The Good Boss is a Superb Comedy

 

 

 

 

The Good Boss/El bueno patrón (2021/22)

Written and Directed by Fernando Léon de Anora

Tripictures ,120 minutes, Not rated (sexual situations, drugs, language)

In Spanish with subtitles

★★★★★

 

Unless you live near an art cinema, chances are good you’ve not seen The Good Boss. You should; it shows how a comedy can be funny without being inane. Director Fernando Léon de Anora gets an excellent performance from Javier Bardem (No Country for Old Men, Biutiful). This movie was nominated for over 40 awards in Spain and Europe and won 34 times!

 

Julio Blanco (Bardem) owns an industrial scale factory and fancies himself a caring boss. Every morning he smiles as he enters the factory, greets employees by name and encourages his workers to come to him with any problem. He also prone to giving motivational talks, the most recent of which was delivered from atop a cherry picker. He informs everyone that the company is a finalist for an award of excellence that would reflect well on all of them. Is Blanco a boss with a heart of gold? Where’s the fun in that? Lots of things go wrong in advance of the visiting team’s arrival. It starts with the need to scale back costs and the firing of José (Oscar de la Fuente), an accountant.

 

José begs Blanco to reconsider and claims he will lose his children. When he is nonetheless let go, José isn’t the kind of guy to go quietly. Instead, he becomes a one-man protest group with a bullhorn and a ramshackle camp outside the factory gate. Because it’s on public land, there’s little Blanco or his Falstaffian guard Román (Fernando Abizul) can do about it. Each day José finds new ways to annoy Blanco.

 

Nonetheless, Blanco believes his good reputation gives him influence. When long-time employee Fortunata (Celso Bugallo) asks Blanco to talk to his son Salva, Blanco does so and secures him a job as a courier for this wife’s shop. Alas, Salva (Martin Páez) is a racist skinhead punk who plays Blanco like a cheap accordion, so don’t expect this to go well. To make matters worse, his floor manager Miralles (Manolo Solo) whom he has known since childhood is depressed and screwing up orders. Miralles tells Blanco  that his wife has left him. Blanco to the rescue? How would you feel if someone tried to intervene in your personal affairs? Even if you’ve never taken a psychology class you might suspect that Blanco is reality-challenged. Even though he has a daughter and is married to the striking Adela (Sonia Almarcha), Blanco has a roving eye for a new intern, Lilianna (Almundena Amor).

 

In an attempt to cheer up Miralles, Blanco takes him to a bar staffed by ladies of easy virtue. Something happens there that seriously complicates matters, as does a dinner with a couple he and Adela have known for many years that is beyond awkward. Blanco finds himself in a power play he cannot win. Will Blanco be able to add the award for excellence to his wall of citations and trophies? Let’s just say that changes are made.

 

The Good Boss is like a more subtle version of  9 to 5 and with the tasteful score of Zetia Montes rather than the downhome country of Dolly Parton in 9 to 5. * The Good Boss, though, is funnier. Bardem doesn’t do physical comedy like Buster Keaton, but he does borrow a page of bathos from Keaton’s book. He practically oozes befuddlement when forced to confront the gaps between how he’d like to be perceived and how others see him. For the most part, he is a good boss, but he constantly flunks the Boundaries 101 test.

 

The Good Boss is well-acted all around, even when the parts are small. Because everyone is so effective, we see things Blanco does not. We can tell, for instance, that Fortuna is willing to do things to keep his job, but he doesn’t want to be Blanco’s buddy. There is also a matter of key employees leveraging the fact that corporate culture operates on power arrangements, not smiles and smarm.

 

But let’s not overanalyze. The Good Boss is indeed a comedy that plays things for laughs, not a sociology class. Check it out on Fandango or Paramount + and see how understatement is a hoot of a different  volume.

 

Rob Weir

The Beatles: Get Back Details the End of an Era

 

 

 

The Beatles: Get Back (2021)

Directed by Peter Jackson

WingNut Films/Apple/Disney + 468 minutes (3 episodes of DVDs)

PG-13 (tons of smoking and language)

★★★★

 

It took a while to get my hands on The Beatles: Get Back  whose streaming rights are owned by Disney +. I watched it on DVD on consecutive nights, which is how Disney aired it. I finished on January 30, the 56^th anniversary of The Beatles’ unauthorized 1969 rooftop concert at Apple Corps, the final public appearance of the band.

 

Director Peter Jackson took on a massive project that consumed four years. Even with extensive editing this “documentary” checks in at nearly 8 hours of viewing time. I placed documentary in quotes, though, as there is very little narrative structure, external commentary, or attempt to evaluate what you see. Jackson uses raw footage of a month of The Beatles biting off more than they could chew. 

 

Each member of the band knew they had reached a creative crossroads and that The Beatles had run its course. The film follows the Fab Four’s intention of going out with a bang: a TV show, a film, and a live performance– all in a month. (Ringo Starr had to be on the set for filming of the satirical comedy The Magic Christian.) It didn’t help matters that they intended to record up to 30 songs that didn’t rehash any of their earlier releases, yet had little idea of what they would be. In retrospect the Let It Be album was a miracle.

 

Episode One covers days one through seven. The Beatles assembled in Twickenham Studios, which was supposed to be where the TV show would be recorded and maybe the site of an indoor concert. The band had writers block and disliked barn-like Twickenham. They wasted time goofing off and the new material could only charitably be called rudimentary. The first episode is the only one to rely on archival materials to supplement personal remembrances. Linda Eastman–Paul’s wife two months later–snapped a lot of photos and Yoko Ono was practically glued to John Lennon. There was tension in the studio, but not between John and Paul; George Harrison felt ignored and abruptly quit the band.  

 

Episode Two looks at the hiatus before George rejoined The Beatles, and days 8-16 in the studio. Twickenham was abandoned for the intimate confines of Apple Corps. This served to lift spirits and get creative juices running. The concert was put on hold, though ultimately, the TV plan was the one to go. The Beatles had time to noodle around with everything from their back catalogue to early rock n’ roll, Dylan tunes, old time country, and show music, as the studio wasn’t yet fully equipped. But you can see the joy coming back, especially after Billy Preston joined in to play electric keyboards and light the room with his infectious enthusiasm. The only visible discomfort came from a weird visit from Peter Sellers and from worried producer George Martin. The songs were still rough, but The Beatles even reconsidered doing a concert.

 

Episode Three covers days 17-22; that is, from shaping a handful of songs and  performing a 42–minute rooftop concert that startled and thrilled most people along Savile Row. Spoilsport complaints of crowd ed streets and noise sent police officers to Apple to tell them to stop the concert. This footage is like a cross between Monty Python and Keystone Kops. Then it was back to the studio to finish the album. (How are you going to get a baby grand piano onto a rooftop?)

 

Assessment:  

 

·      Get Back is overly long but its tedious moments reveal how long it takes to make magic out of scraps.

·      There is very little truth to tales of Paul and John feuding, and even less to Paul’s pique over Yoko’s presence. He, in fact, defended Yoko when questions arose whether she was disruptive.

·      It was Paul who insisted that The Beatles should not recycle and it was he who was the most creative. He grew annoyed with the lack of focus in the studio but he also had a heart-to-heart with John and insisted that John was the real leader of the band.

·      Paul played the piano beautifully and was okay as a drummer. Each band member played multiple instruments and Ringo was okay on guitar!

·      Ringo was preoccupied and George clearly wanted out, but what a wonderful moment to see Paul and John grinning through their performances.

·      Peter Jackson was off his game in Get Back. Former students might recall me insisting one of your papers needed sharper focus and better editing. Jackson might have flunked my class!

 

Rob Weir

The Room Next Door a Bomb

 

 

 

The Room Next Door (2024)

Directed by Pedro Almodóvar

Warner Brothers Pictures, 106 minutes, PG-13 (language, sexual references)

In English

★★

 

I routinely swear off Pedro Almodóvar films but new ones come out that trumpet that his latest effort is “different.” My bad for getting suckered in. The only thing that’s different about The Room Next Door is that it’s in English, not Spanish. The usual slobbering has reoccurred: The Room Next Door was nominated of 10 Goya awards (Spain’s version of the Oscars),  Almodóvar somehow won a Golden Lion trophy in Venice, and praise came from reviewers who still think he’s an auteur.

 

Nonsense! Almodóvar is the Spanish Woody Allen; both have said everything new they had to say decades ago. Almodóvar shares Allen’s inability to place credible dialogue in the mouth of his actors. Neither has an ear for how people really talk; it’s as if everyone is sitting in a 1970s’ coffee shop amidst pseudo-intellectuals.

 

Other than a very good performance from Julianne Moore, there’s nothing much to recommend The Room Next Door. Successful author Ingrid (Moore) is signing books for a massive line of fawning fans for her work in which she confesses her deep fear of aging and death. (The movie is based on a Sigrid Nunez novel written during the pandemic.) At the signing, a friend tells Ingrid that Martha (Tilda Swinton) has terminal cancer. Ingrid hasn’t seen Martha for years, but they were close friends when they worked on a magazine before Ingrid became a full-time writer and Martha a war correspondent. Ingrid visits the gaunt Martha at the hospital and the two rekindle their friendship, despite Martha’s insistence that she’s resigned to dying.

 

As the two reminiscence, the film goes into flashback sequences, especially those involving Martha’s journalistic jaunts, including one involving a photographer (Juan Diego Botto) leaving a warzone knowing his lover, a Spanish priest, is unlikely to survive the rebel onslaught. They also discuss what a great sexual partner Damian (John Turturro) was, with Ingrid dodging Martha’s musing over where he might be, as Ingrid is currently in a relationship with him. An even bigger issue is that Martha has long been estranged from her daughter Michelle who is angry that Martha never told her who her father is.

 

As Martha gets sicker, her only desire is to not die alone. She has secured a highly illegal euthanasia pill on the dark web and intends to take it soon. After three friends decline Martha’s request to be with her, she asks Ingrid. It is emphatically something she doesn’t want to do as she’s opposed to suicide and we know how she feels about death. The movie’s title references the deal the two make. Martha rents an amazing house in upstate New York and Ingrid agrees to stay with her, but not in the same room. Ingrid’s room is one floor down from Martha’s and if Ingrid arises and sees Martha’s bedroom door closed, the deed has been done.

 

If you think about it, it’s maudlin and sad to be sure, but it’s pretty thin for a script. To stretch things out, there’s an appended postscript involving the police and an attempt on Ingrid’s part to assuage Michelle (also Swinton). Wrap it in a bow and play some music that’s “pretty” in syrupy ways. On that score (literally), my longtime standard that if a movie soundtrack is as obvious as banging a hammer on your thumb, it’s overdone. It astounds me that Alberto Iglesias copped a few awards in Europe, as his music is like hitting that thumb with a concrete block.

 

Moore modulates her moods as needed: sympathetic, scarred bunny, feminist rage, mothering…. You can see why the role might have resonated with a 64-year-old who remains gorgeous, but can see the future. I was, however, surprised that Swinton, one of my favorite actors, was stiff and unconvincing. Even her “American” accent was off; you can hear the King’s English popping out in numerous places. She is, of course, supposed to be mortally ill, but her entire demeanor is such that we know within a half hour there’s no chance she will choose a longer life. Thus, when Martha waxes rhapsodic about scenery or birdsongs, it removes for viewers what could have been an emotional break.

 

In short, Almodóvar has made a Hallmark movie filled with convention. There’s nothing innovative about this film, not even Swinton playing her own daughter. Give Almodóvar a Golden Turkey.

 

Rob Weir