(L to R) Jamie Dornan as “Pa”, Ciarán Hinds as “Pop”, Jude Hill as “Buddy”, and Judi Dench as “Granny” in director Kenneth Branagh’s BELFAST, a Focus Features release. Credit : Rob Youngson / Focus Features
Kenneth Branagh gives us one of his best films, and his most personal, with BELFAST, a partly autobiographical tale of a boy in North Belfast in 1969. It is more a year-in-the-life story rather than a coming-of-age one but it is a pivotal year in many ways.
Mostly, BELFAST is a child-centric comedy but it does take place in the shadow of the Irish “Troubles.” Branagh both wrote and directs BELFAST, which is filled with distinctive Irish humor, biting quick-witted wordplay and colorful characters, along with childhood memories of a working class neighborhood where everyone knows everyone. This 1969 tale is mostly both funny and warm, happening against the wonder of men walking on the Moon, but while thoughts of the Irish Troubles dog the parents and danger sometimes looms, viewers need not worry about graphic violence in this film.
BELFAST opens with 9-year-old Buddy (Jude Hill) and his friends playing in an alley, having mock battles with wooden swords and trash can lids as shields. As Buddy’s mother (Catriona Balfe) is calling him in for dinner, an angry mob shows up at the end of their street. A driver-less car is rolled on to the street and blows up. With that car bomb, children’s mock battles give way to the real battle of the Irish Troubles.
Buddy’s family is Protestant, as are most of his neighbors, but a few Catholics have moved in too, and it is the Catholics the radical mob was hunting. But the tight-knit neighborhood is not having it, and everyone pitches into to build a barrier at the end of the street to keep out the mob, tearing up the paving stones on the sidewalk to build it.
Buddy’s parents grew up here, and he is surrounded by family and friends in this street of row houses and little shops. Buddy is particularly close to his charming, talkative grandfather Pop (Ciaran Hinds), and his no-nonsense Granny (Judi Dench), who is quick to call out her husband’s more outrageous yarns. Buddy’s father, Pa (Jamie Dornan), often is gone for a week at a time as he works in construction in England, leaving Ma to watch over the 9-year-old and his older brother Will (Lewis McAskie).
Shot mostly in gorgeous black and white, the film follows Buddy’s adventures, his crush on a blonde-haired girl in his class, being goaded into shoplifting candy, working on an assignment about the Moon landing and other childhood adventures. The family watch Westerns on TV, go to the movies and the theater, where we get little flashes of color. While Buddy’s world revolves around childhood concerns, his parents try to shield their sons from the dangers of the Troubles, often led by a local radical that Buddy’s father calls a “jumped-up gangster.” It doesn’t always work, and the worried father wants to leave Ireland, but his wife resists leaving the only place she has ever known.
The acting is excellent, starting with young Jude Hill as the stand-in for a young Branagh. The scenes with him, Ciaran Hinds and Judi Dench as the grandparents are among the best, funny and touching. Catriona Balfe and Jamie Dornan as the parents are both passionate and fiery. The kid-centric scenes are pure delight, with the brothers and cousins engaging in a series of misadventures that are sure to bring a smile, but there are times when we see the danger of the upheaval going on around them, when it intrudes on their child’s world.
The film is impressive visually, with a mix of beautiful black and white images, occasionally interrupted with startling dashes of color. There are creative camera angles and some lovely gasp-inducing shot compositions. Time and again, an emotionally-pivotal scene is further enhanced by artistic framing, striking enough to make you note the beauty of the shot, but also adding to scene’s dramatic impact. The pacing and editing are perfect, stylishly supporting and advancing the story. The music is striking, using some pop tunes of the era – often by Van Morrison – along with selected Western movie music, some of which is both comic and spot-on dramatically, in a weird way.
This is an impressive film, working both as cinematic art and movie entertainment, powerful dramatically while warm, funny and sentimental in its childhood remembrances. BELFAST is sure to be a crowd-pleaser and an award-contender.
The big Summer holiday weekend is finally upon us, so it’s getaway time. Ah, but what if you’re still a bit leery of travel, what with that “variant’ sweeping through several states? Well, there’s always the movies, though that loud, dim-witted auto-atrocity is still taking up a lot of multiplex space. This new release offers another type of getaway, one of location and time. It can be a bit confusing, but this feature is somehow old and new. And we won’t need Doc Brown’s DeLorean to immerse ourselves in the ozone of long ago NYC, 52 years ago to be exact. That sizzling Summer was the time of the Harlem Cultural Festival, spread out over several Sundays. Iconic pop culture entertainers (mostly musicians, though some comedians were squeezed in) performed before delighted audiences (up to 300,000 strong) for free. Unfortunately, another music fest, about a hundred miles away in upstate New York, got all the media attention. Luckily it was all recorded, and after spending over half a century in a basement, we can finally experience that sensational SUMMER OF SOUL (…OR, WHEN THE REVOLUTION COULD NOT BE TELEVISED).
The doc begins quietly as we meet one of the greying concertgoers, then a grade-schooler, who attended the festival, but is concerned that his memories may be faulty. It’s then that the director shows him some of that long-forgotten footage. And it all comes back to him. We’re given a quick history lesson then, outlining the origins of the event. The “Big Apple’ was still cooling down over an even hotter previous Summer when the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. triggered many nights of rioting and destruction. Then mayor John Lindsey tapped a slick, smooth DJ and nightclub singer Tony Lawrence (his many wild fashion choices could warrant its own film) to organize a festival that would bring the Harlem community together and promote the politics of black pride. Lawrence even got a corporate sponsor, General Foods whose Maxwell House Coffee was always near the stage, to help foot the bill to bring an amazing array of entertainers to Mount Morris Park over many Sunday afternoons. The footage then puts us right in the center of the throngs as one incredible performer follows another. Stevie Wonder performs a rousing solo on the drums (not just a keyboard/harmonica guy). Then B.B. King makes his blues guitar talk. Current pop tunes are represented by the white-hot, chart climbers, The 5th Dimension, splendid in their glowing yellow/orange outfits and sounding so, so sweet. A near-teenaged Gladys Night (looking like she’s off to the big senior social) sings about that “grapevine”, getting perfect support from her perfect “Pips”, dapper in their turtleneck-topped suits, executing intricate dance moves, and always making it back to the microphone in the nick of time (and not “conking’ heads). Older pop is represented by former Temptation, now solo artist, David Ruffin (not sweating a bit in his fur-collared black tux). Different music styles were showcased in different editions. For gospel, there’s the Edwin Hawkins Singers with their current hit “Oh, Happy Day”, just before Mahalia Jackson captures the audience with a heavenly hymn. Then a bit of blues is thrown in by the Staple Singers (Pops’ guitar riffs surprised one of his daughters). And then the crowds get a Latin/Salsa day with the furious congo skills of Mongo Santamaria and Ray Barretto. Later, those 1969 music lovers get a glimpse into the future of funk/pop with the fabulous Sly (looking like an alien aviator) and the Family Stone. Wrapping up the doc’s fest-footage is a mesmerizing performance by jazz diva Nina Simone who captures the huge crowd in the palm of her hand (as though she was the ultra-cool teacher that the audience/class adores and admires). Soon, we’re back to the original spectator, who delights in saying that he’s not “crazy”, he didn’t dream it. That time happened and he revels in reliving it. And we’re right there with him.
So just who is the master filmmaker behind this impressive feature film? Well, it’s his first (after a few shorts), and you’re probably used to seeing him on camera…about five times a week. I’m referring to Ahmir Thompson, perhaps better known as “Questlove” the frontman for the “Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon” house band, The Roots. It’s to everyone’s good fortune, that he was determined (perhaps his own “quest of love”) this footage (which we see on their decades-long shelf home, labels faded and peeling off of massive video cases) be seen on the big screen. That it was just as important as that other filmed concert of 1969, WOODSTOCK. Oddly, the original HCF helmer tried to sell the film to studios as “Black Woodstock”, but got zero takers. It would be more than enough just viewing these performances, but Thompson goes the extra mile in framing the songs with a bit of history utilizing rarely seen archival footage along with TV news reports. For the gospel section, we get an overview of the black communities church services and singers. With the Latin numbers, we’re told of the residents of East Harlem or “Spanish Harlem”, told by Lin-Manuel Miranda (he’s everywhere) and his pop. There’s lots of time devoted to that other big Summer event, the moon landing. Though it was touched on in FIRST MAN, it’s surprising to see the “man in the street” interviews with Harlem-ites, many of whom believed that the money sent to NASA would have been better used to feed kids and create affordable housing in their community (a certain Mr. Foxx even chimes in with a joke or two). A lot of the credit for these sequences must go to the film’s skilled editor Joshua L. Pearson. I’m guessing he also was instrumental in putting together the “present-day” interviews scattered throughout the runtime. We hear from a few more audience members and a surprising number of the on-stage talent. The 5th Dimension’s Marilyn McCoo is visibly moved by the footage, sitting with hubby Billy Davis, Jr. Gladys Night offers some great stories (she and the Pips rehearsed in a basement), as does Stevie Wonder, who knew that the Fest was a career-changer, losing the “Little” from his stage persona and going in new directions (Chris Rock chimes in about this). Then there are the political figures, like the Reverends Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, who discuss how “black” replaced “negro” in the culture and media (a newspaper reporter clashed with her editors on this). Happily, none of the footage has faded with age, so the flamboyant fashions burst with color, almost “popping” off the screen. It all adds to what Thompson has referred to as “black joy”. I’m guessing all ages and races will feel much of that joy taking a trip back to a faraway time that feels so alive, full of infectious energy and celebration. Like those original Sunday shows, the superb SUMMER OF SOUL (…OR, WHEN THE REVOLUTION COULD NOT BE TELEVISED) is also cause for rejoicing and adoration. What a time. What wonderful timeless entertainment.
4 out of 4
SUMMER OF SOUL (…OR, WHEN THE REVOLUTION COULD NOT BE TELEVISED) is now playing in select theatres and starts streaming exclusively on Hulu Friday, July 2, 2021.
As the Summer film season begins to wind down, moviegoers get to do a little “universe-jumping” once again. That sounds a touch out there, doesn’t it? Well, over this year we’ve had three trips to the “Marvel movie universe” (we’re not going to count the dud that was DARK PHOENIX). And three trips to the “Disney classics universe (I’m speaking of the live-action/CGI hybrid remakes DUMBO, ALADDIN, and current box office beast THE LION KING). Now it’s time for a long-overdue (nearly four years) trek into the “Tarantino movie universe”. Aside from springing from the mind (and on to the page and camera lense) of Quentin, the now nine films (sidebar controversies: Is KILL BILL really just one film? Do we count his half of GRINDHOUSE? What about his single scene in the first SIN CITY?) share many actors, some fictional “products”, and a love of different film genres (plus that often “off-kilter” dialogue). Well with this current project, QT gets to indulge his love of a motion picture “era”, LA history/scandals, and (shocking) his admiration for (wha-?) television! These diverse ingredients are mixed together by master chef Quentin in a frothy, tart, but tasty concoction he’s dubbed ONCE UPON A TIME…IN HOLLYWOOD. Let’s chow down!
The title “time ” is the swinging 1960s. The first stop is 62 as we watch a promotional spot for NBC’s newest hit, “Bounty Law” a 30 minute black and white Western starring rising star Rick Dalton (Leonardo Di Caprio) as a wandering bounty hunter. During that same year, a TV “entertainment” reporter does a “puff piece” on set interview with Rick and his stunt double Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt). Spring ahead to February 1969 (and color, of course). “Bounty Law” is in rerun/syndication heaven, but Rick and Cliff are still a team. Cliff is driver, house “handyman” and al around “go-fer” to Rick as he hustles around LA for work. Part of that hustle this particular evening is meeting with talent agent Marvin Schwarzs (Al Pacino) at industry eatery Musso and Frank’s. Rick’s career anxiety has him chainsmoking and he’s developing a pronounced stammer (nearly a stutter). He’s not put at ease as Marvin delivers a devasting “wake up call” telling him that his film career has stalled since playing the ‘heavy of the week” on countless TV shows, while also trying to sell him on the idea of headlining some films shot and produced in Italy. This notion pains Rick as he and Cliff head back to his Hollywood Hills home. There they see the arrival of his neighbors (they bought the gated mansion a good ways down the road), new movie royalty director Roman Polanski and his gorgeous movie star bride Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie). The next morning Rick has to report to the set of the new CBS Western called “Lancer” where he’s playing another “baddie” (ringleader of an outlaw gang). It’s a long day as he deals with an arty flamboyant director, a precocious child star, and his ego-crushing “flubs”. Cliff, as he reflects on his checkered past, cruises the city in Rick’s sporty set of wheels. After a couple of near encounters, he decides to give a ride to a young “hippie chick” named “Pussycat” (Margaret Qualley). He takes her to her “family” dwelling at an old movie Western set locale, the Spahn Ranch. There Cliff is told about the family’s leader “Charlie” from two of the several young ladies, as he gets a general “weird vibe” from the familiar old place and its new young “occupants”. Meanwhile, Tate is seen around LA, dancing at the Playboy mansion, and even sneaking into a matinee of her latest flick. Six months later, she’s nearly ready to give birth as Rick and Cliff enjoy one last night on the town. But later that evening, sinister long-haired invaders make their way through the exclusive private neighborhood. What could they be plotting on this warm August night?
What gives this “epic’ tale a most human touch is the friendship of the two main characters. Tarantino, in an inspired bit of casting, paired two veterans of previous films, creating a male duo (or “bromance”) that rivals another started in 69 (the first Redford/Newman, BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID). DiCaprio (DJANGO UNCHAINED) and Pitt (INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS) have a believable compelling chemistry though their characters and acting styles are quite different. Dalton is a climber losing his grip on “fame mountain” and DiCaprio shows us the sweaty panic as he seems to be slowly sliding below the “summit”. He gives us that veneer of confidence slowly eroding in a great scene as DiCaprio has Rick gives himself a scorching pep talk. And in those faux film and TV clips, Rick’s is every inch a star (even stiffly crooning an old pop tune as a trio of Hullaballoo dancers manically gyrate around him). The opposite of that anxious actor is Pitt’s charismatic, colossally cool stunt man Cliff. He seems to have that West Coast surfer attitude (he sports a loose Hawaiian shirt in most scenes), just letting the universe’s “waves” take him on a “life ride”. Still, Pitt lets us see a bit of the darkness beneath the “dude-ness”, trying to get ahead of a past that the “business” still talks about in whispers behind his back. And while Rick is the on-screen action hero, Cliff strolls into deadly danger in one of the film’s most tension-filled sequences (we see Pitt “scoping” his surrounding with his eyes, slowly “casing’ the rooms, spotting possible weapons and escape routes). Here’s hoping another savvy director will come up with another project for this talented twosome (unless Quentin does a follow-up).
This “dream team” is supported by a great cast of QT vets, established stars, and newcomers. Squarely in that middle category is the radiant Robbie who literally lights up the screen as Hollywood’s new “golden girl” Sharon Tate. Robbie plays her as a graceful diety, gliding through tinsel town, combining old studio glamour and the free-spirited changing late 60s era. Though she’s in a most unusual relationship (she lives in a home with her hubby and ex-boyfriend), Robbie gives her a sweet youthful innocence, particularly in the movie theatre scenes. Eschewing a familiar cliche’ (“I can’t watch myself on-screen”), Tate is filled with joy, viewing her screen persona (QT uses real footage of Tate) and drinking in the audience reactions. Plus Robbie looks completely natural in the period fashions (no “playing dress-up” ). The often bombastic Pacino finds just the right tone for the brutally honest agent, Schwarzs going smoothly from compliments to dire predictions of career doom (“Ya’ gonna’ be a Batman villain next? Pow…zip…zoom”). He can schmooze with the best, but he’s not stuck in the past. Kurt Russell is terrific as a studio stunt director who likes Rick, but can’t abide Cliff (his character may be connected to a previous QT work). Damian Lewis and Mike Moh have memorable cameos as real movie icons, while Timothy Olyphant and the late Luke Perry have great scenes as the stars of “Lancer”. On that same TV show setting, Julia Butters is a real scene-stealer as Rick’s unlikely muse/advisor. Actually, many of the screen newcomers are second-generation actors. Bruce Willis’ daughter Rumer is one of Tate’s actress pals, while several others are part of the hippie “family”. Qualley (really becomes a “flower child”) is the daughter of Andie MacDowell, along with Maya Hawke, daughter of Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman, and both are ‘supervised” by “family elders” Lena Dunham and Dakota Fanning, pure dead-eyed evil as ‘Squeaky’ Fromme (not to mention the always wonderful Bruce Dern as another member of the “group”).
As mentioned earlier, this flick comes four years after Tarantino’s last one, THE HATEFUL EIGHT. I’m most happy to report that it is well worth the wait. This is his love letter to that crazy time when the torch was passed from the “old” Hollywoods moguls to the wild young rebels, and QT’s passion burns through nearly every frame. Leaning into the fairytale-like title, he shows us a magical kingdom of both hopes and desperation, sweet dreams and dark nightmares. We’re taken back to a time where TV was the “ugly stepchild” of the celebrated motion picture. But Tarantino shows us the art and charm of both. He loves the “ground out” TV “oaters” as much as the action “potboilers’ and the studio showcases. His script takes us from hilarity (Cliff panics as Rick can’t suppress a sob in a parking lot) to nail-biting suspense (during one sequence I wanted to jump into the screen to tell a beloved character to “get outta’ Dodge”). Plus the time is recreated in unbelievable detail. Actual AM radio cues and commercials fill the car cruising scenes, while Hollywood Boulevard becomes a blazing neon Asgard, with Pitt as a golden-haired hero guiding a sleek motorized chariot. Nearly every shot includes a nod to the year, with bus stop benches tauting reruns of “I Spy” along with LA newscasters (George Putnam!), even an early version of Taco Bell. What was considered junk is filmed with love by Tarantino turning into glorious antiquities: issues of “digest-sized” TV Guides, grocery items, and those shimmering vintage autos (and a couple of new “phony” products join the QT staple along with Big Kahuna Burger and Red Apple Cigarettes). Sure, some of the scenes could uses a good trim, especially some long “Lancer” exchanges, and Tarantino indulges his love of history twisting (recall the ending of BASTERDS) and excessive, nearly cartoon violence, but that doesn’t take away from the whole immersive experience as we feel as though a time machine (or that era’s TV show “Time Tunnel”) has whisked us back to a simpler, though unpredictable and often dangerous time. I can hardly wait for the disc in order to savor the art direction secrets and delectable deleted scenes (some interesting actors are in the end credits with a “cut” next to their listings, so…). Quentin Tarantino’s ONCE UPON A TIME…IN HOLLYWOOD is one truly fantastic, fabulous film (and TV) fable. And the moviegoers all lived happily ever after…
