Ari Hoyzn

I am not Native American, I am not from Oklahoma, and what very little I know of Native American culture I learned from friends and from books. Therefore, the little nuances and referential humor in Reservation Dogs often go over my head. However, what I do get right away is the common thread of humanity that is woven into each episode's narrative. Love and loss, the ritualization of coming of age, familial devotion, and the call to adventure are all universal themes that resound in everyone's psyche, no matter who you are or where you're from. I particularly love that entities such as Spirit, the Deer Lady, and Tall Man co-exist with the denizens of the material world, ever-present and interactive, akin to every tale from every land about man and nature spiritually intertwined. Sure, Reservation Dogs is an invitation to glimpse into contemporary reservation life. But it's also a testament that people all share the same stories.

I had high expectations with this series, particularly after the brisk, innovative, and sweeping expository narrative of the first three episodes. Then, sadly, by the fourth installment it has taken on a form much reviled - though loved by those who feel sustained by it - that of a primped-up, high-concept soap opera. The liberal sprinkling of expletives and sex scenes can only titillate for so long before becoming tedious, and the literary/artistic liberties that once held so much potential for brilliant storytelling has been relegated to the task of stretching the narrative so it can deliver the requisite number of episodes to fill a season. That said, there's loads of superb acting, elegant set and costume designs, and awards-worthy cinematography. The life and times of Catherine the Great is rich and awe-inspiring, so much so that the show's writer/s have much material to work with, without feeling the need to resort to filler episodes. Hopefully, the second season is better.

One of the daunting challenges of committing a classic title such as Anna Karenina to film is that it already has an adoring community of fans who, aside from interpreting the story according to their personal sensibilities, cultivate established ideas of how the characters look, how they talk, and how they behave. Therefore any interpretation, however sublime, will have criticism heaped upon it, mostly by fans who will reiterate that the book is better. That said, the 2012 re-telling by Joe Wright (Atonement, Pride and Prejudice) deserves praise, as well as multiple viewings, if only for the benefit of catching the many subtle nuances embedded into the film. Most noteworthy is the decision to portray the world of Anna Karenina as existing within the artificial confines of an ornate but obsolescent theater, which serves as a metaphor for the Russian aristocracy. To a subtler extent it also symbolizes the restrictive societal norms that women have to endure. This "picture book" perspective created highly stylized acting and almost aseptic scenes, making minute details appear bombastic - the eviscerated railway worker, the suggestive hand movements of the dance, the euthanizing of a prized horse. In the absence of sweeping vistas, the closeups become the highlights of the screen. Whether by acting genius or directorial skill, or both, the performances are superb. Apart from the delivery of her lines as Anna Karenina, Keira Knightley's minimal lip movements transform her character from an infatuated young woman to a grand dame of substance within seconds. Matthew Macfadyen demonstrated acting range with his portrayal of Stiva Oblonsky. I pay him high compliment by saying that his performance conjures up a younger but no less zealous Jim Broadbent. Ultimately, was the film able to tell the story worthy of Tolstoy? I think that some literati purists will consider making room for this interpretation, while the more casual audience will marvel at the glimpse of a Russian classic afforded them.

It is a familiar story, told lightly and lovingly, at certain points meandering and haphazard, as if the storyteller is a dear old friend who doesn't want to leave anything out. It is also a pragmatic tale that, stripped of artifice and cloying denouement, empowers the audience to process the movie for themselves without the benefit of being spoon-fed a formulaic Hollywood ending. If you want to see a relaxing film that focuses more on the philosophy of the human experience instead of a McGuffin-driven thrill ride, then go see The King of Staten Island, available now on demand.

It is no surprise that Space Force would have its share of criticism. After all, it appears as a satire pulled straight out of a real event. With the current atmosphere where everyone and everything is submitted to the acid test for legitimacy, veracity, and yes, even loyalty, a show like this could easily be dismissed as stereotypical Hollywood anti-Administration pap. However, the parallels stop there. The show’s portrayal of the military is how the public perceives the Armed Forces regardless of who’s in office, and its portrayal of Congress (never mind the thinly-veiled humor behind the names and appearances of certain characters in the Legislative branch) can apply to any timeline. Beyond all that is noteworthy acting from the main characters down to the people that constitute the backdrop. The storyline has enough substance to warrant low-level binging, and the humor flows organically from the very premise of the show. A few aspects of the story come across initially as cliched, but eventually become TV gold, thanks to great writing and brilliant acting. Is it worth your time? Sure.

In the competitive world of TV land, sitcoms tank when the talent is crippled by poor writing, which then triggers the anxiety-ridden network execs to scrub the project after initial bad reviews. There are few exceptions, of course. Friends languished for a number of seasons before being retooled for its target audience (a subject for another review); the first season of Blackadder, in spite of stellar talent and writing, lacked cohesion. Given the talent and the writing, I think Nora from Queens has the potential to pull it off. Then again, I would rather see it showcase its unique flavor, then end prematurely, than be retooled by marketing execs to perpetuate the pap that they think viewers want to see.

War is horrible. For children, more so. Thus, when a film roots through the ugliness of authoritarian regimes, arbitrary hatred, and carnage in the battlefield with the thought processes of a child and still manages to find a glimmer of hope in all that rubbish, then that film achieves cinematic gold. A review of a film that involves children experiencing the horrors of war tends to draw parallels from previous works on the subject. Jojo Rabbit invites comparison from The Tin Drum (1979), Grave of the Fireflies (1988), Germany Year Zero (1948), Der Untergang (2004), Hope and Glory (1987) and to a certain extent Amarcord (1973). Yet Taika Waititi’s brilliant narrative subverts expectations that another version of little Oskar or doleful Edmund is going to pluck at the audience’s heartstrings as they survive a world where grownups are murdering each other. Instead, the audience follows the life of little Johannes “Jojo” Betzler as a child who wants to belong, albeit in a society where exclusivity equates to conformity, while deviation from the State-approved norm is dealt with harshly. It would be reductive to call the film a satire; instead it is more like a story about growing up in a world that could be, sadly, anywhere in the world and occurring in any historical timeline: Jojo might as well be a child living in South Africa during the Apartheid, or in the streets of Chicago in present-day America. Go see the film.