Wildcat (2023)

Director: Ethan Hawke

Cast: Maya Hawke, Rafael Casal, Philip Ettinger, Cooper Hoffman

Have I Seen It Before: Funny story, that. I keep teetering on the edge of writing it all down here but let’s leave it at this: If you see me out in the world, ask me about the time Ethan Hawke specifically and directly wasted 105 minutes of my time.

But no, I’ve never seen the film before today.

Did I Like It: Any kind of artists probably spends a large part of their existence hoping that no one will see the seams in their work. That’s infinitely complicated by the fact that those seams are likely the only thing the artist can see anymore.

I think Ethan Hawke would admit, if pressed, that he didn’t on the page have much of a movie here. That’s not fair. Every moment in the movie is telling me that; we didn’t have to press him at all. There is no narrative in the life of O’Connor (Hawke), and the rest of the movie is filled in with imaginative vignettes depicting O’Connor’s work with the cast re-packaged as the characters.

There are moments, though to really recommend it. I viscerally feel one of the opening scenes where O’Connor bristles at her disinterested editor contorting himself to similarly warp Wise Blood into a more conventional package by outlining the thing before it is done. Several other moments rang true, which is impressive enough when I often have trouble relating to the—one doesn’t want to say “excessively” but the gentler correct word escapes me—religious. Several of the vignettes of O’Connor’s world are evocative and would make astonishingly good short subjects, but they aren’t. Admittedly, the film accomplishes that goal that I often look for in biopics like this: It made me want to seek out the author’s work. Unfortunately, here, it is only because I feel like I got short shrift in the process.

It is all as if the elder Hawke might have really wanted to make a documentary about O’Connor with those fictional interludes spliced throughout, and just… didn’t. An admirable disappointment, but still a disappointment.

Sinister (2012)

Director: Scott Derrickson

Cast: Ethan Hawke, Juliet Rylance, Fred Thompson, James Ransone

Have I Seen it Before: Really, really, completely unsure if I had, as I started things. Pretty quickly became convinced that I have not. But only marginally, so. Great. Have I become my father? The man has hardly ever remembered any movie he’s ever seen.

Did I Like It: I don’t usually like to start my reviews with the negative, but that is unfortunately what my mind keeps coming back to several days after watching it. Where would the horror genre be if people searching for good real estate deal? As long as I keep paying my mortgage, does that mean I’m going to avoid those deeper, cosmic horrors?

What’s more, where would the horror genre be without people like the Oswalts allowed to make snap new decisions about their living situation in the middle of the night? Maybe the genre would be able to survive, but third acts might have a rough go of it.

I’ll push a little harder. Ellison Oswalt (Hawke) may be one of the least observant horror movie protagonists in memory. Spooky things are perpetually happening at the edge of the frame, and he just refuses to be looking in the right direction at the right time, allowing the movie to continue for longer than ti might otherwise have any right to. Things come to a head for him when, after drinking everything in sight throughout the runtime, downs a cup of coffee that has been laced with just enough poison to knock him out to be murdered by his daughter. Now, before we go judging the child too harshly, she did leave a note for him.

Lest we think I don’t like the film at all, I actually kind of enjoyed it. With the amount of horror movies I take in on a regular basis, I do worry I’m starting to develop something of a reaction callus. I can like the style or ideas (or lament the implausible characters) in something from time to time, but how many horror movies are still at all scary? This one, in fits and starts, actually accomplishes that tall task. That should probably be enough of a recommendation.

Turn Every Page: The Adventures of Robert Caro and Robert Gottlieb (2022)

Director: Lizzie Gottlieb

Cast: Robert Caro, Robert Gottlieb, Bill Clinton, Ethan Hawke

Have I Seen it Before: No. And let me tell you the ways in which that has annoyed me. Well, I’m not really annoyed. I saw that a screening of the film would be held at Circle in February. I’ve read several of the Lyndon Johnson biographies, and any documentary about the writing process is something for which I’ll be an easy mark. I showed up, ready to go on the day of, but the screening had been cancelled. By that point, I had already re-upped my membership with the theater, and have spent the last several months going to as many films as possible, reaching haltingly toward my destiny as a peak weird little movie guy.

Actually, the more that I think about it, the more I’m thrilled that the film has been dodging me all these months.

Did I Like It: But enough about me, let’s talk about the Roberts, both author Caro and editor Gottlieb. I’ve probably belabored the point with my past reviews, but the qualities of documentaries can be judged by three criteria*. First, is the topic of interest? Second, is there some genuine insight about the subject? Third, is the film granted some kind of unusual level of access to the subject. Succeeding on any one of the three criteria will usually make the film watchable. Special documentaries will pick up two out of three. The elite level will cover all three.

I’m tempted to say this covers all three and reaches that highest level. Gottlieb’s daughter gets her subjects on camera and at work, despite their initial reluctance, and Caro and Gottlieb themselves are foolproof as subjects where insight and interest are concerned. The only flaw I would find is the run in the middle where Caro’s work is summarized. Hopefully, the viewer is inspired to buy copies of those books on their own, and not content to get the Reader’s Digest version of the material.

*Assuming those responsible are actually working with a modicum of professional skill and equipment. Feels like a silly qualifier to add, but as someone who has spent much of the last several years on the screening committee of a film festival, I feel in my bones that it isn’t a mortal lock.

The Black Phone (2022)

Director: Scott Derrickson

Cast: Mason Thames, Madeline McGraw, Jeremy Davies, Ethan Hawke

Have I Seen it Before: Nope. Probably wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been on the podcast schedule.

Did I Like It: Filled with enough of the same 70s/80s energy that fueled Super 8 (2011), it’s impossible to not like the movie. The moment I most responded to had nothing to do with the horror running under the proceedings, but instead the moment when Finney (Thames) loses himself in whatever film is airing on TV on a Friday night. It’s a movie consumption method completely lost to the sans of time, and I felt strangely wistful for it in that moment. The film, for the most part, feels like it may have come from the period in which it is set. That’s a difficult enough trick to accomplish, and probably leaves me with enough goodwill to recommend the film.

Hawke’s work as the Grabber certainly creates a menacing presence in the film. He clearly understood the assignment. The climax taps into just enough Hitchcockian tension for the film’s final act that once again, I think I’m landing in the “recommend” camp on the film.

My reservations are tied to the fact that there are more than a few plot holes dragging everything down. The Home Alone-ing of Finney’s cell proceeds with such little scrutiny that I was pretty convinced most of this was happening in his imagination or delusion. After about the third kid disappearance, wouldn’t this entire town be possessed of incredibly understandable paranoia? Instead, every adult seems even more committed to the idea of it being 1979 than the filmmakers were and proceeded as if everything was status quo. More to that point, the fact that Terrance appears to be entirely absolved for his abuse by a heartfelt/self-serving apology strains credulity in any decade.

Maybe if the film had been more throughly frightening, I’d be able to more completely get over those qualms. But it isn’t, and I’m not.