MOVIE REVIEWS
`Summerland'
Not rated, 100 minutes, HHH H
“Summerland” might look like something you've seen before: A scenic story about a schoolchild who must leave London during the war and take up shelter with a reluctant caregiver. But while it is comfortingly familiar in many ways, and a little cliche and overwrought in others, it also has a modern edge and bite to it that keeps it novel enough to sustain interest.
That modernity is credit to writer-director Jessica Swale, a British theater director and playwright, who with “Summerland” makes a noteworthy entry into the world of film. With well-drawn characters and a surprising scope, the story feels like it's been adapted from a novel (a compliment). And along with cinematographer Laurie Rose, “Summerland” captures three eras in a small seaside town with breathtaking beauty.
The film opens in the 1970s on Alice Lamb (Penelope Wilton), scolding some local children for interrupting her work. Alice has not just aged into a person who is unsympathetic to children, though. “Summerland” quickly cuts back about 30 years to Alice (now Gemma Arterton), in the same house, at the same typewriter and still yelling at children who disturb the quiet.
Suffice it to say, it comes as a shock when a young schoolboy, Frank (Lucas Bond), shows up at her steps expecting shelter after being evacuated from London. Alice demands that different accommodations are made for the boy, whose father is fighting and whose mother remains in London. It will come as no surprise that the two start to develop a bond soon enough. Alice, it turns out, is a bit like a child herself, dreamy and naively selfish, making her a perfect companion to Frank. The viciousness displayed at the beginning dissipates pretty quickly, which might come across as inauthentic to some, but the story does start to reveal why children annoy her so.
“Summerland” occasionally (and somewhat clunkily) cuts back a few years before the war, to show that Alice wasn't always a loner. In fact, she had a very picturesque romance with a woman, Vera (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), who breaks Alice's heart when she leaves to have children. The flashbacks allow the production design and hair and makeup team to dabble in some jollier looks than wartime invites, and Arterton and Mbatha-Raw look especially fabulous in their flapper wares. The director's affection for the pair is clear: Both actors starred in the title role in Swale's play “Nell Gwynn.” Here, Alice naturally gets more to do — it's her story — but you do come away wishing for more Mbatha-Raw, as well.
That's all very nice, but what's it got to do with Alice in the war and in the 1970s? Well, fair warning, the threads do come together and far too neatly. But the charms of “Summerland” aren't in its plot. They're in the sentiment, which is too good-hearted to be cynical about, and the characters.
The film is showing locally at the Oklahoma City Museum of Art
— Lindsey Bahr, AP Film Writer
`Creem: America's Only Rock 'n' Roll Magazine'
Not rated, 75 minutes, not ranked
In “Creem: America's Only Rock 'n' Roll Magazine,” the rise and fall of the ruthless, irreverent, take-no-prisoners Detroit-based magazine is documented like that of a rock band, with smashed typewriters instead of guitars.
It's a fitting approach, since the mag's meager beginnings, combustible personalities and ultimate flame-out mirrors the familiar trajectory of so many “Behind the Music”-style tales. Creem was rock 'n' roll, for better and for worse, and it was meant to be around for a good time, not a long time.
Director Scott Crawford gathers an impressive roster of personalities who sing Creem's praises and contextualize its influence on readers, from Michael Stipe to Cameron Crowe to Jeff Daniels, who compares buying the magazine to picking up a Playboy.
Red Hot Chili Peppers drummer Chad Smith, who grew up just down the road from Creem's offices in Birmingham, shares a story of riding his bike to the magazine's headquarters and seeing Alice Cooper walk out the door, his childhood fantasy come to life. It's a perfect illustration of the world of rock journalism at the time, the accessibility of rock stars before the layers of publicists built walls around them, and the way Creem brought the rock world to Detroit.
The mag was thoroughly Detroit in its attitude and plan of attack, and its outsider mindset was fueled by the fraught push-pull relationship between publisher Barry Kramer and editor Dave Marsh. They were opposing forces who made magic together, despite the fact that they were constantly at each other's throats.
“Creem” traces the magazine from its roots, launching in the Cass Corridor's “decrepit war zone of slums” in 1968 — one year after Rolling Stone started publishing — to its two-year commune-like tenure in Walled Lake to its move to Birmingham. The magazine pushed way past boundaries of good taste but was revered for its honesty and the way it knocked big personalities off their pedestals. It was a gloves-off mentality that stood in opposition to the high gloss of Rolling Stone.
The arrival of Lester Bangs added gasoline to the magazine's fire, strengthening its band of misfits philosophy. Nothing was sacred, everything was ripe for mocking, and sometimes the magazine went too far. The end ultimately came before it officially ceased publishing in 1989; its final years are brushed off with an “it is what it is” dismissal.
Crawford doesn't shy away from the thornier aspects of the mag's story, and overall he treats Creem with the same evenhanded manner that Creem had with its subjects. It's celebratory, sure, but it's also gritty, messy and sometimes downright ugly. But hey, that's rock 'n' roll.
The film is showing at locally at Rodeo Cinema.
— Adam Graham, The Detroit News/ Tribune News Service