Spontaneous
After recent stressful chaos and given the slow and measured vaccine distribution, it seems like we’re going to need to keep treading water emotionally and socially in the way we’ve been (hopefully) getting better at for a while longer. This week’s streaming offerings are all really good and will stoke up your personal supply of endorphins. Good art really does help in times of crisis. Look back at past issues of the Scene for more streaming recommendations: March 26, April 2, April 9, April 16, April 23, April 30, May 7, May 14, May 21, May 28, June 4, June 11, June 18, June 25, July 2, July 9, July 16, July 23, July 30, Aug. 6, Aug. 13, Aug. 20, Aug. 27, Sept. 3, Sept. 10, Sept. 17, Sept. 24, Oct. 1, Oct. 15, Oct. 29, Nov. 5, Nov. 11, Nov. 26, Dec. 3, Dec. 17, Jan. 6.
Spontaneous on Amazon Prime
After this film made such a showing in the Scene’s annual Jim Ridley Film Poll, I felt honorbound to check it out. I still can’t confirm whether or not this played at the Stardust and/or the Montana when it opened at drive-ins throughout the country back in early October, but if it did then I certainly dropped the ball — because Spontaneous is exactly the kind of gem that just sneaks up and surprises you sometimes. Our main characters parsing the erotic undertones of a Leonard Cohen song at a memorial assembly does precisely that, and that’s within the first 10 minutes. As far as teen films go, I would put this up there with Rock ’n’ Roll High School, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Heathers, Clueless and Mean Girls. But like those films, Spontaneous transcends the designation of “teen film” because it digs deep into operatic emotions that any adult can relate to as well — but it’s not trying to impress any of us. Like that pantheon, it’s speaking to the current moment first and foremost. And as a series of spontaneous explosions plagues Covington High School’s senior class, the medical terror, scientific curiosity and deep-seated uncertainty of every breath that you take just feels more and more relevant. And resonant. And by about 20 minutes in, just keep your hands inside the ride because turns are precarious and you can’t see where this track is going. Writer/director Brian Duffield was having quite a year before the plague hit, and the 1-2-3 punch of Underwater, Love and Monsters and now Spontaneous (he wrote the first two films as well) is a remarkable trio of humanity on the edge — though this film sadly does not feature aquatic monsters. A versatile metaphor for school shooters, the pandemic, the expectations of others, the academic/student-loan industrial complex, and the dashed expectations of movie-fed imaginations, this is a very special film, and you should check it out. A tip of the hat to the poll contributors who brought this one to my attention.
The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot on Hulu
A remarkably evolved dad movie that manages to have its cake and eat it too, this is a showcase for Sam Elliott (and Aidan Turner as a younger version of the character) that treads delicately around iconography and could go horribly awry at any moment but that never wavers. Writer/director Robert Krzykowski crafts a stoic, inventive story that never lets its fantastical elements take supremacy over its austere and reserved tone. While that diminishes a lot of the thrills one might expect from a title like The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot, it yields tremendous dividends and keeps the focus on the character of Calvin Barr and what he does. A pleasant surprise.
Her Socialist Smile
Her Socialist Smile via the National Gallery of Art
One of the triumphs of the fall’s New York Film Festival, documentary Her Socialist Smile from John Gianvito (Profit Motive and the Whispering Wind) is devoted to Helen Keller. But this is not the Keller sold to elementary school students as an inspiration both for the disabled community and for humanity in general, a deaf and blind little girl whose tireless work with her teacher Anne Sullivan led to the perennial play and film The Miracle Worker. Gianvito focuses on Keller’s work as an adult, when as an inspirational speaker and writer she addressed issues of social justice and inequality all over the world. A devoted socialist with a sharp wit and an unwillingness to suffer the illogic of fools, racists and capitalists, Keller never stopped telling the world about itself. A lot of this is elided or omitted in the history books kids are given, because a verbally precise left-winger who can’t be bribed makes dominant power structures very, very nervous. Just know that this avant-garde documentary is incredibly educational and deeply funny. Any teachers looking for some vibrant and informative viewing for their students should check this out — currently streaming for free via the National Gallery of Art (apparently because there are many people who can’t process that Keller was a real woman). So saddle up for something unusual, and get ready to learn a lot of American history that gets left out of even the footnotes.
Upload
Upload on Amazon Prime
A gift to the deeply frazzled mind, the 10 episodes of this show from Greg Daniels helped dissipate some of the stomach-acid-chugging anxiety I developed after the attempted coup on Jan. 6. Set 12 years in the future, Upload extrapolates where we’re headed and blends genres effortlessly, succeeding as bawdy comedy of manners, sci-fi romance and captivating mystery. Uploading is the first step in humanity conquering death, as people can have their neural pathways scanned into a vast virtual space that allows them to “live” even after the death of their bodies. But in that way that we never learn from past mistakes, we not only carry economic and social stratification with us, we’ve built it into the next step in our evolution. Competing companies battle for your data, with your data being your soul. And after an accident kills coder/developer Nathan Brown (Robbie Amell), he’s got to navigate a whole new way of living as well as solve the circumstances behind his own death. Romantic complications ensue as the now-virtual Nathan is tied to his earthly girlfriend Ingrid as well as Nora (musician and Prince protegé Andy Allo), his digital customer-service representative. Nimble at satirizing the worst aspects of the gig economy and how tech disruption can be a crapshoot between innovation and catastrophe, this is a well-paced and captivating slice of the human experience (plus Cigarette Smoking Man from The X-Files and a soupçon of Matt Braunger). I’m glad there’s a second season coming. And I say that as someone who was never taken in by The Office in either incarnation.


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