Man vs. Machine

At one point in James Mangold’s enthralling and thoroughly entertaining Ford v Ferrari, Henry Ford II – grandson of the iconic automaker, and CEO of Ford Motor Co. – points out his nineteenth story office window at a nearby assembly plant. “During World War II that plant turned out 3 of every 5 bombers used in the war. Do you think Roosevelt defeated Hitler?” His point is clear: wars are not won by individuals but by organizing and mobilizing the machinery of corporate industry.

The year is 1965 and Ford is at war – not in Vietnam (which is never mentioned in the film) but with Ferrari, the Italian automaker which is the perennial champion of the prestigious 24 hours of Le Mans race. What is more, Enzo Ferrari has insulted and humiliated the American automaker and its corporate baron. Mr. Ford’s audience is Carroll Shelby, the only American ever to win at Le Mans and the best sports car designer in America. At the urging of marketing genius Lee Iacocca, Ford has enlisted Shelby to beat Ferrari and win a much-needed marketing boost for the brand.

But Ford was wrong. Wars are not won by Presidents or corporations. They are won by the soldiers whose bravery, sacrifice, and heroism are put to the test on the battlefield.

So enter Ken Miles, the British-born World War II veteran whose single-minded determination to race makes him a one-man killing machine (metaphorically) on the racetrack battlefield. Miles is driven not by corporate loyalty, or even a drive to win, but a Zen-like quest for “the perfect lap” – and that moment of transcendence, when, “at 7,000 RPM… everything fades. The machine becomes weightless. It just disappears. All that's left (is) a body moving through space and time.”

Ford v. Ferrari is at once an homage to the age of American industrial greatness as well as a critique of the corporate mentality which contributed to its downfall. Indeed, the central conflict in the film is not between Ford and Ferrari. Rather, it is, in the non-inclusive language of the era, between Man and Machine. On one level the “man” is Carroll Shelby, whose Patton-like genius is constantly being constrained by the corporate machine; on another level the man is Ken Miles whose desire for the perfect communion of car and driver is constrained only by the limits of engineering and the laws of physics on his speed machine.

The retro look at industrial America in its prime also suggests another conflict, between the promise of the “American Century” and the harsh reality of corporate and political greed that has turned industrial America into the Rust Belt. It taps into the nostalgic longing of many to “make America great again” by invoking an era of white male American dominance. One must look hard to find a person of color in the film; and the only woman of note is Caitriona Balfe’s fabulous turn as Mollie Miles, whose strength of will and character is a perfect foil for her husband. (In earlier years, the role would be played by Katherine Hepburn or Rosalind Russell.)

But the politics of Ford v. Ferrari takes a back seat to the sheer brilliance of the filmmaking. Mangold, whose previous credits include Walk the Line and The Wolverine, provides a film that excels in every way. The writing is crisp and witty. The editing is brisk, so that despite the hefty 152 minute run time, the story never lags. The cinematography is breathtaking, and the score is a perfect amalgam of bluegrass-rock and techno-pop. But the real gem is Christian Bale’s performance as Ken Miles. Bales continues to turn out one great performance after another, and this could be his best yet. Matt Damon also gives a solid performance as Carroll Shelby, as does young Noah Jupe as Miles's son Peter. 

Ford v. Ferrari invokes the era of great auto-racing films like Grand Prix (1966), Winning (1969) and Le Mans (1971), and leaves them in the dust. It may be the best auto-racing film ever made and is certainly one of the best films of the year.

Rated an overly restrictive PG-13 for “some language and peril” – Ford v. Ferrari is a real winner. **** (4.0 stars/4.0)

Yes, Virginia, There IS a Mr. Rogers

Every year, Hollywood trots out so-called “holiday films” that repackage the timeless (perhaps time-worn) story of how the spirit of Christmas transforms the cynical and selfish Scrooges and Grinches of the world into real persons of compassion and generosity. They are a ritual of the season as much as New Year’s resolutions, and usually just about as lasting in their impact. They offer feel-good sugar highs that collapse under the weight of their own fiction.

Marielle Heller’s A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood – the long-awaited film featuring Tom Hanks as children’s television icon Fred Rogers – is not (thank God) a Christmas movie. But it is the rare holiday release about character transformation that works because, unlike the jolly elf of our secular Christmas mythology, there really is (or was) a Mr. Rogers.

Based on a now-classic 1998 profile of Mr. Rogers (“Can You Say… Hero?”) by Tom Junod, the film features all the familiar character tropes of a Christmas film: the cynical, worldly journalist Lloyd Vogel (a loose depiction of Junod played by Matthew Rhys) whose contempt for humanity is a projection of his own self-loathing; his drunken, estranged father Jerry (Chris Cooper) who is the source of the demons in Lloyd’s soul; Lloyd’s angelic, supportive spouse Andrea (Susan Kelechi Watson) whose patience is running out; and, of course, the Spirit of Christmas in the person of Mr. Rogers who works the magic of redeeming and healing broken souls.

In lesser hands, the film would devolve into schlock melodrama or campy caricature, and there are times when you fear that the Neighborhood trolley is about to careen off its tracks. But thanks to Heller’s understated direction and the confident performances of Hanks, Rhys, Watson, and Cooper, the film overcomes the potential cheesiness of the father-son plot line.

Hanks clearly has the most difficult task. Rogers’ gentle sincerity has been an easy mark for parody and mockery. It is so familiar that even a near miss would ring hollow. But Hanks delivers an Oscar-worthy performance of subtlety and depth. He portrays Rogers with a complex interiority of caring and compassion along with hints of carefully guarded demons and wounds of his own.

Heller, also, takes chances that pay off in a film that transcends its material. The film is book-ended by the familiar opening and closing of the Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood show, in which Hanks-as-Rogers breaks the fourth wall by inviting the audience into the world of Vogel’s story just as the real Mr. Rogers invited children into his neighborhood. And in a bit of magical realism the neighborhood itself is deftly expanded with special effects to become the city of Pittsburgh and the “setting” for some of the film’s important sequences, so that we understand that Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood and our own world are really one. Heller also adopts Rogers’ own measured pace, letting the spaces and silences expose our own discomfort with just being.

The reputation of its iconic hero notwithstanding, this is not a film for small children. It deals with very adult themes of healing childhood wounds by learning to love and forgive ourselves and others. Indeed, despite never disclosing that Fred Rogers was a Presbyterian minister, Rogers’ own faith and pastoral presence dominate the story. It could easily be understood as an extended parable on the commandment to love our neighbors as ourselves – with the emphasis on the need to love ourselves in order fully to love our neighbors.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is a fitting complement to last year’s powerfully moving documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor? If one did not know that Mr. Rogers really was who he presented himself to be, it might be dismissed as a piece of romanticized fluff. But there really was a Mr. Rogers, and that makes this a holiday film worth watching.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is rated PG for mature themes. 3.5 stars out of 4.

Viewing notes: Look for cameos by the real Joanne Rogers and David Newell (Mr. McFeely) in a restaurant scene. Also, don't leave before the end of the credits or you will miss a surprise "credit cookie."

Butch, Sundance, and Quentin

Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid was the top-grossing film of 1969. It featured two top Hollywood heartthrobs (Paul Newman and Robert Redford). It was a western with anti-hero protagonists and 20^th century sensibilities. It was also released six weeks after one of the most famous murders in history, that of actress Sharon Tate and four others at the Hollywood home of director Roman Polanski by members of the Charles Manson family. The murders terrorized the moviemaking elites, and as Joan Didion famously observed, for many they signaled the end of the free-wheeling peace-and-love Sixties.

The murders drive the story of Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood, a Butch & Sundance style “western” with 21^st century sensibilities in which the anti-heroes are two top Hollywood heartthrobs (Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt) and the bad guys are the Charles Manson “gang” (as they are identified in the credits). It is also – as the title suggests – a Tarantino fairy tale (a la Inglourious Basterds), and a tip of the hat to spaghetti westerns (a la Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West).

We know what is coming – the 3:10 to Yuma in the form of the August 8, 1969 murders. But Tarantino’s focus isn’t on either the perpetrators or the victims, but rather on the bromance between the two stars, who play Rick Dalton (DiCaprio) and Cliff Booth (Pitt), the former a struggling veteran of TV westerns now reduced to guest appearances on Mannix and The F.B.I.; the latter his long-time stunt double and drinking buddy. Dalton lives next door to Polanski and Tate high in the Hollywood Hills; Booth lives in a beat-up trailer in the San Fernando Valley with his own loyal friend, his dog Brandy. No matter the class difference (although on one level the film is a comedy of Hollywood manners) – these two are best friends living inside their social castes like Rick and Sam in Casablanca. DiCaprio and Pitt are magnificent in their roles, and DiCaprio especially gives a clinic in acting (literally, in one scene).

But even more than the dynamic duo, the film is about 1960s Hollywood at the end of an era. As one who lived in Southern California at the time the film is set, I can attest that Tarantino’s attention to period detail is astounding. Uniting all the characters is the ubiquitous sound of 93 KHJ, the AM radio top-forty (or “Boss 30”) station that permeates the soundscape as does Wolfman Jack in another homage to a bygone era, American Graffiti. Tarantino is a master of the period soundtrack, which alone is worth the price of admission. The film doesn’t wallow in nostalgia but Tarantino lets Robert Richardson’s slightly over-exposed sun-drenched cinematography do all the talking, especially as it highlights Margot Robbie, cast as the ill-fated ingenue whose sunny sweetness represents Paradise Lost. 

The film ambles its way to its grisly conclusion – which might be too gory for mass audiences. Tarantino clearly enjoys the journey, but tighter editing of this 160-minute behemoth would move the story along at a more 21^st century pace. Nevertheless, Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood is a delight for the eyes and ears, and is Tarantino’s most fully realized film since 2003’s Kill Bill, Vol. 1.

Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood is rated R for violence, language, and sexual content. 3.5 stars out of 4.0.

All You Need Is Love

Jack Malik (Himesh Patel) is a struggling London singer-songwriter who has come to the end of his road. His devoted friend and manager Ellie Appleton (Lily James) harbors an unrequited love for him and believes in his music. But it won’t pay the bills, so he tells her he’s giving up his dream, unless some miracle occurs.

And, of course, it does – a 12-second global electrical blackout and a bicycle accident from which Jack awakens with minor injuries, but in a world that has changed in a small but significant way. The Beatles never happened. No Beatlemania, no Sergeant Pepper, no “Hey Jude” or “Yesterday.” And Jack alone seems to remember their songs.

That is the premise for Yesterday, a nostalgic tribute to the group that redefined pop music, became the first global musical phenomenon, and has been the soundtrack for a generation. Directed by Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, Slumdog Millionaire), Yesterday is a clever twist on the “what if?” movie genre which includes such members as It’s a Wonderful Life and Sliding Doors. A former seminary roommate of mine once described the Beatles’ music as “sunshine,” and Boyle portrays a world without the Beatles as a world cast in a long, cold, lonely winter until Jack shares his musical gospel.

Like many “what if” stories, Yesterday is a morality play. Jack shares his special gnosis of the holy canon, which gives birth to a viral global “Jack-mania,” midwived by the amazed and humbled acolyte Ed Sheeran (playing himself). Despite several failed attempts to explain the songs’ true origin, ultimately Jack decides to “drink the poison chalice” offered by a devilish agent (richly played by Kate McKinnon) by which he sells his soul (or at least his integrity) for promises of becoming the greatest musician in the history of the world.

You can guess what follows. Yesterday is a feel-good summer movie played with breezy fun. Richard Curtis’s screenplay wastes little on backstory in order to showcase the true star of the show, the music. The songs might resonate differently with different generations, but this is more than just baby-boomer nostalgia; there are plenty of pop culture references to connect with younger generations. Boomers will instantly recognize visual homages to A Hard Day’s Night and The Ed Sullivan Show. Other icons abound, from the famous 12-string intro chord of A Hard Day’s Night to the farewell rooftop concert. And the revelation that leads to the resolution of Jack’s moral crisis is perfect – and dare not be spoiled.

Patel is a gifted singer with enough acting chops to pull off the fantasy, but he is outshone by his supporting cast. Lily James is charming and beautiful as Ellie, making Jack’s platonic responses hard to believe. But the real scene-stealers are McKinnon and Joel Fry in the Tony Randall third-wheel role as Jack’s childhood friend and stoner roadie.

There have been other films that have banked on the Beatles legend, most notably Across the Universe (2008), I Want to Hold Your Hand (1978), and the awful Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (1978). Yesterday surpasses all of these by not just playing the music, but capturing the heart of the Beatles’ magic – love.

Rated PG-13 (language), Yesterday, like the Beatles’ music itself, is non-stop joy. **** 4 stars/4.