"Mank"

 By Matt Duncan

Coastal View News

“Mank” received the most Oscar nominations of any movie this year, proving once again that Hollywood likes itself.

 

This movie is about movies—and movie makers. “Mank” refers to Herman Mankiewicz (Gary Oldman), writer of “Citizen Kane”.

 

Herman is your typical Hollywood tragic hero. That is to say, he’s a hot mess. He’s an alcoholic, a grump, and a tyrant. He also just broke his leg in a car accident. So he’s stuck in bed.

 

That’s where this movie picks up—Herman in bed with nothing to do but rant, rave, and crave booze.

 

Then none other than Orson Welles gives him something to do. He wants Herman to write a movie for him. So, with nothing better to do, Herman gets on it, dictating the script to his secretary, Rita Alexander (Lily Collins).

 

Rita notices that the main character in Herman’s story is an awful lot like media magnate William Randolph Hearst. Then come the flashbacks—from when Herman knew Hearst. The rest of “Mank” oscillates between 1940—when Herman is working on “Citizen Kane”—and the 1930s, when Herman was just getting started.

 

1930 is when Herman was first introduced to Hearst (Charles Dance) by actress Marion Davies (Amanda Seyfried). Herman and Hearst hit it off, and, as a result, a lot of the 1930s for Herman seems to be spent getting boozy at his buddy’s castle.

 

But there is a more serious side to their upper-crust social life: politics. They like to sit around talking about the Nazis, socialism, and the California governor’s race. A lot of them want hotshot socialist Upton Sinclair to be governor, but Hearst doesn’t. Hearst funds a smear campaign against Sinclair and, in the process, unhappily implicates the others who are forced by their Hearst-funded employers at MGM to produce the smear films.

 

Back in 1940 Herman’s work on “Citizen Kane” is up and down. Standard stuff: Producers worry that Herman isn’t making enough progress. Others worry about the content, or the style, or the politics, or whatever. Eventually, he finishes it. Some like it (a lot), some don’t (a lot).

 

Then more squabbling occurs over whether to go ahead and make the film (no spoiler needed there), whether to credit Herman as a writer, and so on.

 

Yes, Hollywood likes itself. And it likes to revel. It likes to tell its golden tales of yore as though they’re modern Iliads—and as though everyone, Hollywood-insider or not, would and should give a care.

 

No doubt some will give a care, if for no other reason than that this insider-baseball story is told with such style. Gary Oldman is mesmerizing. Director David Fincher (who is using his late father Jack’s screenplay) knows how to make a movie. The black-and-white cinematography is at times warmly nostalgic and at other times eerie and unsettling.

 

I like movies plenty (obviously). But, if you couldn’t already tell, I found myself not caring all that much about this story. I’m a curious enough guy, and I like little historical vignettes of all sorts, so I’m not totally sure why I wanted so badly to yawn at my TV, to really let it know that I’m over it, I don’t care.

 

Maybe it’s to offset Hollywood’s out-of-whack interest in itself. Herman Mankiewicz, Orson Welles, Marion Davies, William Randolph Hearst, “Citizen Kane”! These are interesting things! But, I don’t know, maybe they’re not that interesting—not portrayed like this, not as a saga of the SoCal pantheon. At any rate, it is a bit gross to witness the self-referential self-love ooze from the screen (and splatter all over the Oscar envelopes).

 

“Mank” drums up some complexity by showing the role Hollywood played in pre-WWII politics. Perhaps this provides some nice allegories and lessons about the relationship between the set and the statehouse. Or perhaps, again, Hollywood has an outsized sense of its importance: thinking of itself as some vital source of change despite being impotent to do anything but make movies about its impotence—its heroic, tragic, well-meaning impotence.

 

Now, the money in Hollywood—whether it’s from Hearst, Welles, Oprah, or whoever it is that funded “Mank”—maybe that makes a big behind-the-scenes difference. Maybe that’ll get you House seats, statehouses, and Oscar nods. But two things about money in politics: First: No duh! And, second: Yuck.

 

Enjoy it if you can.

"Nomadland"

 By Matt Duncan

Coastal View News

How much do you need? A house? Running water and a toilet? A stable job? Health insurance? Restaurants, bars, friends, families, TV, and other entertainment? Most of us enjoy most of these things, but how much of it do we really need?

 

Nomads say: Not much. These nomads, which really do exist, roam the U.S. in their Ford- and Chevy-made ships of the desert. They eat what they can, work when they can, and sleep where they can—mostly in their vans.

 

Fern (Frances McDormand) is a nomad. She wasn’t always. She used to work with her husband in a U.S. Gypsum plan in Empire, Nevada. Then her husband died and the plant shut down (the whole town did, in fact). Everything crumbled. So, at the start of “Nomadland” (which just won Best Motion Picture at the Golden Globes and is streaming on Hulu), there is nothing tethering Fern to anything.

 

So she lets it all go. She sells a lot of her stuff, puts the rest in storage, buys a van, and heads out. She picks up temporary jobs here and there and radically simplifies her life.

 

Fern is quiet and reserved. She doesn’t exactly look happy—and you can tell her mind is elsewhere—but she insists she’s fine. She’s getting by. She’s making it. This isn’t the life she set out for herself, and boy does she sure miss her husband, but life on the road is now her life—the life she chose.

 

A bunch of others chose it too. A small army of nomads (several of whom are real-life nomads) come up around Fern, becoming her support, her community. The nomads are tough, but kind. They readily help each other out and revel in each other’s company, though they always end up saying goodbye.

 

The nomads have a different way of looking at things. Instead of asking how much we need, nomads—or anyone, really—might more helpfully ask how much we really want. A lot of people want as much as they can get, or more. But nomads embrace a different way of life. The austerity—or, rather, simplicity—of their lives does not always, or perhaps even usually, spring from a failure to acquire more and more stuff; it often springs from their belief that acquiring more and more stuff isn’t good—it isn’t healthy, it isn’t desirable, it’s not worth wanting. Stuff weighs you down. So does the owning of it.

 

Still, it’s not always easy to square the appeal of this message with the evident fact that, in many ways, nomads really do have it hard. Even aside from the strain of living off of odd jobs, eating out of a camper, and pooping in a bucket, life on the road takes its toll in many other ways. There may be something liberating about going where you want when you want, but it also looks to be pretty lonely and isolating.

 

Which is all to say that it’s complex. As is “Nomadland.” This movie consistently holds together contrasting moods—both positive and negative affect—in such organic, authentic, simple ways. It makes you feel bad for nomads, while also, in other ways, making you jealous of their courage and independence. The nomads are close to each other, despite constantly parting ways; their bond is, by its nature, evanescent—bound up in saying, “See you down the road.”

 

“Nomadland” is sad, but also beautiful. You see it on Fern’s face. There’s no hiding the hurt, the pain, the sorrow. Unlike the rest stops and short-term work, there’s no moving on from what she lost. It’s etched into the lines on her face. It’s a tired sadness—a weariness.

 

Yet there are also clear skies and sunsets, the open road and kinship. One way of looking at the nomads is as running away from something. Some are. But maybe for some it’s more like: keep moving, stay alive, one foot in front of the other.

 

That feeling is worth sitting with. Not trying to change it, or fix it, or move on—as if that were possible—but just recognizing the feeling. A lot of people feel it—the sadness mixed in with little glimmers of … what is it? Hope? Beauty? O.K.-ness? Whatever it is, “Nomadland” offers a meaningful glimpse. It’s not cheery. But it is good.

"The Little Things"

 By Matt Duncan

Coastal View News

I’m ready for the good old days. The nowadays are tough. And even the glimmers of hope—vaccines, new leadership, an improving economy—just make me all the more ready to turn the page and get back to the way things were. I’ve started to listen to NPR again (I couldn’t stomach the news for the last while). And my wife and I are re-watching/re-devouring the fancifully optimistic “The West Wing”.

We are also part of a 90s movie night series with some friends (though it’s on hiatus right now). The 90s—those were the days for some fun movies. Twisty plots, soaring musical scores, ridiculous action sequences, and bad guys that everyone could get pissed at.

“The Little Things” (now streaming on HBO Max) bills itself as a throwback to those movies. Here are some of its familiar tropes: Joe “Deke” Deacon (Denzel Washington) is an old detective with a haunted past. Once upon a time he was a brilliant investigator—best close rate in the area—but now (in the 1990s) he’s rusting away as a deputy Sherriff in Kern County, California. 

Jim Baxter (Rami Malek) is a young, idealistic, hotshot detective in the Los Angeles Sherriff’s Department. He has a bleeding heart for victims, and can’t rest—won’t rest—until justice is served. There’s a serial killer afoot in L.A.—really brutal stuff—so Baxter is on high alert.

Meanwhile Deacon starts to nose around the area, too, thinking that the recent murders look a lot like some scenes from his still-murky-but-obviously-painful past.

Both Baxter and Deacon dig for a little while—sometimes in sync, sometimes at odds with each other. When they finally get together to chat about it, Baxter—bless his soul—confesses his unrelenting addiction to crime-avenging. Deacon warns him, “There are no angels.”

Eventually the pair meet another trope: A creepy auto mechanic—Albert Sparma (Jared Leto)—who is ham-handedly setting off all the murderer alarm bells. Still, Sparma is pretty smart—more like conniving—so he can’t be pinned down. Even for us, the audience, it’s not perfectly clear whether he’s The Guy or just a super sketchy crime buff.

At this point, anyone who has watched a fair share of 90s movies—especially in the action/thriller genre—will no doubt be shrouded in a feeling of familiarity. Whether it feels more like a warm blanket of nostalgia or a suffocating sheath of unoriginality may vary. But it’s there.

For me, the feel of the movie was pretty appealing. Sinister, but not soul-crushing. Realistic enough, but nothing deeply stressing. Complicated but not confusing. Idealistic but not preachy (well, most of the time … some of Malek’s lines are a bit much).

I also enjoyed the acting (I mean, with those three leads, how could I not?) and parts of the bendy plot. For I’d say about 90 minutes of the two-hour movie I felt transported to the good-old days of 90s cinema.

But the rest of it was sort of botched—a cheap knock-off of the thrills and chills of movies like “Seven” or “Silence of the Lambs”. The ending, in particular, betrayed the movie. It was cheesy and not half as clever as it took itself to be.

Come to think of it, a lot of 90s movies also failed in exactly these ways. So I guess, in the end, it’s not a 90s movie that I really long for. It’s a good movie. Just as I’d settle for some good 2021 days—they don’t have to be old—so too I’d go for a movie with good atmosphere, both realism and idealism, good acting, and a fun, well executed plot.

Alas, “The Little Things” isn’t quite there.

"Soul"

 By Matt Duncan

Coastal View News

There’s a saying that those who can’t do, teach. Joe (Jaime Foxx)—the main character in Pixar’s latest animated feature, “Soul”—hopes he’s the exception.

 

Joe is a middle-school band teacher. So, yes, he teaches. But he sure can do it too—that is, he sure can play the piano. And his dream is to make it big in the New York City jazz scene.

 

But things haven’t exactly taken off for Joe. He’s a middle aged guy with a pot belly, out-of-style clothes, and a dad mustache. His students love him, sure. But, as Joe’s mom likes to remind him, his musical career is a pipe dream.

 

Until, that is, one of Joe’s former students—whom Joe inspired to be a professional musician—asks him to drop by his band’s practice session to see if he can fill in at piano.

 

Joe is way nervous, but he nails the audition. The famous leader of the band, Dorothea (Angela Bassett), is impressed, and that is all it takes. Joe is in! So, naturally, Joe is on cloud nine.

 

Then he isn’t. Instead, he is on a more literal cloud heading to the great beyond. For Joe died. (Or something like that. Maybe he’s not quite dead? Just about to die? The metaphysics are a little unclear.) In his distracted, post-tryout euphoria, Joe fell into a manhole and his little, phosphorescent blue soul wakes up in a different place.

 

Joe resists. He’s not ready to die. Not only does he really, really want to play with Dorothea’s band, he has this idea that, if he doesn’t, his life will have been pointless, meaningless.

 

So Joe exploits a glitch in the heavenly machinery to move from the “Great Beyond” to the “Great Before”—the place where unborn souls are readied for life on Earth. Joe gets roped into being a “soul counselor” for unborn souls in need of guidance.

 

Unfortunately he gets assigned 22 (Tina Fey). 22 is pretty much a hopeless case. Everyone from Gandhi to Abraham Lincoln to Mother Teresa has tried to mentor 22, but to no avail. 22 is stubborn—she doesn’t want to be born.

 

But Joe is desperate to get back to Earth, and he figures he can hitch a ride with 22 if he gets her born. So he tries. The main ingredient missing for 22 is her lack of a “spark”. Joe tries to help her find it—in music, art, science, food, sports, and whatever. Nothing works.

 

So Joe tries a different tack—he gets hooked up with some hippie mystics who help lost souls, and they agree to help him get back to Earth.

 

And he succeeds! The problem is, he accidentally brings 22 along too. The even bigger problem is, 22 is in Joe’s body and Joe is in the body of a therapy cat.

 

Joe frantically searches for more hippie magic while simultaneously trying to preserve the career opportunities he had worked so hard for.

 

Meanwhile, 22 is gobsmacked by life (again, in Joe’s body), and Joe is learning to experience the world from a different perspective (again, in a cat’s body). 22 eats pizza, inspects interesting flora and fauna, feels, hears, touches, and smells. She’s no longer thinking about purposes and sparks and the like. At the same time, Joe is trying so hard to get his old life back, but he begins to wonder about what he, or anybody, should, in the end, at the core, strive for. Fame? Success? Accomplishments? Or something else?

 

“Soul” is pretty abstract. With all the talk of souls, purpose, and sparks, it definitely runs the risk of going over younger kids’ heads. It also runs the risk of feeling less approachable, warm, and (dare I say it) soulful than more concrete, Earthly stories.

 

For comparison, Pixar’s “Inside Out”—about tiny little mental states—also ran this risk. But “Inside Out” totally nailed it because there was enough concrete scaffolding in the background, the characters were really amusing, and the abstract bits tied in really nicely with the real-life bits and provided some really powerful insights.

 

“Soul” has some, but not all, of that. The otherworldly scenes are a bit dry, long, and (again, dare I say it) lifeless. And the connection between the two realms felt more made up and less real—versus the mental realm in “Inside Out” which, in essence, felt pretty true to life. Also, the very end of “Soul” is regrettably cheesy.

 

Nonetheless, “Soul” has some very high points too. What Joe and 22 realize about what a “spark” is (hint: it ain’t just an interest in music, science, or sports) is nothing short of profound. And how this might reshape their—and our—conception of what makes a life worth living is thought-provoking and, I think, compelling.

 

So, just as Joe might in the end recommend to us that we live for the here and now, rather than something dreamier or loftier, in a similar way, I recommend that you watch “Soul”, not for the comparatively banal stuff set in the clouds, but for the concrete, true-to-life, moving, powerful, very well done scenes and insights from Joe’s life.

"The Social Dilemma"

 By Matt Duncan

Coastal View News

Hi, I’m Matt—I’m an email-aholic. I check it too much. I can’t resist. I get a little rush each time I tap “refresh”, though, I have to admit, the high isn’t what it used to be. I want to stop checking my email. There’s no real reason to. It’s not like I get a ton of urgent messages, nor is it like I’m getting tons of awesome, uplifting emails (one-quarter spam, one-quarter non-spam that I treat like spam, one-quarter annoying emails from students, one-quarter mixed bag).

 

I know I’m not alone. There are others like me—who battle the same demons I battle. For some it’s email. For others it’s Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. Whatever the digital drug is, there’s no denying it: We’re hooked.

 

And it's no accident, according the creators of "The Social Dilemma" (exclusively on Netlfix). We’re hooked because Google, Apple, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc., want us hooked, know how to hook us, and have indeed been doing everything in their considerable power to make sure that we can't put down our smart phones for very long.

 

"The Social Dilemma" is a documentary that features leading figures within the tech industry as well as influential commenters on the methods and effects of various internet platforms (especially social media). They basically say what the likes of Google, Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter are doing to us.

 

It ain't pretty. Let's start with the kids. They're going crazy on social media. Literally. Not only are they hooked just like the rest of us, teens' and preteens' use of social media is having horrible effects on their psyches—anxiety, depression, and body-image issues. The "Like" button is straight-up smack. Only legal.

 

Then there's the adults. Let's talk politics. Because that's what everyone likes to do on social media. The problem is that platforms like Facebook and Twitter employ advanced algorithms (good ones, too) to make sure you get exactly the information fix you want—not info that's true, or balanced, or important to hear; just the info that gives you pleasure. So Republicans are hearing what they want to hear, Democrats are hearing what they want to hear. And, of course, it’s not the same message. So we don't occupy the same information space; we are experiencing totally different worlds. Which is a recipe for awful, divisive partisanship.

 

There's more—plenty more. The tech giants are molding, bending, manipulating, contorting us to do whatever they want, which, among other things, is to keep consuming their products like frat boys guzzling cheap beer.

 

How are they doing it? Psychology and algorithms. They know how addiction works. And, given that they have access to all of our data—so much data!—they can feed that data into learning AI that then builds algorithms that predict our behavior with astonishing accuracy. They are like the mad neuroscientists in horror movies who control people’s minds, only they don’t have to bother with a neural implant. We are hypnotized.

 

Technology is not all bad, of course. As the current and former tech execs in "The Social Dilemma" point out, these platforms have also done good things—maybe even a lot of good things. But is it worth it? The overall message from "The Social Dilemma" is "regulate, regulate, regulate". The penitent millionaires interviewed in this movie seem to hope that more government control of the internet could help with the aforementioned problems.

 

But here’s another potential solution: Delete. That's what I did. Right after watching this movie, I deleted the Facebook app from my phone. There are things I like about Facebook, but, for a little while now, I've realized that checking Facebook brings me more pain than pleasure. I'm much more likely to feel anger, outrage, and jealousy than admiration, love, and joy. And, unfortunately, these bad feelings are addicting too—once I start with anger, outrage, or jealousy, it's really hard to stop. And these are not good feelings. Unlike getting high on heroin, or drunk on wine, or stoned on weed, digital addictions don't feel good. They're the ultimate downers.

 

Watching "The Social Dilemma" is kind of a downer too, I guess. Unlike our carefully culled social media feeds, this movie is not designed to make you feel pleasure. It is designed to confront you with hard truths (again, unlike those social media feeds).

 

“The Social Dilemma” is an effective movie, though not necessarily a perfect one. The guy most at the center of the movie—former Google Design Ethicist, Tristan Harris—is a bit self-righteous and preachy (I mean, for the love of Pete, he pronounces his name “Trist-on”). And there’s a pretty cheesy dramatization woven in-between all of the very informative, interesting interviews. The movie would have been better without that.

 

Still, watch it.

"The Peanut Butter Falcon"

 By Matt Duncan

Coastal View News

With most theaters still opting out of “in person” this fall, what counts as new in the movie biz is relative. Over the past months I have focused on movies that have started streaming relatively recently—that is, movies that you can watch in quarantine—as well as movies and T.V. shows that have received some recent buzz.

 

But, in the spirit of keeping it corona-fresh, here’s a new one: Recently released on airlines. I masked it up in the friendly skies this past weekend, and decided to watch a “new release”. If you’re like me, picking a movie on a plane is tough, because you’ve got a bunch of options, but without internet there’s no way to find out which ones are supposed to be good. I took a stab so you don’t have to.

 

Now showing on American Airlines: “The Peanut Butter Falcon” (those wary of flying needn’t worry—you can also stream this movie on Amazon Prime or Hulu).

 

The three main characters in this movie each have pain in their past and problems in their present. Zak’s (Zack Gottsagen) family abandoned him because he has Down’s syndrome, and, as the movie begins, he is stuck in an old folk’s home watching old wrestling videos all day because he has nowhere to go and no one to take care of him.

 

Except, perhaps, for Eleanor (Dakota Johnson). She works at the old folk’s home and keeps an eye on Zak. And she has to keep an eye on him, because Zak keeps trying to escape. Eleanor has her own tragic past, as it turns out, but now her most pressing struggle is to keep Zak safe and sound.

 

Tyler’s (Shia LaBeouf) most pressing struggle has nothing to do with Eleanor or Zak, at least not at first. He’s feuding with crabbers—that is, people who catch crabs—along the Carolina coastline. He steals their crabs, they get pissed, he complains that they stole his crabbing license, they don’t care, he damages their gear, they beat him up, and so on. Tyler’s brother used to look out for him, but now he’s dead, so Tyler is messed up and alone.

 

Then Zak mysteriously shows up on his boat. He (Zak) is wearing naught but tighty-whities. He finally escaped the retirement center and the first place he found to hide was Tyler’s boat. Tyler is on the run, so Zak is a major inconvenience. Still, even Tyler has enough of a heart to not just leave Zak to his own devices.

 

Once Tyler’s realizes that Zak is also on the run, they start to form a sort of bond. Tyler isn’t exactly all warm and fuzzy—at least not at first—but Zak starts to grow on him. They embrace their roles as outcasts.

 

Tyler is trying to get to Florida, but he agrees to first help Zak fulfill his ultimate dream: To find Salt Water Redneck (Thomas Haden Church), an old-school wrestler who once upon a time ran a wrestling school. Zak’s knowledge of this school is based entirely on an old VHS that he watched over and over in the old folks’ home. So it’s sort of a shot in the dark. But Tyler isn’t exactly in a rush. So off they go.

 

Meanwhile, Eleanor is desperate to find Zak. She wants what is best for him. However, as things play out, she is forced to reconsider what it is that’s best for Zak—and her.

 

One remarkable think about “The Peanut Butter Falcon” is that I did not hate Shia LaBeouf in it. In fact, if you really pressed me, I’d have to admit that I liked him. He does a great job playing a decent redneck with a rough exterior.

 

And then there’s Zack Gottsagen, who is amazing—if he doesn’t brighten your day, nothing will. Dakota Johnson’s performance a little less even. Still, overall this movie’s characters are clearly its heart and soul. And it has a lot of heart and soul. “The Peanut Butter Falcon” is not complex, or complicated, or heavy on plot, but it does what it does well.

 

It also deals with hard things without making the viewing experience a miserable slog. It feels light and uplifting, even when things get tense or tough. Which is a real virtue these days, at least in my book.

 

So if you’re flying out of town, or just want something to make you smile, “The Peanut Butter Falcon” is a good bet.

"Get Duked!"

 By Matt Duncan

Coastal View News

There I was, all ready to sit down with my family to watch Disney’s new live-action version of “Mulan”. We have a subscription to Disney Plus, so I thought we were good to go. Then, to my horror, I discovered that it costs an additional $30 to rent it! No way! My wife pointed out that Disney is probably losing a lot of money during the pandemic. Oh give me a break, Disney, you’ll be fine. She also pointed out that if we went to a theater, we would have paid at least $30. O.K., fine, whatever … I’m still not buying it.

 

Instead I sought out an outlet for my disgust—one that would also lighten the mood a bit. I decided on “Get Duked!”—the newly released British horror comedy. This movie is totally free on Amazon Prime (if you have a membership).

 

And I guess “Get Duked!” is kind of like “Mulan”. Both are coming-of-age tales—about becoming a capital-M Man—at least nominally. Though, instead of fighting the Huns, the main characters in “Get Duked!” fight British aristocracy. And these characters are not, hmmm, let’s say, as genteel as Mulan. They’re pretty crass. And the swordplay is much less elegant.

 

These main characters are four teenage boys. Three of them—Duncan (Lewis Gribben), Dean (Rian Gordon), and DJ Beatroot (Viraj Juneja)—are bad kids. They’re troublemakers, miscreants, delinquents, bad seeds. The fourth—Ian (Samuel Bottomley)—is a good kid, but too sheltered and childlike for his own good.

 

What brings this motley crew together is the Duke of Edinburgh Award. This is a trek across the Scottish highlands that teenage boys have been doing since bygone eras as a rite of passage. Get to the end of the trek, survive the perils of the wilderness, and you’re a Man. Or something like that.

 

At first things go exactly as you’d expect. They screw around, act like buffoons, whine and yell at each other, posture, fight, goof off, etc.

 

But then they see someone. It’s a very proper looking gentleman, adorned with fine leather boots, a handsome hunting jacket, and one of those Scottish golfing hats. The boys are bit far off, so they can’t be sure, but they think he sure looks like the Duke of Edinburgh.

 

The Duke (Eddie Izzard) also has a rifle—he’s out on a hunt. And what the boys could be forgiven for not realizing at first is that the Duke is hunting, not deer or pheasant or some other beast of the wild, but them.

 

The Duke shoots at them while taunting them with very high-society commentary about the youth and purity and aristocracy. The Duke is later joined by The Duchess (Georgie Glenn)—both wearing creepy masks and both tormenting the kids.

 

So what starts as a coming-of-age story quickly becomes a kind of strange horror movie involving aristocrats, and later anarchist farmers, pagan ritualistic symbols, and zombies.

 

The kids do their best to fend of the foes. They have some skills, but they’re not very bright. The local police seem to be onto something, but they’re even more incompetent and focused on the wrong things than the teenage boys (imagine that). So it’s sort of a race to the bottom for this skirmish between the youth, the old guard, and the hapless police.

 

“Get Duked!” is fun—amusing. The kids are sometimes annoying, but they can be boyishly charming too. And the setting—the Scottish highlands, with kids and masked-wearing nobles, with a backdrop of freestyle rap—is a unique set of flavors that adds some kick to the movie.

 

“Get Duked!” is also lazily trying to do something more—to be a kind of commentary on Brexxit and generational politics in Britain. But this layer of meaning is pretty limited. The movie itself doesn’t take it very seriously (not that it should), and I couldn’t detect anything particularly insightful there.

 

If I were more entertained by the antics of teenage boys, I suspect that I would have enjoyed this movie a lot more. But, I admit, I couldn’t really get into it. I guess you get what you pay for (or don’t pay for).