The Three Stooges (2012)

It's a little late for April Fool's Day, but here's a legit review of the Farrelly Bros' take on "The Three Stooges" (Legit'!)

Written at the time of the film's dropping like an anvil on the head ("Why, I oughta....")

Going Through a Series of Stooges
or
A Reboot Right in the Keister

Last week, a Catholic bishop made headlines by comparing President Obama to Hitler (one suspects for the mandate that birth control—a Catholic "no-no"—be provided as part of health care, instead of only God being allowed to service the reproductive equipment) and beating his breast over "the culture war against the Catholic Church."  

"Why, I oughta..."

Two things: Any recent problems the Papists have had lately, they've brought on themselves (and frankly, some of those priests should be practicing birth control);* and, it's funny that he's invoking Hitler now, when his Church took a virtual vow of silence on Der Fuerher during the Second World War, during what was a real flesh-and-blood religious war and not some fantasy "culture war."  That argument does not hold holy water, which one is starting to suspect is made up of crocodile tears.

But...wait.  After seeing The Three Stooges,** one might concede the bishop a point or two...right in the eye-balls. The plot concerns the new version of the Stooges ("Moe"=Chris Diamantopoulos, "Larry"=Sean Hayes, "Curly"=Will Sasso) trying to raise money for the orphanage they grew up in (shades of The Blues Brothers). The boys are left there as infants and grow up to be complete idiots (while the nuns age not a day***).

The nuns include Jane Lynch (unfortunately, dialed down from her potential), Jennifer Hudson, Kate Upton (Sports Illustrated's latest bikini cover-girl), and...Larry David (as Sister Mary-Mengele). It's a small shock to see David in the role, but apt, as he (she?) gets the lion's share of the abuse from the boys (and after years of cringing at David's antics on "Curb Your Enthusiasm" a little cathartic), but once the plot gets going, the hi- and lo-jinks get spread out for all sorts of guest stars, including Stephen Collins, Sofia Vergara, and the cast of "Jersey Shore" (also particularly satisfying, when "Moe" briefly joins and abuses the cast). The film is divided into three episodes that eventually come together at the end. It works, and surprisingly well, as the Farrelly brothers are fans enough not to mess with what worked in the past (and, of course, made them fans).

"Nng-yaaangh-yangghn!"

This director team is hit or miss for me. They can "work" (as in the anarchic There's Something About Mary) or not (Dumb and Dumber, where I didn't laugh once and kept checking my watch). But, this one clicks along at a good pace, generated by the facile performances of Hayes, Fasso and Diamantopoulos. The brothers are very aware that this one will be mostly for kids—their other PG-rated film was Osmosis Jones—and there's even a post-script (by Faux-Farrelly's) warning youngsters "don't try this at home" and showing how eye-pokes are done and the rubber hammers props. So, this is a diluted version of what they could have done with it, and one can only imagine how much further they could take it.

"Nng-yaaagh-yangghn!"

But then, one wonders what would have happened if the original casting had gone through: Jim Carrey as "Curly," Sean Penn as "Larry," and Benicio Del Toro as "Moe." All fell through for one reason or another. "Creative differences," maybe. Gee. Ya think? With those three involved, things might have been a bit more socially-oriented—having The Stooges involved in the banking industry, or maybe involved with the initial Hurricane Katrina response. But, I'd like to think that a great comedic vehicle ripe with with possibilities would be the one place they might naturally fit in—Congress. "Soitanly!"

"Helloooooo"

         "Helloooooo" 

                        "Helloooooo"

The original Larry Fine, Moe Howard, and Curly Howard (Rest in Pieces)

* I'm a recovering Catholic, by the way, take that for what you will.

**  Should we be calling it "Three Stooges 2.0?"  Or after the "Shemp" and "Curly Joe" years, is "Three Stooges 4.0" more accurate.  At what Stooge are we?)

*** This is a quibble and thinking WAY too hard for a Stooges movie—any Stooges movie—and that is one thing the Farrelly brothers do really well here: keep the comedy simple and stupid, on the order of the comedy era in which the originals wreaked havoc.  There's always a tendency in remakes and re-boots to complicate matters, as if to legitimize it in some way.  Not here.  You can't take this stuff seriously in any way, shape or form.  But, the sheer visceral joy of the Stooges is amped up slightly, matching the already precise vaudevillian timing of the first Stooges.

Respect

re: 'Re

or

Tell You What She Means To Me...

 

There had been an Aretha Franklin bio-pic in the works for some time, and it was inevitable with the successes of Ray, Walk the Line, Get On Up, Bohemian Rhapsody, and Rocketman. Supposedly, Franklin didn't mind the project and did some work approving it before her death in 2018. It's debut last Christmas was delayed by the Corona virus pandemic and it managed to make its debut on-screens near the anniversary of her passing.

 

It is expecting too much for the resulting movie, Respect, to do her justice. Franklin was an original, one of those barrier-breakers who created a genre by doing her own thing, galvanizing the music of the past and sending it soaring into the future, doing it her way, not just as a stylist, but as a creator. An established song in Aretha's guardianship became something else entirely, almost unrecognizable from the source. She had a fierce discipline in the studio, and an evangelical core of inspiration and expression. 

And her voice was powerful, scarily rafter-shaking. When Luciano Pavarotti called in to The Emmy's one year, pleading illness, it should have come as no surprise that Franklin, as a last-minute replacement, would knock it out of the theater (and probably cure Pavarotti's cold, as well!)—one can see that performance in one of the clips provided below. She was the Queen of Soul, in a time when jazz and gospel greats were still around to say "Amen." And probably "Hallelujah!"

The first scene sets the stage. The Rev C.L.Franklin (Forest Whittaker) wakes up a 10 year old Aretha (Skye Dakota Turner) to tell her she's supposed to sing for his party guests. As she makes her way to the living room, she waves to her Dad's acquaintances, "Hi, Mr. Tatum!" "Hi, Uncle Duke!" "Hi, Aunt Ella!" "Hi, Uncle Sam!" Hey, no pressure, kid. But, she manages to belt out her song impressing the luminaries. Aretha and her sisters live with their father and grandmother in Detroit, while their Mother (Audra McDonald) lives apart. Aretha lives for those visits with her mother, who counsels her to never let any man control her, that she never has to sing if she doesn't want to, or speak if she doesn't want to.

Whether her mother ever spoke those words is a matter of conjecture, but they might be a dramatic contrivance as Aretha, once her Mother has passed, stops speaking, stops singing (until counseled by Rev. James Cleveland—played by Tituss Burgess—that "music will save your life!"), and is victimized by a pedophile-friend of her father's, resulting in her first pregnancy at the age of 12. Then, her father starts using her in his services and she begins to sing during events for the Rev. King. At this point, we have a confused young woman torn between her gifts and others' desires to control them, which frustrates her and makes her succumb to "her demons." Such as taking up with bad-boys, like her first husband and eventual manager Ted White (Marlon Wayans), much against her father's wishes. It will be a contentious marriage with physical abuse and a wrestling match over crowing rights when she becomes a success.

But, that success doesn't come quickly enough for Aretha, who is grateful to be signed with Columbia Record (Tate Donovan plays producer John Hammond, and rather unctuously), but spins out four records of standards without a hit—the frustration is palpable as she is separated in her vocal booth from a studio full of white orchestra men. A dust-up at a club performance by a hacked-off Dinah Washington (Mary J. Blige in full dudgeonous diva mode), who suspects Franklin of riding her coat-tails and wasting her own talent, has her making a move (through the machinations of White) to Atlantic Records and producer Jerry Wexler (Marc Maron—priceless), who is willing to give her just enough leverage for her to sign.

But, rather than record in New York, as she's used to, Wexler takes her to Muscles Shoals, Alabama, with a motley crew of white musicians with attitude, where tensions run a little high, but Franklin starts getting the sound she wants. She starts to chart and as her star rises, so does White's desire to be seen as the genius behind the sound.

There have been enough of these "rock-star biographies" that one could walk in with a list of check-boxes and start marking them off—professional jealousy, bad partner, shady managers, unfulfilling success, going off the rails, substance abuse (with stage fall), and revelation followed by redemption. One wishes that the scripts emphasis on Aretha seeking love and approval might make it unique, but that's about every music-biography through-line (whether "based on a true story" or fictional) that's ever been done. I told a friend that I'd seen Respect and the reply was "Isn't that the Tina Turner story?" and after a beat, said "Well, actually, yes...yes it is!"

 

The only difference is we're talking about Aretha flippin' Franklin, and the talent that can't be denied, and however familiar the trail, that is still one mountainous talent that one has to try and duplicate.

It's got to be a daunting task to play Aretha Franklin, but Jennifer Hudson is up to it. You can quibble with the sound (maybe, but, jeez' she's as close as you can come), and she's got Franklin's speaking voice and demeanor down. It's like director John Milius said about casting Arnold Schwarzenegger for Conan the Barbarian: "If we didn't use him, we'd have to BUILD one!" That's how tough it is. Franklin's in our shared musical DNA—one of the voices in our collective heads. Doing an imitation will get you through a song, but not a full-length movie, and Hudson barrels her way through it and does the hardest work with her eyes. Look, if Rami Malik can win an Oscar for Freddie Mercury, Hudson should be a sure thing for this performance, both acting AND singing an indomitable role. Let's just give it to her NOW.

And now, Aretha Franklin...