Reviews

Estranged cousins reunite for Holocaust-related tour

Benji Kaplan (Kieran Culkin, left) and his cousin David (Jesse Eisenberg) get reacquainted while touring Polish Holocaust sites in A Real Pain. (Photos courtesy of Searchlight Pictures)

By Richard Ades

When Jesse Eisenberg made his debut as a writer/director with 2022’s When You Finish Saving the World, some found its depiction of familial squabbles heavy-handed and its characters insufferable.

Now Eisenberg is back with another comedy-drama about family relations, and he seems to have taken the criticisms to heart. A Real Pain’s two leading characters are flawed but likable, and its depiction of their squabbles is hardly heavy-handed. To the contrary, Eisenberg makes us work to figure out just what is behind them.

David Kaplan (played by Eisenberg himself) is a successful New Yorker with a wife and young son. His cousin Benji (Kieran Culkin) is single, jobless and lives in his mother’s upstate home.

Though the two were close boyhood friends, they’ve grown increasingly distant as adults, separated by their lifestyles and personalities as much as by geography. Now, however, they have a chance to reconnect thanks to their late grandmother, a Holocaust survivor who left them money specifically set aside for a visit to her native Poland.

So the cousins fly to Warsaw to join a multi-day tour of Holocaust-related sites led by a Brit named James (Will Sharpe). Also on the tour are a recently divorced American (Jennifer Grey) and a Rwandan-born Jewish convert (Kurt Egyiawan), among others. Each is briefly introduced, but Eisenberg keeps his main focus on the two cousins and their increasing discomfort with each other.

David, uptight and buttoned-down, watches with simmering resentment as the unrepressed Benji easily connects with other members of the group. For his part, Benji complains that David has made little attempt to see him recently, and he pushes him to smoke pot and otherwise reclaim some of the wildness that made them inseparable childhood companions.

Benji (Kieran Culkin) gives his cousin David (Jesse Eisenberg) a hug while following other members of their tour group.

As the tour goes on, the tension between the two grows due to Benji’s increasingly angry and erratic behavior. Whether it’s caused by the loss of his beloved grandmother or other, unidentified problems, it leaves David profoundly uncomfortable. The fact that it’s happening while the group is touring sites intimately connected to the last century’s worst atrocity only adds to the stress.

As an actor, Eisenberg doesn’t stretch himself, playing David much like he’s portrayed other socially awkward characters. As a director, on the other hand, he generously allows Culkin to imbue Benji with passion, unexpected quirks and unexplored depths.

What does it all mean? Eisenberg relies on the viewers to come up with their own explanations for the cousins’ difficult relationship and their disparate responses to the tragic history they’re revisiting. His approach is unobtrusive to a fault—with one exception.

An almost constant companion to the proceedings is a score consisting of works by 19th century piano virtuoso Frederic Chopin. Other than the fact that the composer was Polish, the music seems to have little to do what’s happening onscreen. What’s worse, the dramatic and often familiar passages sometimes upstage what’s going on.

For viewers struggling to find meaning in Eisenberg’s interesting but understated story, it’s an unwelcome distraction.

Rating: 3½ stars (out of 5)

A Real Pain (rated R) opens Nov. 15 in theaters nationwide.

Director continues his obsession with sex workers 

New York stripper Ani (Mikey Madison, right) enjoys a lavish lifestyle provided by new boyfriend Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn) in Anora.

By Richard Ades

Sean Baker is fascinated by folks who make their living in the sex industry. For evidence, look at his last three films, which featured a trans sex worker (Tangerine, 2015), a down-and-out stripper (The Florida Project, 2017) and an aging porn star (Red Rocket, 2021).

So it’s no surprise that the writer/director’s latest flick again centers on someone plying a corner of the sex trade. Anora may differ from its predecessors in other ways, but Baker’s preoccupation with the world’s oldest occupation remains the same.

When we first meet the title stripper (Mikey Madison), who goes by the nickname Ani, she’s confidently hawking drinks and lap dances at a New York club. Then she meets a customer named Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn), who turns out to be the son of a wealthy Russian oligarch.

Faster than you can say Pretty Woman, Ani’s life undergoes a sea change. Swept away by the 21-year-old’s boyish charm and fun-loving ways, not to mention his bottomless wallet, she’s soon enjoying (paid-for) sex, drugs and raucous parties in his luxurious mansion.

Obviously smitten, Vanya then offers Ani $10,000 in exchange for a week’s worth of exclusivity, and she happily accepts—though only after he meets her counter-demand of $15K. The week includes an extravagant trip with friends to Vegas, where Ani and Vanya engage in more sex, drugs and partying before ending up where inebriated Vegas visitors often end up: an all-night wedding chapel.

And they both live happily after ever, right? Nope, because this isn’t Pretty Woman, despite its initial similarities.

Vanya is soon contacted by his father’s fixer, Toros (Karren Karagulian), who warns him that his parents will never accept his marriage to a woman they consider a prostitute. In an attempt to squash the union, Toros then forces his way into the New York mansion accompanied by hired goons Garnick and Igor (Vache Tovmasyan and Yura Borisov). And chaos ensues.

Anora has been called a romcom, but it’s hard to see how it qualifies. What passes for romance often seems more like a business arrangement—for instance, Ani accepts Vanya’s proposal only on the condition that he put a 3-carat ring on her finger. And as for comedy, the flick does feature gobs of near-slapstick violence and property destruction, but they result in laughs only if you can ignore the threatened disaster that produces them.

What this is, actually, is a Sean Baker film, in which success is a distant goal, and mere survival is a hard-won commodity. As stated earlier, though, it’s not quite like previous Baker films.

While its predecessors offer quiet moments and revealing dialogue that help us understand the characters, much of Anora is a cavalcade of frantic scenes featuring partying, screaming and endless F-bombs. For many, this adds up to an impressive achievement, as the film has already won the Cannes Palme D’or and is rumored to be a shoo-in for multiple Oscar noms.

Personally, while I appreciate Baker’s usual sympathetic treatment of societal underdogs, I wish he had exercised a bit more restraint in terms of tone—and in terms of length, especially during the flick’s repetitive second act.   

Back on the plus side, the film’s strengths include its cast, especially the actors in the two lead roles. In very different ways, Madison’s Ani and Eydelshteyn’s Vanya are both forces of nature.

Gratifyingly, the film also boasts a strong and emotionally complex ending. Though Pretty Woman fans might be disappointed, it should make Baker fans feel right at home.

Rating: 3½ stars (out of 5)

Anora (rated R) opens Nov. 1 at theaters nationwide.

Mobility-impaired Norwegian discovers life, love through gaming

As a boy dealing with a debilitating medical condition, Mats Steen often escaped into the virtual world of gaming. (Photo by Bjorg Engdahl Medieop/Netflix)

By Richard Ades

Growing up with a degenerative muscular disease, Mats Steen found it harder and harder to take part in everyday life. As a result, the young Norwegian spent most of his time playing video games.

“His world seemed so limited,” said his father, Robert.

Finally, at the age of 25, Mats succumbed to his condition. That’s when Robert and his wife, Trude, realized that their son’s world hadn’t been so limited after all.

The reason is revealed in Benjamin Ree’s unconventional documentary The Remarkable Life of Ibelin.

The film explains that Robert, after losing Mats in 2014, announced the sad news to followers of his son’s blog, “Musings of Life.” The grieving father expected that to be the end of it, but he soon was inundated with condolences from people around the world who had come to know Mats through their shared love of the video game World of Warcraft.

In the real world, the adult Mats had spent his days in a wheelchair, unable to take care of his most basic needs by himself. That much, his parents knew.

What they didn’t know was that once his wheelchair was pushed up to the computer, Mats had entered the virtual world and become Ibelin, a muscle-bound hero who busied himself sprinting through verdant landscapes, fighting monsters and forming bonds with his fellow avatars—bonds that eventually evolved into real-life friendships.

Ibelin (right), Mats Steen’s virtual alter ego, spends time with Rumour, the avatar of a Dutch girl named Lisette.

As in Ree’s 2020 documentary, The Painter and the Thief, the director tells this fascinating story in a way that surpasses genre conventions.

In the early moments, Mats’s boyhood and young adulthood are captured through a combination of home movies and interviews with his parents and sister, Mia. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Later, though, the film immerses itself in images and characters derived from Mats’s favorite video game.

With the help of material gleaned from World of Warcraft archives, Rees uses animation and voice actors to recreate scenes from Mats’s online life.

In some cases, they’re tender, as when he first meets the flirtatious Rumour, the avatar of a Dutch girl named Lisette. In other cases, they’re painful, as when Ibelin lashes out against other avatars. Determined to keep his health problems to himself, Mats hides the fact that his character’s flintiness stems from his own frustration over his worsening condition.

In his better moments, though, Mats’s virtual alter ego could be kind and thoughtful. Interspersed with the animated segments are interviews with Lysette and others that reveal the ways in which Mats affected their lives for the better. The result was that their make-believe relationships grew into actual friendships—friendships that became all the more passionate once Mats finally revealed his real-world challenges.

The Remarkable Life of Ibelin benefits greatly from Rasmus Tukia and Ada Wikdahl’s expressive animation and Tore Vollan’s subtle score. Combined with Ree’s innovative approach to documentary-making, they turn a unique story into a rewarding and moving experience.  

Rating: 4½ stars (out of 5)

The Remarkable Life of Ibelin (PG-13) will be available through Netflix beginning Oct. 25.

Former Mr. Maisel again makes jerkiness palatable

Andy Singer (Michael Zegen, right) is forced to spend a hectic day with his daughter, Anna (Kasey Bella Suarez), in Notice to Quit.

By Richard Ades

As the cheating husband who drove his wife to a life of comedy in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Michael Zegen proved he can play a cad without losing the audience’s sympathy. By the end of the series, in fact, we were rooting for him almost as much as we were for his joke-telling ex.

In the comedy-drama Notice to Quit, as actor-turned-real estate agent Andy Singer, Zegen again relies on his natural likability. So, it seems, does first-time writer/director Simon Hacker.

Perhaps more than he should.

To be blunt, Hacker gives us almost no reason to cheer for Andy, an ethics-challenged New Yorker who’s down on his luck. To name just one of his vices, he regularly makes extra bucks by stealing appliances out of vacant properties and selling them to a ragtag gang of thugs.

Then, just as Andy is being evicted from his apartment because he’s behind on the rent, 10-year-old daughter Anna (a relatable Kasey Bella Suarez) shows up and wants to spend the day with him. She’s mad because her mom (Andy’s ex) is moving to Florida, and she doesn’t want to go.  

So how does Andy react to the presence of the daughter he hasn’t seen in months? Not well. In fact, he doesn’t want to be bothered and unsuccessfully tries to palm her off on his retired father (Robert Klein).

To some extent, it’s understandable that Andy can’t deal with Anna on this day, as he’s desperate to scrape together enough bucks to avoid ending up on the street. Mainly, though, his lack of filial devotion just makes it that much harder to care about him.

That is, it makes it harder for us to care about him. For her part, Anna seems to love her dad and enjoys this rare opportunity to spend time with him. Why? Did they have a close relationship in the past, when her parents were still together?

Hacker’s script never explains, any more than it clarifies just why we’re supposed to see Andy as anything other than a self-centered scumbag. And yet we are, because it quickly becomes obvious that the film has something warm and fuzzy in its long-range sights.

When that something arrives, it lands with all the impact of a wet noodle, both because it was telegraphed well in advance and because it wasn’t earned. It’s clear that Hacker wants us to care about what happens, but it’s equally clear that he doesn’t know how to make us care.

Well, with one exception: He lucked out by casting Zegen as Andy, who retains at least a portion of our sympathy even though he doesn’t deserve it, and Suarez as Anna, the daughter who loves him for no apparent reason. The chemistry these two create is the flick’s main selling point.

Rating: 3 stars (out of 5)

Notice to Quit (PG-13) opens Sept. 27 in theaters nationwide.

‘MJ’ pays homage to moonwalking superstar

One of many flashy moments from the touring production of MJ: The Musical (Photo by Mathew Murphy of MurphyMade)

By Richard Ades

A good fireworks show begins with a “wow” and ends with a “WOW,” filling the space in between with enough peaks to fuel our anticipation. MJ: The Musical, based on the life of Michael Jackson, follows that formula almost exactly.

The action has barely begun when the title character (an amazing Jamaal Fields-Green) launches into an MTV-worthy rendition of the Jackson classic “Whip It.” Then, nearly 2½ hours later, the show is only minutes from its finale when it delivers the song-and-dance number we’ve all been waiting for: “Thriller.”

And by the way: When I say “delivers,” imagine the word being followed by multiple exclamation points. The number is so over-the-top astounding that it alone would nearly justify the original Broadway production’s Tonys for choreography (Christopher Wheeldon, who also directs), lighting design (Natasha Katz) and sound design (Gareth Owen).

In between these two high points, it must be said, the production falls a bit short of a good fireworks show’s standards. There are impressive peaks here and there, but there are also valleys that slow down the momentum.

Set in 1992 during a rehearsal for Jackson’s upcoming “Dangerous” world tour, the jukebox musical addresses some of the rumors then swirling around the “King of Pop.” These are uncovered with help from nosy documentary maker Rachel (Cecilia Petrush) and her cameraman, Alejandro (Anthony J. Garcia).

Through flashbacks, the show also introduces us to two earlier Jackson incarnations: the Jackson 5’s pipsqueak frontman (alternately played by Josiah Benson and Bane Griffith) and the young adult seeking to launch a solo career (Erik Hamilton).

Also featured in the flashbacks are the rest of the Jackson family, including the mom, Katherine (Anastasia Talley), and dad, Joseph (Devin Bowles). Bowles plays the latter as a domineering bully who pushed his talented children relentlessly and was particularly abusive toward young Michael.

The implication is that Joseph’s behavior was responsible for MJ’s later problems, but the argument is only partially convincing. To some extent, that’s because Jackson had so many problems and eccentricities, some of which didn’t come out until after the musical’s time frame, that it’s hard to pin them all on any single source.

Despite his flaws, the one undeniable thing you can say about Michael Jackson is that he was a showman of the first degree, and MJ is most successful when it concentrates on that fact. Along with singing, dancing was obviously central to his appeal, and his devotion to the craft comes out brilliantly in an Act II fantasy that shows him trading steps with virtuosos who apparently inspired him: Fred Astaire, Bob Fosse and the tapdancing Nicholas Brothers.

Though all of the cast members sing and dance well, it clearly takes a special skillset to portray someone as unique as Michael Jackson. In the original Broadway production, Myles Frost filled the bill and thereby won the show’s fourth and final Tony.

In the current touring production, Fields-Green displays the voice, the moonwalk and all the other flourishes that won the King of Pop his title. (Jordan Markus alternates in the role at some performances.)

Fields-Green’s portrayal, backed up by a stellar band and some of the most awe-inspiring stagecraft you’ll ever see, makes MJ a pulse-quickening trip down memory lane.

MJ: The Musical runs through Sept. 15 at the Ohio Theatre, 39 E. State St., Columbus. Showtimes are 7:30 p.m. through Friday, 2 and 7:30 p.m. Saturday, 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sunday. Running time: 2 hours, 40 minutes (including intermission). For ticket information, visit columbus.broadway.com. For information on future tour stops, visit tour.mjthemusical.com.

Teen’s hike with dad is subtly—and sadly—enlightening  

Sam (Lily Collias) explores the Adirondacks with her father and his best friend. (Photos courtesy of Metrograph Pictures)

By Richard Ades

When you’re hiking through nature, you miss a lot if you’re not paying attention. The same holds true when you’re viewing Good One, the story of a teenage girl’s hike through the Adirondacks with her dad and his best friend.

Seen mostly through the eyes of 17-year-old Sam (Lily Collias), the flick is full of telling moments, but few of them hit you over the head. Instead, writer/director India Donaldson expects you to watch and listen for clues about what Sam is going through.

Fortunately, Collias’s face registers the girl’s most fleeting thoughts, and cinematographer Wilson Cameron’s lens is right there to capture them.  

Taking place over three days, the film follows along as Sam goes on what seems to be a family tradition: an extended hike with her dad, Chris (James Le Gros). They were supposed to be accompanied by both Chris’s friend Matt (Danny McCarthy) and his teenage son, but the son bails out following a last-minute family argument.

This leaves Sam alone with two divorced, middle-aged men whose egos and life experiences sometimes make them difficult traveling companions.

They not only trade insults with each other, but they force her into a second-class status by, for example, relegating her to the back seat in the car or the floor in their shared hotel room. They also rely on her to take the lead on such stereotypically female tasks as cooking and cleaning.

Sam’s hiking companions are her father, Chris (James Le Gros, right), and his friend Matt (Danny McCarthy).

Sexual roles and outright sexism are understated themes here, but they’re not the only ones. An uncomfortable incident far into the journey forces Sam to question whether she can count on her father to be in her corner, or even to recognize what her corner is. It’s a sad, life-changing moment that filmmaker Donaldson delivers with her usual restraint.

Though the film is only 90 minutes long, its leisurely tempo might test some viewers’ patience. On the other hand, the pace allows us to enjoy the pristine Adirondak scenery, which is complemented by composer Celia Hollander’s evocative score.

More importantly, it allows us to appreciate Le Gros and McCarthy’s portrayals of two flawed but vulnerably human men, along with Collias’s portrayal of a young woman who is still on the cusp of adulthood and yet more mature than either of them.

Rating: 4 stars (out of 5)

Good One (rated R) can be seen in select markets and expands to theaters nationwide on Aug. 23.

Rapping their way toward Irish solidarity

Members of the Kneecap hip-hop band are (from left): Liam Og O’Hannaidh (stage name Mo Chara), JJ O’Dochartaigh (DJ Provai) and Naoise O’Carrolean (Moglai Bap). All play themselves in the new film Kneecap. (Photos courtesy of Sony Pictures)

By Richard Ades

Kneecap is a movie about Irish rappers who deliver their rhymes in their native Irish. As such, it can be a lot for American viewers to absorb, especially since it unfolds at a take-no-prisoners pace.

Once you get your bearings, though, writer/director Rich Peppiatt’s debut flick is a blast and a hoot.

The title refers to an actual Northern Ireland hip-hop band that took its name from the painful punishment often meted out by republican enforcers during the period of upheaval known as “The Troubles.” Set in 2019 or so, long after relative peace has arrived, the film purports to be the band’s origin story.

I say “purports” because Peppiatt’s clever script no doubt takes massive liberties with reality. If the story still has an air of authenticity, it’s partly because the band members all play themselves, and they do so with panache and conviction.

The trio’s founding members are Naoise O’Carrolean and Liam Og O’Hannaidh, lifelong friends who rap in their spare time but make their living selling drugs. The final member is JJ O’Dochartaigh, a bored music teacher who becomes involved with Naoise and Liam by pure chance.

But before that happens, a whirlwind prologue efficiently defines the characters and the divided society in which they live.

While Naoise is still a baby, his Catholic parents take him into the woods for a secret baptism ceremony, only to see it interrupted by a hovering military helicopter. Angry at the English- and Protestant-dominated government that he blames for curtailing his rights, the father, Arlo (Michael Fassbinder), becomes a republican activist and eventually fakes his own death to avoid being captured. This leaves Naoise virtually fatherless and forces his mother (Simone Kirby) to play the role of a grieving widow.

Liam is also affected, since Arlo has been a father figure to him. Like Naoise, he grows up into an angry young man who champions the Irish language as an act of rebellion.

Naoise O’Carrolean (left) has a rare meeting with his fugitive father, Arlo (Michael Fassbinder).

Meanwhile, JJ is plodding along, teaching students who don’t seem to be all that interested. When fate brings him into contact with two rappers who share his passion for music and the Irish language—and, it must be said, for drugs—he doesn’t need much prodding to join their band.

It’s a fascinating story, and writer/director Peppiatt tells it in an anarchic, wildly creative style that fits its subject. Watch for “sound waves” to be represented by squiggly lines, or for Irish rhymes to be translated in ever-changing fonts of lettering. And in one of several scenes of drug use, watch as the three hallucinating musicians suddenly morph into Claymation figures.

Raunchiness—in terms of language, nudity and sex—is another of the film’s defining elements. The sex scenes generally involve Liam and Georgia (Jessica Reynolds), the latest in a string of Protestant girlfriends. In an amusing twist, Liam always dates Protestant women because only they can stimulate the anger that apparently is needed to awaken his sex drive.

Though Kneecap takes on serious subjects, including the desire for Irish solidarity and the fight to make their native tongue an official language, the film seldom takes itself seriously. More often, it’s laugh-out-loud funny.

For a debut feature film—or any film, really—it’s quite an achievement.

Rating: 4 stars (out of 5)

Kneecap (rated R) opens Aug. 2 in theaters nationwide.

Survivors of conversion therapy tell their stories

Filmmaker Zach Meiners (right, in T-shirt) and former Mormon Elena Joy Thurston both underwent conversion therapy in an attempt to “cure” them of homosexuality. (Photos courtesy of Gravitas Ventures)

By Richard Ades

At the beginning of Conversion, a man tells the story of his first love—and first loss.

At 15, he had a boyfriend whose parents had put him through a doctor’s treatment program in an attempt to convert him to heterosexuality. After classmates discovered the two youths holding hands behind the school, the boyfriend said he was terrified that he’d be sent back into the program.

Later that night, he took his own life.

“Our love killed him,” the man remembers thinking at the time. But, of course, what really killed the boy was society’s problem with homosexuality, as well as the doctor’s attempt to “cure” him through what’s often called “conversion therapy.”

Though this practice is now widely condemned and even illegal in nearly half of U.S. states, thousands of LGBTQ people have been subjected to it down through the years. Three of them tell their stories in Zach Meiners’s new documentary.

One of them, in fact, is Meiners himself, who recalls that he first realized he was different from his male friends when puberty hit and they suddenly became interested in girls. Worried that others might discover he didn’t share their feelings, he started looking for ways to change himself.

Among his stranger experiences with conversion therapy were sessions with a therapist who demanded detailed accounts of his gay fantasies. Meiners eventually began to suspect the therapist was doing this for his own benefit rather than his client’s, as the man often became visibly aroused during their time together.

Dustin Rayburn is a conversion therapy survivor.

Other memories are shared by Dustin Rayburn, whose religious family blamed their child’s sexuality on a “gay demon”; and Elena Joy Thurston, who was a Mormon wife and mother when she realized she had lesbian longings. Though Rayburn and Thurston’s experiences with conversion therapy were very different, in each case someone wrongly tried to blame their gayness on sexual assaults they’d suffered as youths.

Conversion is a heartfelt effort to spread the word about a pseudoscience that has made life exponentially harder for thousands of young people and that has no doubt driven many to attempt suicide. If the film doesn’t have as much impact as it might, it’s partly because similar messages have been delivered by earlier efforts such as Gregory Caruso’s 2022 documentary of the same name and Joel Edgarton’s 2018 drama Boy Erased.

In addition, Meiner’s apparently limited budget shows at times, as when the same still images keep cropping up over and over. The film also weakens itself by occasionally lapsing into sappiness and by spending an inordinate amount of screen time interviewing a former advocate of conversion therapy.

The documentary regains its sense of purpose, however, when it warns that conversion therapy remains a threat. The phony science may disguise itself by using different names and terminology, we’re told, and it may hide in back channels of the internet, but it has never really gone away.

Rating: 3 stars (out of 5)

Conversion was released July 2 through VOD and cable outlets.

Dictator’s ploy traps migrants in deadly quagmire

Leila (Behi Djanati Atai, glasses) and other migrants find themselves at the mercy of hostile border guards. (Photos courtesy of Kino Lorber)

By Richard Ades

The life of a migrant is an unending battle for survival.   

That was the message delivered by 2023’s Io Capitano, the story of two Senegalese teens’ perilous attempt to reach Europe. And it’s a message that comes across even more terrifyingly in Agnieszka Holland’s Green Border.

The acclaimed director sets her tale in a specific time and place: the border between Poland and Belarus in 2021. The year is significant because that’s when Belarusian dictator Alexander Lukashenko encouraged desperate people from around the world to travel to his communist country, where they supposedly would be guaranteed safe passage to Poland and the rest of the European Union.

As the film opens, we meet several people who’ve taken advantage of Lukashenko’s offer by catching a flight to Belarus. Among them are Bashir and Amina (Jalal Altawil and Dalia Naous), a Syrian couple who are traveling with an older relative and three young children. There’s also Leila (Behi Djanati Atai), an Afghan teacher fleeing Taliban persecution.  

Upon landing in Belarus, the Syrians allow Leila to share their prearranged ride to the Polish border. Once there, however, they realize that Lukashenko’s promise of safe passage was a hoax. After being forced to pay a bribe, they’re shoved through an opening in the barbed wire that separates the two hostile countries and left alone in a thick Polish forest with night coming on.

A young migrant girl peers through the barbed wire that separates Poland from Belarus.

But the real shock comes the next day, when they’re discovered by border guards who load them onto a truck and send them back to Belarus.

It soon becomes clear that neither country wants them and that they’re stuck in a kind of limbo, repeatedly being forced back and forth across the barbed-wire frontier. All the while, they’re cheated, derided and even brutalized by the guards and others they encounter.

Basically, this is a horror film, but one that replaces jump scares and gore with an unflinching look at the cruelty ordinary people can inflict on others whom they’ve dismissed as enemies and less than human. In such cases, not even children, elders or pregnant women are deemed worthy of compassion.

Working from a script she co-wrote with Maciej Pisuk and Gabriela Lazarkiewicz, Holland also looks at the migrants’ nightmarish situation from two additional viewpoints. One is through the eyes of Jan (Tomasz Wlosok), a young border guard who’s soon to be a father.

While attending a lecture given by his gung-ho superior, Jan is told that many of the migrants are pedophiles and other deviants, and that all amount to “live bullets” aimed at Poland by the dictator Lukashenko and his Russian buddy, Vladimir Putin. Despite this appeal to prejudice and patriotism, Jan is obviously torn as he goes about a job that frequently offends his sense of decency.

A group of Polish activists search for migrants caught in the no-man’s land between their country and Belarus.

The final viewpoint belongs to a group of activists who work undercover to aid the migrants. A widowed psychotherapist named Julia (Maja Ostaszewska) soon joins them, but she’s dismayed by their ineffectiveness and ultimately decides to take matters into her own hands.

All of the characters are portrayed with discipline and conviction by the cast, whose efforts are complemented by Tomasz Naumiuk’s black-and-white cinematography and Frederic Vercheval’s subtly expressive score.

Eventually, the stories of the migrants and others coalesce in ways that inject slivers of hope into the 2½-hour film. Otherwise, director/co-writer Holland offers few reasons for optimism about the plight of migrants in Europe or anywhere else.

Instead, she suggests that as long as governments can score political points by categorizing these desperate people as a subhuman threat, their suffering will continue.

Rating: 4½ stars (out of 5)

Green Border can be seen at select theaters, with more openings scheduled in the coming weeks. Columbus screenings are scheduled at 7 p.m. Friday, June 28 and 1 p.m. Saturday, June 29 at the Wexner Center for the Arts, and beginning July 5 at the Gateway Film Center. VOD screenings begin Aug. 20.

Decades later, ‘The Lion King’ still roars

The Lion King begins with “The Circle of Life,” which celebrates the birth of King Mufasa’s son, Simba. (Photo by Matthew Murphy; photos courtesy of Disney)  

By Richard Ades

It was almost exactly 20 years ago that I first saw the onstage version of The Lion King. After seeing it again last week, I looked up my review of that earlier production and realized it applies equally well to the current touring show.

That says a lot for the quality of the new production and for the timelessness of director Julie Taymor’s vision. The Lion King could have been just another Disney cartoon adapted for the stage, but Taymor employed African-inspired costumes, masks, puppetry and dance moves and turned it into a cultural phenomenon.

For her efforts, in 1998 Taymor became the first woman to win the Tony Award for best direction of a musical. In addition, the original Broadway production won well-deserved Tonys for scenic design (Richard Hudson), costume design (Taymor), lighting design (Donald Holder) and choreography (Garth Fagan) as well as the overall award for best musical.

Though the beautiful music and lyrics by Elton John and Tim Rice (and others) did not win a Tony, they contribute to the show’s groundbreaking character, starting with the fact that some of the key lyrics are in Swahili.

Maybe it’s less surprising that the book by Roger Allers and Irene Mecchi was Tony-less, as the story is simple and predictable: A majestic lion rules wisely over his kingdom until a jealous brother engineers his demise, after which the monarch’s young son must decide whether to fight for justice and his position as the rightful heir.  

It’s a tale as old as time—or at least as old as Hamlet. What makes it compelling is the show’s spirit and style, as delivered by a committed cast of fine actors, singers and dancers.

Cheetahs and giraffes are among the animals creatively portrayed with the help of life-size puppets. (Photo by Joan Marcus)

Major figures in the current touring show are Gerald Ramsey as the noble King Mufasa; Peter Hargrave as his villainous brother, Scar; Nick LaMedica as Mufasa’s hornbill steward, Zazu; Darian Sanders as the grownup version of the prince, Simba; and Khalifa White as Simba’s friend, Nala.

Appearing in alternate performances as the younger versions of the latter two characters are Bryce Christian Thompson and Julian Villela as Simba, and Ritisha Chakraborty and Leela Chopra as Nala.

Finally, special mention must be made of Mukelisiwe Goba as Rafiki, the all-seeing mandrill (or is she a baboon?) who serves as viewers’ guide and narrator. When she gets things started with her full-throated rendition of “The Circle of Life,” we know this iconic show is in good hands.

As it was from the beginning, thanks to Julie Taymor.

P.S. Danya Taymor followed in her aunt’s footsteps Sunday by winning the Tony Award for best direction of a musical (The Outsiders, which also won for best musical). Obviously, talent runs in the family.

CAPA and Broadway in Columbus will present The Lion King through July 7 at the Ohio Theatre, 39 E. State St., Columbus. Showtimes are 7:30 p.m. Tuesdays-Thursdays (except July 4), 8 p.m. Fridays, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sundays, plus 2 p.m. June 20, 7:30 p.m. July 1 and 1 p.m. July 4. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes (including intermission). For ticket information, visit columbus.broadway.com. For information on future tour stops, visit lionking.com/tour/.