(New Feature: Double Dose is two films from the same director, writer or star...pretty simple. Today, a couple of non-theatrical releases from Steven Soderbergh).
Behind the Candelabra (2013, HBO)
High Flying Bird (2019, Netflix)
BEHIND THE CANDELABRA
It's hard to believe in the 2010s that an elaborate production about the life of a very famous person starring Michael Douglas and Matt Damon would have trouble finding theatrical distribution and be relegated to "TV movie" status by debuting as a prestige picture on HBO. It did remarkably well in that relegation, though, gaining an audience of 3.5 million in its first night of airings
and it won 14 Emmys (including outstanding mini-series or movie, best actor in mini-series or movie and best director), and counted 2 Golden Globes among its many other accolades.
Liberace was indeed a very famous human being up until his death in 1987. He was a larger than life character who lived his life as opulently as the richest of Middle Eastern royalty. He was a piano virtuoso, a phenom that impressed with his skills and wowed with his showmanship for over five decades. But as a celebrity in his time, homosexuality was just not an option, it was a career ender, and though living a very gay private life, he fought the image very publicly. It's only been in recent years, perhaps since 2013 that out performers aren't being singularly pigeonholed or outright ostracized, and not to say that
Behind the Candelabra had anything to do with that, but it certainly explored the topic of sexuality and celebrity like few other productions of this scale had.
The narrative thrust of the film is the relationship between Liberace (Michael Douglas, absolutely inhabiting the role) and Scott Thorson (Matt Damon) for six years starting in 1977. It never dances around their sexuality, and Lee (as Liberace was known to his friends and lovers) was a hungry predator, welcoming the young, taut Scott into his fold after but a glance when introduced by mutual friend Bob Black (Scott Backula).
Scott was about 40 years Lee's junior, and shortly after their introduction there was an obvious moment where Lee's current concubine/protege knew he was on his way out, sending daggers Scott's way knowing he was about to be replaced with a younger model. Lee wore his sexuality like heavy baggage. In public he disavowed any inference that he was anything but the straightest of strait, dining with other prime female showpersons like Charo for aesthetics, but in private he voraciously romanced younger men and consumed porn. He didn't care to venture into public except for his performances, instead keeping a sheltered life within his various ornate homesteads. He had a whole support network to keep his dalliances secret, and to feed him a new supply of conquests.
Scott did not mind being a kept man, at first, having been overwhelmingly wowed and dazzled by Liberace as any member of the public would be, but also taken into his confidence and learning to love the man under all the glitz and glamor. Lee's egocentricity and vanity was far from subtle and certainly problematic. He even had Scott undergo plastic surgery to look like a younger version of himself (his prior protege whom we fleetingly see in the opening of the film too bore somewhat of a similiarity). Scott's love had him willingly go along with such a bizarre plan, but in the process he becomes addicted to prescription and illicit drugs prescribed by the plastic surgeon (played by scene stealing Rob Lowe in an outrageously ghoulish performance).
But Lee's avoidance of the public life meant Scott was too kept, and too stir crazy. He had few friends beyond his drug dealers, and had no identity of his own. As tensions raised in the house (Lee was very disapproving of Scott's drug habits), Lee's eyes started to wander, and soon Scott was in the position of the dagger-throwing boyfriend on the outs, seeing Lee flirting heavily with a new stage dancer opening for his show. The circular nature was incredibly well handled.
Soderbergh's attention to detail, his reverence and affection for the subjects, while also maintaining a critical eye are all at play. This is a tragic love story as well as a love letter. The closing moments at Lee's funeral, and Scott's vision of Liberace's departing performance is a genuinely beautiful tribute to a marvelous performer and flawed man, and also acts as the final bow for famed composer Marvin Hamlisch. Douglas commits to the role like no other I've seen him in. He's always been a solid actor, but this was another level (had this film had a theatrical release he no doubt would have won best actor, but he'll settle for the Emmy and Golden Globes he received). Damon was quite good, however he's easily 20 years too old for the role, and the miscasting is its own problem. The lack of gay voices in the actual telling of the film is another. In spite of that lack of representation, the film was still given a GLAAD media award and Soderbergh seemed to take other pains in ensuring that he was not working in cliches or exploitation.
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HIGH FLYING BIRD
This is the type of sports movie I get
into, one that deals with the money and politics of it, the game beyond
the game. It's set in the world of sports agents, where Andre Holland
plays a man with his back against the wall trying to rep his clients
during an NBA lockout. Nobody is getting paid and the shortsighted,
monetary-focussed agency he works for is utterly disinterested in
spending any more on their clients until the lockout has resolved.
Likewise they look at Holland and don't see his value, what he brings
to the table that's any different from anyone else. What they don't
realize -- but his disgruntled friend and agency lawyer Sonja Sohn keenly
observes -- is he's 20 steps ahead of everyone. Even though the film puts that right out there, the masterstroke here is it still gives you
plenty of opportunity to doubt Holland and his plan. But in seeing it come
to fruition -- with some devious manipulation and a hip-to-his-playbook
accomplice in Zazie Beetz (who is NOT his assistant anymore) -- is a work
of beauty.
The film is, in a way, a heist movie, with Soderbergh flexing his Oceans
series muscles to present a much different type of scam. The script is
ludicrously sharp, the actors are all so game for what's in play (the
dynamics of this cast are so good), and the deftness of putting a
spotlight on systemic racial exploitation in sports sparks a necessary
conversation we don't hear enough of. Like Behind the Candelabra, Soderbergh has an empathy and astuteness towards situations that may not be of his own experience, but he has no problem conveying with authenticity.
If the film sags a little,
it's in Soderbergh's experimentation with shooting the film only with
iPhones, which is in stark contrast to the stylishness of his Liberace biopic. At times he captures some gorgeous shots (acting as his own
cinematographer in pseudonym) but there's a samey-ness to them,
particularly the wide angles largely employed that seem more like
restrictions of the filming medium than deliberate choices. Soderbergh has always been an experimenter, and this, his second feature shooting exclusively with iPhones suffers slightly for it.
Soderbergh's
name will bring people to the film, but buried in a glut of Netflix
releases with little promotion, this is going to unjustly fly under the
radar of most people. Hopefully word of mouth will propel this to more people's recommended lists.
