Short takes #06

Compact appraisals of new movies, newish restaurants, and burritos.

Earlier this week I was featured earlier this week on Nothing Bogus, a newsletter about independent film. Thank you to Max for making me feel comfortable on the other end of an interview.

It’s that time of year again (no, not a gift guide but if there’s interest…) when the theaters are overflowing with movies. But what to watch? Not the new Luca. My takes below, and here’s my short list of what’s new and worthwhile and coming to theaters.

• Something occurred to me while watching MARTHA Stewart doc: the society-caterer turned homemaker extraordinaire set the template for Laila Gohar.

• California duo Lev Kalman and Whitney Horn’s lightly erotic thriller DREAM TEAM stars Esther Garel and Dirty Beach’s Alex Zhang Hungtai as two super attractive Interpol agents caught up in an aquatic conspiracy. I can do no better than my critic friend Mark Asch, who dubbed it “basic-cable Pynchon.” It’s whimsically meandering, low-stakes point of view is not everyone’s kind of mellow but it is mine.

• I haven’t seen WICKED (part one) or GLADIATOR II. Word is the former is “unconscionably long” and the latter a slog. On Thanksgiving I’ll be watching neither, introducing my family to TRAP instead.

  If you want to engage in historic battle in the actual Colosseum, there’s an Airbnb experience for that. Roman lawmakers aren’t happy.

• ALL WE IMAGINE AS LIGHT is at once an homage to the spirit of Mumbai and a story of female friendship. Payal Kapadia—one of TIME’s 100 most influential people of the year—brings sensory precision to her cityscapes, shot with and without permits, and an introspective inner life to her characters, nurses working through various stages of romantic conflict. There is also a deep sense of romantic longing owing in part to the easygoing soundtrack and a radiant blue palette. It’s a lovely gentle film.

• The limits of Luca Guadagnino’s aestheticism are revealed in QUEER, his sallow adaptation of William S. Burroughs novella. Without any instagrammable images to fall back on or the aid of collaborators, we’re left with a one-dimensional story of unrequited love. Daniel Craig is affecting but looks and sounds like he came out of the TAR school of acting. Every needle drop (Nirvana, Sinead covering Nirvana) is a vacuous farce. If shooting up while New Order plays in the background is your idea of broken beauty, then I suppose this movie is for you. More on this one soon.

• An animated movie about a cat is not every adult’s cup of tea. And yet FLOW, directed by Gints Zilbalodis and Latvia’s entry for the Oscars, is an exquisitely and universally captivating film regardless of your age. When a great flood wipes out most of the earth, a black cat commandeers a boat to dry land along with a lemur, capybara, and towering secretarybird as first mates. None of them talk, and the film is better for it.

  It’s roughly an allegory on how vastly different species of individuals might somehow dare get along in the midst of climate catastrophe—and a visually soothing feast. The cat initially gave severe impressions of the Windows screensaver projected onto a real life background. But as the movie looks heavenward and seaward—the rippling, burbling water is pretty incredible— something so artificial begins to strongly conjures a fondness for the natural world. The right edible will only help your immersion.

• At the other end of the spectrum BIRD and NIGHTBITCH are two non-animated movies for adults that feature some humans covertly transforming into animals. Both films are far from thebdirector’s best (Andrea Arnold, and Marielle Heller respectively) though they have their moments. Like Barry Keoghan making a Saltburn joke.

• LAST SUMMER, one of the year’s best movies, is now streaming on Criterion.

• In a REAL PAIN, Jesse Eisenberg’s nervous nebbish schtick takes a back seat to Kieran Culkin’s cagey and unpredictable neurosis. The two play cousins—opposite personalities, different manifestations of restlessness— traveling to Poland after the death of their grandmother to pay homage to her/their heritage. The film mostly serves as a showcase for Culkin, a reminder of and extension of his status as Succession favorite. Here he is narcissistic and grief-stricken, pinballing from highly irritable and isolated to charismatic center of attention of their tour group. The film feels narratively affixed to traditional beats, but more interesting in its smaller moments. Eisenberg as director excels at capturing a kind of anticipatory anxiety that follows moments excruciating social behavior and embarrassing public displays of earnestness. The kind of stuff that riles anyone who finds small talk with strangers on vacation utterly out of the question.

• Everyone’s been complaining about the savory side of the menu at the rebooted Kellogg’s Diner but I have few complaints. Fried pickles, fried chicken, and hash browns were perfectly consumable, exactly what I’d expect in the wee hours of a Wiliamsburg night. In other words, it fits the needs and purposes of a diner. With pinkish glow cast from the lights and sounds of 2005 on the speakers that evening felt almost like I’d just left Union Pool.

  • Off-setting the hot and crispy things were cool and soft desserts: fluffy passionfruit pie dusted with tajin and dolloped with whip cream; a mint chocolate sundae with real mint leaves and homemade brownies hidden in the tall glass. The jello-salad was an unappealing and unfocused conglomeration of textures. Let’s stop with takes on pretzels and cream cheese.

• The pan dulce at Animo! a new cafe in Midtown East are so unappetizingly stale and dull they may turn you off of Mexican baked goods altogether if you’d never had them. So, don’t start now, here.

• I went to Bridges and there was a lot to like. More on that next time.

• My favorite seasonal bites are the pumpkin puffs at Uluh, a Chinese restaurant with a pantheistic attitude towards regional cuisine and a staple for recently NYU grada. They look more like clementines than gourds and feature a chewy-crisp exterior and a melty interior, just like fried ice cream. I believe they’re served year round.

uluh.ny

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• At Lai Rai, the Vietnamese wine next door to and owned by Mắm, you can pair your French wines (they’re almost exclusively French) with scoops of ice cream. The banana leaf is verdant, the avocado too icy, and the coffee has a kick. It’s not too crowded yet so you can take a date and whisper under the lofty and ornate ceiling.

• The Momofuku touches are abundantly clear at Nudibranch, a not-new, Korean-ish Spanish restaurant carrying the “don’t-call-it-fusion” torch for nyc dining. It is quiet enough for business drinks or taking your parents, missing a keen sense of style and personality that David Chang’s restaurants possessed. A few nice bites nonetheless.

  • Creamy, sticky potatoes become one with duck to form roof-of-the-mouth coating croquettes.

  • Fried frog legs » than chicken wings. More meaty, more tender, vaguely tasting of the sea.  

  • The egg yolks added to the mushroom dish, three different kinds cooked three ways, were completely extraneous.

  • The subtle refinement of soba noodles and bottarga were completely lost on me after eating a side of umami-bombed Chinese broccoli.

  • Chorizo gnocchi was the better pasta mashup, a successful marriage of gochujang and cheese. The gnocchi are satisfyingly tempur-pedic. They springing back the moment you sink your teeth into it.

photos by Renee Chang

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5 burrito and burrito-adjacent things

Suddenly, the city is flush with burritos.

• At La Taq they are gargantuan, endlessly customizable (as they should be), and most of the filling choices well-prepared. Californians walk upstairs to pay respects to the owner.

• At Son del Norte there are just three choices (carne asada, chicken, beans and cheese) and none of them come with rice.

• Los Burritos Juarez, an occasional pop up from chef Alan Delgado, also offers burritos of this variety sans rice and with more punch.

These are all solid per se, but none elicit the kind of euphoria they once did during my college days. I’m wondering if any burrito ever will. Are they genuinely lacking, or have they simply worn out their welcome on my palate, much like the jumpsuit-fatigue that has crept in when I’m getting dressed this year? Is a pilgrimage to San Francisco in order?

I’ve since turned my attention towards Levantine wraps, shawarma in thin stretchy laffa bread instead of pita. I quite enjoyed…

• Chicken, beef, and lamb, but especially the eggplant with zhoug or any other sauce from Spice Brothers

• Araby sandwich with breaded fries and garlicky toum from Ayat

Thank you for reading. See you in two weeks.