SXSW Review: PETTING ZOO

March 12, 2015 by Matt Oakes Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged Devon Keller, Micah Magee, Petting Zoo, Reviews, SXSW 2015 Reviews 2 Comments

Petting Zoo exists in the crossroads between Texas-sized conservative values and an emerging genus of first-generation aspirations as 17-year-old Layla finds herself simultaneously presented with a college scholarship and a bun in the oven. Writer, director Micah Magee‘s tale of unexpected pregnancy is one that cuts close to home, having been a pregnant teen herself.

States Magee, “I wanted to tell this story from a place of empathy and experience instead of a political angle.” By in large, her dramatic tale of difficult choices at a ripe young age does linger in the emotional corner of the room though some of the most interesting aspects of the film – her fundamental ideological differences with her birth parents – those that might just be political after all, feel skimped on.

Acting as Magee’s stand-in is Devon Keller (Layla). Her fawn-like eyes and meek frame wrangle in an underlying glow of intelligence and an cerebral hearth of cunning. The most defining feature of Layla though, like all hormone-laded teenage girls, is her fragile emotional epicenter. Not one to be bucked off balance by a philandering beau, unsupportive parents or her blue collar roots, Layla faces constant trials to her psychological health in dance halls and doctor’s offices alike.

Keller, a non-actor, surfaced for the role in a doozy of a casting call anecdote. At the same school where casting was taking place, Keller won a Taco Bell burrito at a fashion show (oh Texas) and awkwardly accepted her bean and cheesy prize. Though initially hesitant to sign on for the role, Keller provides Layla layers of honesty and plain-faced charm that would have otherwise been altered by the presence of a more “actory” performance.

Debuting at Berlin Film Festival to dull roars of approval – Variety’s Peter Debruge called Petting Zoo his “favorite film” at the festival – Magee’s film aims to distinguish itself by way of an overwhelming sense of stern-faced seriousness. Last year, Jenny Slate transformed her pregnancy in a feminist laugh riot, crafting a bonafide hilarious abortion comedy. In 2007, Juno snarked a way through her knocked up interim with acerbic zingers in a borderline romanticized, nonchalant fashion wholly uncharacteristic of your average accidental teenage pregnancy. Here, Layla takes the fetus feeding inside her deadly serious and so does Magee. The result, though honest, revealing and emotionally forthright, is kind of a drag.

Growing pains and relationship strife bucks up against strict family values and the ensuing dichotomy of a lower-class preggo schoolgirl hoping against hope to populate her mind with collegiate knowledge is an emotional wrestling match in itself. And far be to it for me to say that all pregnancy dramas should come with a hearty scoop of a self-deprecating female jester, all that pain and suffering becomes a hefty dose without the sweet release of an occasional levity.

C+

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SXSW Review: SWEATY BETTY

March 12, 2015 by Matt Oakes Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged Joe Frank, Reviews, Sweaty Betty, SXSW 2015 Reviews, Zack Reed

Idiosyncratic Sweaty Betty is a documentary-cum-nonfiction of odd variety. Consisting of six scenes and six cuts and using a cast composed entirely of non-actors, it represents a new-age, inner city twist on the undiluted realism of Richard Linklater or Curtis Snow’s disconcertingly realistic Snow on Tha Bluff. Tactically less intellectual than Linklater and yet more restrained and tender than Snow, Sweaty Betty shows the 21st century promise of plopping a camera in a foreign landscape to eye-opening effect, even if said landscape is on American soil.

The two dueling narratives of Sweaty Betty frame a somewhat askew relationship between man and beast. Issues of domestication, profitability and, gasp, love swirl into and out of the pocket of Joe Frank and Zack Reed‘s film but there’s never an attempt to pinpoint exactly what it is they’re attempting to communicate beyond slamming the camera in the middle of the action and letting it roll.

Events play out as a series of fast-talking closed captioned conversations and thank the gods for that. The characters, particularly the loquacious Scobby, are such hasty-gabbing windbags that they make Seinfeld‘s Jackie Chiles look like a traveling orator for senior centers. Without the visual aid of superimposed text, their Maryland motormouths might be garbled streaks of sound. Assisted by phonetic subtitles, their slang is hypnotic and strangely exciting – some of Scooby’s colorful verbiage is the equivalent of ghetto Shakespeare – and since directing duo Frank and Reed are themselves products of this Cheverly community, their spotlighting of this particular lexicon couldn’t feel less exploitative. Rather, the product itself boils down to the direcor’s intention to put their experience on the screen as it might play out in real life, “From a directing and editing standpoint, we wanted to show life in real time. We wanted to show two great real-life stories unfold, but just as important, we wanted to show the pace at which these real-life stories unfold.”

One of said story lines features best friends and young single dads Rico and Scooby as they come into owning a “cocaine white” pit bull puppy whose adorable levels are squeal-worthy. The other thread drops in on the Rich family and their 1000-pound pig as they half-assedly attempt to transform their beloved porker Mrs. Charlotte (whether the name choice is intentionally ironic or not is never certain) into the official mascot for the Washington Redskins. How perfectly suitable for a NFL brand that has largely associated itself with pigheadedness.

But where another film might be intentionally making this association, this is not the least bit the goal of Reed and Frank, nor the true-to-life Rich family. Rather, the Rich clan are of preternaturally earnest stock. The genuine purpose that patriarch Floyd and his folk garnish from their possession and neighborhood propagation of said swine is their soul’s foodstuffs. It’s bacon to feed their dreams. Their quiet aspirations to have their over-sized pig represent an NFL franchise is borderline heartbreaking. When legal interests interject to alter the pig’s status within the Rich family, there is an immeasurable sense of loss, as if all they had to live for has been snatched with the scoop of a greedy carnival claw.

Told that they could not just pick up a camera and start filming, directing team Frank and Reed did exactly that. Their Best Buy Nikon d5100 came out of its packaging and immediately turned its gaze into the midst of this pair of real-life events. The narrative itself isn’t meant to shake the earth, nor is it in itself a sensational mountain of intrigue, but their feature is nonetheless massively effective at dropping us into a place swirling with low-key issues symbolically representative of the specific cultural zeitgeist at large.

A few horrid musical cues – Luther Vandross’ melodramatic “Dance With My Father” overstays its welcome within seconds – arrive aggressively on the nose. But even with such shameless grabs at our heartstrings, the sentiment behind such ideas are pure, even though obviously emotionally manipulative. It’s their ability to succeed even in the face of commonplace platitudes that make Frank and Reed such a promising duo and Sweaty Betty such an unexpected accomplishment. See it for Scooby’s delectable diatribes alone, yung.

B-

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Sundance Review: RESULTS

February 4, 2015 by Matt Oakes Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged Andrew Bujalski, Cobie Smulders, Guy Pearce, Kevin Corrigan, Results, Reviews, Sundance 2015

Andrew Bujalski earned an earnest little following out of Austin, Texas from his efforts in building up the mumblecore scene but his star has never shined brighter than it did two festival seasons ago with the debut of his offbeat docu-comedy Computer Chess. Expanding on that last project – which used a blend of professionals and non-actors – Bujalski had to contend with being in a whole new league. The majors to his minors, the Globo-Gym to his Average Joes. He admits that the process was very much the same as it’s always been. “I think directing is the same. Whether they’re professionals or non-professionals, everybody has their own insecurities, and their own approach.” The result is Results, an offbeat and messy gym rat comedy that’s still a little pudgy. Read More

Sundance Review: PEOPLE, PLACES, THINGS

January 30, 2015 by Matt Oakes Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged Jemaine Clement, Jessica Williams, Jim Strouse, Michael Chernus, People, Places, Sundances, Things

Having retired from his role as the Hiphopopotamus, Jemaine Clement frequents our living rooms and theaters all too infrequently. His 2014 cameo in Muppets Most Wanted didn’t nearly suffice to fill our favorite Kiwi quotient and we’ve yet to take in his lauded vampire comedy What We Do in the Shadows (though we eagerly anticipated its eventual stateside arrival.) Nor can we really kid ourselves into believing that Clement’s existence beyond Flight of the Concords has been far-reaching – though his role as Boris the Animal was an easy highlight of Men in Black 3 and tapped into his unrealized Hollywood potential. So it’s with a heaving sigh of relief that we can announce that Clement has finally been given a role worthy of his gawky stature in the delightful, funny and tender People, Places, Things.

Going for the heart and the belly laugh with each delicately placed jab, Jim Strouse tells a humbling NYC dramedy that would feel at home amongst HBO’s heady comedic lineup. People, Places, Things opens with a man and his wife unhappily in marriage, publicly wrenched apart by a birthday party affair (all the more embarrassingly at the hands of the not-so-sexy Michael Chernus) and later forced to reconcile for the sake of their twin daughters.

Clement plays Will, a graphic novel artist and a teacher at the School of Visual Arts (where Strouse himself works and teaches) going through the motions of adulthood. His long-standing indifference with the world is reflected by a series of simplistic but affecting black-and-white illustrations in a yet-unfinished comic book autobiography. Will’s coy about the autobiographical nature of this illustrated tell-all but his book’s character is a spitting image down to the scruffy-headed mop of the toothy New Zealander. Gentle heartbreak sets in as Strouse flips through frame after frame of the book’s protagonist/Will-stand-in looking lost and alone with a speech bubble persistently asking for “more space.” His parents, his friends, his wife, all have left him craving breathing room and now that he has it, the reality of solicitude slaps him heartily with the question of “Well what now?”

If there’s one (or two) things that Will does not want space from, it’s his daughters and as the narrative turns towards Will taking on increasing responsibility for his children and accruing more time with their fast-aging antics, we get a sense of his potential as a father. Along the way, Will is propositioned by student Kat (Jessica Williams) and get’s his panties all in a bunch about this or that being inappropriate. “Gross,” Kat mutters and fills him in on the fact that she’s in fact (unsuccesfully) trying to hook him up with her more age-appropriate but totally-bangin’-for-her-age mother, Diane (Regina Hall.)

Strouse’s saga of arrested maturation and the awkward footing towards becoming a reputable parental figure is presented with a soft earnest but is special for another prominent reason. Notably forward-looking in his depiction of race, Strouse skirts calling attention to the bi-racial relationship that develops by focusing on the inner-workings rather than the outer makeup of his characters. And for good reason. Hall and Clement make a great match, her sage advice clashes ever so gently against his accidental aloofness and their chemistry sparkles.

If there’s anything holding People, Places, Things back it’s how slight it all feels – another solid entry into the increasingly salient category of elevated rom-com. But we must credit Strouse some major points for the manor in which he moves the dial forward with a gently nonchalant but entirely progressive depiction of romantic race relations. To destigmatize is a powerful thing, especially when you don’t even realize it’s happening.

B

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Sundance Review: MISTRESS AMERICA

January 30, 2015 by Matt Oakes Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged Greta Gerwig, Lola Kirke, Michael Chernus, Mistress America, Noah Baumbach, Reviews, Sundance 2015

Noah Baumbach again arrives in auspicious fashion, delivering a fast-talking farcical bumblebee of a film whose honey is sweet and sting is bruising. It’s as much a diatribe about the fickle nature of youth as it is a pure slapstick comedy, featuring a humdinger of a hipster prophet in the form of a footloose Greta Gerwig. Baumbach’s latest is also decidedly his lightest, opting for a kind of 21st century update to the surrealist verisimilitude of “I Love Lucy” or a feminist take on “The Three Stooges” – that is, it’s his brand of “But ours goes to 11” absurd. Everything he and his characters touch upon is based in reality – on someone, on something, on somewhere – but is forcefully exaggerated in its screwy presentation. As such, Mistress America has allowed Baumbach and Gerwig to craft modern day archetypes – the awkwardly desirable nerd, the college-bound tabula rasa, the hipster goddess – and mock them to high heavens in pure unapologetically absurdist manner. Read More

Sundance Review: LAST DAYS IN THE DESERT

January 30, 2015 by Matt Oakes Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged Ciarán Hinds, Emmanuel Lubezki, Ewan McGregor, Last Days in the Desert, Reviews, Rodrigo García, Sundance 2015, Tye Sheridan

Director Rodrigo García claimed two themes interested him most in his articulation of Jesus’ untold 40 day fast in the desert. The first: the primordial idea of how a boy becomes a man, a step that Garcia contents happens “with or without his father’s help of permission.” The second theme surrounds the notion of creationism, both in a spiritual and storyteller’s sense. García himself underwent a creation process in the construction of Last Days in the Desert, weaving a fictitious narrative out of a notable absence in Jesus’ origin story – only mentioned in passing in the Gospels but entirely bereft of detail. This absence of a story drew García to the project, offering him an entrance into a narrative that felt to him inspired, fresh and wildly important.

In Last Days in the Desert, the first theme is tackled with obvious symmetry. On the last leg of his sandy spirit journey, Yeshua (Ewan McGregor) a.k.a. Jesus is heading home to Gaililee, a community that has praised and forsaken him in equal measure. Entering the home stretch and somewhat disappointed that his Dad has gone all hush-hush on him, Jesus feels just the slightest bit forsaken. His food- and spirit-hungry skepticism is only exacerbated by the arrival of the Devil (again, Ewan McGregor) a personified shadow demon whispering doubt at the robes wearing deity.

As his faith is bent but not broken, he comes upon the desolate home of a few essentially human folk, barley living off the arid sterility of this harsh desert land. Soon, his spiritual self-actualization is at odds with his inherently human desire to help these people in needs. Deciding to give himself over to the toil of these hard-working but flawed mortals, Yeshua must remain focused on his own metaphysical well-being while playing mediator to the internal familial strife of these desert clan (problems that include stilted interpersonal relationships and a dying matriarch.)

As Yeshua contents with the difficulty of his own distant, difficult to please father figure, the offspring of this newfound family, a boy known only as Boy (Tye Sheridan), struggles with his own unideal paternal rapport. The boy projects a warm intelligent in his penchant towards self-satisfied riddles and Sheridan ably reflects a brand of hushed acumen. Wanting to travel to Jerusalem to take on an apprenticeship doing anything other than this deserted carpentry, he asks to take up with Yeshua on his travels, offering to abandon his family in the night and pretending to be his son. There’s no WWJD contemplation as the little-big-man-upstairs gives him a brusk “Uh uh.” Sensing his son’s withdrawal, the father (Ciarán Hinds) seeks advice on how to bond with his son, eventually proving that even the best riddle cannot bring together two men clashing over something as fundamental as maturation.

In Christian Scripture, 40 days and 40 nights is the gold standard for spiritual enlightenment – with Moses also forgoing food and company for a 40 day stretch before penning (hacking?) the Ten Commandments – but García’s Last Days in the Desert wrapped in just five weeks. Filmed mostly in the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park of Southern California, Oscar-winning cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (Gravity, Birdman) adds his own signature touch to the visual flourish of García’s gazes into gritty nothingness. Though his product here is a distant cousin to the uninterrupted camerawork of both Birdman and Gravity, Lubezki illuminates the desert into otherworldly effect, predominately only with the use of natural light.

Unlike those aforementioned features that were by definition go-go-go, Last Days in the Desert is periodically immobilized by its sense of stagnancy. Through solid performances, dazzling cinematography and an alluringly minimalist narrative, it closely resembles the devil on Jesus’ shoulder in not ever being quite bewitching enough to fully tempt us onto its side. Though it does get tigerishly close.

García delivers some surprisingly compelling, though sleepy, material for a “Jesus in the Desert” art film but his post-screening testaments that this is a tale of unquestionable divinity (he contents that the Yeshua onscreen is most definitely a God, and not just a man. Here, I was thinking he was telling the story of a man, and only a man) only managed to chill my lukewarm reception of this sun-scorched film even more.

C+

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Sundance Review: MISSISSIPPI GRIND

January 28, 2015 by Matt Oakes Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged Anna Boden, Ben Mendelsohn, Reviews, Ryan Fleck, Ryan Reynolds, Sundance 2015

There are some people who just can’t help but roll the dice. No matter how far ahead or behind they are, they just need to have one more go at the “big win”. And as any longtime gambler knows, the win is incomparable elation. Though in the long run, this mentality always loses. Statically, a lifetime of gambling is bankrupting. It leads to broken relationships, distrust and disquieting desperation. With some, the influence to bet it all becomes a certifiable addiction the likes of crack or caffeine or Lost. Those able to delude themselves blindly forgo the notion that the odds are never in their favor. The house always wins.

Gerry (Ben Mendelsohn) is one of these people. Though affable and a confirmed good time, even Gerry knows he’s not a good guy, and he’s willing to tell you the truth of it. A lifetime of horse tracks, slot machines, poker tables, greyhound races and blackjack has left him penniless, alone and in debt to most he knows. He hasn’t spoken with his daughter in years and his ex-wife wants nothing to do with his devious, sock-drawer-thieving ways. Even while Gerry attempts to portray a glass-is-half-full image, it’s understoof that his cup hath runneth dry.

Enter Curtis (Ryan Reynolds), a shamrock of a drifter with an immeasurable penchant for knowing when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. At a small-time Texas Hold ‘Em tourney, the implacable Curtis squares off against Gerry, throwing a crux to Gerry’s audiobook-trained read on rival players. Woodfords are ordered and shared and Curtis’ hard-working mouth extends just enough outsider anecdotes to win over the small-town folk, most especially Gerry. A night of darts cement their favor for one another. A post-Woodford stabbing proves that sans Curtis, Gerry is a man shit out of luck.

In a last ditch effort to reconcile his outstanding debts before the squeeze becomes too much to bear, Gerry teams up with his new good luck charm Curtis on a hunt for a big score in New Orleans. What follows is a Tom Sawyer-nodding tramp down the Mississippi in which we can’t quite place who is Tom and who is Jim. As their odd-couple road trip ambles down the banks of the surging river, they stop off at various intersections – here a upscale whorehouse housing an old flame, there a familiar casino where Curtis once held VIP status.

Each terminal casts glimpses into the perennial migrant that is Curtis, without giving him away before the final card is dealt. As Curtis remains a bit of a mystery throughout – providing a curious counterpart to Gerry’s transparent distress – he becomes a bit of a noble savage of the open road. But Reynolds handles the character better than most, injecting Curtis with just the right amount of playboy charm without trotting into the obnoxious snark that too often characterizes him as an actor.

As the duo near their final destination, Gerry’s unconscionable side sees the light of day and Mendelsohn is able to work the character into empathic though despicable territory. With a losing streak this hot, we pity Gerry rather than cheer him to a win because we know that one win inevitably leads to five losses.

Strong chemistry between Mendelsohn and Reynolds ease the more predictable elements from taking hold and directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck‘s ability to slam the occasional magical surrealism into his pragmatic sentiment makes Mississippi Grind a well-played victory, if not a chip-sweeping royal flush.

B-

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Sundance Review: DIGGING FOR FIRE

January 28, 2015 by Matt Oakes Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged Anna Kendrick, Brie Larson, Chris Messina, Digging For Fire, Jake Johnson, Joe Swanberg, Orlando Bloom, Reviews, Rosemarie DeWitt, Sam Rockwell, Sundance 2015

Displaying the kind of laid back candor that sums up the mumblecore founding member, Joe Swanberg revealed that once you have kids, “life is a clusterfuck.” And so is Digging For Fire. Kinda. A lesser effort in the aftermath of two eruptively sweet victories (Drinking Buddies and Happy Christmas), Digging for Fire takes on the humps and bumps of marriage and the battle of young parenthood with an enviable cast for any director.

Swanberg has never really made anything bad (though mediocre wouldn’t be a huge stretch with this one) but with all the talent gathered, Swanberg’s narrative wanderlust oses focus, leaving Digging for Fire feeling the strain of Swanberg’s scriptless tendencies. According to the director, Digging for Fire had a more complete, “bigger” script than any of his other projects – mostly because he had so much talent involved and needed to schedule like a really Hollywood dog. In true Swanberg fashion, his final treatment was about ten pages. Famous for crafting just the barebones of a story before shooting, the mumblecore man demands his actors to make choices once the camera are rolling to get from an established Point A to an established Point B. All that middle ground is fair game for improvisation.

At times, his distinctive make of cinematic vagrancy allows for some great unscripted scenes – Jake Johnson‘s hindmost digging moment, Chris Messina‘s unscripted pool nudity, Sam Rockwell doing any and every thing, Swanberg’s adorable baby boy doing any and every thing – but also opens the door for some less compelling episodes – Rosemarie DeWitt‘s beachside interlude with Orlando Bloom, Anna Kendrick and Brie Larson‘s casual disppearance from the action, unsatisfying relationship arcs.

Digging For Fire opens with a familiar Swanberg platitude; stressed out adults talk about stressed out adult problems; strong women trying to gain the reins on their less-than-model husband; secret undertones of dreaming about the highlife of the young freewheeler. Tim (Johnson) and Lee (DeWitt) have just arrived at a client of Lee’s to housesit their upper-decker mansion and get a vacation from their less-than-model home. In between bouts of nagging about preschools and taxes, Tim discovers a rusty gun and a human bone buried in the backyard (a story idea culled straight from an odd incident in Johnson’s life.)

When the couple soon after separate for a weekend, each decide to pursue a side of themselves that has seemed to snuff out in the face of marriage. After dumping their kid with Grandma and PopPop (Sam Elliot), Lee meets up with an old friend (Melanie Lynskey) to air out their marital snafus. Obsessed with the mystery of the gun and the rusty bone, Tim calls together a posse of friends old and new to put shovels to dirt over beers and a few lines of cocaine.

Each half of the couple contents with the ghost of their old selves, opening doors that uncover new demons. Problem is, those doors sometimes seem as random as briefcases on Let’s Make a Deal. Many of Swanberg’s characters work in their own right but don’t add enough to the makeup of the final product to legitimize all their erratic appearances. Although Swanberg seems to be dipping his toes in more mature, less jejune waters, he’s able to maintain his very distinctive voice and worldview. If only he could have equally inserted the tangy sharpness and sweet comedy of his last films in this creation by man at crossroads.

C+

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Sundance Review: SLOW WEST

January 27, 2015 by Matt Oakes Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged John McKean, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Michael Fassbender, Reviews, Robbie Ryan, Slow West, Sundance 2015

Michael Fassbender is a welcome addition to any film marque – independent or otherwise. From the jaguar-like way he carries himself to the silky, chop salad baritone of his voice, his dangerous presence is inimitable and essential (even through a paper-machie helmet.) Like the great Western heroes of lore, he saunters on spurs, a meaty cigar never far from his tobacco-stained mouth. He’s a gunslinger even when he’s not armed. In Slow West though, he is. He’s very armed, and deadly cool. Read More

Sundance Review: ADVANTAGEOUS

January 27, 2015 by Matt Oakes Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged Advantageous, Jacqueline Kim, Jennifer Phang, Ken Jeong, Reviews, Samantha Kim, Sundance, Sundance 2015 70 Comments

Metaphysical bodysnatching from the POV of the snatcher, Advantageous is a soft sci-fi-drama centered around a cool idea but repeatedly undone by shoddy execution, unconvincing performances and dreadful FX. Commendable though Jennifer Phang‘s mother-daughter relationship study might be in the context of Sundance’s overabundance of father-son sagas, Phang is able to capitalize on the maternal bonds between ejector and ejected but has no idea which direction to take it in after it’s been established. Instead, it’s bagged up, zip-tied and casually thrown into an ebb of “does it really matter?”

The future is now in Phang’s minimalist economic fiction and it’s one that’s risibly domineered by white dudes. Though women aren’t technically banned from having jobs, there is an increasingly dominant movement to blast back to the past and re-adopt the Baby Booming mentality of staying at home, making waffles and secretly scarfing cocktails. The commentary isn’t subtle, but neither is the film.

Gwen (Jacqueline Kim) is a single mother, promptly aging out of her cushy position as the face of an appearance engineering firm that’s the modern day evolution of plastic surgery. Faced with the reality that her 40something year old countenance just isn’t paying the bills anymore, she’s forced to make a decision to play guinea pig to a new game-changing procedure that will transfer her consciousness into a younger, more form-fitting body.

This presents obvious mommy issues that extend well beyond the whole “I’m disorientated because Mom’s got a new face” factor and the narrative problems underlying Gwen’s motivation plague the should-be emotionally hefty moments in its later parts. It doesn’t help that the future society in which Gwen and daughter Jules (newcomer Samantha Kim) is populated by half-finished CGI that add nothing to the film aside from a general sense of haphazardness. One is forced to assume that either the money tank ran dry or the effect guys didn’t finish their work. A sadly definitive blanket statement about the film at large.

The appearance of Ken Jeong on the cast list comes as a major red flag though he ends up the least to blame for the frequent failures of Advantageous. The depressing thing is that cinema needs more movies like this: that feature foreign voices, foreign actors and women in the spotlight in front of and behind the camera. But to celebrate the film for its makeup rather than its internal worth is a misstep as well. Ultimately, Advantageous is an unsatisifying, unremarkable, incomplete feeling soft sci-fi that should have been so much more and could have been with a few more coats of paint.

D+

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