A life lived in service is seen as disgrace,
For service is wholly ignoble and lowly,
A shame to escape and oppose.
For so many saints, though, this wasn’t the case;
To serve was a method to mimic the Holy,
A sacrifice God only knows.

A life lived in service is never a waste;
A volunteer’s spirit’s congratulatory,
And oh, that all servants could know!
Such angels of earth are not easily replaced,
For not all bear burdens as badges of glory
And not all saints lived long ago.
_________________

MPAA rating:  PG-13 (for limited profanity)

Mr. Church has been in my Netflix queue for so long that I was considering making it one of next year’s Blindspots just to finally get myself to watch it. The film was written by Susan McMartin, who based it off her own short story “The Cook Who Came To Live With Us,” drawing from her own life. I was curious to see a rare serious role for Eddie Murphy after four years of inactivity, and lo and behold, it turned out to be one of his best films, though you wouldn’t know it based on critical reviews or its scathing box office (less than a million dollars on an $8 million budget).

Murphy plays the titular mister, a cook in 1965 assigned to single mother Marie Brooks (Natascha McElhone) by the dying wish of his employer/Marie’s former lover. Tasked with caring for Marie through her treatment for breast cancer, he expects to only stay for six months, much to the chagrin of her daughter Charlie (played by Natalie Coughlin, and later by Britt Robertson), but, as Marie outlives her diagnosis, Mr. Church becomes a mainstay of the home and their family.

There’s something about this kind of movie that just gets me, an irresistible sweetness that stays in my heart when the credits roll. Mr. Church’s presence spans decades as Charlie grows from a callow girl to a young woman with a daughter of her own, and he imparts to her things that are near and dear to my own heart: a love of cooking, classic literature, music. And like Forrest Gump, Charlie’s poetic narration fits perfectly with this kind of nostalgic, generational story.

Robertson and McElhone excel in their emotional roles, but the surprise is a much-subdued Murphy, who instills Church with evident depth at arm’s length, making Charlie and the audience want to know more about him even as he self-effacingly insists on retaining his privacy. Critics have complained that, despite the film bearing his name, he is too much of a one-note character, there merely to serve his white “family,” and while that argument might have some merit, I fear they miss the point. It may not check the “woke” boxes of what critics expect in a black character these days, but that shouldn’t detract from the sweetness of the relationship forged between Charlie and Mr. Church, one of shared interests and quiet service, which becomes mutual over time.

Professional reviewers may decry it as sappy and sentimental, but Mr. Church deserves so much better than a 24% on Rotten Tomatoes. Many compared it to a Hallmark movie, but that shouldn’t be an insult by default, since such films can be deeply affecting when done well. I was disappointed that Mr. Church was such a box-office failure, since that likely makes Hollywood less likely to make these kinds of movies. If they’re as poignant as this one, I wish they’d make more.

Best line: (Charlie) “People act strange around death. There are those who talk about everything but the person who died. Those who talk about only the person who died. Those who try to cheer you up. And those who can’t help but make you cry. And then there are those who say nothing at all, because they don’t have to.”

Rank:  List-Worthy

© 2019 S.G. Liput
651 Followers and Counting

That awkward time between the ages,
Not adult and not a child,
One of life’s most stalling stages
Is a source of trauma shared.
Whether normal, shy, or wild,
These are years we all are scared,
Negligent and unprepared,
And yet so fondly reconciled
Once we’ve turned to other pages,
Just a chapter when compiled,
Just a molehill when compared.
_________________

MPAA rating: R (for five F-words and a couple sexual situations)

Every now and then, a movie comes along that totally encapsulates a time and place, a cinematic time capsule for future generations to watch when they ask, “What was it like back then?” The most notable such film would probably be Saturday Night Fever for the ‘70s, but Eighth Grade is a time capsule for Generation Z, an excellent coming-of-age story for awkward high-schoolers everywhere, especially those of the 2010s.

Elsie Fisher plays Kayla Day, a girl whose diffident demeanor has left her largely friendless as she goes from middle school to high school. She films vague but encouraging vlog posts about having the self-confidence she lacks herself, and she pines for a boy in class while ignoring her dad (Josh Hamilton) behind the sullen wall of her phone. In short, she’s painfully real, and although her Instagram addiction and overuse of the work “like” can be as irritating as it is in real life, you can’t help but empathize with her desire to be liked amid a sea of academic and online indifference. Fisher is anything but glamorous in this movie, but her natural sensitivity brings great heart to several scenes; plus, her talent is evident from the fact that she’s supposedly much more outgoing than her character.

As I said, Bo Burnham’s feature debut includes quite a few details that add to the film’s snapshot of present-day culture, nods to the dab, the floss, Adventure Time, Rick and Morty, and drills for school shootings. Yet, there’s also something universal to Kayla’s anxiety and desire for belonging that I feel strikes a chord of poignancy with more than just the current youth generation. Not much actually happens, so I could see some naturalistic version of this film being presented with no incidental music, which would make it unnecessarily boring; luckily, an electronic score pops in at ideal moments, and I loved the use of Enya’s “Orinoco Flow” to elevate a web browsing session.

For being R-rated, the film is largely tame, if only they’d left out a couple F-bombs, but there are some uncomfortable moments related to Kayla’s budding sexuality, which do at least stop short when she realizes she’s not ready for such things. Yet, as I said, reality is the film’s greatest strength, and there’s nothing that doesn’t seem very likely to be happening in any number of towns across America. I wasn’t entirely sold on the story until the last quarter, especially a moving scene between Kayla and her dad that has to be one of the sweetest father-daughter moments in film. By the end, even Kayla’s halting videos carry greater meaning than I expected at the beginning. Eighth Grade may have been spurned by the Oscars (though Fisher did get a Golden Globe nom), but there’s a good reason it made AFI’s Top Ten Films of 2018. It’s ultimately one of the most relatable movies in recent years.

Best line: (Kayla’s dad to her) “And if you could just see yourself the way I see you, which is how you are, how you really are, how you always have been, I swear to God, you wouldn’t be scared either.”

Rank: List Runner-Up

© 2019 S.G. Liput
646 Followers and Counting