Florence Foster Jenkins (2016)

Score: 5 / 5

This is exactly the kind of comedy I love. Classy and sassy, the picture sparkles its way across the screen and into our hearts. Not a moment is wasted, not a line tossed aside. While some of the humor is certainly face-value -- or, rather, voice value -- the film carries a sweet weight to it, keeping each comic beat balanced with a sincere concern for our subject. As you may know, the titular socialite wanted to be an opera singer, but famously performed with poor (if any) ability.

It would be so easy for the filmmakers to just mock her, as many have both during her life and since. To be sure, the first scene of her practicing is nothing short of riotous; I was crying so hard from laughter, I'm sure I missed half the scene. But as the film continues, we see the woman as a woman, more than as a caricature. The film suggests, mercifully well, that her poor vocal ability has less to do with her training and passion and more to do with the ravages of syphilis on her body and with the side effects of taking arsenic and mercury as prescribed by her physicians. Though the film feels conventional in its approach to a distinctly unconventional woman, we do see a few instances of her without her facade, namely in private moments with her husband and her accompanist. Her tenderness and generosity in these moments belie the exuberance we see in her public appearances.

Meryl Streep delivers in her uniquely knowing way (not that we could ever expect less) and reveals a character of joy and light, of passion and power, without ignoring the intense narcissism and privilege that that same character also possesses. She is infuriating as much as she is delightful, intoxicating in her vibrant energy, and exacting in her pursuit of pitch-imperfect singing. She nails the infamous voice, which certainly took a fair amount of skill for someone who can actually sing, and do so very well. Only slightly less astounding than our leading lady, Hugh Grant foils Streep's energy with masterfully sharp turns and a devilish twinkle in his eye; playing her faithful and endlessly supportive husband, Grant turns up the charm as he facilitates the action of the film, secretly hiding or bribing detractors and mockers before they can wound his wife's pride. He even safeguards his own opinions and behaviors so well that we feel not a sting as we discover his duplicity and his mistress. We understand, we sympathize, and we love every moment. Some credit is due to writer Nicholas Martin, to be sure, but Grant most successfully walks the thin line of our approval.

The surprise joy for me in this film came in the form of Simon Helberg (The Big Bang Theory), whose portrayal of accompanist Cosme McMoon is nothing short of enchanting. Effete and often bewildered, McMoon is revealed to be a small but highly ambitious man, seeking approval, recognition, and ultimately success from and over the people who have made his life difficult. His effeminacy and sickly-sweet demeanor at first endear Florence to him, but we may understand later, when she visits his rundown flat, that she feels a certain care and even responsibility for him. He grows exponentially as a young man and as a performer under her stardom, and by the finale, he is a new man, confident in himself and supportive of the woman he has not-so-discreetly regretted meeting.

Do yourself a favor and go see this movie. Its message is clear, and though the film hammers it home several times, it certainly doesn't lose its relevance or potency. Passion, far more than technique, is the true beauty of the arts. Ambition can be a great asset, if also paired with generosity and love. And, as Florence herself says near the end of the film, "They can say I couldn't sing, but they can't say I didn't sing." She had a gift and she used it to both express herself and to help others. How many of us can say the same?

IMDb: Florence Foster Jenkins

Pete's Dragon (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Disney's on a bit of a winning streak, and this one is just the latest jewel in its crown. A nostalgic bit of magic, the film reminds us of a time when "Disney movies" meant something, when as a kid I would look at the beautiful Disney VHS cases at rental stores and eagerly look forward to the color and lights, feel the kindness and joy of characters, and feel empowered and affirmed. Sure, I can now recognize some serious ideological flaws in even the oldest Disney classics. But that doesn't necessarily mean I don't still feel a tingle of joy when I consider re-viewing Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. It's that kind of magic Disney is bringing back to its films, but now they (mostly) have stronger, better messages. Look at the purpose and power of Judy Hopps, the feminist and queer dynamics of Queen Elsa, the autonomy of Mowgli, the community of care and love around Dory, and the honest consequences of wishes and actions in Into the Woods. Disney still has its missteps (as in the colossal waste of time and energy of the Cinderella remake), but by and large they are still decent exercises in filmmaking, and they surely bring joy to some.

I don't really remember the original -- with the notable exceptions of Mickey Rooney, absurd musical numbers, and the trippy cartoon beast itself -- but I do remember distinctly not liking it. I was, you might imagine, a little hesitant to go see this remake. Thankfully my worries were proven unnecessary.

Pete's Dragon hits all its marks. It's a totally safe and sweet PG adventure, a rollicking coming-of-age dramedy with some light action, some familiar drama, and a whole lotta heart. It's one of those movies dripping with sentiment that actually works. A pretty thin film, full of breathtaking special effects and wonderful vision, simple and straightforward, never promising more than it gives and relishing the smallest of moments just long enough for us to take everything in. Director David Lowery (Ain't Them Bodies Saints) and cinematographer Bojan Bazelli (The Ring, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Hairspray, Burlesque) imbue the film with a mythic quality that starts small and builds to a charming if safe climax, all while keeping the action controlled and measured. While the effects are massive, there's no overkill; whereas the original was hallucinatory and vivid, everything here is grounded and detailed realistically, including the dragon itself. Furry and green, it emotes perhaps more than any of the actors.

That's not to say the actors aren't on their game, though the script only gives a couple of them anything to work with. Little Oakes Fegley is a wonder to watch and a joy to behold as he commands the screen in every shot. Bryce Dallas Howard is the other joy here, delivering a turn as loving mother and motherly guardian of the Pacific Northwest forest. Robert Redford pops in for a few scenes as the grandfatherly narrator, and both Wes Bentley and Karl Urban run around with appropriate and contrasting energies.

The greater joys for me lie in the production itself. Besides the visual magic, Lowery's screenplay refocuses the story, simplifying the plot and making a clear case for environmentalism. He also continues a trend we've seen in Boyhood and Room, allowing a boy to mature before our eyes, while surrounding him with an amazing mother figure. The music by Daniel Hart is primarily folksy, helping the mythic presentation along, while strengthening major themes of family and home. Home may be where the heart is, but it's also a place in the world, a place in time, and the place with the people we love. Pete finds a home in the forest with Elliott the dragon, he also finds home with his surrogate family in town; Elliott ultimately finds his own home, farther away from "civilization" that ravages the land and his species.

Pete's Dragon is a lovely little meditation on all these and more, and a simple joy to watch. In a summer of films that are largely disappointments, that's a pretty great thing to say.

IMDb: Pete's Dragon

Suicide Squad (2016)

Score: 3 / 5

It's Deadpool all over again. What promised to be a naughty, subversive, wickedly cool antihero movie ends up being a fun and off-beat action flick with more hero than anti, more sub than vers, and more bark than bite. It's not the most clever or entertaining in this franchise on its own terms, and it doesn't hold up against the Marvel franchise. As someone who knows next-to-nothing about DC things, I can't say as much as fans who are disappointed or confused or annoyed. But there are a few things I can say, so here goes:

I liked it. Enough, anyway, to watch it again. It's a lot of fun. I'd rather see a group of crazy punks with demented grins blasting each other for a couple hours than Henry Cavill or Batfleck (or whatever they're calling him now) and their introspective self-loathing and put-upon nobility. Though I liked that well enough, too. Dark and grimy, the film makes no apologies for its seeming ugliness, and instead piles on the atmospheric dirt, making the viewing experience one of angst and pleasure, loaded with dark humor and violence. There could have been so much more, though, and that's what hangs me up.

The movie really could have and should have gone for an R rating. I mean, it's called Suicide Squad. A little language, a little blood, some light nudity would have made a world of difference for me. Too often the picture tiptoed around what could have been fabulous fight sequences or daring character development (I mean -- hello -- Joker and Harley Quinn and their Stockholm Syndrome romance could have made for a hell of a dynamic subplot). Instead, the film reads like a censored flick on midafternoon networks, or the movie equivalent of SparkNotes, talking more than doing, editing away the sweet juices and focusing on drier meal. Don't believe me? Example: How -- after Heath Ledger's terrifying Dark Knight scenes -- are you going to make the Joker a palatable villain if, in his introductory scene, you have him only mildly scare an underling with some pseudo-sexual powerplay and then just laugh and shoot him? It's not novel; it's not even worth watching. We've seen what the character can do with just a damn pencil. Up your game, guys.

Viola Davis is the main reason I will choose to watch the movie again. She steals each scene she graces, pulling off her understated performance moment by moment, until she allows us, eventually, to see cracks in her polished and calculated disguise. It's in the little moments and her subtleties that we suspect she is, in fact, hardly a better person than the criminals and crazies she has assembled, and that she may be far more devious than any of them. I saw her crazy eyes come out more than once, guys, don't tell me I'm wrong! Joel Kinnaman was pretty great as her squad leader, and nicely matched her tone and energy even when they weren't sharing a scene. Besides them, the rest of the cast was okay, nobody really standing out. Margot Robbie was a fun Harley Quinn, to be sure, but the part was totally catering her character; her one-liners were great, but people seem to forget that someone else wrote those lines. Jay Hernandez as El Diablo was probably the only character I was constantly intrigued by. Will Smith as Deadshot was fine, but felt a mismatch; his sentimental story made him sane and (possibly worse for this picture) sympathetic. Jared Leto's Joker was fine, I guess, but it felt more strained than sincere, more caricatured than charactered (not unlike David Tennant's Barty Crouch Jr in Harry Potter). Good thing he was more of a sideshow than main event.

I think David Ayer made a fine film. Between the rating and the pressure of a franchise picture with an ensemble cast, I only wish that he had been allowed to do more. The first half of the film promised boons: Each character is introduced with style and vigor, energy worthy of comic books and a twisted joy I relished. But, like Deadpool, by the halfway mark the sentiment overcomes the story, and not long after the film descends into typical superhero arcs, where the team bands together and rallies to fight the Big Bad, save the girl, save the city, win the day, and find their temporary happy endings. Superhero movies are going to have to evolve or die soon. And between Deadpool and Suicide Squad, the studios have proven that even ready-made antiheroic subversive protagonists can't transcend the same ol' rhythms and recipes.

IMDb: Suicide Squad

Star Trek Beyond (2016)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Finally, the summer blockbuster we've been waiting for. Tarzan failed miserably, and the last good major flicks were from Marvel. In a hot season this devoid of decent action movies, just about anything might have done the trick. And while the newest Star Trek certainly delivers in all the crucial ways, it also leaves me feeling a bit underwhelmed.

As someone who has never seen anything Trek-related besides these reboot films, I may not speak with the most authority on these matters. I've heard that the film works best with its nostalgic, retro vibes and its pervasive senses of joy, humor, and adventure. We get more of the Spock-Kirk-McCoy bromance, the Spock-Uhura drama, and some nice insight into Sulu and Scott. This picture, far more than the first or second installments, fulfills the franchise's promise for exploration, adventure, and wonder. All fun, all the time. I totally get that. It's a rapturous fantasy, dazzling and wondrous in scope, layered with hue upon hue, vibrant and explosive, original and utterly absorbing.

The mind-numbing CGI and whirling cinematography through amazing alien worlds do their trick too: distraction. I've heard it argued both ways, and convincingly, but after the emotional and intellectual power-punches of the first two, this film really lets its heart take a break. Perhaps that was the smart decision, as the emotional climax of Into Darkness was so intense. But even what could be character-building arcs here are sacrificed in favor of blatant gags and quirky one-liners. The revved action sequences and heated style render the more sentimental dialogue tepid at best. And maybe that's okay for what amounts to a placeholder film in a franchise as extensive as this. But I just spent the time thinking and typing all this out to say that I'm just not sure, which may suggest the filmmakers weren't sure either, either in conception or execution. My bet is on the latter. Why? Because even some basic plot devices are illogical and filled with holes. I know I missed some, too, because of the frenetic pace of the film, but one that really pissed me off occurred when Scotty tells the captain that the dilapidated spaceship is impossible to fix, and in the next scene everything is fine and they're blasting off.

And that's to say nothing of the action sequences themselves, which are occasionally stupid and usually incoherent. They're a hell of a lot of fun, but I had trouble lining up placements and even location. Not that it even mattered most of the time; the film is so full of salvific coincidence and that it's hard to care much how our heroes escape or succeed because we innately know they will. Important plot pieces just click into place as they are needed with little or no explanation beyond screenwriting laziness.

For all that, though, it's a hell of a picture, and loads of fun. I'd watch it again, and be happy the whole time. It certainly whetted my appetite for another rollicking adventure. Tempered, I might add, by remembering that Anton Yelchin won't be there. Rest in peace.

IMDb: Star Trek Beyond

Lights Out (2016)

Score: 3 / 5

Do you remember Mama, the 2013 supernatural horror based on the short film? I feel much the same way about Lights Out as I did about that one, so I'm going to talk about them the same way, and kill two flicks with one post.

Each film does something wonderful: featuring actors acting. In the former, it was Jessica Chastain and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, and here it is Maria Bello, Teresa Palmer, Gabriel Bateman, and Alexander DiPersia. All are a joy to watch, because they all dig into the bizarre stories and exaggerated drama and perform honestly and mindfully.

Each film also manages to crack a certain glass ceiling often ignored in horror cinema. Both are films about women, in which both the protagonist and antagonist are women, and during which much of the horror is shown to be explicitly female. Perhaps that last is more apparent in Mama, where the villain's lair is a vaginal hole in the wall. Compare, if you will, to images from the original Poltergeist (1982), and see what I mean. There's a lot to be said, too, about the role of motherhood, a relative lack of female sexualization (Palmer, in Lights Out, explicitly controls her own space), and a discussion for victims-turned-victors without a revenge plot (as opposed to The Last House on the Left or every other slasher since). That's a discussion for another time.

Each film features a (yes, female) monster/villain that looks very similar: a hag, deathly and deadly, sporting damp, tangled hair atop her gruesome visage; bugging eyes above toothy snarls; fingers like claws; limbs that are less "flexible" and more "disjointed" with akimbo movements that range from graceful floating on the ceiling to jittery chase sequences on the ground. I don't know that I can describe why exactly, but this character is horrifying to me.

Each film suffers in its basic plot. Each is little more than a haunted house tale, replete with typical (and often expected) jump-scares that, while chilling and atmospheric, do little to frighten us later. The (ill)logic nature of each often undercuts what drama we can connect with, by which I mean that the mythology is thin and shaky at best, and generally distracts me from a more visceral reaction. In Lights Out specifically, the clever concept was more effective in the trailer, which streamlined the melodrama and instead showed most (if not all) of the jump-scares in the film. This made the film seem almost like a second viewing, because the genre scenes were ones we've literally already seen. Good scenes, sure, but familiar.

Finally, each film is PG-13. While I might entertain personal thoughts that start with "What if..." and end with hard R horror ideas, I think that for these films, PG-13 works fine. These are films about motherhood and child endangerment, about domestic life and femininity gone wrong, and while they could always be more explicit and violent and gory, there is plenty to be said for horror that can thrill and chill and engage and intrigue and still stay safely in a clean(ish), classy(ish), mainstream audience's grasp.

IMDb: Lights Out

The Infiltrator (2016)

Score: 3.5 / 5

This movie should have been called Bryan Cranston, Slay. It just doesn't get much better than watching this powerhouse man performing his crazy, hyper-nuanced craft in a movie (or show) that otherwise doesn't matter as much as it wants to.

Sure, it would have been nice for the film to be better written and better executed, and its tone is about as confused as its focus. Does it want to be a slick crime thriller, or a Breaking Bad ripoff with some period drama? Does it want to be a dense character study or a fun summer action flick? It doesn't know, which translates onscreen to not really being any of those things. But before long in the viewing, I realized I just didn't care about the story. Its fact-based narrative is intriguing, obviously, but it's been done countless times before, and far more effectively. Derivative and flirting with crippling sentiment, the plot even meanders through familiar thematic territory, leaving us more annoyed than moved.

Cranston, on the other hand, shows us his power in every frame. Singly making the film worth watching, he imbues so much duplicity and earnestness into his performance that I found myself absorbed into his gravelly voice and his gaunt, weary visage. He maneuvers as a gymnast, walking a treacherous balance beam with each conversation he has with his wife, his partner, his boss, his enemies, his targets. Though the script gives him almost no helping hands, Cranston makes the character riveting and emotionally palpable.

He is engrossing. The movie is serviceable. Take it or leave it.

IMDb: The Infiltrator

Swiss Army Man (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

It's one of those pictures that defies most description. That might be the very reason I liked it so much; genre classifications can so easily limit film, as well as the audience's reaction to it. Consider, if you will, Crimson Peak, which, while thoroughly a horror film, is hardly "scary". Fellow moviegoers in the theater where I saw that Gothic romance muttered as they exited their disappointment in lackluster scares. But that film wasn't made to frighten. Disturb and enchant, sure, but not terrify.

Similarly, this one can hardly be described as more than a comedy, or at most an exercise in absurdist humor. It's a sort of macabre coming-of-age myth -- more conceptual than concrete in details -- wherein our protagonist Hank finds himself alone and suicidal on a small deserted island. A corpse washes up on the shore and our hero begins a surreal friendship with it. Before long, the corpse manifests its supernatural abilities, including propelling flatulence, karate choppers, a penile compass, and an oral water fount. With the makeshift Swiss Army knife's aid, Hank finds his way both literally and metaphorically, and, at the culmination of their adventures, the corpse departs.

If that sounds weird enough, you don't know the half of it. Between bear attacks and crossdressing, fake porn and Mary Elizabeth Winstead, and a whole lot of not-so-mildly queer romance, this film is packed with indie, highbrow arthouse tragedy tropes as well as slapstick, lowbrow body humor gags. In many ways, this is pop art as high art (or maybe vice versa), and having Daniel Radcliffe as the corpse is just brilliant. His performance blew me out of the water, and the filmmakers' use of him is little short of genius; paired with an exaggeratedly eccentric performance from Paul Dano, the film works wonders. The two square off in a dazzling display of expert comedic timing parried instantly with profound loss and fear.

Most of all, this film is about wonder and curiosity. Just as Radcliffe's corpse (named Manny, of course) seeks enlightenment and reclamation, we the audience feel a need to help our friends in the film connect and rejoin civilization. Their make-believe role-playing is at once sumptuous and creative, but pitiful and broken. It doesn't take long for us to realize that the key Manny seeks -- real human interaction -- is what brought him to life in the first place, and what is sustaining him through Hank's friendship. We begin to wonder if poor dead Manny is doing the same for his friend.

It's a screwy oddball comedy, one that defies accurate description. So just do yourself a favor and go watch. If nothing else, it's a bizarre and silly adventure to distract from a hot summer day, and by the time it ends all us misfits and weirdos can sit back and consider our own journeys, with or without explosive flatulence.

IMDb: Swiss Army Man

The Legend of Tarzan (2016)

Score: 2 / 5

Everything that could have gone well didn't.

It's pretty clear from the start that this movie has a lot on its mind. And well it should, as merely its title conjures ideas of colonialism, environmentalism, sexism, and racism. Its turgid script and attempted epic proportion, however, fail to match with the film's obvious emphasis on action and CGI sequences. It's hard to care much about the injustice done upon native peoples or the environment when you're dazzled by Alexander Skarsgard cuddling with lions.

That's not to say it's not an entertaining picture. Skarsgard is mostly naked most of the time, which is fine, and his Byronic take on the character is unexpectedly engaging. Director David Yates carries his mastery of atmosphere over from his Harry Potter films, dousing each shot with saturated light and mist in a colorful palette of hues. We get to see lovely moments like a hippo attack and the villain's demise by crocodile, which is obviously worthwhile. And, if you don't mind anachronistic weirdness, Samuel L. Jackson plays Samuel L. Jackson doing tiresome comic relief.

I'd go ahead and describe the plot for you, but there isn't much of one, and it's a pretty tedious amalgamation of other, better action/adventures.Consider the climactic wildebeest stampede: it was more emotional in The Lion King and more clever and awesome in Australia. I'd go ahead and praise the actors, but they don't do much: I don't know how the producers managed to get such a fine cast and then waste literally all of their talents. Christoph Waltz's villain is almost as dull as in Spectre. Actually, no, here it's worse. Margot Robbie is just pathetic as a lackluster American damsel in distress who fits the period about as well as Jackson. Jim Broadbent and Djimon Hounsou show up for a few speedy scenes, but then we forget they were there because it just doesn't matter.

It's just mindless fun. "Fun", I should say, if you let the eye candy distract you from the fact that it's astonishingly silly stuff, and from remembering that the 1999 Disney cartoon is an infinitely better way to spend your time.

IMDb: The Legend of Tarzan

The Purge: Election Year (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Marketing this movie must have been the best job ever. James DeMonaco, struck by brilliant inspiration, has crafted a relentless and timely critique of our social climate. Brutal and truly, deeply disturbing, the film surpasses its two predecessors in relevance and in tapping into very real cultural horrors. There are no shortages of fearsome images (like the ones in the poster below), and paired with the film's distinct title, the filmmakers and marketers were able to scare me well before I even knew the release date. Look at that creepy Lady Liberty costume. Look at the gaudy stars and stripes and neon lights surrounded by smoke and blood. I mean, come on, just look at the trailer's repeated phrase, "Keep America Great."

Whether you're more concerned with vigilantism, guns, racism, poverty, church corruption, legal corruption, self-defense, sexism, it's all here. Or if you just want a solid thriller, it's here, arguably for the first time in the franchise. Smart, quickly paced, and packed with engaging action sequences, this picture finally fully realizes what the first one promised, and this time with much less sentimentality, less arbitrarity, and less Ethan Hawke. Its politics leave a little to be desired, and I suppose at times it can get a bit preachy. But if that's the worst you can say about a horror movie, it must be damn good.

And this one is. Even in its pulpy brutality and almost campy delivery, Election Year manages to get into your head in a way Anarchy couldn't quite. Frank Grillo is back as former police sergeant Leo Barnes, who now leads the security of anti-Purge Senator Charlie Roan. Grillo's grizzled badassery again steals the movie, though this time his grounded performance isn't quite as compelling. The Senator, on the other hand, controls the little bit of sentiment in the picture, and the opening sequence (concerning her history with the Purge) is the only sequence the film really doesn't need. Beyond that, she is a wonder to watch: Her idealism and uncompromising position would be unbelievable in the Purge-world if she were not portrayed by the firebrand that is Elizabeth Mitchell (Lost, Once Upon a Time, and the Santa Clause sequels).

I'm curious as to the future of the franchise. Because each of the three films has gotten exceptionally better, I hope to see more here. After Election Year's smash-bang of a climax, DeMonaco sows a delicious little seed of hope that could easily spawn a direct sequel (as opposed to a pseudo-anthologized sequel). Senator Roan wins the presidency in a landslide vote, and her top priority is declared as stopping the annual Purge. A news report suggests that Purge supporters have begun to riot in the streets. Now, you tell me: Do you see another installment coming?

I feel about as dreadful and expectant about the next film as I do about our own election this November. DeMonaco could have a lot of fodder to gorge and regurgitate on the big screen.

IMDb: The Purge: Election Year

Free State of Jones (2016)

Score: 2.5 / 5

It just tried too hard. This summer's wannabe blockbuster-slash-pre-Oscar-season-"Big Important Film" fell a bit flat, and for several reasons. It wants to be a vehicle for Matthew McConaughey's dramatic leading man spree, but his solid performance is hindered by splintered writing and an unfocused script. It wants to be a triumph of social justice rhetoric and historical reclamation, but wallows in its period and atmosphere. It wants to teach a history lesson about one of the most intriguing and least known stories of our Civil War, but can't decide between history and relevance, drama and action, or even if it wants to be a biopic about Newton Knight.

It's a fine picture. Really. Nice costumes, some really fabulous atmosphere (set design, cinematography), and a few strong action scenes. McConaughey is obviously working hard for the part, and the supporting cast is all in. The problems here are script and direction. Neither is as focused or specific as it should have been for clarity's sake, much less for dramatic competency. The script is confused and poorly paced, spanning a vast amount of time and space to cover the full story without ever diving into the ideological meat of the matter. Sure, visuals of slaves and freed men, runaway Confederates, lynchings, and the KKK all convey powerful shorthand, but that's all shorthand we've seen dozens of times before. In historical dramas, we have to see novelty, or we compartmentalize it into the nameless mass of wartime films we saw in high school history class.

I'm talking about the almost perfect sequence in which the women of the hidden camp march into town to supposedly bury their dead, under watchful guard by Confederate soldiers. As they level with the enemy, they reveal weapons under their mourning gowns and ope fire at point-blank range. That's something special, and it was the most memorable scene in the film for me.

It could have been epic. It could have been romantic. It could have been swashbuckling and intense. It could have been pedagogical and enlightening. It could have been relevant and brutal. And when it could have been everything but ended up as little more than a historical anecdote, it not only didn't do justice to its inspiration, but it didn't do justice to itself or its audience.

IMDb: Free State of Jones