I rarely let "influence" dictate my choices, ideas, on artistic (or any) matters, not because my taste is superior, but if I've learned anything in my six plus decades on Planet Earth, it's that I'm a freak with unpredictable tastes but they are MY tastes. Sometimes people agree, often they don't, mostl I don't care. Mostly.
It was with some hesitation that I approached this morning's film assignment CHA CHA REAL SMOOTH. I knew it was a hit at Sundance, but heard that critics were torching it. I gave it ago. I loved it. I loved it a lot.
Perhaps I fell for something that isn't there? Maybe. I felt it was a "shiny, glossy, Hollwoodish Indie" and then realized there was a lot more underneath it all. I wasn't surprised when all the leading critics dismissed it as having "nothing to say," because - and this is just me stabbing my way through the dark here - it wasn't dark or moody enough to be "art" which is mostly what a lot of critics seem to want. Not art as I or "real people" see it, but as they FEEL it should be. No, there is nothing earth shattering, no wars, no real racial issues or climate change, political positing, none of the hot button issues, and no superheroes or serial killers.
At the center of its very big heart it's about Andrew, a savvy, likeable 22 year old post college kid stuck in the worst job possible, (if you must know, he sells meat on a stick in a shopping mall, which I'm certain is a metaphor for SOMETHING), who falls into a sort-of career as a "party starter" for local Bar and Bat Mitvahs. At his first event, he falls for Domino, an unattainable older, beautiful, sad woman and her teenage autistic daughter, Lola. A bond forms between the three that pretty much anchors everything that is to come in the rest of the film. He makes the most of life despite sharing a small room with little brother, David in the home of his mom who he adores, and his step-dad who he antagonizes. In that small, self-contained world and through, essentially, just these characters, we deal with bulllies, love, misplaced feelings, pity, kindness, friendship, family heartbreak and self-discovery. Not in big, profound Shakespearean statements, but in gentle, wry, smile-inducing acts and moments.
Cooper Raif, director, writer and star of the film,delivers the goods like a gently wrapped present, his actors bringing their characters to life in subtle performances that - TO ME - made them believable, real. I kind of fell in love with everyone in this film. That is never a requirement for me but I won't deny that when it DOES happen, it feels good. Like I do right now.
As Domino, Dakota Johnson is the walking epitome of the beautifully damaged woman. Abandoned teenage bride and mother of a special needs child, she is "the outsider." By default so is Lola, a magnificently touching performance by first timer Vanessa Burghardt who is autistic-neurodivergent in real life. Try not to fall in love with this kid. Or her mom. I dare you.
I cannot ignore, however, what the big time critics are calling a disaster. Here's a few blurbs I could not possibly disagree with more. All seeming to have one thing in common (more on that after the blurbs):
" (Raiff is) the dim star at the center of this small, bland world (he) bring(s) to mind the British actor David Tennant if David Tennant were a slobbering puppy. Derivative and unpersuasive ... filled with stylistic clichés . . . cardboard characters, silly dialogue and absurd narrative contrivances, (scenes) that never make sense; but, . . . neither does most of the movie." (NY TIMES)
"(At 24) Raiff has the potential to turn into one of the pre-eminent cinematic irritants of the next decade." (Guardian)
"Director, star Cooper Raif seems to love his characters, but none so much as himself. It's unnerving to see the radiant close-ups of his characters until you realize they're beaming at him with adoration, an adoration he clearly shares."
All of these - and more, share a strong contempt for the young director/star that seems born of - I don't know what (I really don't. Jealousy? Maybe/maybe not.)
Christy Lemire for Roger Ebert Reviews nailed it (I think) in one of the few positive reviews I've read.
Raiff is likable and often hilarious, but he's also in every single scene, so one could imagine that his idiosyncratic sense of humor might eventually become grating to some viewers."
That, for me, really hits it. It also shows how shitty so many critics are, because clearly, this twenty something filmmaker has potential, is learning and in only his second feature shows promise and THAT is something I feel should not be dismissed, but has been in nearly every review.
Lemire also notes some of the films flaws, but never in the condescending "why is this dope allowed to make movies" fashion. And, again, she punctuates her review with that bit of promise all movie lovers should feel joy with.
"Raiff’s ambition to break free from sentimental formula and forge a path of his own is clear, making him an exciting young filmmaker to watch."
That's what I'M talkin' 'bout. Oh, yeah. I probably should've prefaced all this with ANY movie that features a bunch of white people dancing to Funky Town is probably gonna be something I like.
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