Christopher Schroeder

Tag: movies

  • Of Course They Do And

    Of Course They Do And

    The new movie Girls Like Girls, which is widely recommended, seems as confused as its characters are supposed to be.

    Teenage Coley (Maya da Costa), who has relocated from San Diego after her mother’s death to her estranged father’s rural Oregon home, is befriended by Sonya (Myra Molloy). Their friendship soon becomes romantic and then is abruptly ended when Sonya leaves for summer dance camp, and both confront their feelings and fears, and renew their relationship, after Sonya returns.

    Director Haley Kiyoko, who co-authored the screenplay with Stefanie Scott and Chloe Okuno, explains in introductory remarks that this movie originated as a song (2015) and later became a novel (2023). She also adds for those who are unfamiliar with these previous versions that it’s an account of being seen, and addresses the need for more queer stories.

    Girls as a movie is successful enough. The cinematography is evocatively languid, and elicits high school summer experience. Also, Da Costa is credible even as she stops short of exploring some emotions, which seems as much a directing and writing problem.

    One problem however is its relevance. Lesbian love has a long history at least in the West (e.g., Sappho’s 630-570 BCE love poems). Moreover, more than 6 in 10 Americans today still believe that gay or lesbian relationships are morally acceptable, and most LGBTQ Americans today report feeling socially supported.

    A bigger problem is that the story seems as confused as some of its characters. The movie is considered a romantic coming-of-age story, but its plot suggests something more complicated that to its detriment is never examined.

    One obvious possibility is the challenge to heterosexual expectations that Coley’s and Sonya’s relationship poses as expressed by Sonya’s sometime boyfriend Trenton (Levon Hawke). Another perhaps less so arises in the awkward exchanges between Coley and her estranged father Curtis (Zach Braff), which seem less about Coley’s sexual identity than their family history, and which reappear in the mostly off-camera interactions between Sonya and her mother and sister.

    These and other possibilities offer opportunities to offer something more than saccharinely superficial sentiments about lesbian love, and explain why this story from someone whose fans consider “lesbian Jesus” seems more like an after-school special. This condition seems confirmed by my discovery after the move that the adapted song was offered as a YA novel.

    This movie also represents the icult of the individual, but this constraint is part of a larger cultural immediacy complaint, and not specific to this movie. That however is only one more reason why this movie is more suitable for smaller screens, such as a music video, and not a big one as a feature film.

  • Too Much for Tuner

    Too Much for Tuner

    Most credible critics recommend Tuner, a new movie written by Daniel Roher and Robert Ramsey, which surprises me.

    Niki (Leo Woodall), who has hyperacusis and no longer plays piano, works as a piano tuner with his father’s friend Harry (Dustin Hoffman). On a job, he meets Ruthie (Havana Rose Liu), a piano student whose dream is apprenticing for a famous maestro (Jean Reno). They meet a second time with Harry, who is soon hospitalized and then dies, leaving behind big medical bills.

    To pay these, Niki uses his hypersensitive hearing to help criminals crack safes, and later gives Ruthie a stolen watch, which is a replacement for the one from her grandmother that she left on a train. She wears this watch to her audition, and learns in conversation with the maestro that it has been stolen, which ends her relationship with Niki. Niki manages to restore her reputation with the maestro, and his own with her.

    This movie, which is directed by Roher, intriguingly mixes genre conventions and offers lavish visuals and appealing performances, especially from Woodall and Hoffman. These however cannot compensate for its specious plot, which overshadows everything else.

    This story is filled with implausible circumstances. Niki for example memorizes cryptocurrency account recovery codes despite being ordered at gunpoint to destroy and then consume the document, and later reconstructs these codes to access the account, but he neither steals this money nor offers this information even after he is kidnapped to obtain these codes, which forces him to miss Ruthie’s audition performance.

    These circumstances also appear at the center of the story. For instance, the maestro recognizes the watch he had stolen from him on Ruthie’s arm in his discussion with her about the apprenticeship, and agrees to avoid the authorities, and apparently still offer Ruthie the apprenticeship, after Niki offers to obtain the second stolen one — both had been secured by the maestro’s grandparents before they departed for a concentration camp — from his co-criminals who are apprehensive about keeping stolen goods from Holocaust victims.

    This pattern is only reinforced by the conclusion. Niki, who has lost his hearing from a beating after he was caught by his co-criminals while retrieving the second stolen watch, is nonetheless asked by the maestro to tune his piano, but Niki first plays it, and demonstrates both his proficiency and credibility, for his ex-girlfriend, who is moved by the moment.

    Such situations stretch the suspension of disbelief past the point of breaking at least for some. Those who can overlook all these coincidences will have an entertaining experience. The rest might realize that Niki, who tells Harry early in the movie he’ll never getting back the time he spent trying to understand Harry’s joke, was more right than they realized.

  • More From Moore

    More From Moore

    I can appreciate that Natalie Moore was able to watch both Prada movies with her mother but question the relevance of her most recent column.

    The sequel might have coincided as Moore suggests with a new Media Insight Project report, but it offers less about the future of media in the United States than she suggests. Rather, the movie relegates journalism, “Capital J” or not, to the setting for a continuing story that was started in the first movie.

    Corporate raiders might appear in the second to dismantle legacy publications, but the “page views” emphasis for example predates Andy’s return as the new features editor. Rather, the movie focuses primarily upon the relationship between Andy, who in her time away has become an award-winning journalist, and her former and future boss Miranda.

    This relationship, which occupies the center of this story, says more about time and aging, and the effects of these upon working relationships among women. Andy, who now trusts learned her instincts and advocates for herself, discovers that the world could be less vicious than she otherwise believed. Miranda in turn finds in Andy a former and perhaps future version of herself, someone who if they can collaborate will enhance both Miranda’s legacy and her life.

    This focus is not only established by the new working relationship between Andy and Miranda, but it is reinforced by the newfound friendship between Andy and her erstwhile rival Emily. Emily, who is working for Dior at the start of the movie, agrees to use her boyfriend Benji to buy the company and unbeknownst to Andy to install her in Miranda’s position, which Andy and Miranda subsequently prevent by finding yet another buyer, which nonetheless doesn’t prevent Andy and Emily from becoming friends.

    In this and other ways, this sequel is more about corporate relationships than the future of journalism, which makes this op-ed seem more like a vanity opportunity that allows Moore to reminisce about her mother and her career without offering much of substance to readers. This condition becomes even clearer in contrast with the only other op-ed in that Sunday newspaper.

    That reveals a larger concern, one that is actually about the future of journalism in Chicago. The Sun-Times seems to have generally reduced its op-eds, and some days offers none to its readers. Such circumstances can only increase the pressure for more from Moore, and from her editors and publisher.