Tag Archives: B+


Producer: Judd Apatow and Barry Mendel
Director: Michael Showalter
Writer: Emily V. Gordon and Kumail Nanjiani
Stars: Kumail Nanjiani, Zoe Kazan, Holly Hunter, Ray Romano, Anupam Kher, Zenobia Shroff, Adeel Akhtar, Bo Burnham, Aidy Bryant, Kurt Braunohler, Vella Lovell, Myra Lucretia Taylor, Jeremy Shamos, David Alan Grier, Shenaz Treasurywala, Ed Herbtsman and Linda Emond
Studio: Amazon Studios/Lionsgate


The title forewarns you that illness will play a major role in Michael Showalter’s “The Big Sick,” but this is no disease-of-the-week movie. It’s a cross-cultural romantic dramedy in which a medically-induced coma provides an unlikely catalyst to commitment.

It’s also a showcase for stand-up comedian Kumail Nanjiani, who co-wrote the semi-autobiographical script with his wife Emily V. Gordon, played by Zoe Kazan. The fact that they’re married in real life is all the evidence you need that things will end happily, but it’s no spoiler: the movie is a charmer that doesn’t depend on a last-act surprise—thankfully, because in this case that would have been a downer.

Nanjiani plays a version of himself, a Pakistani Uber driver moonlighting as a stand-up comic in Chicago (or vice- versa). Performing his act one night, he meets Emily (Kazan), who gives him a shout-out from the audience and, after the show, goes back to his apartment with him. They get close over time, despite her insistence that she isn’t looking for a serious relationship, and doesn’t appear to appreciate his collection of horror movies much.

The real obstacle, though, is the obstacle presented by Kumail’s family. It’s bad enough that his mother and father (Zenobia Shroff and Anupam Kher) would be horrified to learn that he no longer follows the strict Muslim regimen they expect of him; they would be even more appalled to find him dating a white, non-Muslim woman. Indeed, his mother’s preoccupation is finding him a proper bride, arranged marriages being the ordinary practice in Pakistani culture. Indeed, every meal with them, his brother and sister-in-law (Adeel Akhtar and Shenaz Tresurywala) inevitably ends in an “accidental” drop-in by a likely candidate. When Emily finds out about Kumail’s failure to tell his parents about her—and the pretense he’s been engaged in with his mother about seriously considering her proposed mates—it apparently means the end of their relationship.

Shortly thereafter, Emily falls ill, and Kumail is called to her bedside in the hospital and asked to sign an emergency approval form for placing her in a protective coma. When her parents Beth (Holly Hunter) and Terry (Roy Romano) arrive from North Carolina, they’re initially put off by his presence—well aware that he’d broken things off with their daughter—but they bond as all of them hover over her as her condition baffles the staff. The question is when—or if—she awakens, she will be in a mood to take Kumail back.

“The Big Sick” can be said to follow the trajectory of a standard-issue rom-com—the cute meeting, the obstacles to commitment, the ultimate reconciliation—but transcends them for a number of reasons. One is that it doesn’t push too hard. Nanjiani has a pleasantly laid-back persona, and his almost apologetic demeanor and deadpan delivery make him extraordinarily likable; but he can also offer some zingers that register without overemphasis. Kazan is the perfect complement, possessing an ebullience that’s not just ingratiating but infectious. Hunter and Romano make a similarly well-matched pair, her hard-nosed practicality and his goofily irenic approach meshing unexpectedly well.

And the script also provides sparkling moments for the rest of the cast. Bo Burnham, Aidy Bryant and Kurt Braunohler all get moments to shine as other stand-up players (Braunohler is also Kumail’s sad-sack roommate). And while the dinner-table bride scenes offer ample opportunity for some rather broad humor—no pun intended—one of them, with Vella Lovell, carries an unexpected punch when Kumail drives her home and she delivers a poignant explanation of the emotional effect that the “arranged marriage” system has from the other side of the gender divide.

That scene is characteristic of another of the film’s virtues: its recognition that crossing a cultural divide is not a simple matter. Kumail’s parents are employed for comic effect, of course, but they are not reduced to crude caricatures. Even if one disagrees with their traditionalist outlook, one can appreciate their adherence to it, and discern that it’s not easy for their son to hurt them by denying his heritage, however Americanized he’s become.

“The Big Sick” doesn’t have the gloss of a Hollywood comedy—the production is physically pretty ordinary, Brian Burgoyne’s cinematography merely competent, and Showalter’s direction relatively pedestrian. But the film’s warmhearted spirit wins out. Human and humane, it is sweet without being saccharine, funny without becoming raucous, and touching without degenerating into mawkishness—the rare rom-com that appeals to your intelligence rather than insulting it.


Producer: Kevin Loader
Director: Roger Michell
Writer: Roger Michell
Stars: Rachel Weisz, Sam Claflin, Holliday Grainger, Ian Glen, Pierfrancesco Favino, Simon Russell Beale, Tim Barlow, Poppy Lee Friar, Katherine Pearce, Andrew Knott, Tristram Davies, Andrew Harill, Vicki Pepperdine, Bobby Scott Freeman and Harrie Hayes
Studio: Fox Searchlight Pictures


Roger Michell, who made one of the very best Jane Austen adaptations with “Persuasion” in 1995, now takes on Daphne du Maurier’s 1951 period mystery, a best seller previously filmed by Henry Koster with Olivia de Havilland and Richard Burton (in his screen debut) in 1952. His new version of “My Cousin Rachel” is an elegant “Masterpiece Theatre”-style adaptation of the venerable tale, as smoothly seductive as its enigmatic heroine.

The question at the center of the story, set in early nineteenth-century England, is whether beautiful Rachel (played, appropriately, by another Rachel, Weisz) is a manipulative murderess using her feminine wiles to entrap unwary men or rather a misunderstood woman simply trying to survive in a man’s world. Michell sets the stage with a montage, with voiceover delivered by Philip Ashley (Sam Claflin), about how he was taken in by his older cousin Ambrose (also played by Claflin) after his parents’ death, and about the strong bond they developed over the years. When Ambrose fell ill, his doctor advised him to travel to Italy for the warm, sunny climate; and in Florence he met, fell in love with, and married Rachel. His letters to Philip, however, exhibited a severe decline in his relationship with his new wife, leading to the suspicion that she was poisoning him. By the time Philip rushed to the continent to be with him, however, Ambrose was dead and Rachel was gone. Refusing to accept the explanation of Ambrose’s lawyer Rainaldi (Pierfrancesco Favino) that he died of a brain tumor, Philip is certain that Rachel had murdered him and vows revenge on her.

There is one catch, however: Rachel has inherited none of the Ashley wealth, which under the terms of the dead man’s only valid will is destined for Philip on his twenty-fifth birthday, when he is released from the guardianship of family friend (and his godfather) Kendall (Iain Glen). When Rachel comes to Cornwall, Philip is determined to take vengeance on the woman he believes was responsible for Ambrose’s death. On their first meeting, however, he is charmed by the decorous, sensitive Rachel, and it does not take long before he is completely besotted with her. Despite the misgivings of Kendall and his daughter Louise (Holliday Grainger), as well as the family lawyer (Simon Russell Beale), Philip determines to turn over the entire inheritance to Rachel on his birthday, expecting that they will marry and share it happily.

Is this the scheme that Rachel has planned all along? Has she cunningly maneuvered an impressionable boy, whose only dealings with females have involved spunky Louise (who obviously has designs on him herself), into giving her what she was denied by her husband’s unchanged will? Or is she what she portrays herself as—a woman without means making her way as best she can? Certainly there is cause for suspicion, not only in the ways she appears to prod young Philip into making choices that will benefit her to his detriment, but in the suggestions from other sources that her past life has been notorious for profligacy and infidelity. When Rainaldi shows up in England, even enamored Philip cannot suppress his concern. And what about that peculiar tea she keeps insisting that he drink?

Many of the quibbles one might raise about “My Cousin Rachel” from a plot perspective, however, can be resolved simply by remembering that the tale is told entirely from Philip’s perspective, and he is not what one might call a terribly perceptive, or entirely reliable narrator. Indeed, as Claflin portrays him, he appears psychologically unstable from the very first, and as the story progresses the actor twitches and squints rather too readily to depict not only poor Philip’s obsessive devotion to his cousin but his ineptitude in dealing with women at all, let alone one so sophisticated in presenting herself to the world as Rachel.

Weisz, meanwhile, masterfully conveys Rachel’s apparent calculation, subtly using modest gestures to raise questions about her motives while being unafraid to resort to more extravagant reactions when warranted. The caveat, of course, is that the film “reads” everything she says and does through the prism of Philip’s eyes, inevitably leading the viewer to interpret her demeanor as he does. Weisz seems to have appreciated that fact, and, in collaboration with Michell, molds the performance accordingly. The result is a canny exercise in manipulation of the audience as skilled as the one that du Maurier’s Rachel is presumably practicing on Philip.

Glen, Graingar, Favino and Beale—along with Tim Barlow, as Philip’s gruff old servant Seecombe—all provide excellent support, and the physical production is fastidiously managed, with Alice Norrington’s production design, Dinah Collin’s costumes and Barbara Herman-Skelding’s set decoration offering a wealth of period detail and cinematographer Mike Eley taking lush widescreen advantage of the fabulous Cornwall locations. Rael Jones’ score, moving artfully between romantic exhilaration and tones of menace, proves a fine complement to the visuals.

Faithful as it is to du Maurier’s book (with a few exceptions, most notably in the mode of the concluding twist), Michell’s “My Cousin Rachel” might seem sedate, even creaky, to modern viewers brought up on more overtly exciting fare. But to those tired of films that try to pummel them into submission, it will represent a welcome return to the days when dramatic restraint, studied ambiguity and a gradual buildup of tension were qualities that were prized rather than despised. Old-fashioned it might be, but satisfyingly so.