I Saw the TV Glow

Director: Jane Schoenbrun
Starring: Justice Smith, Brigette Lundy-Paine, Helena Howard, Lindsey Jordan, Danielle Deadwyler, Fred Durst, Conner O' Malley, Emma Portner, Phoebe Bridgers
Running Time: 100 min.
Rating: PG-13

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers For 'I Saw The TV Glow' **

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Destined for cult status, writer/director Jane Schoenbrun's horror/sci-fi parable I Saw the TV Glow is a lot of things at once, at least to audiences willing and able to connect with it. Ambitious and beguiling, it's a surrealistic trip that utilizes its modest budget to craft a work of art that feels twice its size. Exploring the most uncomfortable corners of the soul, it's also a strangely moving exploration of loneliness, isolation, the passage of time and our complicated relationship with pop culture.

Centering around a reluctant friendship between two teen misfits, this starts as a strangely muted coming-of-age story until eventually evolving into this creepy, hypnotic tone poem that carries echoes of David Lynch and Donnie Darko. Buoyed by two startling performances, it's been described by Schoenbrun as a trans or queer allegory, but its themes are broad enough that viewers can interpret what they wish. Suffocated and suppressed by their "normal" suburban lives, both characters will take different paths to diverging destinations, their journeys flashing by in what seems like an instant.

It's 1996 when shy, withdrawn seventh grader Owen (Ian Foreman) meets ninth grade outsider Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine) on election night and she introduces him to the young adult television series, The Pink Opaque. A bizarre, supernatural cross between The X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Are You Afraid of the Dark?, the show centers around teen girls Isabel (Helena Howard) and Tara (Lindsey Jordan) who discover a shared psychic connection while fighting monsters each week. 

When Owen sneaks out at night to watch the show at Maddy's house, a strict bedtime curfew set by his overprotective parents Brenda (Danielle Deadwyler) and Frank (Fred Durst) quickly puts an end to that. Flash forward a couple of years and an older Owen (now played by Justice Smith) is getting episode tapes from Maddy as each continue watching to escape their miserable home lives. But when Maddy suddenly disappears, only to reemerge almost a decade later, she reveals shocking details about the program that heavily blur the lines between fiction and reality.          

Owen and Maddy have an almost immediate pull as characters the moment we meet them, but the two year age gap between a ninth grade girl and seventh grade boy may as well be an eternity for anyone this age. That's why the casting of two different actors as Owen is such a brilliant detail, with Foreman and Smith's anguished takes functioning as mirrored reflections of each other, never leaving the slightest shred of doubt they're one in the same. Smith's lumbering walk, sad eyes and crackling, exasperated voice that sounds as if it pains Owen to even speak. It's only when he meets the dry, cynical Maddy that he opens up a little, finding a connection with someone experiencing similar angst.

That Owen and Maddy's bond is forged through this show will resonate with those who knows how much more a piece of entertainment means when shared with a friend rather than discovered on your own. But besides The Pink Opaque functioning as a comment on our messy attachment with media and nostalgia, Schoenbrun really makes it looks like something straight out of the mid 90's, cheaply produced but with an unmistakable creative flair. The show can be viewed as either terrible or intriguing, which is exactly the point when Owen rewatches it decades later, deflated by the realization of how "cheesy" something he once loved now looks through his older eyes. 

The barrier separating this film from the series within it becomes invisible, and for those scoffing at its horror classification, the show's terrifying, moon faced antagonist, "Mr. Melancholy" and his "luna juice" will settle any doubts. Like any beloved show of the moment, it'll face cancellation, and with that comes Maddy's curiously timed disappearance. It's surprising is just how many years the film manages to span, sweeping us along with Owen as he processes the ramifications of her sudden return. Why she left their small town isn't a mystery. The real question involves what happened to her since. 

Alex G's mesmerizing score and Eric K. Yue's purplish, neon drenched cinematography only bolster an indescribable third act that heads into trippy Twin Peaks territory, complete with a nightclub scene (featuring Phoebe Bridgers and Sloppy Jane) where we learn how the show infiltrated their psyches in ways only one can decipher or admit to. For Maddy, it's her salvation, and while the script contains some meta observations about TV finales and reboots, the true challenge is in getting Owen to summon the strength to also break through. Lundy-Paine, who already impressed in both Neflix's Atypical and Bill & Ted Face the Music provides Maddy with just the right mix of cynicism and vulnerability, especially while somehow conveying the impossible to her friend.

Owen has more than one opportunity to cross over, but can't quite find a way out of his own personal hell. The last scene is agonizing to watch, as his screams of anguish go unheard and the art he consumed decades earlier proves a more accurate reflection of his true self than what passes as reality. All that's left are memories built on a lie, and the declaration that "It's Not Too Late." But is it? Only in the beautifully tragic final minutes do we fully understand the frustrating irony behind that phrase, even if our challenge wrestling with the film's many ideas has seemingly just begun.  

Bill and Ted Face the Music

 

 

Director: Dean Parisot

Starring: Keanu Reeves, Alex Winter, Kristen Schaal, Samara Weaving, Brigette Lundy-Paine, William Sadler, Anthony Carrigan, Erinn Hayes, Jayma Mays, Hal Landon Jr., Beck Bennett, Kid Cudi, Amy Stoch, Holland Taylor

Running Time: 92 min.

Rating: PG-13

 

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

 

Before watching the long-anticipated third installment of the Bill and Ted series, Bill and Ted Face the Music, I couldn't help but consider how other recently sequeled and rebooted films and TV series have fared under the similar circumstance of waiting decades to see the light of day. 2014's Dumb and Dumber To and 2016's Pee-Wee's Big Holiday were both creative disappointments that grossly overestimated fans' loyalty and patience, proving that just a trip down memory lane isn't always enough. The former tried too hard to replay the characters' antics from the original, while completely losing sight of how their advanced ages would affect our view of their behavior. Pee-Wee fared only slightly better, if only because of Paul Reubens, who was let down by a toothless story that failed to grasp the subversive genius and lunacy of the character. Only Netflix's Cobra Kai has shown exactly how well this can be done, retroactively enhancing the legacy of The Karate Kid by actually improving and building upon what was most beloved about the original. 

 

Ideally, the Cobra Kai treatment is what we'd want for Bill and Ted, which has bar to clear that's probably a tad lower than those aforementioned properties, despite a still sizable fanbase. But after numerous false starts and promises for a sequel, is it too late? Well, if it's good enough, then no. That's always the answer. As to whether Bill and Ted Face the Music is actually worth the wait, that's a little more complicated since increasingly fewer sequels are. But that's not a criticism when you consider the time we had to build up our expectations and contemplate the paths a potential follow-up could take in failing to fulfill them. When put in those terms, this is a lot of fun, if overstuffed and spotty at points. 

To his credit, director Dean Parisot (Galaxy Quest) doesn't merely coast on the many thrills of Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter effortlessly sliding back into their iconic roles, even as we couldn't have guessed they'd be co-starring opposite two actressess capable of matching them. And while I can only imagine what those unfamilar with the franchise would think of it, they won't watch anyway, so the film gets away with indulging in some fan service. The originals were always kind of viewed through rose-colored glasses and that this has a self-referential awareness of that nostalgia only serves to make the experience more enjoyable.

Now married fathers, William "Bill" S. Preston Esq. (Winter) and Theodore "Ted" Logan (Reeves) have spent most of their adult lives fronting the band they formed as burnt out, dim-witted teenagers, The Wyld Stallyns, while still failing in their quest to write a song that will unite the world. Now playing family weddings as their Medievel princess spouses Joanna (Jayma Mays) and Elizabeth ((Erinn Hayes) look on in disappointment, they're about ready to hang up their guitars despite mini-me daughters Thea (Samara Weaving) and Billie's (Brigette Lundy-Paine) unending, headbanging adulation of their music. But after a visit from Rufus' time-traveling daughter, Kelly (Kristen Schaal), the guys are taken to the Great Leader (Holland Taylor), who informs them they have until 7:17 pm to write "the song" or reality will completely collapse upon itself, a process that's already underway. 

Armed with mentor Rufus' phone booth, Bill and Ted come up with a plan to travel through time and obtain the song from their future selves and bring it back with them, skipping the work of actually writing it. Blissfully unaware of the obvious flaws in that approach, they proceed to make an even bigger mess of things while their daughters also time travel to gather a hall of fame of great musicians to help their fathers craft this perfect song. 

Little do they all know a killer robot (Anthony Carrigan) whose name you won't soon forget is tasked with eliminating them, if only he can remain emotionally stable enough to do so. They also have a reunion with the Grim Reaper (William Sadler), with whom they still have lingering music business disagreements that caused a falling out. With pressure mounting, Bill and Ted may finally be forced to mature and write the one hit song that's always alluded them. And it's kind of a big deal, with the universe ending and all. 

It's almost as if every possible idea for this sequel that's landed on a studio executive's desk since 1991's Bogus Journey was crammed into this one's brisk 90-minute running time. That's not necessarily a bad thing when considering the overall zaniness of this series, but it does seem overcrowded and a bit uneven, resulting in a mixed bag filled with hits and misses. Luckily, there's more hits, with the proceeedings getting off on the right foot almost immediately when we meet the 2020 versions of these beloved characters still performing as they always have, albeit at far smaller venues this time around. The wedding that kicks things is one of the film's many laugh-out-loud moments and successful gags, giving us a pretty good idea of what's to come. 

Other than being a little older, heavier, and married, it's essentially the same Bill and Ted, almost as if no time's passed at all. Only, it has. But Chris Matheson and Ed Solomon's script doesn't run away from that and appropriately centers the story around these two middle-aged slackers being forced to finally grow up, if not for their own sakes, then to save their crumbling marriages. An early scene with the two couples in therapy is one of the cleverest, perfectly encapsulating the bone-headed philosophy of our two protagonists and providing relief that they haven't changed one bit. 

There's something substantially less pathetic going on here than we saw in Dumber and Dumber To, with recognition that they can't just repeat the exact same hijinx we saw decades ago and expect an identical result. Then again, the characters can't exactly change or evolve too much either. It's a thin line, but one the script mostly pulls off while keeping the spirit of the franchise intact. The movie gets into more problematic territory when confronted with the nuts and bolts of the plot, which somehow manages to make less sense than the previous installments. Needlessly convoluted at points, it does kind of have a thrown together feel, probably resulting from all the different incarnations this project must have gone through before Steven Soderbergh eventually stepped in as producer to help deliver what we have now.

The story thread involving Bill and Ted having various encounters with versions of their future selves is both wildly inconsistent and endearingly amusing at the same time, with the best of these sequences involving a face-to-face with their rich, pampered British rocker couterparts and a welcome Dave Grohl cameo. But it's the sub-plot involving their daughters that most obviously pays tribute to the original film, with Billie and Thea hopping through time to gather an all-star line-up of legendary musicians like Mozart (Daniel Dorr), Louis Armstrong (Jeremiah Craft) and Jimi Hendrix (DazMann Still, who looks distractingly unlike him). Then there's Kid Cudi, appearing somewhat randomly as a time displaced iteration of himself. 

While none of this carries the impact of Socrates and Lincoln's contributions in Excellent Adventure, it still works, as does the eventual excursion into Hell where they reunite with William Sadler's jilted Grim Reaper. This, and everyone's interactions with Carrigan's socially awkward robot Dennis Caleb McCoy feel the most Bill and Ted of everything in the entire film and something that would feel right at home in either of the prequels. Other elements click, but given the choice, there's something immensely enjoyable about how those two characters are incorporated into the plot and play off Bill and Ted. 

It may have been the role that made him famous, but even well into his superstar ascent it was difficult for Keanu Reeves to shake the "stigma" of playing Ted that seemed to trail him throughout his career. Then something changed and the more the actor spread his wings in a variety of different projects over the decades, it became abundantly clear the character wasn't a stereotypically airheaded reflection of the person playing him. So it's a good thing Keanu never took that idea, or himself, all that seriously, instead building a varied résumé of work to prove his adaptability as a performer. 

The tide has now turned toward fans wanting the actor to reprise the role, not as a joke, but because we legitimately think he could bring a fascinating new dimension to it in upper middle-age. While I'm still unsure the part even necessitates that level of depth or commitment, watching him do this again just feels right. Moving from flannel to sports jackets while maintaining Ted's same sense of dopiness, wonder, hazy-eyed cluelessness with complete sincerity, we may have finally realized the actor and character really are inseparable. The only difference now is that we mean it as a compliment.

Largely avoiding the spotlight while establishing himself as a force behind the camera, Alex Winter always semed to have a gift for making Bill seem like the more grounded of the pair. Running with it from exactly where he left off in '91, the timing's definitely still there, making it kind of remarkable we've seen so little of him on screen prior to what's now his most high profile project in years. His outing here serves as a reminder that this was never an indictment on his comedic chops, as he's close to being one of the best things about this sequel.

When the guys do permanently bow out of these roles (as the film's ending already implies they may have), we at least know now they'll have more than suitable replacements. As Thea, Brigette Lundy-Paine delivers the most ingenious impersonation of Keanu Reeves playing Ted you'll ever likely see, right down to his voice, hand gestures and speech patterns, all while still finding a way to make the character's spirit completely hers. You won't be able to take your eyes off her as she delivers what feels like the ultimate greatest hits compilation of every "Whoa, Dude" and "Excellent" fans practiced with their friends as a kid. And yet, it somehow ends up being so much more, doing a better version of Keanu doing Ted than Keanu does. 

Since Bill doesn't have quirks that are quite as easily identifiable, Samara Weaving isn't given as much to play with, but there isn't a moment where she doesn't seem to be every bit her father's daughter in terms of appearance and personality. It's just great casting with these two, who steal the movie from their co-stars, especially as we realize the story's as much about these aimlessly likable 25 year-olds as it is their dads. 

Just trying to find their way, the supportive Billie and Thea and blindlessly devoted to the Wyld Stallyns music, but burdened by many of the same distractions that prevented their fathers' careers from ever truly taking flight. It would have been the easy way out to build the whole plot around Bill and Ted trying to fix some kind of rift with their estranged daughters, but they instead took the far more effective route of just making the girls funny and strange, and their dads' biggest, goofiest fans. It's really why the whole movie works, most especially in its closing minutes. 

The absence of the late George Carlin as Rufus was always going to be an issue, and while his presence is sorely missed, enough time has passed that it isn't the giant, insurmountable problem we imagined it could be. A holagrammed version of him does briefly appear via CGI in a respectful, undistracting moment and fans will be happy to see that his phone booth is just as integral to the plot as it was in the previous entries. Considering Rufus can't be suitably replaced, it at at least makes sense that his daughter would step in as a nod to the character, even if most of Kristen Schaal's comedic scenes opposite the Great Leader kind of fall flat through no fault of her own.

After all the years of hearing about and subsequently not getting a Bill and Ted sequel, the fact that we would finally be getting one was starting to feel like a no-win situation, if only because of the expectations. But it turns out that those involved knew exactly what they were making and did their best to make it feel smarter than merely a reunion tour celebrating a movie from their youth that probably wouldn't play as well now. Which isn't to say this doesn't give us a very large helping of nostalgic comfort food that's evident the second we see that classic Orion Pictures logo flash on screen. And with all the years available to release this sequel, did they ever ever pick the right one to have Bill and Ted write their song that could potentially unite and save the world. Funny how those things just seem to work out.