Best of all is Jeremy Strong’s Dr. Thomas Stockmann, who vividly recalls Dr. Anthony Fauci, especially when this good Norwegian doctor is warning a town about the dangers of an impending epidemic.

The only problem with making “Enemy” a blow-by-blow retelling of Trump and Fauci’s battles is that what we all endured in real life a few years ago was so much more dramatic than what’s being offered onstage under the direction of Sam Gold.

“An Enemy of the People” typically runs three hours or more. At Circle in the Square, the playwright Amy Herzog delivers a swift two hours with an intermission at which drinks are served gratis onstage. Pre-pandemic, Daniel Fish’s radical rethinking of the musical “Oklahoma!” offered similar refreshments at intermission in the same theater, but Gold doesn’t make a habit of repeating what other directors do.

In fact, his recent interpretations on Broadway of “The Glass Menagerie,” “King Lear” and “Macbeth” have taken their knocks for being far too eccentric. Gold’s “Enemy,” on the other hand, sticks to the Norwegian locale and the late 19th century time frame of Ibsen’s play. Isabella Byrd’s very atmospheric lighting even features a lot of gas lamps, the set design by Dots delivered in rough-hewn wood.

In a sweet directorial touch, standees are offered seats on the stage after intermission to rest their feet and witness up-close Strong’s speech to the townspeople that they not believe his brother the mayor (Michael Imperioli, being very Trumpian) or those jerks at the newspaper (Caleb Eberhardt and Thomas Jay Ryan, being very Giulianian), because “we’re going to have an epidemic,” the doctor warns.

Back in 1882, Ibsen cautioned his publisher that he wasn’t sure if they should call “An Enemy of the People” a drama or a comedy, because he thought the Dr. Stockmann character exhibits perhaps a bit too much zeal in wanting to close down the town’s contaminated spa. What Ibsen never worried about is anyone calling his play “agitprop,” which is what Herzog and Gold have turned it into.

Has there ever been a more pure hero and a more abused victim on stage than Strong’s wonderful doctor? Of all the vipers on “Succession,” Strong was able to imbue his capitalist with the most humanity. Here in “Enemy,” without the shackles of greed and ambition, he achieves beatification. Strong last appeared on Broadway as Richard Rich in the 2008 revival of “A Man for All Seasons.”

Herzog’s rewriting of “Enemy” (they’re calling it a “new version”) is a vast improvement on her rewriting of Ibsen’s “A Doll’s House” last season, in which 19th century characters were heard saying stuff like “he’s wasted” and “I’ll take you up on that” and “what’s going on with you?” With “Enemy,” Herzog turns on the automatic pilot of modern slang only once, when someone cracks, “She was messing with me.” Not that this writer doesn’t occasionally flex her creativity.

In Herzog’s version, Dr. Stockmann momentarily contemplates leaving Norway so he can say, after the doctor has nearly been stoned to death by ice cubes left over from the bar at intermission, “In America we won’t have to worry about anything like this!” This line might get the biggest laugh ever recorded in a theater serving up a play purported to have been written by Ibsen.

Hitting even closer to these shores is Stockmann’s daughter, Petra (Victoria Pedretti), who toys with opening a school at play’s end. She tells her father about his young son, “I can actually teach him something if I don’t have to follow the ridiculous standards.”

If this good doctor gets his way and the family actually moves to America, let’s hope the Stockmanns don’t make the mistake of ending up in Florida.

The post ‘An Enemy of the People’ Broadway Review: Jeremy Strong Makes a Great Dr. Fauci appeared first on TheWrap.

Everybody has goals. For new resident Maxine Simmons (Kristen Wiig), hers is to enter the world of Palm Beach high society circa 1969. She dreams of joining the Palm Royale, the most exclusive country club in the area. It’s the sort of exclusive place filled with swimming pools, galas and daytime martinis that feeds into the competitive charity season. It’s the time of year where the wealthy women in the area show off their wallets and organizational skills to vie for the coveted title of “Queen of the Season.”

All this just to be mentioned in the local society papers. After all, “At the Palm Royale, the more you gave, the more you got.”

But poor Maxine isn’t exactly the malicious female clique’s idea of upper-class status. For one thing, she’s a former pageant contestant living in a motel while her pilot husband is flying around the country for work. She happened to marry into the D’ellacorte family, one of the oldest and most distinguished lineages in all of Palm Beach.

Maxine is viewed as a trashy outsider by many of the women she so desperately wants to be associated with. She tries to maneuver her way into affording the pricey membership to the Palm Royale, resorting to pawning valuable jewelry and outdated Gucci bags she steals from her husband’s comatose aunt Norma (Carol Burnett).

The ladies of the Palm Royale are a capricious bunch. There’s socialite Dinah (Leslie Bibb), a philanderer who cheats on her husband with a tennis instructor, and Maxine’s best option for getting sponsored for membership to the club. Mary Jones Davidsoul (Julia Duffy) is one of the club’s oldest and most well-mannered heiresses, but she’s not afraid to spread gossip when pressed. Racquel (Claudia Ferri) is a feisty opponent to Maxine’s advances, often siding with the other women to ice out the newbie.

Misunderstood evil shows its full form in Evelyn (Allison Janey), regarded as Maxine’s primary competition and the most likely candidate every year for “Queen of the Season.” Maxine wants to be Evelyn; she wants everything Evelyn has and will do anything to gain her elder’s respect. Sometimes, these plans get derailed by Evelyn’s personal scheming. However, Maxine finds support from Evelyn’s feminist stepdaughter Linda (Laura Dern), a radical anti-Vietnam War revolutionary who besmirches her family’s name with every breath she takes.

Yet, an air of mystery hangs over the residents of Palm Beach amidst all the cunning tactics, secret abortions and rumors. A period comedy that takes its cues from “Desperate Housewives,” “Palm Royale” initially introduces Maxine as a down-on-her-luck thief who will stop at nothing to get in with the rich and powerful. But the series evolves as we learn more about Maxine and her husband, their connection to Palm Beach, and why she desperately wants this lifestyle.

There’s also possibly a murder and other criminal activities afoot, adding to the intrigue of a social commentary on the elite.

Based on the novel “Mr. & Mrs. American Pie” by Juliet McDaniel, “Palm Royale” is a feast of retro stylings and historical events, building a world of a privileged class set against the backdrop of the Nixon administration and Vietnam. Maxine is the epitome of fake it til she makes it, equipped with a southern accent that Wiig seems delighted to play around with consistently from episode to episode. The series might be dirty-handed at times, but a mischievous campiness keeps the characters and plot twists engaging.

The all-star cast assists in moving the story forward, just as Maxine digs deeper into what makes this town full of rich schmucks tick. Singer and actor Ricky Martin is first introduced as Robert, the bartender at the Palm Royale. His frequently shirtless trumpet-playing role in Norma and Maxine’s life comes into focus as the series progresses, providing some of the show’s funniest dialogue exchanges. But Robert isn’t immune to the ever-present backstabbing, secrets and lies that plague this seaside town, contributing to the show’s mystique.

Setting a limited series in a period like the late 1960s gives “Palm Royale” enough fodder for the impressive cast to feast. Opposite male counterparts like Josh Lucas and Jordan Bridges, Wiig, Janey, Bibb and Dern are all standouts in an ensemble dramedy that escalates with every new episode. Director Tate Taylor (“The Help) frames the first episode as a way into Maxine’s treachery without divulging too much information, but it is creator Abe Sylvia and directors Claire Scanlon (“Set It Up”) and Stephanie Laing (“Physical”) that heighten the collusion between all parties involved in subsequent episodes.

As Maxine uses incapacitated Norma’s legacy and name to establish herself in Palm Beach society, it slowly becomes evident that something is rotten in the state of Florida. Not everything is as it seems, and Norma’s condition becomes shrouded in conspiracy. Could even more dirty tricks be involved in this beachy whodunit?

It’s worth it to tune in and find out.

“Palm Royale” premieres Wednesday, March 20, on Apple TV+.

The post ‘Palm Royale’ Review: Kristen Wiig Claws Her Way Into Palm Beach High Society in Apple’s Campy Retro Comedy appeared first on TheWrap.

It’s a glance that communicates a deep need that only the other person can fulfill and assures us we’re in the hands of performers who can bring a believable smolder to their work. Thankfully, it’s a look that comes naturally whenever Anne Hathaway and Nicholas Galitzine lock eyes or sneak glances at each other in “The Idea of You.”

Based on the novel of the same name by Robinne Lee, “The Idea of You” has a premise that turns traditional romance on its head, shifting and questioning typical notions of desire. Single mom Solène (Hathaway) seems content with her life, sans romance. She takes care of her teenage daughter Izzy (Ella Rubin), runs her own art gallery and deals with her cheating ex-husband (Reid Scott) cordially.

When plans change and Solène is whisked away to accompany Izzy to Coachella, she meets boy band heartthrob Hayes Campbell (Galitzine). The pair starts a whirlwind romance despite their age difference (Solène is freshly 40 and Hayes is 24), and nothing is the same.

What could have been a lukewarm romance is instead something much more surprising and sensual. In the hands of lesser performers and filmmakers, the premise could have quickly fallen apart. “The Idea of You,” however, has actors who know exactly what they need to bring to deliver a believable, compelling romance worth getting swept up in.

Hathaway and Galitzine burn from the second they meet each other, delivering witty banter and excited stolen looks. Galitzine and Hathaway anchor the film and their chemistry is palpable, making every touch feel electric. The supporting players are great as well, with Scott delivering the right amount of muted sleaze as Dan, Solène’s ex, and Annie Mumolo doing great work as Solène’s friend, Tracy.

Speaking of touch, there is a steamy, unapologetic, urgent feel to the film’s intimate scenes. The filmmaking underscores the desire, passion and emotion that passes between the two main characters. Hands roam, lips graze skin and faces are bathed in colorful lighting. It’s evocative, energetic and sexy, a combination that can be elusive in mainstream romance films.

Here, sex isn’t shied away from, but embraced as a natural part of the romance happening on-screen. It’s refreshing to see desire, especially one that prioritizes a woman in her forties.

An “older” woman finding romantic fulfillment with a younger man, and the complications that arise because of society’s baked-in misogyny, serve as the main source of conflict. It’s a message the film carries throughout: in the hypocritical actions of Dan, in the awkwardly photoshopped (and yet believable) headlines from the tabloids, but it’s laid out most plainly in the support offered by Tracy.

“Didn’t you hear? People hate happy women,” she says to Solène after her romance with Hayes goes viral and sparks massive controversy.

It’s a succinct statement that gets to the film’s aims beyond romance. It’s implied that a woman should be totally fulfilled once she becomes a mother, then she ceases to be anything else. “The Idea of You” challenges this and offers up a delicious alternative: a woman who dares to go after her passions, even if it defies what society wants or expects from her.

Any middling romance can hide behind beautiful locales in the hopes of getting by. A great romance goes beyond the superficial and uses the conceit as a way to understand the complications of the human condition. “The Idea of You” does just that, probing ideas about desirability, the way women are treated as they age and chasing your bliss. It may not dive deeply into these topics, but that’s all right. Wrapping these ideas up into a love story feels like an effective way to get a conversation going around them.

“The Idea of You” will ultimately land streaming on Prime Video via Amazon MGM Studios, but it’s the kind of romance that deserves a theatrical release. Gasps, applause and bashful chuckling filled the room at the SXSW premiere, and it made for a rousing, raucous experience that only added to the film’s charms.

At the very least, it’s a movie that’s worth gathering with friends for, a few drinks and diving in. It’s only right to have others around to ooh and ahh at the electric looks and touches being exchanged, and to boo and bemoan the drama that threatens to break it all apart.

“The Idea of You” hits Amazon Prime Video May 2.

The post ‘The Idea of You’ Review: Anne Hathaway and Nicholas Galitzine Deliver Chemistry, Charm and Heat in Sweet Romance appeared first on TheWrap.

Like “Rustin,” Shirley Chisholm’s huge presence and contributions have largely gone unacknowledged. Yes, there was Shola Lynch’s remarkable 2004 doc “Chisholm ’72: Unbought & Unbossed” back in 2004, and Uzo Aduba’s Emmy-winning depiction of her in FX on Hulu’s 2020 limited series “Mrs. America” about the failure of the Equal Rights Amendment in the 1970s. Still, despite her enduring impact she hadn’t received the full biopic treatment until now.

Though born in Brooklyn to Caribbean immigrants from Barbados and Guyana, Chisholm spent some of her early childhood years in Barbados. An excellent student in high school, as well as in college, the Brooklyn native began her career in early childhood education as a daycare aide and teacher prior to completing her master’s degree and rising to a daycare director and educational consultant. She entered politics at the grassroots level, supporting male candidates while also expanding female participation.

In the 1960s, she became the second Black person elected to the New York State Assembly and the first Black woman elected to Congress. “Shirley” doesn’t delve deep into that backstory, though it is referenced often. Instead, it centers on Chisholm’s bold 1972 bid for President of the United States, making her the first Black candidate to seek a major-party presidential nomination, and the first woman of any race to run for the Democratic Party’s presidential nomination.

Whether motivated by a limited budget or the endless narrative possibilities of Chisholm’s incredible life, writer/director and Oscar winner John Ridley keeps this story tightly focused on Chisholm, her husband Conrad Chisholm (Michael Cherrie), mentor/advisor Wesley McDonald “Mac” Holder (another solid performance from the beloved, gone-too-soon actor Lance Reddick), advisor/fundraiser Arthur Hardwick (Terrence Howard) and a young Barbara Lee (Christina Jackson, “Swagger”) prior to becoming a Congresswoman herself, with other notable additions along the way. Her youth voter coordinator Robert Gottlieb (Lucas Hedges, “Manchester by the Sea” is the only central non-Black member of her team,

A woman running for president is still a difficult journey in 2024, so “Shirley” pinpointing how implausible it seemed in 1972, especially for a Black woman, will be eye-opening even as a Black woman serves as our nation’s Vice President. That implausibility is underscored by her many challenges, including being left out of presidential debates and severe underfunding. How Chisholm meets those challenges illustrates her political savvy. By not shying away from her personal difficulties, particularly with her sister Muriel St. Hill, played by King’s sister Reina, and her husband Conrad, “Shirley” also gives insight into the huge personal cost to her ambition.

Not knowing who she can trust, particularly through her dealings with congressman and fellow presidential candidate Walter Fauntroy (another brief, but impressive performance from Andre Holland), who will protect her after a threat on her life and being underestimated by her political strategist/campaign manager Stanley Thompson (a convincingly exasperated performance from Tony winner Brian Stokes Mitchell) for not wheeling and dealing like men, not to mention a surprising betrayal by a trusted colleague she never saw coming.

Her unlikely friendship with fellow Democratic presidential candidate, and notoriously pro-segregationist, Alabama Governor George Wallace (W. Earl Brown) and other surprising alliances and affiliations offers additional intrigue. King’s performance is a carefully crafted one expected from an Oscar and four-time Emmy winner. Not only does she don Chisholm’s clothes, adopt her hairstyle, recreate her distinctive smile, and attempt her Bajan-tinged accent, she digs at the core of who Chisholm was in that moment—principled and fearless. That King did so after tragically losing her son Ian, her only child, to whom the film is dedicated, is even more admirable.

As Arthur Hardwick, Howard is far more subdued than his famous roles as DJay in “Hustle & Flow,” Lucious in “Empire” and Quentin in “The Best Man” franchise. Once the credits roll, with a surprising personal revelation with him and Chisholm, his performance becomes even more impactful and appreciated. Even in an often distracting wig, Dorian Missick lends heart to legendary congressman and Oakland mayor Ron Dellums; Amirah Vann (“How To Get Away with Murder,” “Queen Sugar”) delights as Diahann Carroll, while Brad James stretches as Black Panther leader Huey Newton.

Despite solid performances and a focus on a lot of the right moments, “Shirley” just never rises to a fever pitch. Perhaps it’s because Ridley, who began chatting with the King sisters about the film during his and Regina’s “American Crime” days, holds back too much. While audiences will walk away with an appreciation of how Chisholm helped put an end to California’s winner-takes-all presidential primary protocol, helping both Bill Clinton and Barack Obama secure their Democratic presidential nominations, and learn just how close she came to making a real power play in 1972, they won’t jump up and cheer her on.

And while “Shirley” is no “Rustin,” cinematically, Chisholm, like Bayard Rustin, more than deserves her flowers. In interviews, the King sisters have shared their intention in bringing greater visibility to Chisholm’s importance to all Americans. On that front, “Shirley” fulfills their mission, just in time for Women’s History Month too.

“Shirley” is streaming now on Netflix.

The post ‘Shirley’ Review: Regina King’s Passion Project Is Solid, But Never Reaches a Fever Pitch appeared first on TheWrap.

That journalism is often seen as the solution to all of this, as if capturing the truth will somehow change things by showing what is happening, represents a central tension at the heart of this fascinating feature. It is a film that is both aware of its own limitations and in a fight to escape them. It’s a reflection on the human cost of this work just as it is a grim look at how little it may end up truly mattering. It’s also nothing like what anyone could have expected based on the first look we got of it.

From the minute the first trailer dropped the takes were beginning to fly as everyone tried to make sense of what writer/director Alex Garland was getting himself into. California and Texas are aligning against the rest of the country? Nick Offerman is president? At the core of these questions was a dangerous assumption that conflict from within could not and will not happen now. And yet, that is exactly what happens. Whether you buy into this or not is something Garland is uninterested in as he doesn’t attempt to explain anything. In many regards, it’s best when he doesn’t as truth in the eyes of his characters is what matters.

“Civil War” follows a group of journalists. At the center of this is veteran war photographer Lee, played by an understated yet completely enthralling Kirsten Dunst, who has seen more death than many would in a lifetime. Now, she must cover a conflict in her own country and grapple with what this means. She takes aspiring young photographer Jessie (Cailee Spaeny) under her wing as she plans to travel across the country with her colleagues Joel (Wagner Moura) and Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson) to interview the president (Offerman) before what is believed to be the violent end of his regime.

While nice to see that journalism still exists in this dystopian future, with people risking their lives in search of truth, it becomes clear this is no romantic portrait of the profession. There is an inherent sense of questioning about both its utility and whether the toll it takes on those who do it is worth it. It feels like Garland considers himself to be a photojournalist, with the film often cutting to the moments captured by the characters’ camera at moments of brutality and death.

Initially, Jessie is terrified of the violence and understandably traumatized when they come upon a gas station where two people have been lynched. However, the more she is immersed in it the less she seems bothered. This grim reality sinks in without Garland making a big show of it. It becomes hauntingly natural, where the roar of gunfire drowns out any excitement to be had.

The immersive sound design is punishing, shattering through moments of quiet without remorse. This is not a blockbuster that revels in the excitement of shootouts. It instead is about how this destroys everything and everyone. When you take a photo of this to share with the world, does it make any difference or is it just capturing the moment of destruction so it can be immortalized?

This can all sound very heady written out, but the film is also a road trip movie that goes out of its way to couch its ideas in more familiar emotional beats. Some of this lands flat, like in an encounter on the road with characters jumping in and out of cars for some reason, though what follows this scene is devastatingly tense. Jesse Plemons pops up, bringing the appropriate level of menace and darkness in even the simplest of moves. All of the cast are similarly sharp, with Henderson and Spaney giving heartfelt performances in a reunion from Garland’s underrated series “Devs,” though this remains Dunst’s movie. While she has always done great work this is up there as one of her most focused performances.

At one moment on their trip, Lee discusses how she thought the photos she would take in various war zones might convince people back home to avoid the similar cost of such a conflict. As Garland shows more and more, she becomes fundamentally disillusioned with this. Dunst is terrific in these moments, capturing the way Lee has hardened herself against the traumas in order to endure. Just as cracks begin to form in her belief about what she is doing, the shell she has built starts to break into pieces until she can no longer hold herself together.

She does so through an almost sheer force of will, but the way we see the pain still bursting out in Dunst’s eyes is where the film finds its greatest emotional resonances. It is a film about journalistic ethics and, in its own way, the interpretation of images is grounded in her outstanding performance. It isn’t an easy role to inhabit, but she does so perfectly.

There is a lot that feels more scattered, with some of the musical choices feeling a little incongruous when silence would carry a greater impact, but that all ends up being water under the bridge. It isn’t Garland’s best film by any means, but it is his most unexpectedly interesting. There is a good chance that those looking for straight action will feel disconnected from it, but that increasingly proves to be the point. As Garland captures the intense violence and death with his own camera, there is a coldness to it that almost feels dehumanizing.

That a recurring conversation is had about whether the various journalists would take a photo of the other in the event of their death makes it clear that he doesn’t view this as some sort of neutral act. It is him acknowledging the relationship he has with the audience as being something he can’t control. Is there something inherently extractive and dehumanizing to capturing someone in this way at this moment? When Lee deletes one such photo, seemingly out of respect for the person they once were, it feels like Garland is leaning towards yes.

The future of America and journalism remains uncertain, subject to the efforts of those trying to bring truth to light, just as it is to those intent on using violent subjugation for their own ends. It is unlikely the grim vision Garland puts forth in “Civil War” will come to pass in exactly the way it is presented here yet the questions about journalism, ethics and whether it all matters remain.

A movie, even a surprisingly pretty good one like this, won’t provide all the answers to these existential issues nor does it to seek to. What it can do, amidst the cacophony of explosions, is meaningfully hold up a mirror. Though the portrait we get is broken and fragmented, in its final moments “Civil War” still manages to uncover an ugly yet necessary truth in the rubble of the old world. Garland gets that great final shot, but at what cost?

A24 will release “Civil War” in theaters on April 12.

The post ‘Civil War’ Review: Kirsten Dunst Is Outstanding in Alex Garland’s Fraught and Fascinating Epic appeared first on TheWrap.

Much beloved is the 2004 movie version in which an old man tries to reawaken his wife’s memory by reading aloud from her notebook. The new musical gets half the story right. Unfortunately, it’s the wrong half. Or the wrong third, as it turns out in this unusually cast production.

In the movie, the romance of the young lovers Allie and Noah, played by Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling in breakout performances, dominates the narrative. They aren’t so much in love as they are hornier than hell for each other, and Allie and Noah’s unabashed lust fuels the movie. It’s as close to soft-core porn as anything ever delivered by a movie rated PG-13.

Far less successful is the movie’s framing device, which are those scenes between James Garner and Gena Rowlands, whose Allie doesn’t make the connection between her husband Noah and the stranger reading the notebook until the movie’s end. Rowlands may have been the first character with Alzheimer’s to travel with her own personal stylist. In the movie, this older Allie looks ready to accept a career achievement award from Vogue.

On stage, Maryann Plunkett delivers an Allie who’s a very confused and troubled senior living out her last days in a nursing home, and her uncompromising performance is supported immeasurably by Dorian Harewood’s sympathetic Noah. When these two veteran actors are on stage together, “The Notebook” is the moving, unabashed, heartfelt tearjerker it’s needs to be.

The four actors playing Allie and Noah’s younger selves are another story. Book writer Bekah Brunstetter — or perhaps it was directors Michael Greif and Schele Williams? — has decided to use two couples to play the roles that McAdams and Gosling handled all alone. On stage, we get the younger Allie and Noah (Jordan Tyson and John Cardoza) and the middle Allie and Noah (Joy Woods and Ryan Vasquez), with Plunkett and Harewood being the older Allie and Noah.

If that’s not confusing enough, imagine how you’ll feel when the middle Noah first shows up to sing a song about renovating the dream house for the middle Allie. I had no idea who this guy was, and had to wonder if maybe the younger Noah had hired an enterprising realtor to do the house makeover for him.

Playing the two youngish Noahs, Cardoza and Vasquez share the same reserved style of lovemaking. Needless to say, unlike Gosling, neither of them is going to make People’s sexiest man alive cover. But at least they’re operating on the same chaste page.

Regarding the two youngish Allies, it’s difficult to believe Tyson and Woods were ever in the same rehearsal room together. Tyson exhibits a spunky tomboy spirit. Woods appears to be auditioning for the next “Bachelorette.” When the middle Allie and Noah reconnect after a decade apart, their love scene in the renovated house plays like a fantasy suite episode gone completely awry. Neither of them deserves the rose.

This musical version of “The Notebook” features five interracial couples. Its casting can be seen as a progressive sign. It also requires that “The Notebook” musical takes place nowhere and in no specific time period. In the novel and the movie, World War II resonates as a defining event. How the middle and older Noah in the musical injured his leg is pretty much up for grabs.

The Vietnam War is mentioned but never dramatized. The redneck South of the novel and the movie is the real villain, and contributes profoundly to the oppression Allie and Noah experience. Here, the former Confederate states (North Carolina in the novel, South Carolina in the movie) have been banished and replaced with a far more tolerant place that does not exist.

Brunstetter’s script advises that the sets (by David Zinn and Brett J. Banakis) and costumes (by Paloma Young) “feel timeless.” That approach sometimes works for a classic tragedy, but a melodrama like “The Notebook” needs context. In this musical, the only thing keeping Allie and Noah apart is her rather uppity parents (Andrea Burns and Charles E. Wallace).

Ingrid Michaelson’s score is middle-of-the-road pop. It’s pleasant. It’s easy on the ears. It’s not in any way what this musical needs to be, which is soaring and romantic.

The post ‘The Notebook’ Broadway Review: Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams Are Sorely Missed appeared first on TheWrap.

The film is built around Harriet (Lucy Boynton) who loses her boyfriend Max (David Corenswet) in a car accident. Devastated by his demise she clings to the songs that provided the soundtrack to their relationship. When she listens to them she is literally pulled back to the moment in time they first heard it together. The only problem is Harriet can’t change what others do, only what she does, so Max seems forever fated to die and leave her all alone. Still, she keeps playing the songs back to try to save him while retreating from the rest of the world and any future she could find there.

This is an intriguing hook that offers a new spin on a well-worn narrative convention, but “The Greatest Hits” never makes the most of it. Despite the gravity of the loss that is at its center the entire thing just floats through the emotional motions without any real resonance. From the supporting characters to, most egregiously, Max himself, nobody feels like a real person with anything approaching texture. All exist as a way to hammer home ideas and points about Harriet hiding herself away, with a humorous Austin Crute getting the worst part of them all as he is reduced to being the supportive best friend who has next to no interiority of his own.

Even when Retta, of the series “Parks and Recreation,” briefly shows up to lead a support group, she is completely wasted and there is no sense of why she is there other than to set up the next scene. This is merely the beginning of how the film is defined by painfully rote characterization.

When Harriet, still in the midst of grieving and trying to find a way to bring Max back, meets David, played by Justin H. Min of last year’s stellar “Shortcomings,” one gets a glimpse of the film trying to turn a corner. As the two banter back and forth it’s a sweet enough meet cute. However, with Harriet remaining trapped in the past and struggling to move on there is never a sense that she is ever fully present. Some of this is by design, with the film spelling out this idea over and over again, though much of it ends up leaving the present feeling empty.

David, while given the most basic of backstory about a loss of his own and a family business he is trying to run with his similarly underdeveloped sister feels like a character who exists to shake Harriet out of her funk rather than a fully formed person with his own complexities. This becomes dire when the various trips that Harriet takes to the past run into the same problem.

Despite being entirely built around the supposed passion of the relationship she had with Max, there is never a sense that we truly know him beyond these fragmented picture perfect memories. He is charming, funny, attractive and that’s about it. They seem to have a shared love of music but we never really see them connecting over this in any substantive way. They meet at a music festival, which the film keeps cycling back to, but every interaction remains repetitive in how it plays out. Harriet will be heartbroken at the knowledge that he is dead in the future and Max will deliver a “clever” line that just falls flat.

Corenswet, who is set to play Superman, certainly looks the part and does a fine job where he can but that is all he ever is. Some of this is down to the material he is working with but rarely does he do anything special. After watching the entire film there is never a moment where you come to understand much of anything about Max or what convinced Harriet that he was the one for her. “The Greatest Hits” tries to coast on its many montages, like one of the couple on a beach, but there is nothing behind any of them. Max is just a fragmented approximation of a soulmate on paper and never one on-screen.

There is a moment where the film almost comes close to acknowledging this in something approaching a meaningful way. In a scene Boynton shares with Crute, where they again discuss her character, he still takes her down a peg or two by complicating the image Harriet has of Max. In addition to one of the film’s few funny lines about how the band he was in wasn’t even good, it offers a wrinkle in this almost fairytale fantasy she has preserved in her mind.

The trouble is you never feel this even once in the film before or after the talk. We don’t know anything about Max or their relationship beyond the highlights of it. Did they ever fight or have disagreements while metal music raged behind them? Were they ever moved to tears by an orchestral arrangement that made them think about loss? We’ll never know, as the film is entirely filtered through perfect moments that never feel alive or authentic.

While its heart is in the right place, this is a story of love that never finds the rhythm or the blues. “The Greatest Hits” is a fitting title as there are plenty of familiar beats that may ensure it achieves broad popularity, but it never finds anything remotely close to genuine emotional potency. Even the moments of time travel are never as visually interesting as one would hope them to be. Like a superficial pop radio hit that gets played over and over, the only grace it finds is the potential that it will fade from your memory as soon as you finish watching it.

Searchlight will release “The Greatest Hits” in select theaters on April 5. It will be available to stream on Hulu starting April 12.

The post ‘The Greatest Hits’ Review: Lucy Boynton’s Time-Traveling Music Movie Never Finds the Right Tune appeared first on TheWrap.

Just as psychoanalysis is seen as a cure-all in “Spellbound,” antidepressant drugs are seen as an evil cop-out in “The Effect.” Just as a smitten Bergman is irresponsible for treating Peck’s neurosis, a smitten female psychiatrist (Michele Austin) can’t shake her past affair with a male psychiatrist (Kobna Holdbrook-Smith) with whom she’s conducting a drug trial that involves two patients (Paapa Essiedu and Taylor Russell).

“Spellbound” is not one of Hitchcock’s great movies, but it delivers and it doesn’t cheat.

“The Effect” is not a great play, but it delivers and it also cheats. Prebble has written a sci-fi horror show, but even fantasies need to set their artificial parameters and then stick to them. Never explained is why two heterosexual patients of the opposite sex would be given an experimental drug and housed in the same room or ward (the play is vague on their cohabitation), but somehow this couple breaks the rules when they – surprise! – end up having sex. They also fall in love. Or is it just the effect of the drug they’re taking?

This production of “The Effect” doesn’t give us Salvador Dali illustrations a la “Spellbound” to visualize the patients’ drug-induced dreams and nightmares. Since Jamie Lloyd is onboard to direct, however, there is his usual brand of trippy effects, which can best be described as extravagant minimalism. Here, Soutra Gilmour’s set features a floor that throbs with a vast array of lighting arrangements, by Jon Clark. It’s reminiscent of “Saturday Night Fever,” especially when a huge cloud of smoke floods the stage so the two patients can show off their dance moves (ballet for her, hip-hop for him) while the audience is sent into a coughing fit. Major moments in the drama are punctuated by a portentous Vangelis-esque score by Michael “Mikey J” Assante.

The performances are uniformly subtle to the extreme, their faintest whispers amplified to the hilt (sound design by George Dennis). Surprisingly, Lloyd eschews video screens, depriving the audience of close-ups as his actors deliver their camera-ready performances.

What’s love? What’s depression? What’s real? What’s not? Or is everything just some chemical reaction in the brain? In case the play’s thesis escapes us, Prebble includes a scene near the end where the female psychiatrist takes a human brain out of a small white plastic canister and shows where each thought, each memory, each feeling originates in that toaster-size mass of tissue.

In “Spellbound,” an old male shrink tells Ingrid Bergman’s character, “We both know that the mind of a woman in love is operating on the lowest level of the intellect.”

What a difference several decades doesn’t make. It is the two female characters in “The Effect” that end up being gaga in love. Or is it just the drugs talking?

The post ‘The Effect’ Off Broadway Review: Lucy Prebble Delivers a ‘Spellbound’ for the 21st Century appeared first on TheWrap.

But this adaptation falters by prioritizing its central mystery over the family discourse that surrounds it — lessening the emotional resonance of its resolution.

Peacock’s adaptation of “Apples Never Fall” centers on the Delaney family, made up of retired tennis coaches Joy (Annette Bening) and Stan (Sam Neil), and their four adult children: Amy (Alison Brie), Logan (Conor Merrigan Turner), Troy (Jake Lacy), and Brooke (Essie Randles). The title undoubtedly stems from the idiom that finishes “far from the tree,” referring to how children tend to mirror their parents’ behavior, an idea that’s explored in myriad ways over the course of the series. When we first meet the Delaneys, though, it’s in a time of crisis: Joy is missing, and none of her children have any idea where she might be. Stan appears to be lying about her whereabouts and the circumstances surrounding her disappearance seem suspicious; then there’s the fact that many of the Delaneys’ stories keep circling back to a mysterious visitor that Stan and Joy hosted in their home several months back. So far all the makings of a great mystery.

As in the book, the narrative of “Apples Never Fall” jumps back and forth in time. In the present-day timeline, the Delaney siblings work together to figure out what has become of their mother, and why their father is acting so shady. We also watch the events of the previous year play out, starting when an injured young woman knocks on Stan and Joy’s door one night and changes all their lives.

She introduces herself as Savannah (Georgia Flood), a woman fleeing an abusive relationship who decides to seek refuge at the Delaney home simply because the lights were on. It doesn’t take long for Savannah to ingratiate herself to the Delaneys, cooking and cleaning, dipping into their wardrobes, and engaging in long heart-to-hearts with Joy about all the things she’s always longed to discuss with her children. Joy is thrilled to have a new surrogate daughter to mentor, but her children are far less enthusiastic about their parents’ new ward. After all, what sort of single twenty-something woman just appears out of nowhere and moves in with a pair of retirees who were previously strangers? Something smells fishy, and they’re determined to figure out who Savannah really is, and what she really wants with their parents.

As the series volleys back and forth in time (there is so much tennis on this show), each episode focusing on a different Delaney, our understanding of their complicated family dynamic gradually takes shape. Despite being fairly close-knit, each of the Delaneys has a couple skeletons tucked away in their respective closets, some decidedly bigger than others. Savannah hovers around the whole show, becoming so intertwined in the family drama that it becomes difficult to think of an area that isn’t impacted by her presence.

Moriarty has said that part of what prompted her to write the novel was a true crime podcast that caused her to wonder, “How would you feel if your father was accused of murdering your mother?” That is the question asked in every episode of “Apples Never Fall,” through both incriminating and exonerating lenses. At times, it’s hard to imagine Stan committing such a horrific act, while at others, it’s difficult to believe that he could possibly be innocent.

As is the case with most book-to-screen adaptations, there are a number of significant differences between the novel and the small-screen versions of “Apples Never Fall.” Some are obvious right off the bat: instead of being set in Moriarty’s home country of Australia, the series is set in West Palm Beach, Florida. Instead of being separated from her husband, Grant, Brooke is instead engaged to a woman, Gina (Paula Andrea Placido). Instead of teaching at a community college, Logan works at a marina. Troy is having an affair with his boss’s wife, a subplot that does not exist at all in the book. Amy is no longer working as a taste tester, and is now a self-appointed “life coach.” And rather than being stubbornly anti-smartphones, Stan has one on hand at all times, just like everyone else.

Not that any of that should really matter in the grand scheme of things. Whether the source material was a book or an article or a video game, an adaptation needs to stand alone for a brand new audience. Sometimes translating a story from one medium to another means making changes, and plenty of authors — from Rick Riordan (“Percy Jackson and the Olympians”) to Julia Quinn (“Bridgerton”) to Moriarty herself — have publicly defended the alterations that were made to their work when adapting it for television. There are a million reasons behind these sorts of changes, and in the hands of the right creative team, they tend to work in the adaptation’s favor.

But something important went missing in the course of this book’s small-screen makeover (besides Joy, of course). While a novel can rely on its characters’ internal thoughts to drive its story, a TV series needs them to act externally in order to convey what’s happening. And quite a bit of Moriarty’s book is internal, as characters question their own previously held beliefs and assumptions given new evidence. That wouldn’t work on TV. In making the internal external, nearly all of the Delaneys come out looking worse than their literary counterparts, with Brooke and Troy faring poorest of all.

Not every character in an ensemble series needs to be likable. Quite the contrary; clashing personalities breed conflict, which is essential for a successful series. However, in this particular family saga, which wants its audience to not only invest in the answers behind Joy’s disappearance, but also in the Delaneys themselves, it feels as though the show leaned into one at the expense of the other.

That said, “Apples Never Fall” isn’t a bad way to spend a few hours of life. At seven episodes long, each clocking in at around 50 minutes, it’s a well-paced mystery featuring solid performances from each of its cast members. Bening and Brie stand out, with Randles and Merrigan-Turner admirably holding their own alongside their more-famous castmates.

But as the series concluded — also different from the book, and completely devoid of its COVID-centric denouement — I was left wondering if I even cared about this family, or if they were just a slow-motion trainwreck that I was voyeuristically watching enter its final stage of destruction. Sure, we learn what happened to Joy, but does that even matter if most of the Delaneys didn’t really learn or grow at all while she was missing?

The thing about “Apples Never Fall,” in all its forms, is that the mystery was always secondary to the family. Regardless of what happened to Joy, the point of telling her story is spotlighting the Delaneys. For its television adaptation, the mystery takes center stage, which feels like the wrong call. Because the mystery was never the most interesting part of this story. The Delaneys are the story, for better or for worse. Without a reason to invest in the family, the whole experience feels like it’s missing something.

So although “Apples Never Fall” checks a lot of the boxes for a compelling series, once the mystery wraps up, viewers are still left hungering for more.

“Apples Never Fall” premieres Thursday, March 14, on Peacock.

The post ‘Apples Never Fall’ Review: Annette Bening Goes Missing in Peacock’s Wonky Limited Series appeared first on TheWrap.

First rising to fame for her role in the HBO series “Euphoria,” it is now in “Immaculate” where she emerges, reborn, as a terrific screen presence who feels like she is only getting started with what she can do. Giving life to a horror vision that would not have nearly the same power and potency without her at the forefront of it, Sweeney has never been better than she is here. What a darkly beautiful yet brutal, bloody and bold film this is for her to wield.

The film, which had its World Premiere Tuesday at the Paramount Theater in Austin as part of the 2024 SXSW Film & TV Festival, is one that begins with a spectacular yet sinister opening. We see a woman trying to escape a convent under the cover of darkness. She steals some keys and manages to squeeze her way out through a chained gate before the hand of a nun pulls her back. The woman’s leg is brutally broken before she is buried alive, crying out in terror as the darkness of her final resting place consumes her.

We are then introduced to the young American expat Cecilia (Sweeney) as she tries to make a fresh start at this same remote convent hidden away in the Italian countryside. Unaware that anything may be awry, Cecilia just wants to give her life to her faith, as she believes God saved her when she nearly drowned as a child. As she soon discovers, the choice to come here may not have been entirely hers alone.

Just when it seems like she is getting used to the routine of this new life, Cecilia gets called in for questioning by the male leadership of the convent. We learn that she has become pregnant despite remaining a virgin (hence the title) and is put on a pedestal as a miracle. No longer does she have to do chores or worry about anything other than giving birth to this child. This doesn’t prove so easy, as her life has become defined by her existence as a vessel for all the hopes, dreams, and prayers of an entire community.

Just as dark forces seem to lurk in the night, the daytime where her every move is monitored and where she can no longer leave is just as chilling. Though still living amongst countless other people, it might as well be that she is being held in captivity in another realm she may never be free from.

Working from a script by Andrew Lobel, director Michael Mohan sets the table with a variety of distinct yet no less dynamic scares that are often defined by harsh, sudden cuts. While this could easily be reduced to being called “jump scares,” that doesn’t fully capture the way these are interwoven into the nightmarish world Cecilia is being steadily crushed by. Everything the film is doing cuts deeper because of the way it keeps building up the dread, relying on everything from a terrifying shot during a confession, as it seems distance itself is becoming unbound, to a sudden burst of violence just when you think things might finally be safe.

This is what ensures the subsequent shift to an experience that is far closer to body horror. Every detail of the convent, be it the throwaway conversation about someone being a scientist, to the glimpse of burns on an older woman’s feet, makes clear there is something immense going on here in terms of the years it has taken and the beliefs underpinning it. The more it sinks in that Cecilia has been chosen, the more suffocating the film becomes. What was once a place that may have offered a sliver of salvation is only about immense suffering. The film is genuinely scary just as it is shattering.

There is never a wasted moment as everything gets darker and darker. The musical score by Will Bates meshes with the stark visuals of cinematographer Elisha Christian perfectly. Bates and Christian previously collaborated with director Mohan on his 2021 film “Voyeurs,” which also starred Sweeney, though this feels like they’re all operating on another level. Christian, who has done great work on everything from “Columbus” to “The Night House,” is similarly outstanding with everything looking and feeling trapped in time. About midway through, a scene in a car that opens up to a field is made haunting in his hands.

Of course, all of this falls to Sweeney to carry the weight of everything on her shoulders. As both an actor and first-time producer she has a clear passion for the project that sees her really pushing herself. Not only does she do so with ease, capturing the overwhelming dread that crystallizes into grim determination, but she makes the entire film sing in the small moments. Right from when the members of the convent declare Cecilia is what they’ve been waiting for, you see the fear in Sweeney’s sharp, expressive eyes as she searches for a way to ensure she doesn’t become a dead miracle at the altar of their fanaticism.

As felt in one haunting shot of someone falling from a great height and the way the camera lingers on her face as she takes it all in, the devastation of death is becoming more present than life is here. To escape is to overcome an institution that seeks to control her and her body for its own ends.

This makes the last stretch of the film, where everything gets upended, all the more magnificent. Without tipping anything off, Cecilia must take matters into her own hands as it is clear she may soon be cast aside once she gives birth. It is in these moments where Sweeney achieves something transcendent, becoming almost unrecognizable. Some of this is because her face is increasingly covered in blood, but there is also a primal energy that she is able to channel to remarkable effect.

The final, unbroken shot brings everything together in one more crushing moment where Sweeney shouts to the rafters and silences any sense of hesitation that one might have had about her performance. Just as it was she who gave the film life, it is also she who has the same power to obliterate it with one final blow. How clear and true it rings.

Neon will release “Immaculate” in theaters on March 22.

The post ‘Immaculate’ Review: Sydney Sweeney Is a Revelation in Michael Mohan’s Magnificent Horror Creation appeared first on TheWrap.