Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. This past week saw me returning to my Anime Classics investigations with a vengeance, as I burned through the entirety of the original Super Dimensional Fortress Macross. The series was a delight on the whole, serving as a somewhat more whimsical counterpoint to Gundam’s stoic war drama. It was interesting to see how the production’s focus on music over mechanical innovation (presumably echoing its intention to sell albums rather than models) impacted its dramatic structure; with songs taking the place of new weapons, the show swerved and soared at the pace of Minmay’s emotional narrative, painting a sad portrait of an icon who is too beholden to everyone to carve a space for herself. Plus the lead pair of Hikaru and Misa actually possessed excellent chemistry, making them easy to root for as the world collapsed around them. I can see why it’s such a beloved franchise, and I’m looking forward to continuing through its various successors. But for now, let’s burn down the week in film!
First up this week was The Petrified Forest, a ‘36 crime drama starring Leslie Howard as a disillusioned writer stopping at a remote Arizona diner, Bette Davis as the starry-eyed young woman he encounters there, and Humphrey Bogart as the gangster Duke Mantee, who ends up commandeering and holding court in the diner as he evades the law. Over time, Howard and Bogart unexpectedly come to understand each other, hatching an unlikely plan to ensure at least one lonely soul makes it out alive.
The Petrified Forest is a lean yet generous feature, its roots as a Broadway production clear in its tightly constrained setting and probing personal interrogations. Apparently, Bogart was only cast in the film adaptation on the insistence of his original costar Howard – a kind gesture and insanely good call, as Bogart is electrifying here, maintaining absolute control of his dominion with a bare minimum of lines. Time has been less kind to Howard’s stabs at writerly philosophy, but the pair nonetheless establish a compelling mutual understanding, based in both their shared fatalism and the wounded romantic spirit beneath it.
With its two leads both awaiting some ambiguous salvation or destruction, mismatched in their histories but aligned in their fears, The Petrified Forest adopts a sort of Waiting for Godot-esque finality, their Arizona diner serving as a waystation between this life and the next. Each lead provokes their associates in their own way; Bogart through blunt acts of control and violence, Howard through provocative, self-indulgent philosophical tangents. Stirred thus, the angular, humorous humanity of their fellows is made apparent, keeping the film light in spite of its gallows-walk pressure cooker progression. When violence erupts, it feels inevitable; we are creatures of variable substance and infinite potential, but our only assurance in this life is that it will certainly end.
We then checked out Race 3, a recent Bollywood feature starring Anil Kapoor as the scion of an arms manufacturing empire, caught in the midst of a succession war featuring his stepson (Salman Khan), twin children (Daisy Shah and Saqib Saleem), and right-hand man (Bobby Deol). The family engages in all manner of trickery in their pursuit of power, as we jump between action scenes, heist sequences, and dramatic betrayals, including an improbable number of unexpected parentage surprises.
In spite of its abundant star power, there is sadly nothing to recommend about Race 3. After a wildly indulgent opening action sequence, the film slows to a crawl, occupying itself with schemes that are far less clever than it believes, and flipping allegiances so carelessly that it brought to mind Allison Brie’s sage words from Community: “when you conspire with everyone you come across, you’re not really conspiring with anyone. You’re just doing random crap.” Even then, I would have accepted the film’s lack of narrative integrity if it were simply generous in its indulgence – unfortunately, it never comes close to matching the energy of that opening sequence, offering nothing but a lethargic march to an emotionally barren conclusion.
Next up was the 2020 take on The Invisible Man, starring Elizabeth Moss as Cecilia Kass, a woman trapped in an abusive relationship with the domineering optics engineer Adrian Griffin. After executing a meticulous escape plan from Adrian’s estate, Cecilia is surprised to later learn he killed himself, leaving Cecilia five million dollars in his will. However, inexplicable events begin to convince her that he is still lurking invisibly in the shadows, continuing his gaslighting to the point where the whole world will think she is crazy.
Goddamn this was a tense watch! It’s bad enough just watching Moss attempt to fight an invisible assailant alone, but when you factor in her loving sister and best friend as potential targets of Adrian’s menace, you end up with a film where every scene prompts clenched fists and whispered “no… no… no…”s, as you share Cecilia’s panic in waiting for Adrian’s next strike.
It’s such a powerful anxiety trip that I almost resented the film for being so effective, and for building up Cecilia’s relationships with her loved ones so convincingly that I felt as protective of them as Cecilia herself. As a metaphor for gaslighting and emotional abuse, The Invisible Man soars, with Moss’ fantastic performance ensuring we can appreciate each new weight piled on Cecilia’s shoulders. The film is ultimately more of a psychological thriller than a straight horror feature, and that shows in the occasionally dubious logic of Cecilia’s confrontations with Adrian, but the emotional throughline and dramatic escalation are so strong that such complaints are really just nitpicks. The Invisible Man is as mean and anxiety-provoking as it is rightfully acclaimed.
Last up for the week was Atomic Blonde, a 2017 action thriller starring Charlize Theron as a top-level M16 agent, who is dispatched to Berlin days before the collapse of the Berlin Wall. Somewhere out there is “The List,” a catalog of all the intelligence agents active in Berlin, and a powder keg that must be retrieved to prevent open war. Theron kicks, punches, and shoots her way across both sides of Berlin, questioning loyalties and delivering harsh justice all along the way.
As you might guess by that hackneyed choice of MacGuffin, Atomic Blonde is not what you might call an intelligent feature. The rule of cool reigns supreme here, and Theron looks very cool indeed as she storms beneath halogen lights and emerges out of snow drifts, beating the absolute shit out of anyone who stands in her way, pursuing an increasingly haggard James McAvoy all the while. With John Wick co-director David Leitch at the helm, Atomic Blonde’s action is inventive, impactful, and ever-stylish, as Theron once again proves she’s one of the best action stars of our era.
Theron is awesome, McAvoy is sleazy, and John Goodman is ponderous and melancholy, making the most of his supporting turn as a visiting CIA overseer. Atomic Blonde flags whenever it attempts to say something about Lies and Politics, but such attempts at profundity are fortunately brief and few in number. Most of the film is composed of Leitch setting up and Theron knocking down delightful action challenges, all accompanied by one of the most on-the-nose soundtracks I’ve ever experienced. Seriously, Theron is introduced to “Killer Queen,” her journey across the wall is matched by “Major Tom,” her escape scene is accompanied by “I Ran,” and her eventual return to London is set to, you guessed it, “London Calling.” And yes, there are luftballons. So, so many luftballons.
