By Susan Granger
Special to WestportNow
Confession: Rock music is not my thing, so perhaps I’m the only person on the planet who didn’t know who Freddie Mercury or Queen was — until now — and Rami Malek’s magnificent performance in “Bohemian Rhapsody” blew me away.
Named after Queen’s innovative, six-minute, genre-melding musical masterpiece, this film chronicles the rise-and-fall of the band’s flamboyant, yet enigmatic frontman.
In 1970, young Farrokh Bulsara was a baggage-handler at Heathrow Airport whose conservative, working-class, Indian Parsee family fled from war-torn Zanzibar to Middlesex, London.
Born with four extra incisors, leading to an obvious overbite, Freddie brazenly told his future bandmates, “More space in my mouth means more range.” Since they needed a lead singer, he was immediately accepted by guitarist Brian May (Gwilym Lee) and drummer Roger Taylor (Ben Hardy) later joined by bassist John Deacon (Joe Mazzello).
Eagerness for audience participation led to their anthem “We Will Rock You,” along with “Killer Queen,” then “Love of My Life,” which was poignantly tied to Freddie’s long-term fiancee Mary Austin (Lucy Boynton).
But his anguished relationship with conniving manager/lover Paul Prenter (Allen Leech) led to continual conflict, since droll Freddie carefully closeted his hedonistic bisexuality which, eventually, led to his death from AIDS-related pneumonia in 1991.
Formulaically scripted by Anthony McCarten (“Darkest Hour,” “The Theory of Everything”), this chaotic, cliché-filled biopic begins before Queen’s spectacular 1985 Live Aid performance at London’s Wembley Stadium and concludes with their iconic “We Are the Champions.”
The awkward direction is attributed to Bryan Singer, who was fired during production and replaced by Dexter Fletcher, now credited as executive producer.
What’s most memorable is the meticulous portrayal by Rami Malek (“Mr. Robot”) which transcends the film’s faults. Donning prosthetic teeth and shimmering silver jumpsuit, Malek energetically mimics Freddie Mercury’s strutting bravado. During filming, Malek sang along with Mercury’s recordings and Canadian sound-alike Marc Martel, so the enhanced lip-syncing matches up perfectly.
On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Bohemian Rhapsody” is a sinuous 7 — with Rami Malek high on the list for an Oscar nomination.
In “Hunter Killer,” deep under the Arctic Ocean, American submarine Captain Joe Glass (Gerard Butler) is searching for a sunken U.S. sub when he hears distress sounds emanating from a nearby Russian sub that’s been sabotaged from within.
After a daring mission that rescues Captain Andropov (Michael Nyqvist), Glass discovers that the destruction of both the U.S. and Russian subs was part of a coup. It’s a bid for power by the Defense Minister (Mikhail Gorevoy), who is holding Russia’s President (Alexander Dyachenko) hostage.
Meanwhile, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (Gary Oldman) urges the President (Caroline Goodall) to retaliate, an impetuous move which might start World War III.
But Rear Admiral John Fisk (Common), supported by the NSA adviser (Linda Cardellini), has another idea. If Navy SEALS can kidnap the Russian President and bring him safely back on the American sub, the ambitious Defense Minister will be defeated and a nuclear catastrophe can be avoided.
There’s high tension as Glass and his apprehensive crew sneak through a booby-trapped Russian fjord with the help of Captain Andropov, one of late actor Michael Nyqvist’s last roles.
Based on the 2012 novel “Firing Point,” it’s adapted by Arne L. Schmidt & Jamie Moss and directed by Donovan Marsh, who had a submarine set constructed that was slightly wider than a sub’s real dimensions to accommodate the cast of 15, along with 10 in the camera crew — but still claustrophobic.
But it’s cliché-riddled and, given the usual wooden performance by Gerard Butler (“Olympus Has Fallen,” “London Has Fallen”), this film falls far short, compared with previous submarine adventures like “The Hunt for Red October,” “Crimson Tide,” “U-571,” “The Abyss” and, of course, “Das Boot.”
On the Granger Gauge, “Hunter Killer” is a fretful 5 for those who enjoy watching military maneuvers.
Rowan Atkinson’s bumbling spy Johnny English started as a series of British bank/credit card ads. Then it morphed into a couple of decidedly mediocre sequels — with the quality going decidedly downhill.
“Johnny English Strikes Again” begins after a catastrophic cyberattack paralyzes MI7, exposing their entire undercover agent roster. The frantic Prime Minister (Emma Thompson, channeling Theresa May) is forced to reactivate incompetent Johnny English (Rowan Atkinson), who has been surreptitiously teaching old-fashioned espionage techniques in a provincial school.
Working with his long-suffering wingman Bough (Ben Miller), accident-prone Johnny’s obviously an analog spy in a digital age. But he’s determined not only to discover who caused the massive data breach but also to apprehend him. So they take off in a vintage Aston-Martin for the south of France to track down Russian agent Ophelia Bulletova (Olga Kurylenko) aboard a yacht called Dot Calm.
In the meantime, the Prime Minister is eagerly seeking the aid of suave American tech guru Jason Volta (Jake Lacy, channeling Elon Musk/Jeff Bezos), who is all-too-eager to become an international power-broker. Eventually, they all wind up at a G12 summit of world leaders in a Scottish castle.
Working from William Davies’ stilted, unimaginative, utterly predictable “Skyfall”-inspired screenplay, director David Kerr totally fails to grasp the inherent humor in the James Bond parody, taking advantage of Rowan Atkinson’s adept physical comedy only when Johnny loses himself in a Virtual Reality simulation.
Displaying her usual impeccable comedic timing, Emma Thompson’s Prime Minister gets a laugh when she curtly orders her favorite drink: “Vodka tonic. No ice. No tonic.”
Early on, when there’s a brief glimpse of other ‘retired spies’ — Charles Dance, James Fox and Michael Gambon — one yearns for them to reappear to enliven the clumsy dreariness.
On the Granger Gauge, “Johnny English Strikes Again” is a tiresome 3. Skip it.
(Editor’s Note: Westport resident Susan Granger grew up in Hollywood, studied journalism with Pierre Salinger at Mills College, and graduated from the University of Pennsylvania with highest honors in journalism. In addition to writing for newspapers and magazines, she has been on radio/television as an anchorwoman and movie/drama critic for many years. See her reviews at www.susangranger.com.)
