SIFF Advance: SUMMERTIME

Directing: B
Acting: C+
Writing: A-
Cinematography: B+
Editing: A-

Summertime is effectively a musical—except, instead of breaking out into song, the characters break out into slam poetry. So, basically, if you’re in the minority population who really loves slam poetry, you’ll probably enjoy this film. If you find slam poetry annoying or grating or it just simply isn’t your bag, well, this movie won’t be your bag either. On a fundamental level, you really don’t need any more detail than that.

But I’m going to give you some anyway! I suppose there’s an even smaller minority out there, in which I would be included, who are relatively neutral on the concept of slam poetry, but compelled by the idea of experimental cinema that integrates the work of said poets, here specifically in the city of Los Angeles.

The director, Carlos López Estrada, previously offered us the phenomenal 2018 film Blindspotting. I keep wondering how much differently my interest in Summertime might have been characterized had I not known it had the same director. Seeing his name associated with the project is basically the reason I chose this as one of the films I would watch in the 2021 Seattle International Film Festival, after all.

And Summertime is a radically different film than Blindspotting, although the two films have one key element in common: a love for a particular city. Blindspotting had a reverence for Oakland, California, and lamented the loss of its character via the process of gentrification. Conversely, Summertime shifts the focus to Los Angeles, and does not seem interested in lamenting anything. Its characters have sad stories, sure, but one of my favorite things about Summertime is how it flips the script on a city that has gotten an unfairly bad rap for decades. More specifically, it’s a love letter to L.A. that, rather than loving it in spite of its reputation as a city of people who never connect with each other, features almost exclusively people who are finding ways to connect.

And they do it through intensely personal, raw, emotional poetry. There is no plot whatsoever. Summertime is instead a pastiche, the camera following one person to the next as they merely cross paths with each other, in so doing creating a portrait of one of the most diverse cities in the United States. And Estrada is having some fun here, a particularly delightful detail being a rap duo finding fame and fortune by rapping about how much they love their moms.

The performers here are fundamentally unprofessional, or at least unprofessional by Hollywood standards, and it’s a big part of how easy it is to have mixed feelings about Summertime. Not every line is delivered in slam poetry verse, and the final result might have been better if it were. Most of the regular lines are delivered in a way that sound amateurish, or unrehearsed, or both. This does not really detract from their clear talent as writers, however—or even as performers. They’re just a different kind of performer. But: this is still a movie, and they really aren’t actors.

And, I still found myself regularly moved by it. There is very little in the way of social justice or commentary on race relations here; the issues the characters struggle with are mostly romantic or within the framework of ambition. Estrada assembles an ensemble cast that is a microcosm of the broad diversity of Los Angeles, and lets that speak for itself. If this film has any particular agenda, it seems to be to showcase an underrepresented (and often maligned) art form.

To be fair, that’s just what Summertime is: a piece of art, and an earnest one at that. Playful at times, too—sometimes even funny. Always emotional, to one degree or another. More than anything, I found it to be sweet. A multigenerational staff of a Korean restaurant dancing to the young one’s iPod music. A couple of young women bonding over heartbreak. An impromptu dance number in the street next to a Mexican woman resisting a request to grant her 18-year-old daughter permission to go to a party. These are all vignettes, which bleed one into the other and otherwise go nowhere, except to serve as a tour through a city’s families and friends. It actually made me miss Los Angeles, something that once upon a time I would have never thought possible.

If you want to slam Los Angeles these guys will show you how to slam in it.

Overall: B

A SHAUN THE SHEEP MOVIE: FARMAGEDDON

Directing: B+
Acting: B-
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B+
Editing: A-
Animation: A-

It’s been long enough since the first Shaun the Sheep Movie (2015), I kind of forgot I had seen it. Turns out, I quite enjoyed it then, and this sequel, Farmageddon, is just as enjoyable. I can’t necessarily say any adults need to rush onto Netflix (where it is currently streaming) to watch it on their own, but, if you have younger children, they will enjoy it, and you will enjoy watching it with them.

Not that any of the children in the target demographic will pay any attention to such a nitpicky detail, but it seems odd that its official title is so unduly long: A Shaun the Sheep Movie: Farmageddon. And yet, when watching the movie, when the title appears in the opening credits, all it says is Farmageddon. The word gets seen a lot in the movie, too, because of The Farmer coming up with the get-rich scheme of turning his farm into a “Farmageddon Theme Park,” constructing it with the help of Bitzer the dog, and a flock of sheep in hard hats.

Farmageddon takes a decidedly science fiction turn, with the arrival of an adorable child-alien, which looks rather like a purple Dr. Seuss tree come to life, with a rotund head at its peak and bunny-like floppy ears. It also has four arms. There is a specific visual aesthetic to the design of Shaun the Sheep, and the rendering of this little alien fits right into it—truly unlike any other alien you’ve ever seen, but fitting perfectly into this universe.

Shaun, for his part, takes it upon himself to help the alien get back to its little space ship and find its way back home. As with all other Shaun the Sheep titles (a TV show, one previous feature film), there is no discernible dialogue at all. You could have closed captioning turned on (as I tend to), and there is no text to read: absolutely everything about the storytelling is done visually. This actually makes a film like this more impressive, given its 86-minute run time and the pacing really never lags. This film is jam packed with visual humor and sight gags. Some of it is slyly included for the parents watching, as with the tones emitted when some buttons are pushed, which mimic the famous tones from Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

The lack of dialogue does mean there’s not much to say about the vocal performances, even though it does have them: around ten voice actors are credited for the major characters. They just make jumbled and mumbled vocal sounds. In some cases, the alien perfectly copies both the voices of other characters and, in some cases, the sounds of machines or a horn or whatever. And whatever this movie lacks in voice talent, it more than makes up for everywhere else—particularly in its wonderful animation and its editing, which is outstanding considering the stop-motion animation being put together.

The plot also features a villainous woman intent on capturing the alien, though of course the resolution of her story arc at the end turns out to be something sweet. Such is the sensibility of this entire film, which is so cute and so sweet you’ll have cavities by the time it’s over. I say that as a compliment.

Farmageddon is one of five films nominated for the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature, and I remain convinced that Pixar’s Soul deserves the award. I’ll say this much: Farmageddon is better than Pixar’s other offering, also nominated in the same category, Onward, which was . . . fine. The previous Shaun the Sheep movie was also nominated, at the 2016 Academy Awards, when it lost to . . . Pixar’s Inside Out—the best movie of that year. Aardman Animations has other Oscars, though, so they’re doing fine. This will just have to be one of those years when it’s an honor to be nominated.

Look on in wonder—or at least giggle—at this delightful kids’ movie.

Overall: B+

BARB AND STAR GO TO VISTA DEL MAR

Directing: B
Acting: B+
Writing: B
Cinematography: B
Editing: B

Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar is the kind of movie you’ll either love or you’ll hate. Or, to be more precise, you’ll either find it so dumb it’s easily dismissed, or you’ll easily give yourself into its uniquely silly sensibility and have a good time. I might be in a minority middle-road category, in that I’ll fully concede it’s dumb, yet I gave into it and had fun anyway.

I do wonder what the hell the elevator pitch for this movie might have been. Sure, many silly comedy movies exist, but I can think of no other that’s quite like this one. It’s a little like an unusually clever Saturday Night Live sketch, the kind whose point seems to be that there is no point and yet it’s somehow amusing anyway. Now, take all that, and add a pinch of tripping on acid.

I hesitate even to offer much in the way of specifics. The “premise,” such as it is, involves best friends Barb and Star (Annie Mumolo and Kristin Wiig), taking a vacation together. Can you guess where? In the movie, it’s a town called Vista Del Mar, in Florida, though no such town actually exists—many resorts by that name do, though none are affiliated with the film. But, whatever: much of the movie was actually filmed in Mexico. It hardly matters, considering how much of the movie feels like a middle-aged divorcée pastel fever dream.

With a script co-witten also by Mumolo and Wiig, the humor is next-level silly. It’s kind of ironic that a movie about middle-aged women should have such “dad joke” energy, but somehow, it works. Most stupid humor, particularly in movie comedies, is just not funny. Here, I laughed with surprising consistency. This would be a testament to the skill of these two performers—not to mention their pull, given the number of people who show up in cameos and smaller supporting parts.

Maybe the biggest surprise is Fifty Shades of Grey’s Jamie Dornan, shedding his “smoldering sexpot” persona to play a lovable doofus. A close second would be Kristen Wiig again, playing dual parts as both Star and the movie’s uniquely ridiculous supervillain. How Sharon Gordon Fisherman fits into the plot is rather convoluted, as is Dornan’s character’s emotional struggle between her and Star. Damon Wayans Jr. as a clueless spy is a little more on-brand.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar is hilarious, and its 107-minute run time could have easily been trimmed down to about ninety, which would have intensified its comic impact. On the other hand, its somewhat leisurely pace is part of the point. What I liked about it was its left-field gags, from Dornan’s musical number singing to seagulls, to a brief scene in which, out of nowhere, a crab just starts talking. These were the kinds of things that cracked me up.

Whatever the case, you really just have to watch this movie to get it. There’s no way to talk about it in a way that conveys what it’s really like, although perhaps watching the trailer comes closest. That said, the trailer elicited more of an “I don’t get it” response. The extent of its sun-lit pastel silliness can only reveal itself when watching the movie in full. It’s actually been available on VOD since February 12, but until this week, the cost was $19.99. I enjoyed this movie, but in no universe is it worth that much money. Now that it’s $5.99, it’s totally worth it. And if you’re looking for absurdist escapism with a genuinely middle-aged-woman sensibility, this is the movie for you. That probably means the audience demographic is indeed middle-aged women, and gay men. But maybe a few others too. Give it a chance!

Morgan Freeman

Overall: B