Film

ON THE ROCKS

National Treasure Bill Murray reunites with his Oscar-winning Lost in Translation director, Sophia Coppola, for a film that definitely channels their previous work together. This time they explore the relationship of an older man and his grown daughter; not an older man and a young female stranger. But this spiritual sequel, if you will, is much lighter on its feet, putting the magnetism and charisma of Murray to resplendent use.

Part fairy tale, part caper, On the Rocks sparkles with the winsome appeal of champagne-fueled screwball romps of the 1930s. You cannot help but be charmed by this story of a grown daughter and her eccentric playboy father. It’s breezy and easy-going, and thanks to the smartness of its writing, it doesn’t sacrifice emotion.

Said daughter is Laura, played by Rashida Jones. Laura seems to have it all: a gorgeous husband (Marlon Wayans) who adores her, two adorable daughters, and a book deal. Yet her days are spent in a monotonous cycle of staring at a blank page that doesn’t seem to want to write itself, shuttling her daughters to and from their schools and activities, and trying to schedule time with her husband, who has grown busier and busier with a new work venture.

Sure, these are the problems of beautiful rich people, but that privilege is acknowledged and never grows grotesque — even if their multimillion-dollar SoHo loft prominently displays a Bernie Sanders sticker. 'Cause while the setting certainly teeters on lifestyle porn, the malaise feels universal and incredibly real.

Then, one day after her husband returns from a business trip, Laura finds another woman’s toiletries in his suitcase. And while this hard-working family man has a reasonable explanation, Laura lets her mind spiral.

Enter dear old dad, Felix. A globetrotting art dealer and all-around bon vivant, Felix is back in the city, and after Laura confides in him about her suspicions, Felix sees this as a chance for the two of them to have an adventure together, and so the sleuthing shenanigans begin.

When referring to his grown daughter as cutie, kiddo, shorty, or little lady, Felix says it in such a way that it never comes across with even the slightest hint of smarminess. And even while he spouts vaguely sexist theories and shamelessly flirts with nearly any female who will listen, he remains undeniably lovable. It’s something to behold and something only Murray can get away with.

Felix knows all the best places, has clearly seen a thing or two, and is always ready to share his advice and knowledge. The best place to have an affair in New York? The Plaza; it has four entrances. He is also a real Renaissance man, prone to serenading his fellow bargoers as they quietly fall under his spell. I mean he even diffuses a tense situation with the cops, only to have them pushing his car by the end of the interaction.

Laura, on the other hand, is the responsible one, the buzzkill. But when Felix picks her up in his vintage Alfa Romeo (with caviar packed for the road, natch) for a night of tailing her husband, how can she not want to leave the kids with a sitter and take on the town with her Dad. And so Murray guides us through a New York that exists in a magical realm, one that falls somewhere between the place we’ve visited and one that lives only in our dreams. There’s a certain energy in the streets that glitters in a way only New York City can, with Coppola perfectly capturing in her gauzy lens the melancholic beauty of a night out on the town.

Filmed in some of New York’s most iconic and sophisticated locations — like Bemelmans Bar at the Carlyle, or the table at the Oak Room where Bogart proposed to Bacall — you will ache for the city, its cramped tables, loud noise, streets lined with trash, and all.

It’s almost gossamer-light, but Coppola, daughter of a commanding figure (Francis Ford) herself, elevates it. And Jones, the daughter of another charismatic icon (Quincy Jones), takes a standard straight man role and imbues it with complexities. It’s not as easy to appreciate her work when up against the showy and oh-soeasy-to-love Murray, but that’s what makes hers such a marvelous performance.

This is ultimately Laura’s story, and as the film moves towards its conclusion, it doesn’t shy from the hard stuff, diving into relationship dynamics and truths neither of them want to confront, and to poignant effect.

Yet, while the film crackles with emotion, feeling, and affection, by the end, On the Rocks fizzles its way out. You’ll wish there was just a little more to it. But what is there is gentle, honest, and true, and pretty darn hard to resist. Available on AppleTV+

Meg Weichman is a perma-intern at the Traverse City Film Festival and a trained film archivist.

trial of chicago 7

Aaron Sorkin returns to the pleasurable comforts of legal proceedings (see also A Few Good Men; "To Kill a Mockingbird," on Broadway; The Social Network) to bring one of our nation’s most notorious trials to screen. What became known as “The Trial of the Chicago 7,” was essentially the newly-sworn in Nixon Administration’s attempt to put the “radical left” on trial following the upheaval at the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago, where, with the whole world watching, confrontations between police and demonstrators occurred, and violence broke out at the hands of the police. And it’s a trial with so much grandstanding and innate drama, that if it weren’t a true story, you would think Sorkin was playing far too heavy of a hand. Part history lesson, part courtroom epic, part actor’s showpiece, Sorkin takes the weighty subject matter and turns it into slick, (perhaps too slick) entertainment. With its overwhelming blend of impassioned speeches, murder’s row cast (Eddie Redmayne, Mark Rylance, Jeremy Strong, Sacha Baron Cohen, et al), righteous indignation, and playful humor, it’s almost too enjoyable of a watch: easy to digest, with broad strokes and unimaginative direction.

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