Digital Week – February 13

Writer-director Cord Jefferson’s often savagely funny satire of how deeply racism is embedded in the American psyche, based on Percival Everett’s 2001 novel, “Erasure,” explores the many ramifications of frustrated author Thelonious “Monk” Ellison’s transparent attempt to write a banal novel that white publishers and audiences will lap up as “authentically Black”—and is disgusted when it becomes a major phenomenon. The film also tenderly chronicles Monk’s dysfunctional family, and these scenes, playing off the sardonic episodes, provide its heft. The magisterial acting comprises Jeffrey Wright’s towering portrayal of Ellison, Sterling K. Brown’s wounded brother Cliff and a fabulous female quartet: Tracee Ellis Ross (Monk’s sister Lisa), Issa Rae (successful author Sintara Golden), Erika Alexander (Monk’s love interest Coralie) and the ageless Leslie Uggams (the family matriarch Agnes).

Ennio Morricone, the great Italian film composer, is the subject of Giuseppe Tornatore’s loving 2-1/2 hour glimpse at the incredible career of a musical artist who worked with many different directors—including Sergio Leone, Marco Bellocchio, Bernardo Bertolucci, Roland Joffe and Tornatore himself, for whom Morricone composed the score of the international breakthrough, Cinema Paradiso—and in many different styles, from conservative to postmodern; it’s exhilarating to simply watch Morricone discuss his music so casually and so charmingly. Of course, Ennio is also crammed with paeans from adoring colleagues and admirers, including Bellocchio, Clint Eastwood, Oliver Stone, Pat Metheny, Hans Zimmer and even Bruce Springsteen.

In director-cowriter Lucie Borleteau’s intriguingly off-kilter character study, Manon, a young woman, starts performing at a Parisian strip club under a new name: Aurora. While working there, she becomes very close to Mia, one of the place’s star attractions, and finds herself falling in love, confusing the issue for herself, Mia and Mia’s boyfriend. Borleateau paints a dramatically effective portrait of the grimy milieu in which these people interact, making it much more than a spectacle of the flesh—although it succeeds at that too. In the leads, both Louise Chevillotte (Manon/Aurora) and Zita Hanrot (Mia) given complexly layered performances.

Nominated for best international film at this year’s Oscars, Wim Wenders’ sensitively directed feature follows Hirayama, a Tokyo public-bathroom cleaner, in his quotidian activities and daily interactions whether his usual routines or occurrences that shake him out of his comfort zone. It may seem prosaic, but Wenders has made one of his best and most persuasively understated character studies, centered by Kôji Yakusho’s exquisitely low-key portrayal of Hirayama, who has a slightly bemused look on his face no matter how absurd or offbeat things become.

Culinary eroticism—a better euphemism than food porn—is at the heart of Vietnamese director Tran Anh Hung’s film, set in 1885 at a rural French chateau, that explores the relationship of a wealthy epicure, Dodin, and his beloved cook for two decades, Eugénie. Hung—who won best director at last year’s Cannes Film Festival—and his expert cinematographer, Jonathan Ricquebourg, linger over Eugénie or Dodin making meals, ther camera roving about the kitchen trying to catch every detail…and the viewer can almost savor the aromas. As Eugénie and Dodin, Juliette Binoche and Benoît Magimel are beautifully restrained; they may not create conventional sparks but that doesn’t mean there’s a lack of chemistry. Rather, the joy in their lives comes from subtle moments like culinary creations and not overt emotion. The same could be said of the movie itself, whose subtext is largely “food is love,” which isn’t very illuminating. But a marvelous ending links past and present satisfyingly, as Eugénie finally gets the final word.

In this bizarre but surprisingly dull horror flick, Chrissy Metz (“This Is Us”) plays Faith, a nurse who keeps her daughter (named Charm, of course) uncomfortably numbed by methadone—soon they both find themselves battling, first, a few dumb intruders and, later, an lethal entity that is both figurative and literal. First-time feature director Damien LeVeck tries to make this into something quiet and subtle early on, but Shannon Wells’ flimsy script doesn’t help out, so the geysers of blood and monster appearances pop up at regular intervals to try and save face. The elaborate effects and creature design by master Tate Steinsiek help overcome the undercooked addiction theme. There’s an excellent hi-def transfer.

The final season of this breezy reboot of another beloved TV series consists of 20 episodes that highlight the entertaining interplay of actors Jay Hernandez and Perdita Weeks, whose portrayals of the investigators (and couple) Thomas Magnum and Juliet Higgins make these familiar tales of crime-solving in visually stunning Hawaiian locales pleasurable. Extras on the five-disc set are deleted scenes. The complete series set, which comprises 24 discs holding all of the five seasons’ 96 episodes, includes more than two hours of special features, including on-set featurettes, a “Hawaii Five-O” crossover episode, deleted/extended scenes and gag reels.