Honey Boy (2020) - Movie Review

Shia LaBeouf. Actor. Performance artist. Meme in human form. Multidisciplinary plagiarist. Jack of all trades, master of none, not even himself. The man I’ve been calling ‘Shia LaBullshitArtist’ for as long as this blog has existed, out of respect for Daniel Clowes, the Anomalies crew, and pretty much everyone else Shia has ripped off over the course of his career. Is it clear enough yet that I don’t exactly have the highest opinion of this guy as a creative?

Or, at least, I didn’t use to. Between his place as the lead actor in the earlier Michael Bay Transformers movies, the way Hollywood kept trying to push for him as the next big thing with little success, and how much he basically imploded over the course of the 2010’s, he’s pretty much secured his place as everyone’s favourite punching bag. But after seeing him in The Peanut Butter Falcon, in a performance so fucking resonant that articulating my gratitude resulted in some of my best critical work to date, I’m more willing than ever to give the guy his fair due. And once I get into the contents of his latest, hopefully you’ll see why.

Judy (2019) - Movie Review

Judy Garland. Hollywood royalty. Gay icon. Star of one of the greatest films ever made. Making a biopic about her could have easily rested on her Yellow Brick Road days and captured something resembling poignancy; knowing how much of modern cinema owes to that film, from the continuing evolution of movie musicals to the dream-logic narratives of David Lynch, it’d resonate on that alone. But instead, director Rupert Goold and writer Tom Edge have gone for a different take, looking at the final year of Judy’s life, when she was trying to scrape together enough money from performing in London’s Talk Of The Town to officially retire. And the vision they give is so utterly spellbinding, it’s difficult imagining this story looking or feeling any differently than this.

What Ever Happened To Baby Jane? (1962) - Movie Review (Reader Request)

Happy Mother’s Day one and all, and it looks like it’s time for another Reader Request. Yes, those two things aren’t a coincidence in this case: For this year’s Mother’s Day gift, my own mother asked if I would review a film for her. I agreed, since this kind of situation is one where I’m more than happy to eschew my usual 2012-now cut-off date, but… let’s just say that I use that cut-off for a reason. This is likely going to go even further outside of my comfort zone than usual, as most of my own knowledge concerning cinema involves what has happened in my lifetime; I have bits and pieces to call from beyond that, but I honestly have a lot to catch up on as far as older cinema goes. Add to that my previously-mentioned hesitance in watching “classic” films due to a certain sense of cultural obligation to like them for their status, and I’m in a bit of a weird situation here.

 

Still, this is the task I’ve been set, and if I’m unable to provide my writing for someone who genuinely wants it, then what good am I? Let’s get into what is sure to be a bizarre pick for the day where we all give thanks to the women that birthed us, and take a look at the 1962 psycho-thriller What Ever Happened To Baby Jane?