Joan Crawford did not have the last word

MOMMIE DEAREST (1981)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Reprinted with permission by Steel Notes Magazine

Thirty-five years since its release (met with disdain by some critics), “Mommie Dearest” almost single-handedly was responsible for the decline in quality movie roles for Faye Dunaway. The movie was considered a travesty of Joan Crawford’s memory and had many wondering if it was not just mere exploitation of true childhood trauma (to be fair, Christina Crawford’s book was accused of the same and also faced a second charge – it was accused of being straight fiction). Time has been kind to the film and it has since become a campy cult classic and a favorite of the gay community. The truth is that after recently seeing the film again, and having my unstained memory of it intact from a VHS viewing back in 1981 or ’82, I can say that “Mommie Dearest” is a sustained mood piece of heightened mania, a no-holds-barred look at a physically and emotionally abusive woman.

Faye Dunaway delivers a pure marvel of a performance (perhaps her last), displaying the haughtiness, the sensitivity and the high-pitched madness of a woman who wanted everything perfect. The cost of her perfection and her compulsive habits was not just to her fleeting relationships with men but her strained, pained and unwieldy relationship with her adopted daughter, Christina. Christina is shown at two different ages, one as a precocious child (Mara Hobel, a haunting performance) who is told that she is an inferior swimmer by Joan amongst other things, and then in post-teenage years as a tacitly rebellious woman (Diana Scarwid) who infuriates Joan when she says one of the single most hilarious lines in the entire film, delivered with great zeal: “I…am…not…one…of…your…fans!” As a child, Christina is forced to sit at the dinner table until she eats her meal, forced to clean the bathroom tiles during the middle of the night, and has chunks of her hair cut rather furiously by Joan (Oh, I must not forget those dreaded wire hangers). As the teenage Christina, she is somehow not allowed to date while attending a private school, and is summarily forced to attend a convent of sorts (though too much of that plot thread is left dangling in the screenwriter’s gutter).

This mother-daughter relationship is very well exposed and justifiably tough to watch. Unfortunately, other characters are left on the sidelines of Joan’s overly manicured gardens. Rutanya Alda as Joan’s long-time housekeeper, Carol Ann, is not given enough to do except react with silent gestures and, though we sense her devotion to this maniac of an actress, there is not much else except a series of reactions. Steve Forrest as a Hollywood lawyer, Gregg Savitt, and Pepsi CEO, Alfred Steele (Harry Goz), are two men most central to Joan’s existence but their appearances are somewhat fleeting (though Forrest charmingly captures the Hollywood of yesteryear). The main focus is on Joan’s fractured, violent relationship to her daughter whom she treats as anything but. It is so bleakly presented with no sweeping camera moves or unnecessary frantic cuts that it remains the most honest depiction of parental abuse of its time.

For all of the intrinsic flaws in “Mommie Dearest” with insufficient nourishment provided to secondary characters, the film still has a hypnotic pull to it, swiftly directed by Frank Perry. Scene after scene, the movie mesmerizes even when it isn’t always attentive to character nuance. Joan is shown as a tyrannical monster more attuned to providing emotional support for her beaus than to her own daughter (Joan even replaces her daughter’s role in a soap opera, much to Christina’s chagrin). The frustration, the anger, the resentments are fully explored and vividly realized in the torrential relationship between Joan and Christina. It is neither campy nor comedic – it is real. I am sure I will not have the last word on that.

Footnote: Please read Rutanya Alda’s own “Mommie Dearest Diaries” available at http://www.amazon.com/Mommie-Dearest-Diary-Carol-Tells/dp/1515260607/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1450297568&sr=8-1&keywords=mommie+dearest+diaries

I did not hate this movie, I love this movie, oh Hi Tommy!

THE DISASTER ARTIST (2017)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The Room" and its director Tommy Wiseau remain mysteries wrapped inside some sort of Ed Wood cube that Pinhead might be afraid to open. Of all the good-bad movies I've seen in my life, "The Room" is one that cannot really be called a movie or cinema. It is an experience but I do not know what that experience is meant to be and what it says about humanity. Possibly something, maybe nothing. It is a memorable, eye-rolling, almost unspeakably watchable experience yet emotionally empty, putting it kindly. Wiseau is a film director whose past remains a mystery (he claims he is from Louisiana) and his available finances are, well, oh Hi Mark! James Franco's "The Disaster Artist," a delightful mixture of "Living in Oblivion" crossed with "Ed Wood," doesn't exactly answer those questions but it does have plenty of warranted laughs and ball-of-fire performances as it proves how inspiring it is to make a film, even if the film is pure rubbish.

James Franco plays the heavily-accented, supposedly New Orleans-raised Tommy Wiseau, who is seen in the opening scene at an acting class where he does a unique version of Stanley Kowalski from "A Streetcar Named Desire." He screams "STELLA!!!" and writhes and gyrates on stage in ways that Marlon Brando would never have attempted. Tommy grabs the attention of another fellow actor, 19-year-old Greg Sestero (Dave Franco), who hopes to do scenes with Tommy. They become fast friends, so fast that Tommy tells Greg to move into his L.A. apartment with him and they will get agents and becomes big-time Hollywood actors, all done with a pinky swear pact! Greg finds an agent but there are no jobs, and Tommy does not fare any better. What is the next step? Well, make a movie of course and Tommy is flush with so much cash ("a bottomless pit") that he buys two 35mm cameras, two HD cameras and film equipment and directs his own screenplay, not to mention plays the title role. Before long, disaster strikes as Tommy has trouble remembering easy dialogue, greenscreens rooftop scenes, duplicates an alley when they can shoot it right outside the studio, laughs inappropriately during many serious dialogue moments, arrives nude to do his sex scene and has it shot from behind ("So they can see my ass! This is an American movie!") and a lot more drama than the melodramatic hysterics of "The Room."The crew is incredulous at every aspect of this production.

When I heard James Franco was involved in this production, I thought he and the writers Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber would just mock "The Room" and play it for laughs. Surprisingly, that is not the case at all. James Franco and his younger brother, Dave, are solid in this film, making their characters humanistic and their friendship rather touching. Though there are plenty of funny scenes, none of them are overplayed and the crucial relationship between Tommy and Greg forms the backbone of the movie. If that relationship did not work, "The Disaster Artist" would have failed miserably despite a game supporting cast that includes Alison Brie and Seth Rogen. Though I would not paint the Wiseau/Sestero relationship on the same level as Ed Wood and Bela Lugosi's depicted relationship in Tim Burton's "Ed Wood," it comes awfully close. In fact, both "Disaster Artist" and "Ed Wood" share many similarities about the perils of small-scale filmmaking (though few indie filmmakers have 6 million dollars at their disposal) and how a friendship can make up for everything else. Greg is frustrated by Tommy's temper-tantrums on the set and yet, after all the fighting and tension of making the movie, there is still a mutual respect and an unmistakable bond.

Filled with terrifically timed cameos (my favorite might be Bryan Cranston and an unrecognizable Zac Efron), "The Disaster Artist" makes me appreciate "The Room" even more so than before. "The Room" might be Tommy Wiseau's bizarre statement on having respect and love for another but, I have to say, James Franco's film says it and does it better. Along with "Ed Wood," "The Disaster Artist" is one of the greatest modern films ever made about independent filmmaking.

OD'ing on OASIS

READY PLAYER ONE (2018)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I don't know if "Ready Player One" holds the record for the most pop-culture references ever in a
single movie but it is probably high on that meter. Based on a best-selling book by Ernest Cline, the film is smothered in pop culture trivia and references to movies and video games, from "The Shining" to "Saturday Night Fever" to Atari 2600's "Adventure" to King Kong chasing a Delorean from "Back to the Future," well, you get the idea. It is one of Steven Spielberg's finest pop action-fantasy movies and, though it is not an Orwellian warning about virtual reality, there is a subtext here about favoring escapism over real-life and vice versa- a subject that is the reality of Spielberg's own filmmaking career.

Set in a dystopian future (what movie is not set in a dystopia nowadays), circa 2045, the setting is a Cleveland, Ohio slum known as the Stacks where trailers are actually stacked on top of each other. Wade (Tye Sheridan) is, at first glance, an emotionally mute young orphan living with his overbearing aunt and her less-than-loving boyfriend. Wade's obsession, as is most of Cleveland's, is hooking into the virtual reality world of OASIS, a place of cityscapes, endless highways and neon-lit clubs where anything can happen. Whether it is playing a game involving a race to find an Easter Egg where King Kong tries to smash you into smithereens while Akira's red motorbike and the Batmobile from 60's TV show "Batman" flashes by us, or trying to find clues by literally tapping into the world of Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining," Wade using the avatar of Parzifal is unlikely to be bored in this fantasy world. He admits he is in love with the pink-haired Art3mis (Olivia Cooke) and is hoping that that love is reciprocated. There are also three keys to obtain in the OASIS, divulged by the late creator of this digital environment, James Halliday (Mark Rylance), and all three lead to some Easter Egg that will give the winner full control of this world. Of course, the love-him-hate-him CEO Nolan Sorrento (swiftly and effectively played by Ben Mendelsohn) has other plans that may prove hazardous to a video gamer's health. Mr. Sorrento has no qualms when it comes to real-life violence and Wade, an expert on everything about OASIS, is a threat because he just might get that Easter Egg.

"Ready Player One" has a dense narrative with various colorful characters and many eye-popping visuals that rival just about any other movie about virtual reality I've seen - this one resembles a video game but it is never static on screen, thank goodness. It feels like a video game world I might want to visit with my own personalized avatar. This OASIS is engaging and fun, and a little dangerous but never less than an adventure in its own right. I can also say Spielberg never makes it feel overstuffed and it is never undercooked (though the CGI-heavy climax where Mechagodzilla battles Iron Giant can get almost overbearingly Transformers-like but not quite). But be warned: unlike his "Minority Report" film, "Ready Player One" is game on for showing the distinction between real-life and fantasy but it is not a righteous moral tale. It is clear that Spielberg and his characters want to be in the OASIS; the real world itself is just too overbearing. Even in a digital world, emotions still come to the surface. Wade slowly builds his emotions back when it comes to compassion, for the loss of his parents and for seeing how Art3mis's father suffered while OD'ing on OASIS. Those are the perils of virtual reality, where it overtakes your own reality and you become a slave to it, financially and otherwise.

I have very few qualms about "Ready Player One" and I caught quite a few pop culture references, though I am certain I missed many. What is most spirited about the film are the fun, sympathetic, likable characters, primarily the heroes of the film. Tye Sheridan's Wade takes some getting used to yet everyone else in the cast give superb performances, including a memorable Olivia Cooke as Art3mis and as Samantha, a tough, emotionally reserved girl born with a facial birthmark who is sensitive to gamers getting carried away with OASIS; Lena Waithe who is the real comic relief as Helen in reality and Aech, a tall, muscular mechanic who has a thing for the Iron Giant that she keeps in a virtual garage; Mark Rylance's almost enchanting take on James Halliday, a soft-spoken inventor who sees greed corrupting his digital universe; the curator and former business partner of Halliday's, Ogden Morrow (Simon Pegg, almost perfecting an American accent) who is almost as heavenly a presence towards the end of the film as Halliday is, and many more.

Raiding 80's movies like Buckaroo Banzai, John Hughes flicks, "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" and exporting great rock and roll songs from the likes of Duran Duran and Joan Jett, "Ready Player One" has everything an 80's nerd might want and more. It OD's on 80's nostalgia but it never sacrifices its own story to allow only kickass nerdisms and out-of-this-world action sequences only Spielberg could craft with finesse and spills, thrills and chills (the Overlook sequence from "The Shining" has to be seen to be believed). The real world is harsh, the virtual is an almost cosmic-like adventure. Spielberg suggests that virtual reality will be humanity's eternal escape yet warns us not leave our emotions unchecked.

I, Monotony

I, FRANKENSTEIN (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 I, the Monster, the one from the creative mind of Mary Shelley, have now become one with the dank, subterranean world of "Underworld" with a dose of 2004's "Van Helsing" and something close to the graphic novels with no humor and no panache, and barely anything that should be associated with horror. I wish for a rewrite.  - The Monster, recent quote

The tale of Frankenstein has been dragged through so many revisions, reboots and remakes that I can't keep track of all them. Some have starred Christopher Lee, others with the famously iconic Boris Karloff or even Bela Lugosi, and then some went thru a "I Was a Teenage Frankenstein" phase or got the Andy Warhol treatment. I always liked 1985's "The Bride" with Sting and Jennifer Beals and Clancy Brown as the Creature, and the vastly underrated "Frankenstein Unbound" which is the most imaginative of all remakes I've seen from the Roger Corman company. Back in the 1970's, there was a formidable TV-movie with Michael Sarrazin and in the mid-1990's, Robert De Niro played the Creature with much empathy under the direction of Kenneth Branagh. But this "I, Frankenstein" is cut from a cloth that holds little regard for the legend. I am always up for a new take on an old legend like good old Frankie but this muddled, ugly-looking, exceedingly silly rubbish of a film is more yawn-inducing than anything else.

The creature this time is played by Aaron Eckhart, one of the oddest casting choices in any horror movie, as he confronts his creator, Dr. Frankenstein (Aden Young), in the Arctic where the frigid cold kills the distraught scientist. As the Creature buries the scientist's body in the family crypt, demons from the fires of Hell appear and gargoyles fly into action to fight and vanquish them. The gargoyles led by the Gargoyle Queen (Miranda Otto) ask the Creature (who is named Adam) to help them in their war against the demons. Adam is given the weapons of warfare but declines. Once a lonely creature, always a lonely creature. Nevertheless, Adam fights the demons for centuries. Meanwhile, in the present day, a demon prince (Bill Nighy, who just about elevates any dreck with his presence) wants Dr. Frankie's journal to raise his own demonic army.

None of this makes much sense but the most important element is that none of it is remotely fun, even on the most basic level. Aiming to be on the level of the underwhelming "Underworld" series, the whole movie keeps us at such an emotional remove that I did not care who lived or died. Eckhart gives us a Monster who is tormented and thus a tragic figure but mostly he looks pissed off. In fact, his physical look doesn't suggest a Monster created out of different human parts - he would have been better suited to play the scientist! Nighy can be hammy, devilish fun but he has played this role already in the endless "Underworld" sequels.

A fittingly fiery finale is about the only sequence that has some oomph. There are only so many nighttime scenes where I can watch the Creature walk around, stare at and fight demons relentlessly. It is a monotonous video game, nothing more.

This Dragon Glows

THE LAST DRAGON (1985)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

My memory of the mid-1980's in NY was that somehow being a Bruce Lee fan was not cool. I had a denim jacket designed with a black-and-white picture of Bruce on the back. I was very much into Bruce Lee thanks to my father who saw all his flicks in theaters in the 1970's. And then came along 1985's "The Last Dragon" which made it clear that it was definitely cool to be a fan of Bruce Lee. "The Last Dragon" functions as a standalone film with its story of a young kung-fu master who idolizes Bruce Lee and the art of Chinese Goju, as well as serving as an homage to Bruce Lee's own legendary films. Oh, yeah, and it is a blast of high octane energy that, even with Berry Gordy serving as executive producer with his Motown origins, never becomes an elongated music video like so many other 80's flicks with B-movie plots.

Taimak is Bruce LeRoy (actually Leroy Green), the idealistic, often philosophic master of Chinese Goju (a martial-art practiced by Ron Van Clief, who served as fight choreographer for this film). Not unlike Bruce Lee, Leroy runs his own martial-arts school and has a legendary status as someone who catches bullets with his teeth! When Leroy goes to see a Bruce Lee movie, he eats popcorn with chopsticks. Leroy's own master teacher (Thomas Ikeda) tells him that the lessons are over and to find his own master named Sum Dum Goy (a name that Leroy should've guessed early on was dubious at best) so he can achieve the final level: The Glow.

Problems arise when a local master of the martial-arts, the abrasive Sho'Nuff aka The Shogun of Harlem (Julius J. Carry III), looks for someone to challenge him to a fight. Sho'Nuff is obsessed with fighting Leroy, especially after shaming him in front of his students ("Kiss my Converse!") and practically destroying his family-owned pizzeria. Leroy has to fight him and also prove himself as a lover, not just a fighter, to Laura Charles (the late Vanity), the hostess with the mostess of a show called "Seventh Heaven." How does a skinny little lizard who calls himself the Last Dragon get anywhere near the glitzy Laura? It turns out she has issues with maniacal Eddie Arkadian (Christopher Murney), a snarly music promoter who has a Cindy Lauperish-singer for a girlfriend (a wacky Faith Prince) looking for a break. Eddie feels her truly mind-numbing, bizarre music videos would be a good fit for Laura's show which is more Solid Gold than anything else. Then again DeBarge's "Rhythm of the Night" video plays on her show (okay, hardly one of my favorites from this era) which doesn't seem to be part of the same universe as Vanity singing "7th Heaven" but what do I know.

Directed with an assured hand by Michael Schultz ("Coolie High"), "The Last Dragon" was a modest box-office hit in 1985 but it should've scored higher with audiences (critics mostly dismissed it). The whole cast has great appeal - their faces cling to us and we can't help but want to know these characters. There is Taimak's innocence crossed with an expert fighter who roars when you least expect it - it is not in the same class as Bruce Lee's cat-like grace and amazing presence but then again, who is in the same class? Vanity is simply dazzling and alluring and a hell of a singer - she has an angelic, becalming way about her and is electric on screen and has heavenly chemistry with Taimak. When it comes to Leroy's family, they are about as authentic as anyone can hope for, especially the late Leo O'Brien as Leroy's younger, brash brother Richie who sneaks into Seventh Heaven's studio. Both Leroy and Richie have a thing for Laura and there is some tension there but you can guess who ends up with her at the end. As for villains, the late Julius J. Carry III is an outrageous blend of Superfly crossed with Rick James - the guy you love to hate. Christopher Murney's Arkadian is simply the guy you hate - an angry, insolent jerk who resembles a fierce Danny DeVito. One remarkable shot shows him sitting at his desk with a neon-lit crown behind him - yep, he just might want to be King Arkadian.

Mostly a comic-book movie with terrifically jazzy, amped-up music from the likes of Smokey Robinson, Vanity and Willie Hutch, "The Last Dragon" functions as a sly martial-arts film crossed with music-video highlights, video art, a little rap, some breakdancing, a grindhouse theatre showing mixed-up reels of "Enter The Dragon" (that was a great touch) and some engaging, flawlessly choreographed fight sequences. It also has an infectious romance and a strong human component - Taimak's Leroy will not fight unless he has to and he has strong feelings for Laura, his family and is protective of his students. He is not the dark avenging angel of Bruce Lee nor does he need to be. After it is over, you'll come away applauding and cheering (which many in the audience did way back in that 1985 screening). "The Last Dragon" is infectious. 

Fair is fair

THE LEGEND OF BILLIE JEAN (1985)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The Legend of Billie Jean" is one of those harmless, innocent, hard-to-take-your-eyes-off 1980's flicks I remember watching on cable. I had seen it twice then but, honestly, I can hardly fathom what I liked about it. Call it one of those guilty pleasure flicks like "St. Elmo's Fire" where I recall finding both movies watchable and almost endearing, yet I find little else there. Billie Jean is the rebel of the movie, yet what in good God's green earth is she rebelling against?

The movie aims to find a solid theme about what society might deem as trailer park trash and how they are trying to rise above it. Maybe. Young Billie Jean (Helen Slater) lives in a trailer park in Corpus Christi, Texas. She lives with her single mother who is trying to find the right man, and her younger brother, Binx (Christian Slater), who worships his Honda Elite scooter. There is some unnecessary business at the beginning where some blonde dudes make the moves on Billie and throw Binx's scooter in the lake. Awwww, what a travesty. This is the kind of slipshod material that you might encounter in a Friday the 13th flick. Before you know it, determined Billie Jean wants 608 dollars for the damage done to her brother's scooter since it turns out that one of those barechested, sunglass-wearing blonde bullies works at a shop with his father, Mr. Pyatt (Richard Bradford). Before long, Mr. Pyatt attempts to rape Billie and he gets shot by Binx and, well, we got a mess in our hands. The police search for Billie, Binx and their wayward friends as they flee the state. Ostensibly, a road movie though how Billie's picture in the papers inspires young folk remains a mystery. What inspires them exactly? That she is young, blonde and lovely and that she took a stand to demand money? When Billie eventually encounters a district attorney's son (the vibrant coolness of Keith Gordon) after breaking into his house, she videotapes herself with cropped hair, denim jacket and develops a slogan: "Fair is fair." And the nation of young people rise up, girls crop their own hair, and repeatedly chant that slogan.

At the end of the day, all Billie Jean wanted was the 608 dollars and, I surmise, an apology from the rapist creep of Mr. Pyatt who survives the shooting with a bullet in his arm. Naturally, Mr. Pyatt exploits Billie Jean and sells various posters and other mementos with her likeness. Say what? By the end of the film, the drama is all over when Mr. Pyatt's true colors come out in front of Billie's fans.

The performances are exceptionally good. Helen Slater gives us a forlorn Billie Jean, a girl who wants to right all wrongs. Christian Slater, in a peroxide look, was still working out his kinks in his acting but his presence speaks volumes. It is also great fun to watch Yeardley Smith (pre-Lisa Simpson from TV's "The Simpsons") as one of Billie's friends who just wants to tag along because her trailer park home life is miserable (a scene where she is brutally slapped by her mother almost rivals a similar moment in De Palma's "Carrie"). Almost anything with Peter Coyote (playing a sympathetic police detective) makes up for just about anything. But I do not know what to take away from "The Legend of Billie Jean." Slater's performance suggests anything but a rebel, or even a Joan of Arc (a scene where she watches a film clip of Jean Seberg's Joan of Arc is a pivotal point). She knows she is making a difference...but what difference is she making exactly?

Not So Typical Love Song

LOVE, SIMON (2018)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

While watching the lighthearted, sweet and extremely familiar movie "Love, Simon," one film director's name came to mind: John Hughes. I had no idea that the critics felt the same way until I did research on this film. It is possible that the late John Hughes might have crafted a movie like this back in the 1980's, or perhaps later. It's got heart, compassion, lots of laughs, has a perceptive look at 2010's high-school life, some decent soundtrack choices (you cannot go wrong with any selection by The Kinks), etc. Of course, I don't know if Hughes would have ever made a movie about a smart high-school teen coming out as gay. Still, Hughes reference aside, this is an enjoyable film in its own right and, yet, aside from the main character being gay, the movie doesn't exactly feel innovational.

Simon (Nick Robinson) is like any other high-school teen who is soon to graduate - he gets a car as a present, his parents (Josh Duhamel, Jennifer Garner) love him, he finds that he actually likes his younger sister who loves to cook, and he has great friends. Oh, and he is (as exclaimed in the voice-over narration) "just like you." Well, not quite. I grew up in the New York suburbs and we did not have a great-looking house nor did I have a chalkboard wall with all sorts of inscriptions (I wish I did, and is that really a bedroom accessory now?) The difference is that Simon is gay but he hasn't come out yet. His family and his friends do not know, but his anonymous computer pen-pal, known as Blue, is aware. Blue is gay too but he hasn't come out either. What's the hold up? I wondered too because coming out as gay can't be that difficult in a supposedly progressive high-school where a guy has already come out, can it? And this is all based on a 2015 book by called "Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda" by Becky Albertalli. It is not like 2015 was that long ago, but I digress.

"Love, Simon" had me in its romantic spell of yearning, even if I felt like I had seen this film before. The fact that it is considered the first mainstream gay teen romantic comedy doesn't exactly give me pause because I had seen many gay-themed films, both teen-oriented and adult, in the last 20 years. It does seem as if it took Hollywood a little to long to catch up (TV shows and Netflix, not to mention indie flicks, have already, pardon the pun, come out). Still, what gravitates me towards this engaging crowd pleaser of a movie is Simon's reluctance and insecurities about coming out, so much so that a bad theatre actor at school, Martin (Logan Miller), blackmails him after taking snapshots of Simon's emails at a school computer. So why does this Houdini-loving, "Cabaret"-infected ambitious young man take such pains to blackmail noble Simon? Love, of course, for Abby (Alexandra Shipp), one of Simon's attractive friends who is also a transfer student and lives in an apartment! Oh, my gosh, the gall! The movie states that every teen lives in a fancy house yet Abby, oh, no, she is an apartment-dweller. Actually, her brief backstory is so interesting that you kind of wish the movie followed her story more closely.

So, in addition to John Hughes tropes of high-school living, there is also a mystery - who is Blue? That had me guessing and I was wrong about two suspects. Nevertheless, "Love, Simon" is about being an insecure high-schooler who has such appealing and approachable friends that you wonder why he can't just come out. Aside from two troublemakers who are defiantly anti-gay, nobody has much of an issue with homosexuality. Simon's parents? Well, not exactly, and one of them seems to have a real issue with it, only seemingly. As I said, there is nothing here that we haven't seen before but it is so well-crafted, so cleverly humorous (Tony Hale is sidesplittingly funny as the vice principal who wants no texting in the school halls) so endearingly sincere that I cannot fault a teen romantic comedy for working me over and making me care thanks to director Greg Berlanti and his charismatic young cast. "Love, Simon" succeeds and I would love to see it again. So now we need a mainstream gay movie where being gay is not a big deal. That would be groundbreaking.