Review: ‘High Flying Bird’ Lacks the Swagger of its Subject Matter

Three years ago, director Steven Soderbergh finally decided to come out of retirement. Despite the mysteriousness surrounding his reasoning, it’s clear that Soderbergh wanted to direct his own way, vowing to shoot his films exclusively on iPhones, if given the chance. With the moderate success of his first iPhone endeavor, Unsane, it is no surprise that Soderbergh continues this vow in his latest film that explores NBA politics, High Flying Bird.

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SXSW Review: The Heartfelt Comedy of ‘Booksmart’ Manifests an Instant Classic

This review was originally published on Cinema As We Know It as part of a  joint effort in South by South West coverage.

Easily the strongest feature to come out SXSW is Olivia Wilde’s comedic directorial debut Booksmart. Kaitlyn Dever (Beautiful Boy, Short Term 12) and Beanie Feldstein (Lady Bird) star as Amy and Molly, two brilliant high schoolers on the cusp of graduation, dutifully prepared to chase their grand dreams of leadership and social change in college. All their focus and energy on school has earned them admissions to Ivy League Schools, but it isn’t until the eleventh hour they realize there may have been more to their teenage years than a grade point average. In a last ditch effort to redeem themselves, they plan to attend a wild high school party on their last night before donning their caps and gowns.

Olivia Wilde’s team of all female writers, Emily Halpern, Sarah Haskins, Susanna Fogel, and Katie Silberman, devote the entire film to flaunting their razor-sharp script. Their intelligent and purposeful comedy never strays from the story at hand to get to a punchline. The film breezes from one hilarious scenario to the next as each hitch in the girl’s plan forces them to reroute, but managing to never stall out or disrupt the narrative. Molly and Amy bring a refreshing flavor of feminism to a storyline reminiscent of Superbad. Jokes about Ken Burns documentaries and Ruth Bader Ginsberg demonstrates how specific Wilde is able to be with their personalities, while also evoking laughs. Their friendship is the comedic and emotional centerpiece of the film, and their adoration for each other is sincere. Thanks to Wilde’s commitment to a unique female-centered narrative, Booksmart is well rounded with both a dazzling sense of humor and emotional depths.

The film is as contemporary as it gets, taking as succinct a snapshot of modern youth as last year’s Eighth Grade. It effortlessly captures the culture of social media and taps into the climate of feminism that is permeating this younger generation. Amy and Molly are politically involved, practitioners of radical self-love, and outspokenly ambitious, embodying a new generation of activists dissatisfied with their environment and brimming with optimism. But as they are also teens, the film stays true to the inherent melodrama that comes with high school crushes and gossip. Their awkward romances and clumsy confrontations is as honest as it is compelling. Booksmart explores the surreality of being 18 years old and standing on a precipice. It’s looking out over a wide unknown world ahead of you while looking back at the path you’ve taken and asking, who are you trying to be? Will end up where you want? Have you done everything you could?

On a personal level, Amy and Molly are exceptionally relatable. As the same kind of honor student who obsessed over grades and was more eager to chat with teachers than other students, they felt all too familiar. Their vast academic career and motto of “take no prisoners” is where they draw their confidence, but it’s also a shield from their colleagues. Their dependence on each other stems from their own personal isolation and social difference from their fellow students. They believe they are somehow a different, perhaps superior, species separated from the theater kids, jocks or the skaters. Having been rarely invited along to any extracurricular events and never partaking, it was an emotional experience to live vicariously through their wild night of exploring the social strata. While Molly and Amy know that their peers are strangers to them, there’s still a great deal they have to learn about their own relationship. The two best friends are unprepared for the realization that they aren’t growing in the same direction anymore, and while on their quest for the ultimate party, the fear that they may not factor into each other’s aspirations as much they thought rises. With graduation around the corner, their devotion is suddenly strained, and time and again, Wilde handles this tension with a sincerely human compassion. Though these themes remain playful and light, it’s the authenticity that pushes it beyond an ordinary R-rated coming of age film.

Booksmart also establishes Amy’s storyline as openly queer in a manner that feels natural and fully developed. As most are, her first attempts at romance are awkward as she works up the courage to speak to the girl she pines for. She’s never singled out for her sexuality. In fact, the film holds an abundance of canonically queer characters that feel full of life, and her romantic experiences are treated with the same consideration as Molly’s. This isn’t the first major film to feature a young lesbian prominently, but it’s still a huge deal for a queer teen to pursue a crush without being outed against their will or rejected by their own friends. I’m looking right at you, Love, Simon.

On top of everything else, the supporting cast is stacked with fantastic roles. Lisa Kudrow and Will Forte are Amy’s loving, out of touch parents who are confused by modern teens but still supportive of her close friendship with Molly. Skyler Gisondo is hilarious as Jared, a thoughtful but overenthusiastic classmate who learns from our protagonists that money can’t buy genuine friendship. Jason Sudeikis has a bit part as a principal by day, Uber driver by night who becomes reluctantly embroiled with the girls’ scheme. And then, there is Billie Lourd. Compared to the rest, she’s on a whole other level as Gigi, an utter enigma of a party girl. Lourd’s deep dive into this befuddling persona is so rewarding and memorable that each instance she pops up triggers an instant dose of dopamine to the brain. As small as some of these comic characters are, the real genius is how they fold into and enrich the larger narrative.

Booksmart operates as a coming of age story, which seems to be a running theme the past couple years with young directors on the rise. While on the heels of the excellence of Lady Bird and Eighth Grade, Booksmart’s wholehearted brilliance stands up there with the rest of them. Olivia Wilde’s fresh directorial influence comes with a willingness to break conventional rules and take risks that others more entrenched may not. Her style is clearly full of enthusiasm and love for the craft, and her perspective as an actor works as a catalyst for some inspired performances. The entire film is an embarrassment of riches with endless re-watch value. It will without doubt secure a place in audiences’ hearts as an instant classic. Much like Molly and Amy, Booksmart has earned its A+.

4.5/5 STARS

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SXSW Review: ‘The Art of Self Defense’ Takes Aim at Toxic Masculinity

The way in which toxic masculinity manifests itself can be aggressive to say the least. Stroll by greek row on a Thursday night and you’ll find several cases that prove my point. It’s the kind of psychology for the Brads and Chads of the world, and as such, it’s an easy target for ridicule, satire, and criticism. Riley Stearns seemingly knows this and created The Art of Self Defense, a dark comedy that laughs at absurdism of hyper-masculinity and all its pitfalls.

The film centers on Casey (Jesse Eisenberg) who is your average, awkward, white collar accountant. One evening on his way back from the store, he is the victim of a brutal mugging that leaves him shaken and traumatized. Determined to muscle up and prevent a future attack, his search for self defense leads him to a karate dojo. There he quickly ascends rank and becomes a star pupil of Sensei (Alessandro Nivola), but what he soon learns is there is more to the dojo and his training than he first thought.

The film thrives at dry-pan, dark humor. The script is tack sharp when laughing at things that come off as bizarre, strange, or absurd, but presented as totally normal in the narrative. This sense of humor gives the film an edge to cut deep into the hyper-masculine practices in our own society that we have adopted and normalized. Ditching your plans to learn French because the nation is perceived as weak, or refusing to pet your dog as to not show weakness through compassion are just two of the several dozen sharp witted and exaggerated jokes that Stearns writes into the script to build his hyper-masculine world of the dojo. What are initially pitched as methods of improving your karate abilities are underscored with just the right amount of out-there, rational thinking that makes it funny to laugh at until, eventually, it isn’t anymore, and we realize, “Oh … this has taken a dark turn.”

Eisenberg is often typecast as an awkward, dweeb-ish character, and that is no different here, but in this case it’s a perfect typecast. His delivery is smart and precise, but also awkward and socially reclusive, giving Casey this kind of innocence and malleability that makes his transformation believable. His performance is a perfect match for the film and really gives way to the dry humor that characterizes the film.

The whole cast plays their roles this way including the indomitable, aforementioned Sensei who leads the testosterone filled dojo. Nivola plays him stoic, virtuous, and well disciplined to the tune of a well defined masculine creed. He is, for a lack of a better term, a major Chad, and holds beliefs the film wants to critique. His excessive use of force as a means of punishment, sexism towards the lone female student Anna (Imogen Poots), and being the top alpha male are characteristics that eventually rear their head, and show what toxic masculinity can manifest itself as.

But the film rightfully puts the Sensei at odds with the audience. Sensei plays up the masculine role model who starts Casey on his journey with promise of being a fine tuned weapon. Casey naively follows Sensei’s requests, but what he doesn’t understand is the negative transition he undergoes. I think what the film does well is straddle the line between wanting to learn a healthy ‘art of self defense’ and tipping over into complete Brad status. To show this, the film gets dark near the end, a type of seriousness that, upon reflection, I probably should have seen coming with all the dry-pan humor. In spite of that sharp tonal shift, The Art of Self Defense finishes strong.

Oh, and while we’re on the ending, the film has some really funny clever payoffs. Jokes start in act one and come back forty minutes later with new meaning and revelation. It’s top notch humor and great stuff all around.

With a target so easy to make fun of, you might think you already have a beat on the film’s pulse, but The Art of Self Defense’s use of clever humor really makes it a stand out. The film’s surface may indicate a small, quirky comedy, but under it, there is some real substance. I haven’t even mentioned Stearns’ strong sense of direction and style, but it shows there’s an adept ability behind the camera that matches the themes on screen. To put simply, it’s smart, it’s funny, and it’ll make you think twice before you caveman that beer in front of your friends.

3.75/5 Stars

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SXSW Review: ‘Yes, God, Yes’ Works to Destigmatize Female Sexuality

From the utilitarianism of sex in the Victorian era that spawn the sexually repressed vampire tropes, to the ideal and virtuous woman who waited to have sex until her wedding night, female sexuality  persists as a taboo subject. It goes without saying that as women’s rights are debated on a federal level that there is still plenty to be learned on the matter, particularly by much of the male population. But director Karen Maine’s debut feature film Yes, God, Yes aims to destigmatize a reality that society has long turned a blind eye to. 

Set in the early 2000s, the story centers on Alice (Natalia Dyer), a teenager who attends a strict Catholic high school. There she is taught of the perils of *gasp* extramarital sex, homosexuality, and masturbation. However an encounter in an AOL chat room, prompts her sexual curiosity just before a weekend retreat that promises to change her life.

What Yes, God, Yes does so well is talk openly about female sexuality in the context of a Catholic upbringing. In this repressive environment, Alice is led to believe a number of misconceptions about sex and its peripheries that results in conflicting emotions. In her ‘sex ed’ classes, she is taught to believe that sex is only supposed to occur between a married man and woman, and that anything outside of that, including pleasuring oneself, is a sin. This leads Alice to repress herself again and again until she learns that she will not in fact go to hell for masturbating.

Alice’s conflict regarding her sexual urges reinforces society’s inadequacy in addressing such issues, and Maine tackles it on multiple fronts. One instance may find Alice ridiculed for sexual behaviors she never did while the alleged male recipient gains social currency. Another finds Alice holding back her desires for a camp counselor in fear that she may be viewed as unvirtuous. And as pitched in the synopsis, Alice learning about masturbation in a society that doesn’t even acknowledge it. The scenarios ask the audience to reconsider the ways in which society treats these issues about female sexuality, particularly under religious institutions. 

Religious values are critiqued much in the same way The Miseducation of Cameron Post did last year. Absurdist humor is used to underscore the ways in which religion, in this case Catholicism, preaches ironies it doesn’t uphold or antiquated principles that fail to stand the test of time in modern social contexts. It doesn’t have the bite that Cameron Post has when critiquing these institutions. Instead, Yes, God, Yes goes with a more playful interaction that keeps it light and humorous which may come off as dismissive of larger social issues, but for the tone it sets, it comes out alright.

The film is also a coming of age film, so we get a handful of genre touch stones, but Maine hones in on the teenage rumor mill. We’ve all experienced high school gossip in some form or another, but in this case, Alice is accused of tossing someone’s salad, a term she doesn’t even know the meaning of. Lies, truth, and social perception mix and mingle in the midst of Alice’s sexual urges, leading to some cringeworthy, albeit funny scenarios. Alice herself bears witness to the hypocrisy of others as they like to cast judgement on others while also violating their own virtues. From this, Alice is put right in the center of a Scarlet Letter-esque public shaming, but one that affirms her own conclusions about herself in the process.

The film’s resolve leads to an unceremonious climax. The hypocrites the film takes aim at are set up for a real reckoning, but instead of breaking them down, the drama just defuses. You expect some sort of boiling-over point where lies are brought to fruition and characters are exposed, but instead of giving what is expected, Alice makes a final proclamation that sums up what she learned over the four day retreat. Perhaps this is a way of saying these liars, scenarios, and critics you receive are hurdles in life that cannot be avoided, but it does leave something to be desired.

Regardless, by the end of Yes, God, Yes you come to learn more about the social inadequacies of female sexuality. Everyone can learn from this narrative, as it speaks specifically to women on how to cope with this sort of scenarios and how men can avoid being active enablers. The stigma attached to female sexuality is one that is not made equal to the experiences of male counterparts, and even though our culture has made some strides in the years since the early 2000s, we still have a ways to go.

3.75/5 Stars

Review: Director Jia Zhang Ke Continues His Examination of Chinese Globalization in ‘Ash is Purest White’

If you take one look at director Jia Zhang Ke’s filmography, there are two things he consistently does in his films. The first is his inclusion of actress Zhao Tao. The second is his examination of contemporary Chinese globalization. In Ash is Purest White, Jia Zhang Ke sticks with what he’s most comfortable with, and in doing so, creates a heart-aching piece that has us examining the effects of rapid globalization in China.

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Review: ‘Us’ Continues Jordan Peele’s Streak as an Audacious Horror Filmmaker

On his twitter account, writer/director Jordan Peele briefly declared, in two separate tweets, that his debut Get Out was a documentary, while his sophomore feature Us was a horror movie. While Get Out obviously isn’t a documentary in the technical sense, its horror-comedy framework is intelligently utilized to highlight the underlying anxiety in a very human narrative; it’s Peele’s authenticity and biting commentary that made it a hit. And by all accounts, Get Out was lightning in a bottle, being a success among general audiences and winning multiple awards including Best Original Screenplay at the 2018 Academy Awards. Peele had already proven himself to be a very capable writer/director on his first outing, so when it comes to Us, comparisons to his prior work will inevitably be made, despite the evident distinction its mastermind has clearly highlighted.

It’s hard not to make those comparisons, especially considering the tremendous strength and cultural impact of Peele’s debut. But Us is a different beast entirely; an unraveling and mysterious work that leaves you asking even more questions at the end than at the beginning. This isn’t to say the film’s plotting is hard to follow or confusing, since it follows a considerably standard narrative structure. Rather, much like some of the all-time great horror films, its true meaning (especially the ending) is considerably elastic. The more you think about and revisit a film like Us, the more you’ll get out of it. Jordan Peele has proven his knack for this sort of thing by crafting “smarter than average” horror flicks that reward upon re-watch. From the Hands Across America to the Jeremiah 11:11 allusions, Peele thoughtfully utilizes reincorporation to enrich the subtext, though not all his heady ambitions pan out perfectly (note: the embarrassingly on-the-nose  “We’re Americans” line from the tethered). Nevertheless, he’s a writer/director with plenty of purpose, passion, and intelligence.

Though it was advertised as primarily a horror film, Us still contains its comedic elements, for better or for worse. It’s an off-putting watch in a packed theater, since (again, not trying to compare to Get Out), the balance of horror and comedy isn’t quite as consistent as it is in Peele’s debut, leading to audience members occasionally laughing at inappropriate times. It’s unsure whether or not that’s a true indication of an inconsistent tone, but the laughs definitely felt more jarring than they did in Get Out. Though, it should be noted that there is a scene involving both ‘Good Vibrations’ by The Beach Boys and ‘F The Police’ by N.W.A. that combines the horror and comedy brilliantly. That, and the revelatory dance scene at the end are definite highlights of the film. Speaking of highlights, you can’t talk about this film without mentioning Lupita Nyong’o’s performance. Particularly in the second half, so much of her character is conveyed with subtlety and minimalist dialogue. Her performance and voice work in bringing her doppelgänger Red to life is bone-chilling, and really help elevate Us, on top of an already stellar supporting cast.

At the end of the day, Us feels like a very solid episode of The Twilight Zone: solid execution with some great ideas and ambitions to keep you intrigued. I suppose, then, that Peele was a great fit for the show’s reboot. Frankly, I can’t think of anyone better fit for the job, and I can’t wait for everything he has in store for the future of horror film-making.

Score: 4/5

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Review: ‘Shazam!’ Is the Lighthearted Flick the DCEU Needed

In 2016, the massive success of Marvel Cinematic Universe loomed over Warner Brothers and pressured them to catch up. In a retaliatory act, they began the DC Extended Universe which came with a bevy of bad decisions, poor marketing, and most importantly, terrible movies. Shazam! is the latest installment in this franchise which, after the commercial successes of Wonder Woman and Aquaman, seems to be gaining some footing. The blockbuster features Asher Angel as DC Superhero Billy Batson, a 15-year-old foster child who is imbued with the incredible power to transform into an adult superhero after uttering “Shazam.” Starring in the film is Zachary Levi as the titular character, rising star Jack Dylan as Billy’s friend, and Mark Strong as the movie’s antagonist.

Shazam! takes a more comedic and lighthearted approach to the genre than other DCEU films, and it’s here where the movie truly excels. When the film leans into its funnier moments, the jokes consistently land. Obviously sense of humor is subjective, but for myself, there were several stretches with back-to-back laugh out loud moments. In such scenes, Zachary Levi truly shines with his enthusiasm for the role being clear and evident throughout.

However, the biggest lull in Shazam! comes from moments outside its comedic and lighthearted core. In fact, there are a couple scenes that are distinctly and tonally jarring, so much so as to interrupt the flow of the film. One scene in particular is indicative of director David Sandberg trying to show off this horror chops instead of making something interesting and compelling to the story at hand. In other moments, it appears the screenwriters tried a bit too hard at crafting a brutal, emotional confrontation, and the result ends up being nothing more than a depressing detour. While Shazam! fails to stay on track at times, the moments where it maintains its consistency are enjoyable.

Costume design is another area where Shazam! can be hit or miss. On the one hand, Shazam’s design is delightfully over-the-top with bright colors hearkening back to the golden age of comic books from which he hails. On the other hand, we have the design of the villainous Seven Sins. [Minor Spoilers Ahead] Early on in the plot, Mark Strong’s villain, Dr. Sivana, releases the personifications of the seven deadly sins. Each of these seven characters, if you can even call them that, are perhaps the worst offenders of the bland, dark CGI villain trope that seemingly dominates tent-pole films. It’s a travesty that the seven sins, each of which have so much potential, are given designs which are indistinguishable from each other. Their inclusion is unnecessary and feed into the several tonally jarring moments mentioned before.

Shazam!’s plot is one of the more unremarkable aspects of the film; it’s neither engrossing nor an overall detriment. It bogs itself down with excessive exposition, however, it does a pretty good job of maintaining strong, clearly motivated characters. Aiding our main characters is a supporting cast of likable figures who aren’t the most unique, but stand out just enough to be memorable. In the end, Shazam! has a sweet, albeit clichéd, message about found families and delivers a movie-going experience that is above all else fun.

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SXSW Review: Get More of Harmony Korine with ‘The Beach Bum’

Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers is a cult fav’ among film goers. One half exclaims brilliance while the other half detests it, but regardless of what you think of his work, Korine’s style and flare is undeniable. Bombastic, absurdism is the name of the game, and his films are more or less mood pieces rather than your traditional narrative films. His latest film, The Beach Bum, is more of that, and you can tell right from the get-go that Korine’s signature trademarks are all over it.

Moondog (Matthew McConaughey) is our titular character who drifts along the Florida coast as a washed up poet doing anything and everything. Living off his wife’s (Isla Fisher) money, he galavants from beach to beach, smoking weed, drinking PBRs, and living without a care in the world as he struggles to channel his prior successes.

For narrative purposes, it seemingly doesn’t matter to the point of the film. The synopsis I gave you exists simply as a vehicle for the crazy sh*t Moondog. Each scene is a non sequitur from the prior, and it plays out like a series of sketches where absurdist comedy runs rampant. Smuggling weed out of your friend’s house with a blind airplane pilot. You bet. Swimming with sharks that you mistake for dolphins that take your foot. Why not? Cheating on your wife in the back of sleazy burger bar minutes before your daughter gets married. Sure thing. It’s all incredibly insane, off the wall, and par for the course for someone like Harmony Korine. 

It may be hard to believe but this film tones back the overt stylings of Spring Breakers. This one is just in it for the vibes, which may totally be your thing, but the film is one giant joke about itself and a responsive Xanax to the state of discourse in the country. There’s one scene in particular which I won’t spoil here, but just know that when Moondog reads his final poem, the film has reached it’s long running punchline and given its last eff’ to give (in a semi-good way).

The cast is wild. I already mentioned McConaughey as the eccentric and sun-crisped Moondog, and Fisher as the semi-faithful wife Minnie, but there is a slew of others in here as well with their own zany characters. You have Jonah Hill as playing Moondog’s manager. Snoop Dogg as Moondog’s supplier and closest confidant. Martin Lawrence as a fish boat captain. Zac Efron as an accomplice in Moondog’s escape from an AA retreat. And Jimmy Buffet as himself. Everyone is playing a caricature in this film. Not a relatable character, an off the wall, kooky caricature, and they’re all having a great time doing it. They each get their own segments to shine in, and their disparate, random connectivity feeds into the fluid, carefree nature of the film.  

You may be thinking at this point, “This sounds like a fun ass time.” And to that I would say, “Yah, if you’re into Harmony Korine.” Like I said, this film is one giant joke for an hour and half, and by the hour mark it really grades on you. Or at least me. I’m indifferent to Korine; I admire his audacity in some moments and other times times I can’t believe someone thought this was a good creative decision, but that’s kinda what makes his films his films. Those who have seen his prior work and enjoyed it will surely feel the same about The Beach Bum, but at the same time, I don’t think this will do anything to change the minds of those who already have baggage with Korine.

Also in a totally random note that somewhat ties into the absurdism of this film, before we entered the film, we were given scratch and sniff cards to use whenever weed played an important part in the film. You know, like those scratch and sniff cards you got from Burger King for The Rugrats Go Wild movie? We got those, and it was as pungent as you would expect. 

Score: 3/5

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SXSW Review: The Unlikely Kindred Friendship in ‘The Peanut Butter Falcon’

Time: 10:30pm on March 15th, 2019. On the outside of the Alamo Lamar in Austin, Texas a line of festival goers await to see a little film called The Peanut Butter Falcon. At this point in the festival, it already made its initial three screening run, but managed to pick up a fourth screening thanks to all the buzz it was generating. A random dude goes up and down the line handing out free coffee to attendees in a totally bizarre act for a late night film. He thanked everyone for coming out, greeted everyone, and appreciated everyone’s attendance.

That random dude was the director, Tyler Nilson, and his sincere appreciation for the late night crowd matched that of the work he put into his film, because The Peanut Butter Falcon ended up being one of the most pleasant surprises of the entire festival. 

The film follows Zak (Zack Gottsagen), a boy with downs syndrome living in a nursing home with dreams of becoming a professional wrestler, but who is kept in check by Eleanor (Dakotah Johnson) and the staff of the facility. One day he escapes their custody and stumbles upon another runaway named Tyler (Shia LaBeouf), a fisher fleeing to Florida after destroying another man’s gear. Together they go on a journey to fulfill Zak’s dream of attending The Salt Water Redneck’s wrestling academy while pursuing parties chase them. 

A great deal of the film’s pleasantries come from Tyler’s and Zak’s relationship. The two meet under unlikely circumstances and come together under a mutual understanding of their on-the-run status. Together, they represent a carefree duo that finds joy in drinking on the beach, firing guns, and developing Zak’s wrestling persona, The Peanut Butter Falcon. With parts humor, sympathy, and rebellion, the two are an indomitable pair that generate much of the film’s long lasting appeal, and which only grows stronger as the film progresses and as external forces try to tear them apart. Though their pairing unlikely, you can’t help but leave the theater feeling warmed by the kindred friendship the two form on their journey.

Shia LaBeouf’s performance as Tyler is nothing short of authentic and kind. Who initially comes off as corse and abrasive ends up being someone who befriends an unlikely stranger and treats him as a normal human being. Tyler’s character is unbiased in how he sees Zak, and doesn’t let his disability come to define him. His determination and commitment to making Zak’s dreams come true is wholesome, and feeds into the film’s themes about how we treat people with disabilities.

Zak’s down syndrome is often brought up as a rationale to restrict him, but what PBF rightfully asserts is that it shouldn’t matter. He is not seen in the same light as others because of what others project onto him, and not what Zak knows true about himself. Elenor’s character is perhaps representative of the audience and the realization that comes from the film’s message. To see someone with a disability is to automatically assume inability, but what comes to fruition is that their hopes and dreams shouldn’t be shelved because of labels.

It’s to co-directors Tyler Nilson’s and Mike Schwartz’s credit that something as thematically delicate and socially pertinent didn’t miss the mark. The film was made out of a promise to Zack Gottsagen after knowing him for years and while the directors were still living in tents, so they come from a place of understanding. They treat this odyssey road movie as a vehicle for opening new perspectives on those with disabilities, and they do so with a warm, southern authenticity. With no ridicule or malice, PBF constantly embraces the idea of what it means to treat others as equals in spite of differences.

If there is a point to critique, it is the ending. To put simply it drops like a brick. When the climax finally hits, you are taken aback by the fact that the film ends within three minutes of its peak. It could have benefited from some more resolution surrounding both runaways, and while the closing shot is definitive in where the characters go, the transition between climax and ending stumbles on execution.

In the deluge of festival films to watch, there are usually more disappointments than there are standouts, but when a festival film makes such an impact as this one did, it makes it all worth it. To round out my opening anecdote, the film was so positively received that it went on to snag a fifth screening after winning the Narrative Spotlight award — which it too ended up being sold out. During a post screening Q&A, the directors emphatically told the audience that they needed positive word of mouth so they can get a distributor. After seeing the film, I would be incredibly remorseful for wider audiences if it didn’t eventually get a deal because the legend of The Peanut Butter Falcon shouldn’t be limited to the festival circuit.

Score: 4.25/5 Stars

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SXSW Review: ‘Adopt A Highway’ Finds Humanity in Second Chances

Last year’s Upgrade starring Logan Marshall-Green made its debut at SXSW. A year later, Logan Marshall-Green returns to SXSW, but instead of being in front of the camera, he steps behind the lens and into the director’s chair with his directorial debut, Adopt a Highway. This small film stars veteran Ethan Hawke as ex-convict Russell Millings who is released from prison after the state repeals its Three Strike Law. After twenty-one years behind bars, he makes his transition back into civilian life, unfamiliar with the changes society has undergone in his absence. One night at work, he finds a baby in a dumpster, and decides to take it upon himself to take care of her in the face of breaking his parole.

Narratively speaking, the film is all about second chances. Russell is a freed man who has been released into society with his life in pieces. Displaced and in isolation, he tries to pick them up as he finds everything has been taken from him. When he finds Elle, the abandoned baby, he has the opportunity to give her a second chance he never had. The two, one with her whole life in front in her and the other trying to find something moving forward, end up with a shared kinship through their experiences. The pairing of innocents on the opposite end of the age spectrum gives the film something to grip onto; as events transpire that challenge them, you hope both parties end up with the second chance they knowingly deserve.

The strongest element of Adopt a Highway is how well it depicts humanity through Russell. For a person who has been wronged by society, it’s easy to see how he could feel slighted, but instead of making him exact revenge, Marshall-Green makes him a man of sincere compassion. He is a genteel and righteous man who just wants to do right and move forward. The actions Russell takes elicits waves of sympathy as you admire his generosity, revere his selflessness, and lament his dejection. 

The vehicle for all these emotions is carried on the back of Ethan Hawke’s well nuanced performance. The long time actor has proven his range, but here he goes for subtly, making  Russell humble and reserved while also being emotionally vulnerable. With minimal dialog we can see how Russell struggles to readjust. Connecting to the internet or using a cell phone for the first time are presented with humor at first, but through Hawkes subtleties, you begin to see a sad sense of helplessness. A man trying his best to do right, but struggling all the same is heartbreaking, and you can’t help but feel sympathetic to his character.

The film taps into the current of political debate surrounding criminal sentencing for low level offenses, and how something as lowly as a petty drug crime results in a mandatory minimum. Injustice in contrast with humanity and compassion is what evokes such a strong sense of human connection to Russell. He has an inherently good nature to him, but because of a mistake when he was younger, he had his life ripped out from under him. 

It’s a heart wrenching sight, and Marshall-Green’s direction really lets it speak for itself. There isn’t overt direction style here in the sense that it is overdone. While subject matter like this can topple over into sappy indie filmmaking, Marshall-Green exercises discipline in just letting things be as they are. It’s simple, clean, and efficient in showing pertinent elements, and when you have someone like Ethan Hawke doing most of the heavy lifting, it’s probably best not to interfere with that. But, for a first time directorial debut, it’s remarkable how something like this didn’t go wrong. It effectively builds up expectations, tears them down, stretches your heart strings, and rounds it out with an emotionally well-deserved payoff at the end. It also doesn’t hurt that Marshall-Green wrote the screenplay so bonus points there.

When you saw Marshall-Green as a robot cyborg kicking ass last year, I bet you didn’t think he had directing chops. And good ones at that. With the right balance of heart and empathy, he strikes a winning formula for a story about redemption in the face of extraneous circumstances. Adopt a Highway shows that despite all the things that can go wrong in our life and how dire it can get, with a little hope, humanity, and compassion, we can all get a second chance at life.

4.5/5 Stars