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2/22/2023 0 Comments tulsa king (season 1) “Don’t leave town, Mr. Manfredi.”
“Who the fuck would want to leave this paradise?” There’s one very good reason to watch Tulsa King, the new series streaming on Paramount+, and that’s its iconic star, Sylvester Stallone. At 76, the venerable screen legend and longtime action hero wears his age impressively well, having lost almost none of his swagger, charm, or granite-like physical presence - if anything, his acting has more of a natural, charismatic ease than ever before. Sly may be known as the Italian Stallion, but he has a lot more in common with fine Italian wine these days. Which is a good thing, because the actual show that’s been erected around him is a relatively unambitious and old-fashioned fish-out-of-water comedy - the sort of series you might have found on a network like A&E over a decade ago (or possibly USA during its “blue sky” era). Sly plays mob capo Dwight “The General” Manfredi, who finishes up a 25-year stint in prison… only to learn, in spite of his loyalty, the New York-based Invernizzi family prefers him out of the way and that he’s effectively being exiled to Oklahoma, of all places (if this sounds an awful lot like the plot to Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, right down to Dwight assembling a makeshift crew and starting to build his own criminal empire, well… you’re not wrong). Dwight’s allies include Uber driver Tyson (Jay Will); weed dispensary proprietor Bodhi (Martin Starr); ex-Invernizzi soldier turned ranch hand Armand (Max Casella); and bar & grill owner Mitch (Garrett Hedlund - once playing the lead in studio blockbusters like Tron: Legacy, now 6th or 7th on the call sheet for a relatively middle-of-the-road streaming series. Such is life). The early episodes lean heavily on middling culture shock gags - Dwight trying to get the hang of the apps on his smartphone, and learning the hard way that no one deals in cash anymore - that don’t always gel with the corrosive streak coursing through the show’s bulging veins. Creator Taylor Sheridan (Yellowstone) has built his lucrative brand largely on red state appeal, reflected in his portraits of old-school masculinity. Dwight puts his stamp on Tulsa like the bull in the proverbial china shop, and most problems are solved by bruising a few knuckles, snapping a few fingers, or twisting a few limbs at unnatural angles. It might border on the distasteful (or, at the very least, come across as ploddingly crass) if it were literally any other actor… but Stallone’s appeal is like armored plating; you can’t even dent it. Soon after arrival, Dwight strikes sparks with a woman named Stacy (Andrea Savage) and not long after they tumble into the sack, we learn she works as an ATF agent - one of several plot contrivances that give off the acrid whiff of mothballs. To be fair, some of the character work is effective (Jay Will is particularly good as a wannabe hustler whose confliction between his real-life father and his new boss/father figure is nonetheless profound). But Dwight’s feud with a local biker gang supplies mostly perfunctory conflict (in spite of Ritchie Coster’s snarling performance as their ringleader)… while his disintegrating relations with the Invernizzi family - specifically the Don’s underboss son Chickie (The Wire’s Domenick Lombardozzi) - are generally kept simmering for next season. Tulsa King offers a measure of untaxing, red-blooded entertainment in appreciably tight packaging (the majority of episodes run a refreshing 36-38 minutes), even if it’s as rough-hewn as its protagonist. Otherwise, the show’s attraction basically begins and ends with its star. After all, Tulsa isn’t the most enticing of destinations, but Stallone manages to keep each visit lively enough.
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2/12/2023 0 Comments willow (season 1) Chances are, if you were between the ages of 7 and 12 in 1988, then you have a certain degree of residual affection for the Ron Howard-directed/George Lucas-concocted fantasy-adventure Willow. And if you’re literally any other age, you probably couldn’t care less about it. Which perhaps makes it a dubious choice for the full-blown Disney Plus treatment (social media buzz since its release has been seemingly nonexistent), but - as someone who, in fact, was nine-years-old in 1988 (right in the sweet spot), and briefly considered Willow the greatest movie ever made (at least until Who Framed Roger Rabbit released a month later) - it really wouldn’t do to look this long-awaited gift horse in the mouth. The faithful (such as they are) have been waiting over 30 years for this.
Willow represents a welcome throwback to the days when the fantasy genre marshaled its imaginative powers in the name of escapist fun (as opposed to the freighted self-seriousness of Lord of the Rings, or pseudo-fantasy historical fiction like Game of Thrones). The series, however, proves an ongoing struggle between heart and head… ripe with nostalgia, yet rickety in execution. Picking up 17 years after the film, Sorsha (the returning Joanne Whalley) now rules as Queen over the peaceful kingdom of Tir Asleen, where her biggest headache is her twin children - playboy prince Airk (Dempsey Bryk) and his sister Kit (Ruby Cruz), who, as is so often the case, is far more interested in fighting and adventuring than being a proper princess. The idyll is short-lived. A surprise attack initiated by the minions of the Withered Crone (member of a taboo cult called The Order of the Wyrm and the greater evil who Queen Bavmorda was supposedly in thrall to all along) results in Airk being abducted and Kit launching a rescue mission alongside the Nelwyn sorcerer Willow (Warwick Davis). Rounding out their ragtag fellowship are Kit’s best friend and knight-in-training Jade (Erin Kellyman) and her milquetoast would-be fiance Graydon (Tony Revolori), charismatic mercenary-thief Boorman (Amar Chadha-Patel), and kitchen maid Dove (Ellie Bamber), who’s Airk’s beloved… and perhaps *more* than just a simple kitchen maid (okay, since there’s no way to dance around this - SPOILERS - she’s actually Elora Danan, the child-of-prophecy from the film, now all grown-up and both very blond and very photogenic. Her identity is revealed at the end of the pilot, and frankly should be obvious to anyone within five minutes). The most troubling aspect of the series - and the narrative aqueduct from which all other issues seem to flow - is its approach to Willow himself. The writers (led by showrunner Jonathan Kasdan) were clearly influenced by a certain other Lucasfilm production - The Last Jedi - which also grappled (controversially) with the quandary of how to revisit an iconic character who’s already completed his “hero’s journey.” But the thinking is needlessly complicated. Rather than simply allowing Willow to assume his natural place as the group’s Gandalf/Obi-Wan Kenobi, he’s presented instead as an awkward hybrid of wise sage and bumbling charlatan. He now serves as his village’s High Aldwin (a position that functions a lot more like a Catskills MC than it did in the movie), but we learn he had a falling out with Sorsha after she told him bluntly he wasn’t skilled enough to oversee Elora’s training… and it would seem he never much evolved beyond a parlor trick magician (so much for Fin Raziel’s vote of confidence… though his actual abilities seem to expand and contract in accordance with the needs of the plot). As an actor, Warwick Davis has a fine, self-deprecating touch - as anyone who saw his HBO series Life’s Too Short can attest - but the dry-wit has a tendency to undercut the dramatic texture (in general, the humor often dominates rather than augments). The show also repeatedly stresses that Willow’s victory over Bavmorda was, at best, a feat of dumb luck… which is a shocking and inexplicable betrayal of the film (in which Willow clearly triumphs through heart, courage and ingenuity). Then there’s the unfortunate elephant in the room, which is the absence of Madmartigan - the charismatic swordslinger played by a bursting-into-stardom Val Kilmer back in 1988. The character reportedly disappeared years earlier - for reasons never fully elucidated - and there’s something weird about how the show keeps teasing a potential return that - given Kilmer’s real life health issues - we know isn’t coming. But then so much of the plotting is the equivalent of a narrative sand castle - impressively erected at first glance, but fragile, easily kicked over, prone to sudden crumbling. What holds it together is the cast. All six leads are outstanding, and their collective chemistry as a group is potent narrative fuel. Kellyman - who previously played the villain in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier - is a particularly distinctive actress; she partners well with Cruz, who has all the attributes of a great fantasy heroine (in light of those who rage over Disney foisting its so-called “woke agenda” on established properties, electing to romantically entwine the daughters of Madmartigan and General Kael is an absolute chef’s kiss - no notes). Chadha-Patel’s scene-stealing Boorman, meanwhile, is the latest in a proud tradition of disreputable ruffians who maybe aren’t quite so disreputable when push comes to shove. Willow’s lively pace keeps the adventure rollicking from one danger to the next, and the fan service frequently elicits tingles of childlike glee (a return to Bavmorda’s castle Nockmaar is accompanied by an episode-closing needle drop that’s so astoundingly perfect, it’s impossible not to be left buzzing). But the narrative tripwires are extensive. The show correctly recognizes that Elora has far too much potential as a character to be relegated to a common damsel-in-distress… but Airk is an awkward substitute and the quest is consequently lacking in emotional gravitas (he’s not a bad guy, but he’s callow; the more Elora evolves, the less worthy he feels as the waiting prize). Part of the issue is world-building that feels convoluted and oddly inorganic - a byproduct, perhaps, of the original Willow’s mythology not really being conceived to sustain more than a feature film. In the end, the big climactic moments - Elora leveling up as a sorceress, Kit wielding Madmartigan’s sword - still manage to land, albeit with a bit of a wobble. Of course, a post-credits scene reveals that these were the events of just the first of three existing volumes of “The Book of Willow.” There’s still plenty of time to iron out the show’s narrative kinks… provided Disney is willing to continue indulging this very concentrated subsection of viewers reliving their childhood dreams. |
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