KWIF=Kent's Week in Film. A good week...in film at least. Sigh.
This Week:
Splitsville (2025, d. Michael Angelo Covino - in theatre)
Intolerable Cruelty (2003, d. Joel [and Ethan] Coen - DVD)
Hennessy (1975, d. Don Sharp - amazon)
The Omen (1976, d. Richard Donner - hollywoodsuite)
Tank Girl (1995, d. Rachel Talalay - amazon)
Fixed (2025, d. Genndy Tartakovsky - netflix)
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Of course, attending a screening comes with baggage that can give you expectations. You may already be in a film's pocket if you're a fan of the screenwriter, or director, or composer, or star, or co-star. You may just be amped up to see how a moment you saw in a trailer plays out in the rest of the film, or you may have seen photos that have you curious about the set design or costuming. A film reviewer may have planted a seed of a shining moment that you're already curious about, or there may already be a meme bouncing around the internet you're eager to contextualize. The film excites you, but the unknown...it still holds you back.
Do I even dare?
I could stay home and rewatch my favourite show or movie, or scroll the socials and feed my brain its precious dopamine in empty, hollow bites.
Going to see a movie, it's a crap shoot, a roll of the dice, outcome unknown.
All this to say, in deciding to see Splitsville, a comedy from a writing team/director who I have had no prior experience with, and starring the same writing team/director, as well as an actress I dislike (Dakota Johnson) filled me with incredible trepidation. I've been to the theatre many times this year excited to go see the latest directorial effort from a favourite, or partake in whatever superhero fare is churned out like a good little nurd... but trying something so untested, even if it did come highly recommended, riddled me with angst. It happens to me frequently, and I've bailed on seeing many a film in the theatre because I didn't know what I could expect.
But I know my anxieties have me missing out (and not just on movies, but events and social engagements too). It's a whole thing.
Splitsville has reminded me why its good to take these gambles, to try out things that are unfamiliar or different or challenging (a second Dakota Johnson movie this year? Come onnnnn...) because, hot damn was it ever a delight.
(I could just end it there, since the purpose of these posts on this blog is not to sell the film to a non-existent audience, but as a future reference for myself to come back to, to refresh/trigger my stupid brain on what I thought or felt about a film)
From writers Michael Angelo Covino and Kyle Marvin, Splitsville is a screwball comedy about open marriages. I'm tempted to say satire, but I don't think either Covino, Marvin, or the characters in this film are ever truly interested in exploring the topic seriously. We have Carey (played by Marvin, WeCrashed) who is married to Ashley (Adria Arjona, Andor), and she wants a divorce. Ashley declares her infidelity and her desire to be free of the marriage and Carey, well, he's having none of it. He, quite literally, runs away from the conversation. Oh boy does he run.
Taking solace at his best friend's cottage (ahem, "cottage"...more like a luxury waterfront estate), he learns that Paul (Covino) and Julie (Johnson) are in an open marriage and that it really, really works for them. Or so they say. While Paul is away Julie and Carey have a fling.
Carey returns home, where Ashley is engaged in another affair, but Carey declares his cuckolding terms, there are no rules, she can do what she wants. And she does with many, many guys... each of whom Carey winds up befriending and soon there's a commune of ex-lovers hanging around the abode.
But the emotional stakes start warping as Paul's marriage falls apart, mostly due to possible fraud and criminal charges Paul is facing as a result of some business deals. Carey and Julie find themselves more emotionally invested than they, or their partners, could have anticipated.
And it only gets sillier and messier from there.
"Screwball" comedies are about toying with the expectations of the romance genre. In the olden days, screwball comedies would upend the gender norms in relationships for comedic effect. Now days, it's the norms of relationships themselves that are shaken and stirred, and Splitsville is an incredible example of that.
What had largely taken hold of comedy for the first two decades of the new millennium, has been either gross-out humour or cringe comedy, and I keep forgetting that those times have largely passed. Gross-out and cringe have fallen out of favour but nothing has really taken its place. It would be fantastic if there was a resurgence in screwball, but even then, it might be too much of a good thing.
Covino and Marvin have crafted a wild script, and both, as actors, are willing to forego any and all pride in their performances. They remind me of Jason Segel in that regard. Marvin, as our central protagonist (though props for giving Johnson and Arjona top billing), is a likeable sort-of schlub who's not a total pushover, just mostly one. But he's endearingly likeable in his very unfiltered emotional reactions to things. Paul is more caustic, the guy hiding everything under a veneer of importance and pretension, but his armour is finally penetrated in the third act.
Arjona's Ashley may not be the funniest written character in the film, but she's the main vehicle in which the comedy is built around. She's by no means a straight man, but she's got to be the un-self-aware gateway for everything in this film to happen, and she delivers.
Johnson I've bristled against for years, but like a proper beard oil, Materialists kind of softened me up... and repeated half-ironic viewings of segments of Madame Web on cable have further just softened what I used to find immediately repellent. It's possible that she's found her groove and is taking the roles that best suit her somewhat detached demeanour, or maybe it's that the roles are being tailored more to play into her sensibility, or it could be that she's just evolving as an actress and showing that she can manoeuver more broadly in what used to be a very limited range. In any case, she's really fun here.
But it's all about the relationships. It's Carey and Ashley, and Carey and Julie, and Paul and Julie, and Carey and Paul, and, well, just a little of Paul and Ashley, and every pairing is uniquely comedic. It's so well crafted.
Splitsville is not for everyone, no comedy is. We saw two elderly women walk out after about 25 minutes, following what was, hands down, the funniest fight scene of the decade, and a top-ten all-timer. They took a gamble, just like I did. I won, they did not.
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But Miles, hitting middle age and quite lonely, is intrigued by Marylin, and the two flirt vivaciously and floridly with one another, the patter quick and all too easy. Marylin trains her sights on Miles, and it's unknown whether it's romantic interest, his money, or revenge. (Why not all three?)
But confusing the picture, months later, Marylin comes to Miles for a pre-nup. She's met a wealthy, folksy oil-man (Billy Bob Thornton, The Man Who Wasn't There) and she confounds Miles with her actions. She's a gold-digger, so why would she want a pre-nup? All part of her devious plan.
Miles, despite being a shark, is chum in the water as far as Marylin is concerned, and she's famished. She's looking for full meals and wanting to eat him up for dessert.
Intolerable Cruelty is, intentionally, frivolous. It is the Coen Brothers in full pastiche mode. They're not genre blending like they so often do, and the weirdness/non-sequiturs are kept to a minimum (it's only Miles' wheezy, past-his-expiry-date boss that one cocks and eyebrow at). This, if anything, seems like a play at mainstream success, at doing something the average people might like. After all, Clooney was one of the biggest leading men at the time and this on-screen pairing of attractiveness seemed long overdue.
What I think sunk Intolerable Cruelty's mainstream success was the lack of mainstream instincts on the Coens' part. I mean, the "best friend/sidekick" characters here are play by Paul Adelstein (who?) and Julia Duffy (of Newhart fame?) rather than an rising star comedian or improviser, as you would normally see. Their instincts are to cast character actors in as many roles as possible (instinctual, yes, but budgetary constraints also yes) and when Miles calls a surprise witness and in walks... Jonathan Hadary (Private Parts) as Heinz, the Baron Krauss von Espy. Now don't get me wrong, Hadary fucking delivers in spades, but the reveal that it's not, I dunno, Nathan Lane or someone kind of lessens the impact at first.
But whatever, a trivial delight is still a delight.
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I get intrigued by films by listening to conversations about them, and Tarantino and Avery have a particular way of being enthused by film. What they get out of films is not what the average reviewer or film snob does, which I think is part of their enduring appeal. They see merit in the outcasts. I've watched more than a few films that I never would have heard of because of the podcast (less so now that they've put it up behind a paywall), like the Russian monster/fairy tale The Amphibian Man, or the Italian gangsters of the Milieu trilogy.
In most cases if I was intrigued by one of these oddball films and I couldn't watch it, I would simply forget about it, but not Hennessy. It was not available streaming anywhere, and it did not seem to have a DVD release of any consequence, but it remained something I was keeping an eye out for, even long after I had forgotten why. All the memory that remained was an effusive "Go, Hennessy, Go" from Roger Avery that was permastuck.
The film came up as available on Amazon Prime when I was cross-referencing roles played by the stunning Lee Remick while watching The Omen, and I was ready to drop The Omen mid-movie and jump into Hennessy I was so excited (but timing was not in my favour, so I finished The Omen).
Starting the film at the first available opportunity, I was reminded of what Hennessy was about, but only after the first 20 minutes. It opens in Northern Ireland, still deep in the Troubles at this time, and conflict and resistance is still very, very active, but some people, like Niall Hennessy (Rod Steiger, Duck,You Sucker) are wanting to move past it, raise their family, live their lives. But an accidental and tragic conflict winds up taking the lives of Hennessy's wife and daughter, leaving the man with nothing but hate left for both the IRA and the English.
He ventures to London (though after the very public funeral of his family and other victims of the incident, eyes are very much on him) where he finds residence with the wife of an old (deceased) acquaintance (Remick). She doesn't know what Hennessy is up to, and, at first doesn't ask.
It's a tense film that is a dog and cat and mouse chase, where the IRA and British Intelligence are both aware that Hennessy's presence in London cannot be good news. For the IRA, whatever actions Hennessy might take would bring immense attention upon them that they do not want. Ultimately, it's discovered, Hennessy plans to bomb the Queen as she opens the next session of the Parliament.
The film uses archival footage of the Queen's opening of Parliament in 1970, and used with permission, though perhaps not as was originally understood. It's remarkable how seamlessly it fits in the film, such that one might think the scenes were legitimately part of the production.
It's a really, really decent thriller that is only more impactful by its obscurity. It's anonymity means that its events haven't been spoiled (well, except all I've said above) and it's full of surprises. Hennessy's quest is one of quiet, calculated rage, and, much like my recollection, you do kind of feel a "Go, Hennessy, Go" spirit, just as much as you know he should definitely not be allowed to succeed. It's pretty sharp.
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Jesus Hucking Christ.
For a few years Robert and Katherine (Lee Remick, Hennessy) and their child who they named Damien (well, there's your problem right there... was "Damien" already a name with evil connotations or does the name Damien only have such connotations because of this film?) appear to be a happy family, although Damien does seem a little...off from other children. Robert is appointed as ambassador to the UK.
On Damien's fifth birthday, the Thorns throw a big upperclass party, but the party is sullied by Damien's nanny hanging herself dramatically ("Look at me, Damien, it's all for you!"). Photojournalist Keith Jennings (David Warner, Tron) is on the scene, and when he examines his photos later, it appears that photos of Damien's nanny have some kind of line extending from the back of her neck.
More weird events happen. A seemingly disturbed priest starts harassing Robert, trying to convince him something is amiss with his child, and Damien freaks out wildly whenever he approaches a place of worship. A new, very creepy nanny turns up out of nowhere, and the Thorns question it, though not deeply, and suddenly there's a large rottweiler hanging around the house all the time.
Characters in the film present a series of prognostications that eventually come true that tip Robert off to the fact that his adopted son may be the Antichrist himself, but Robert, along with photographer Jennings investigate the myth of the Antichrist and the sign that he may be here. Certainly there's a large network of worshippers who have infiltrated the church and other elements of society.
The Omen is told very old school, where Katherine is but a wife and mother with no agency or capacity for decision making. Before her accident she's already gone a little nuts because of Damien's behaviour, and has detached from the child. Remick does what she can with the role, but I really dislike that Robert, for all his love and infatuation with his wife, does not see her as an equal.
What I do like about The Omen is the wrestling with the idea of having complicated feelings around one's children...I just wish it explored it more. I don't think this script was really wrestling with parenting. It seems to be built out of the desire to tell an Antichrist story through the eyes of a parent, and not tell a parenting story that happens to involve the Antichrist.
It's a solidly acted, decently engrossing film that, while pretty tame by today's standards of horror, creates a pretty ominous (omenous?) atmosphere that persists straight through to the end of the film. The hanging sequence was a big shock and still pretty visceral an experience to watch. The other deaths in the film have aged in a way (whether it's the special effects or editing) that they're amusing now, but also very likeable the way that outdated effects can often be. You get what they were going for and the effect is probably the best it could be given the tools at the time.
I know there's a bunch of sequels out there, and this hasn't really inspired me to pursue them, though the third Omen film stars Sam Neill as an adult Damien which is a bit intriguing.
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Tank Girl was both critically lambasted and a box office bomb at the time of its release. A stab-in-the-dark comics adaptation (back when Hollywood was regularly flirting with comics adaptations, as opposed to a decade later when they were the dominant concern from the studios), it was always a gamble. The Tank Girl comic had very little name recognition outside of the alt/indie kids crowd of the early-mid 90's, which for director Rachel Talalay and script writer Tedi Sarafian meant there was a bit of a blank slate as far as what they could do with the character when transporting to a product for a mass audience.
And the result is a weird, weird film that's taking inspiration from the comics of Alan Martin and Jamie Hewlett, but bringing its own sensibilities that aren't just the writer and director, but also the influences of Courtney Love, who assembled the film's pretty rad soundtrack, and production designer Catherine Hardwicke (who would become a notable film director herself), among the other hands in this eccentrically flavoured pie. The film feels very scrappy, a labour of...well, maybe not love, but certainly deep affection and a desire for everyone involved to prove themselves. The film has energy, vitality, even if it's absolutely bizarre (for many, prohibitively so).
I liked the film when it came out. Quite a bit. I bought a VHS (or maybe a Laserdisc?) of the film, I enjoyed it that much. I had the soundtrack, which I listened to frequently. It's a timestamp of the mid-90's for me and returning to it was like an acid trip flashback, a portal to a very different time.
Astonishingly, much of the film still inspires within me the same zeal for it I had back then, even though I have not seen it in at least 25 years. The film's opening with Devo's updated rendition of "Girl U Want" playing over Hewlett's drawings of Tank Girl in vibrant four-colour pop art fashion. It's still delightful and captivating.
The film is set in a post-apocalyptic future. Everything is desert, and it's totally governed by Water & Power, a corporation monopolizing both water and power. At its head is Kesslee, played with utter conviction by Malcolm McDowell. There's no reason for McDowell to be so locked into this character, but as I said, it's a pretty scrappy production and he's delivering an exceptionally delightful shouty, evil villain that completely fits the playful tone of the film. Kesslee seems to have taken Darth Vader's leadership seminar, and has a penchant for murdering his lieutenants with one of my favourite po-ap/sci-fi devices ever: a portable device with two dozen needles on one end and an accordion water bottle on the other end that sucks all the water out a person, desiccating them in seconds. In the first on-screen use of the device in this film, Kesslee grabs the bottle from the back of the just-killed underling and drinks the freshly extracted water. It's a truly phenomenal sequence.
The titular Tank Girl is actually Rebecca (Lori Petty, Point Break) a rebellious, horny, ADHD-addled survivalist who finds herself captured after her whole commune is killed by a Water & Power raid. She defies her captors at every turn, and Kesslee, certain she has information she needs about a band of resistance fighters called the Reavers, tortures her, except Rebecca seems to kind of get off on it. This egg's already cracked, boys.
In prison she meets Jet (pre-stardom Naomi Watts at her mousiest), and, well, Rebecca kind of forces her to be her friend, but the alternatives for Jet are non-existant.
The fist two acts of the film are so full of life, vibrant neons decorate scavenged costumes and ramshackle or industrial sets, and the process of world building and discovery are and absolute blast. The film is hyperactive, cutting in inserts of comic book effects or animated sequences in a very Liquid Television fashion. It's all so early 90's MTV, it hurts so good.
Eventually Tank Girl and Jet Girl find their respective namesake vehicles and venture out into the wastes where Rebecca learns a young girl from her commune is still alive, so she makes it her mission to save her. In the process they meet the Reavers, a squad of genetically modified ultimate commandos that were the result of an experiment blending human and kangaroo DNA. The prosthetics were designed by Stan Winstson and on the budget for the film, the effect is pretty remarkable, buuut also a bit unappealing. Also, Ice-T is one of the kangaroo men which was a very weird statement for 1995 and even more weird today.
The third act sags and drags as it tries to tighten all its narrative threads together. In hindsight the right answer was probably to have sort of Mad Max-style roving adventure in the wastelands, as the necessity of dealing with kangaroo men mythology and the heroic narrative of saving a precocious child and destroying the villain take focus away from the most appealing aspects of the character of Tank Girl. But Petty's inspired performance that's part Pee Wee Herman, part Lucille Ball.
I don't really see a world where Tank Girl is a commercial success, but the impact is clearly there. The evolution of Harley Quinn as a character seems to point directly to this film, both Kaley Cuoco's animated rendition and Margot Robbie's big-screen rendition seem to mirror most of Petty's attitude and playful, manic spirit, and the 2020 Birds of Prey feature feels like a superhero pivot of Tank Girl's aesthetics.
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...and finally...
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I really liked Tartakovsky's work on Dexter's Lab and The Powerpuff Girls, but I've flat out loved Primal, Clone Wars, and Samurai Jack, shows where the animation does most (or all) of the talking. (I'm utterly indifferent to the Hotel Transylvania series, mainly because it's Tartakovsky working in CGI animation as opposed to cel animation). His latest film, Fixed, is a passion project he's been pursuing for some time, and in a traditional animation style, it should be something worth getting excited about.
*Should.*
But the conceit of Fixed is a ribald comedy about a dog having a "one crazy night" adventure as he tries to flee having his beloved testicles neutered.
I'm not prude. I watched and delighted in eight season of Netflix's Big Mouth, which is as in-your-face about all the taboos of sex and sexuality that you could think of and so many more that you couldn't (and sometimes wish you hadn't). Fixed's approach to canine sex and sexuality is so...basic... in comparison. It's a film that feels like it was made in the shadow of American Pie not Sausage Party. When you think of it, Tartakovsky's better known for his action set pieces than his comedy, and almost all his comedy is meant for a younger audience. So is it any wonder that when he tries to venture into "adult" humour it comes off as tepid and juvenile?
I watched just a pinch over 30 minutes of Fixed and I had a couple little chuckles from Fred Armisen's "influencer" weener dog Fetch, Beck Bennet's pompous Borzoi Sterling, and Idris Elba's Boxer Rocco. But the film hangs on the central performance of Adam Devine as Bull, a pudgy blue pit bull mutt, and the performance lacks inspiration, but then so does every comedic setup.
The animation is, not unexpectedly, fabulous. The character designs are stunning to look at and I probably could have continued watching the film in its entirety only for the animation had I not had more pressing concerns pulling me away after the first act, and I just don't feel the need to go back and finish it.
I never did get to see that wild and crazy night, but nothing I saw up to that point would lead me to believe that there was anything particularly wild or crazy forthcoming.
The humour is attempting to be outrageous, to surprise or stun the audience into a laughing reaction, but its sense of what is outrageous is so lacking, and the comedic structures feel at best dated, at worst unrefined. A predictable will-they/wont-they (they will) romantic entanglement with Kathryn Hahn's prize-winning Afghan Honey has no juice, we know the beat its going to follow (and Honey's attraction to Bull makes no damn sense, as much as Hahn's vocal performances tries to sell it).
Fixed is broken, and it's disappointing.
