroine, a character someone can look up to or aspire to become. Stéphanie (Cotillard), a sexy wild animal trainer-turned-bewildered amputee, has all the potential to become that person. But instead her story inches its way toward progression only to become wilted and ultimately eclipsed by the neverending and somewhat unrequited compassion she has for her male counterpart, the weary absentee dad Alain (Schoenaerts).

Stéphanie (Marion Cotillard) in Rust and Bone

When we first meet Stéphanie, she’s a fierce dolphin trainer who knows her way around a club and literally has to beat the guys off with a stick. She gets into a scuffle outside a club one night, and Alain (who’s a bouncer) intervenes and saves the day. He ends up driving her home and icing his now bruised hand. While there, he encounters who the audience could only presume as her live-in lover who shoos him away with his look of death. Right out the gate, Stéphanie’s fate is dependent on the men she keeps around her.

After the tragic on-the-job accident, which severed her legs and left her wheelchair-bound, we’re left to assume that at this point, by the way things have already been going with her, that she’d just crumble and spend the rest of the movie in tears. A once seductive woman who could get any guy she wanted (or needed) was left alone, crippled and seemingly half the person she once was.

Stéphanie (Marion Cotillard) in Rust and Bone

That is, until she recalls her guy-on-retainer Alain, who’s moved on from his bouncer days to become a gym worker. That’s when Stéphanie’s story becomes essentially the betterment of his, which details a completely apathetic dad who’s inexplicably careless about his son and everything else in his life (including Stéphanie). He later haphazardly pursues a career as a street fighter. So of course she has to sign on to be his manager, securing herself in his life after several failed attempts to be his girlfriend. Meanwhile, throughout most the movie the audience is left in the dark about Alain’s feelings towards Stéphanie. His chemistry with her seems more mechanical and authoritative rather than her more needy desire.

Though Stéphanie’s new self-made job finally gives her purpose again, it comes off as another way to get closer to him and fit into his life. It just becomes an exhaustive attempt to create an empowered rehabilitated female character by counterbalancing her with the male character. It’s unfair for the character and counterproductive to the shrinking theme in the film — rebuilding a broken woman.

That aside, however significant, Cotillard’s portrayal is steadfast and deliberate. Her aggressively passive aggressive approach to the character wrangles over some of the more minor flaws about the way she was written, leaving the end result that much more impressive. And Schoenaerts, as annoying a character as he plays, delivers a unapologetic performance that is punctuated by the movie’s single glimmer of nuance. Together the two elevate the disappointing story, but the remains of what they had to work with still permeate the rest of the film.

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Candice Frederick is a former Essence magazine editor and an NABJ award-winning journalist. She is also the co-host of “Cinema in Noir” and the film blogger for Reel Talk. Follow her on Twitter.

Women of Color in Film and TV: ‘Sparkle:’ Same Song, Fine Tuned

The three sisters of ‘Sparkle’ (2012)

Guest post written by Candice Frederick, originally published at Reel Talk. Cross-posted with permission.

Not every filmmaker understands the point of a remake. Sure, it’s fun to revisit an old classic to gain a new audience, and squeeze out any remaining dollars from the film that there is to be had. But the whole other objective of a remake, the more important aspect, is to enhance the film and modernize it so that it fits in with today’s culture and evolved world. And if you can make it even better than its original, well, that’s a bonus.

Director Salim Akil’s Sparkle, the remake of the 1976 film of the same name, did just that. Revisiting the Motown era (specifically during the ’50s and ’60s) isn’t a new concept in film, but something we don’t see often enough when depicting that era is well carved out female stories. Of course, there were plenty of women in music who dominated the charts, but we rarely get to see them take on the dominant role in their personal lives. At least, not so a we should have.

In Sparkle, we have three very different sisters, Tammy aka “Sister” (Carmen Ejogo), Sparkle (Jordin Sparks), and Dolores aka “D” (Tika Sumpter), who each have a dream. D wants to go to medical school. Sister, the oldest sibling, wants to get the hell out of their strict mom’s (Whitney Houston) house, once and for all. And Sparkle, the youngest and most timid of the three, wants a chance–a chance to become a famous singer and songwriter. With encouragement from her dashing admirer, Stix (Derek Luke), Sparkle enlists her two older sisters in their own singing group so that they can each finally see their dreams come true.

Salim Akil’s Sparkle revisits the Motown era

But right at the height of a promising career, life throws them some curve balls. Sister, always looking for the next quick and easy (and lucrative) opportunity, meets and falls hard for the “coon” comedian extraordinaire Satin (Mike Epps). She quickly gets entangled in his lies, deceit and utter immoralities and spirals downwards, taking her sisters’ singing group down with her. That is, until Sparkle finds the voice she’d kept hidden for so long, which will carry her to the next phase of her life and shine like she always dreamed she would.

Sparks as Sparkle in ‘Sparkle.’ Clear?

Admittedly, Sparkle‘s storyline is the one cliched and predictable element carried over from the original movie. Sparks gives a fine performance but, like Irene Cara before her, doesn’t have much to work with and her real-life singing voice provides the most memorable scenes in her performance. What’s not so expected in this re-imagining is the heightened point of view of the other characters in the story. Emma, the girls’ mom, isn’t just a wise older woman with little dialogue but who dutifully captures the parental element of the story, as she is in the original film. Emma is now a very present mother in the story, someone who rules her house with a sharp but loving tongue, and one who is quick to recite passages from Scripture to remind her daughters of who’s really in control. Emma is also a “cautionary” character, as she herself alludes to but is careful not to define in the movie (as delivered in an eerily familiar and poignant performance by the late Houston). She is heavily nuanced and delicately penned by screenwriters Mara Brock Akil (TV’s Girlfriends and The Game) and Harry Rosenman (Father of the Bride, The Family Man).

The late Whitney Houston as mother Emma

Also fine tuned for a razor-sharp performance is the role of Sister. She was always the most complicated character of the bunch, formerly played by the eternally underrated actress Lonette McKee (in one of her best roles). While Ejogo’s portrayal almost mirrors that of McKee’s (which is high praise), Sister doesn’t come across as similarly damaged as she did in the previous movie. She settles on a rather mature consequence for decisions she’s made, which in turn allows her character to linger just a bit longer here, and leave a lasting impression on the audience.

Sister, played by Carmen Ejogo

Another unforgettable character portrayal is that of D played by Sumpter. If you’ve seen the original film, you might not even remember much of anything substantial about this third sister, except that she was her mother’s mute pride and joy. She was the one with the bright future whose feelings about the whole music thing is, as she further explains in this movie, are that she can “really take or leave it.” This remake does a better job at explaining a lot more behind her actions–i.e. why she’s more fearless than her other sisters in a lot of ways (she really has nothing here to lose) and why she won’t sacrifice everything for someone else’s dream. Sumpter, with help from the screenplay, gives D a backbone, a steel tongue to deliver the film’s wittiest and most entertaining dialogue that will cut through even the most dramatic scenes. Sparkle might have been the character in search of a voice, but it is D whose voice had become magnified and clearer.

D, played by Tika Sumpter

Epps also gives a surprisingly good performance here as well. And he’s got a lot to work with. Satin isn’t just the fleeting bad guy who comes to terrorize the Sister and her Sisters trio. He’s definitely not a guy you root for, but there is more to his story here. He has much more purpose. Epps sheds his comedic image to possibly play the role of his career, but uses some of that comedian swagger in a way that complements Satin’s own demons. Meanwhile, the other fellas in the cast, Luke and Omari Hardwick (who plays Levi, Sister’s jilted ex) contribute good–however serviceable–portrayals in an overwhelmingly female-driven movie.

Thirty-six years after the original release of Sparkle, women are still searching for a sizable number of distinctive and identifiable lead roles on the big screen. This film gives each actress a real arch, a meaty snack to chew on as they flex core acting muscles. It proves that there are still wonderful roles for women–of any color–to make their own and of which one day can look back on and be proud.

While the original film is rightfully regarded as a classic, this year’s Sparkle appropriately adds that exclamation point the first film lacked, and fleshes out each character’s story so that they seem real, like people you may know. Even though it’s essentially a period film, this remake clearly has that new millennium edge we so desperately need to more of.

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Candice Frederick is a former Essence magazine editor and an NABJ award-winning journalist. She is also a Contributing Film Writer for The Urban Daily, co-host of “Cinema in Noir” and the film blogger for Reel Talk. Follow her on Twitter.

Women of Color in Film and TV: ‘Sparkle’: Same Song, Fine Tuned

The three sisters of ‘Sparkle’ (2012)

Guest post written by Candice Frederick, originally published at Reel Talk. Cross-posted with permission.

Salim Akil’s Sparkle revisits the Motown era

Sparks as Sparkle in ‘Sparkle.’ Clear?

The late Whitney Houston as mother Emma

Sister, played by Carmen Ejogo

D, played by Tika Sumpter

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2013 Oscar Week: ‘Hitchcock’ Turns the Master of Suspense into a Real Life Dud

Hitchcock

Guest post written by Candice Frederick, originally published at Reel Talk. Cross-posted with permission.

You’d think that any movie that involves the late great Alfred Hitchcock would be riveting, spectacular and painstakingly suspenseful to watch. But Hitchcock, Sacha Gervasi’s debut feature film that follows the days leading up to the production of the filmmaker’s classic film, Psycho, is none of the above.

Right out the gate, Hitchcock struggles to simply be interesting. Although Anthony Hopkins looks comfortable inside the physical girth of Hitchcock and the actor captures both his enthusiasm for movies while also basking in the perks of being “the master of suspense,” John J. McLaughlin’s trite screenplay gives him little to work with. It makes his performance look like a great imitation, at best (reminiscent of Meryl Streep in 2009’s Julie & Julia). Instead of offering a candid and enlightening view of Hitchcock outside of his work, or even his deeper psychological thoughts behind Psycho, we get an artless chronicle of Hitchcock’s financial straits and lack of support from the studio. After McLaughlin’s brilliant screenplay for 2010’s Black Swan, this is a real letdown.

Another thing the film focuses on is the infamous shower scene in Psycho. Arguably one of the finest shot scenes in film history, Hitchcock spends so much time enticing the audience with it that when it happens, it’s just not special and just a quick moment. It really just plays up Hitchcock’s satisfaction with the audience’s reaction to the scene. Then it all fades to black. You just don’t do Hitchcock like that.

Helen Mirren as Alma Reville (aka Lady Hitchcock), Anthony Hopkins as Hitchcock in Hitchcock

The one-dimensional character development doesn’t end with Hitchcock. Helen Mirren’s Lady Hitchcock (Alma Reville) is not much better realized. Mrs. Hitchcock’s story almost solely exists as an aside to her husband’s. Granted, the movie does show that she was more than just a wife; she was her husband’s right arm. She often helped rewrite his scripts, including Psycho, and appeared to be the glue that held her husband’s motivation for his career, even when he was deemed too old for Hollywood and the cards were stacked against him. Her talent was apparently overshadowed by her husband’s success. The arc is far too bland for an actress of Mirren’s caliber, but at least Mirren gets a few zingers to deliver to counter Hopkins’ “Try the finger sandwiches. They’re made of real fingers.”

Lines like that will undoubtedly give you a twinkle in your eye, since it’s easy to believe that Hitchcock the man might have had a fondness for perverse humor like that. But it just seems like lazy writing if you throw a couple of lines like that here and there when the rest of the film left much to be desired.

(L-R): Jessica Biehl as Vera Miles, Scarlett Johansson as Janet Leigh, James D’Arcy as Anthony Perkins in Hitchcock

With an impressive cast, including Toni Colette and Scarlett Johansson, and a rich subject, Hitchcock really should have been a better movie. Colette was completely underused as Hitchcock’s assistant, and Johansson’s portrayal of actress Janet Leigh provided nothing more than a few quips about her décolletage and screaming in the shower. Cloud Atlas‘ James D’Arcy as Anthony Perkins is a dead ringer for the actor, even if he only had one tepidly compelling scene with Hopkins that digs into the character. Even Jessica Biel as actress Vera Miles is decent, even though her storyline had such potential but was glazed over and ultimately flatlined.

Gervasi at least manages to recapture the essence of Hollywood in the 50s and 60s with a recreation of the vintage studio lot and classy Tinseltown fashion. But stripping the character down to a point where his fictional depiction is far less fascinating than the actual persona seems counterproductive. If Hitchcock himself was alive today, he’d undoubtedly turn his nose up.

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Candice Frederick is a former NABJ award-winning journalist for Essence Magazine, and the writer for the film blog, Reel Talk. She is also the TV/Film critic for The Urban Daily. Follow her on Twitter.