In Conversation With Stephen Tobolowsky

Tobo-Image-1

Interview by Greg Carlson

Hosted by Brent Brandt, legendary actor Stephen Tobolowsky will appear in person at the Fargo Theatre on Thursday, June 11 at 7pm for an evening of engaging stories from his remarkable life. Visit fargotheatre.org for tickets.

 

Greg Carlson: Thanks for taking some time for conversation. And thanks to our mutual friend Brent Brandt for arranging another opportunity for you to visit us in person. We have in Brent such a huge fan and champion of the movies.

Stephen Tobolowsky: Like me, Brent is a big story guy. And Ann and I both love the Dakotas. During our first trip, Brent took us around to all the places. Annie’s from Georgia, I’m from Texas. I love this gorgeous place. And Brent is a great tour guide. He likes to take care of people and find interesting things for them to do.

 

GC: I find it daunting as an interviewer to ask good questions that are fresh or new to you. But as a storyteller and raconteur, you find a way to engage with your audience even if it’s the hundredth time.

ST: I  try. But if you feel like I’m going off the deep end, just wave a flag.

 

GC: Good storytellers are often well-traveled. Many of us who follow your career have heard the tale about the Icelandic misadventure that resulted in you breaking your neck, which led to your podcast “The Tobolowsky Files.” Iceland is a remarkable place for you.

ST: I love Iceland. Ann and I visited the black sand beach with our son William. And while we were walking on the shore, we looked out at the ocean. Right where the waves break, a walrus came up. How many have seen a walrus in nature and not just at the zoo? I could understand how an early man would think, “That’s either a great looking woman or a monster.”

We became familiar enough with Iceland to have our favorite hot dog stand. Annie and I will tell you that if you drive for about two hours outside of Reykjavik, you will have the greatest hot dog ever. I don’t know if it’s worth international travel just for a hot dog, though.

 

GC: I have not been to that hot dog stand, but I do think Reykjavik is a fantastic city.

ST: My favorite moment in Reykjavik was the time I went down the wrong way in the airport. Three officers with guns came out and yelled at me to stop. And then the guy in front goes, “Wait a minute, you’re Ned! It’s OK, Ned.” So being recognized from “Groundhog Day” saved me from arrest.

 

GC: You mentioned your son, William, was traveling with you. You and Ann have two boys. How did you and your wife, both of you writers and performers, raise grounded kids in Los Angeles? 

ST: I don’t know that we did. I think we had all the typical worries you have during the teen years. Are they doing drugs? Are they hanging out with the wrong people? Is this girlfriend good or bad for them? What’s going on here? But when I saw our kids stand up for themselves in a non-confrontational way, I knew that they were going to be OK.

Both of my boys are geniuses. Amazing and off the charts. They’re both married and my eldest has two babies. So Annie and I are grandparents now. If possible, stay alive long enough to become a grandparent. It is the best thing in the world. It is all love and no responsibility. It’s the thing you were always hoping for as a child.

Anyway, it’s a pleasure that our sons have taken over the reins of life. And I couldn’t be more proud of either of those guys. They’re both dear, dear, and they both respect right and hate wrong. They’re super men and they’re married to super women.

 

GC: Was there ever a time when they said, “Mom, Dad, we want to do what you do”? 

ST: Oh, you open the door to my nightmares! Yeah, yes. Both. Young Lord Robert, the eldest son, wanted to be an actor and he ended up playing Oberon in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” at his school. And young Lord William had an agent and got eight-by-tens in a leather jacket. But after about two years they said, “Dad, just forget it. I don’t know how you put up with this.” And now, one is an organic chemistry professor and one is a doctor.

 

GC: Correct me if I’m wrong, but you have not yet visited the Criterion Closet.

ST: I have not.

 

GC: I hope someone from Criterion gets an invitation to you, because we would love to see your selections and hear your anecdotes. As one of the screenwriters of Spine #951: “True Stories,” you would make a perfect addition. What are some movies that have inspired you? 

ST: “Mr. Deeds Goes to Town,” “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” and “It’s a Wonderful Life.” When I was a student at Southern Methodist University, I was lucky enough to meet Frank Capra. As for later movies, I would add “The Godfather.”

 

GC: Incredible film.

ST: It really is. “The Godfather” broke so many rules in terms of the way a movie is made. I feel like Coppola pulled stuff from classic silent films. And those grand, glorious themes and the music and the sound design and the fantastic violence and the idea of just taking time to look at the visuals of Italy. These choices pull you right into the film. It is stunningly made.

 

GC: You have collaborated with some giants: Norman Lear, Mel Brooks, Christopher Nolan, Ridley Scott, Paul Verhoeven, Bill Forsyth, David Byrne, Michael Mann, Alan Parker, Harold Ramis …

ST: Harold Ramis was a spectacular director. And it’s a whole different thing directing comedy, because when you repeat some kind of comic idea, it can become old very quickly. You need to find a way to keep it fresh. In “Groundhog Day,” a lot of the scenes that ended up in the film were first takes. We would talk about the scene and then Bill and I would work out with Harold Ramis where our positions would be. Then we would shoot and Harold Ramis would say, “We got it. Let’s move on.”

 

GC: Creating the “illusion of the first time” is as attractive to actors and directors as it is necessary for audiences. 

ST: So you have that energy of the first idea. I always have that when I’m directing for the stage. If you’re doing something like Shaw or Chekhov, you have to understand this is not just a repetition. This is a new idea now. And it requires that new burst of energy. And so in a movie, I look at it and try to apply it, too. Is this something I say all the time?

Like Ned saying “Bing!” He repeats the word frequently. That’s not a new idea. But it may become a new idea in terms of trying to earn the appreciation of Bill’s character. Ned always admired Phil Connors in school. Ned is possibly thinking, “I’m not a nerd anymore. I’m now more on your level. I’m a successful insurance salesman.” Approaching him in that real sort of way allows me to come up with new ideas.

 

GC: How much character research do you do before you show up memorized and prepared to work? How much do you like to know about the folks you play? 

ST: I think if I were to make a graph, I know I would try to leave 15 to 25% vacant for the actual location where we’re gonna be in case something happens. You know, you leave it open. But I go in with a couple moorings. What’s the most important thing for me in this scene? What is the most important thing that anchors me to have this conversation right now? Do I have this conversation with everyone?

I make sure that when I’m working on lines, I’m not sitting down. I walk around doing something physical. That seems to help me think of the lines in a different way. I don’t know why, but it works for me.

 

GC: Do you like to rehearse with castmates? 

ST: I do. But you shouldn’t rehearse too much. In television, it’s tough because so much of it is just positioning. Take “One Day at a Time,” for example. The scripts were really good. So in rehearsal, you just want to make sure you understand your position on stage and your relationship physically with the other character, and then go for it when you’re in front of the audience.

When you see the eyes of that other actor for the first time, you just go with the impulse and assume that the work you’ve done beforehand will come through. When they call action and the camera rolls, tell the truth as much as you possibly can.

When we were doing “The Goldbergs,” I operated as support, either as an antagonist or a surprise protagonist opposite the stars. Reading the script, I had to see what my role was here. Am I upholding the rule of the school or am I upholding the rule of humanity and siding with the student on this case? What am I doing? I had to consider those philosophical ideas.

 

GC: Why do you think you play so many authority figures? 

ST: Bald head and glasses.

 

GC: Really?

ST: I think the look helps. And I think when I had hair, I could play racists and murderers. But as a bald guy, they’ll make me a priest, they’ll make me a teacher, something like that. I have to be some sort of egghead kind of character.

 

GC: How do you feel about playing darkness? You mentioned that when you had more hair you could play murderers, but do you want to play murderers? 

ST: No, I don’t. And the thing young actors don’t understand is that if you are doing it right, whatever you play sticks with you. When I played the head of the Ku Klux Klan in “Mississippi Burning,” it affected me. There’s almost nothing as ridiculously evil as racial prejudice. When you claim an entire race is inferior, you are propagating a social evil that’s beyond anything. You are calling for the end of the current civilization and how far we’ve traveled.

 

GC: How did you meet producer David Chen and get “The Tobolowsky Files” podcast started?

ST: It was just fate. It was when I was injured after being thrown from the horse in Iceland and I had a broken neck and the doctor said I had a fatal injury, as you recall. And I said, “Fatal? Doctor, words have a meaning in my profession.” He said, “Do you want to know why you’re alive? Most people have a spine like so and yours curves the opposite of a normal person.

I became incredibly depressed. I didn’t know if my acting career was over. I couldn’t do anything on my own. Annie had to help me do everything, even eat. When you have a broken neck, you cannot lie down. You have to stay vertical the whole time.

 

GC: How did you sleep? 

ST: You wedge yourself into a corner with pillows and sleep sitting up. You remain vertical for the entire time your neck is healing. And during that particularly weird and challenging time, I get a phone call from David Chen, this person that I don’t know, from Seattle.

David had seen “Stephen Tobolowsky’s Birthday Party,” the movie I made with Robert Brinkmann. Brinkmann loved the stories I would tell. And he said, “Let’s capture you telling stories from dawn into the night on your birthday.” So we did that.

David Chen said, “What do you think about doing a podcast?” And I said, “What’s a podcast?” He said, “You’ll just tell stories from your life and we’ll experiment. We’ll see what works.”

 

GC: I remember you saying that you were really concerned about using your life stories as material. 

ST: Ann is so smart. She said, “You should keep busy. It can’t hurt just to try this. And if it doesn’t work, don’t do it.” And I said, “Well, since I almost died, I am going to do stories from my life absolutely truthfully. No curlicues, no additional stuff. If at all possible, I’m going to tell the exact things that happened.” Because I have had some weird things happen to me, besides the broken neck.

 

GC: No doubt. You’ve been in some pretty hairy situations, being held at gunpoint and knife point. Most of us hope to make it through life without experiencing some of the scarier things that you’ve gone through.

ST: I’ve had miracles too, being in love with Beth. That was a miracle. And the fact that it didn’t work out, that was a pain of life. But because it didn’t work out, I was able to meet Ann, who turned out to be the incredible love of my life. I mean, when I was hurt, when I was injured, she protected me. After the broken neck, I had open heart surgery a year later. You’re a very lucky man if you find someone like Ann.

The podcast went from Seattle, where it premiered, to more exposure nationwide. Other markets began to pick up the podcast. I was getting emails from all over the country. Simon and Schuster suggested I could do some books based on my stories.

And then Norman Lear ended up reading my book. He said, “You wrote this? Yeah, let’s talk about this. Maybe we could do an episode on ‘One Day at a Time’ that captures some of this.” And I said, “You’re the man.”

 

GC: It doesn’t get any better than Norman Lear.

ST: I’m doing a talk on Judaism later this year in Florida. And I was thinking about Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year, and remembering a very difficult episode of “One Day at a Time.” I was asked by the producers to work on Yom Kippur: “Stephen, are you going to be here for this?” And I said, “Let me think about it.” And I look over at Norman and he’s looking at me and I look back at him. I said, “Yes, I’ll be here.”

So I went to rehearse on Yom Kippur, which was not what I was supposed to do. And Norman Lear comes over and sits next to me in the audience in between scenes while we’re working. He says, “Tell me about your Yom Kippur experiences growing up.” I did, and then he started telling me about his. And it ended up being one of the most meaningful Yom Kippur memories I ever had.

 

GC: I think about Lear’s bumper sticker – Just Another Version of You – as often as possible. 

ST: Sharing is a gift. It is an honor to be able to come to North Dakota and share stories with people and maybe even hear stories of their own. And Brent’s a lunatic, you know? It’s going to be a ton of fun.

Backrooms

HPR Backrooms (2026)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

The cinematic precocity of director Kane Parsons is quickly emerging as one of the year’s big moviemaking stories. The 20-year-old filmmaker’s “Backrooms,” an unsettling journey through the looking glass, has frequently been cited in tandem with Curry Barker’s recently released “Obsession.” Barker is Parson’s senior by six years, and according to several web-based outlets including “The Hollywood Reporter,” the two filmmakers hold the record as the youngest directors to top the domestic box office. Even more remarkable: their YouTube backgrounds as largely self-taught, DIY storytellers allowed for relatively low-risk micro-budget investments that are already returning massive profits.

“Backrooms” earned back its estimated 10 million dollar production budget in previews and swiftly became A24’s biggest opening to date. The movie follows the grim descent of a failed architect who comes apart at the seams when he discovers an endless labyrinth of M. C. Escher-like impossibilities in the basement of the furniture store he manages. The style is inseparable from the substance. Developed from Barker’s multipart found footage series inspired by a 2019 4chan thread, “Backrooms” features a pair of Oscar-nominees in the central roles: Chiwetel Ejiofor as the alcoholic Clark and Renate Reinsve as Clark’s therapist Mary Kline.

Ejiofor and Reinsve commit to their characters with the typical gravitas they bring to so many of the inspired choices on their equally promising filmographies. Screenwriter Will Soodik is credited with the final iteration of the screenplay, but “Backrooms” clearly soars thanks to the participation of Ejiofor and Reinsve. Certainly, not every viewer will appreciate the biggest narrative risk, a leap taken fairly deep into the story, but Parsons smartly pins enough emotional weight to each of his two leads. Our investment in Mary, encouraged by flashbacks to childhood memories eerily linked to the furniture showroom location, accelerates when she goes looking for Clark in the disquieting catacombs.

Using the word liminal or liminality to describe the disorientation that accompanies both physical and emotional disequilibrium corresponding to sites of the “in-between” has morphed well past Arnold van Gennep’s original coinage (concerned initially with rites of passage) to its current application. With multiple subreddits, websites, and channels devoted to the rabbit-hole intrigue of interior and exterior thresholds, the popularity of the liminal space will surely get a boost from “Backrooms.” Whether intentional or not, Parsons owes a huge debt to all-time masters like Stanley Kubrick and David Lynch, who frequently dined on the potential found at the borders of no man’s land.

Some cinephiles will surely quibble with the audacious notion of elevating neophyte Parsons too hastily to the ranks of master filmmakers. To my own eyes, the director’s slow-cinema patience inside the maze underneath Cap’n Clark’s Ottoman Empire is, at the very least, a triumph of production design enhanced by shrewd camera placement that puts the movie’s complex of mostly empty rooms and passageways in conversation with the Overlook Hotel and the Black Lodge. “Backrooms” gets by on vibes for much of its duration and that is perhaps as it should be. The gradual increase in explanations tilts toward a decrease in the mysterious and the uncanny.

Marty, Life Is Short

HPR Marty Life Is Short (2026)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Filmmaker Lawrence Kasdan gives longtime pal Martin Short the celebrity documentary treatment in new Netflix movie “Marty, Life Is Short.” With a half century of show business experience under his belt, Short continues to perform at the age of 76 on stage and in the successful Hulu series “Only Murders in the Building.” Along with a number of his instantly recognizable SCTV peers, Short has collected enough noteworthy material to fill several feature-length retrospectives. And like last year’s Colin Hanks documentary on Short’s late colleague John Candy, “Marty, Life Is Short” knows that laughter and tears are often in close proximity.

The death of Nancy Dolman, who first met Short during the 1972 Toronto production of “Godspell” and married him eight years later, is handled toward the film’s end with the same kind of grace Short displays while addressing the unexpected loss of his oldest brother David (killed in a car accident in 1962 when Martin was just twelve) and the subsequent deaths of his mother and father. Kasdan and Short establish a sober reverence for life’s inevitable sorrows, a key element made all the more poignant by our knowledge that close friend Catherine O’Hara died in January and Short’s daughter Katherine died in February.

It is the presence of death and acknowledgement of mortality that balances the comic impulses in Short’s onscreen and offscreen personality (though we, like Short, are always aware of the camera’s recording eye). The man’s energetic gift for physical movement is matched by quick wit and lightning-fast responses honed by years of improvisation. At one point, Eugene Levy bestows high praise: “In this business, in the world of comedy, there’s nobody faster, there’s nobody smarter, there’s nobody funnier.” Along with that accolade, as well as John Mulaney’s note that Short is “good at life,” Kasdan and Tom Hanks reiterate the importance of joy as a guiding directive in how our subject approaches each and every day.

Most Short fans won’t mind the absence of more clips connecting the dots between the performer’s highs and lows. One of the movie’s most satisfying motifs is the notion that professional failure is, even for the most gifted, as frequent and inevitable as the massive hit. Short’s satirical Jiminy Glick, whose affinity for insulting the famous faces who walk into his talk show send-up buzzsaw, serves as an ideal reminder of Short’s lament that in our mediated existence there are too many instances in which one is stuck sitting across from (as Short puts it) “a moron with power.”

Comedy fans will frequently want to pause and rewind the utterly ridiculous collection of home video clips shot at convivial gatherings of family and friends during the holidays or at the kid-filled parties held seemingly nonstop at the idyllic Lake Rosseau cabin retreat in Ontario. Through it all, Kasdan makes a clear case that Martin Short has been one of the industry’s most well-connected talents for decades by gathering on-camera interviews with O’Hara, Levy, Hanks, Steven Spielberg, Andrea Martin, Steve Martin, and many other close friends with whom Short has maintained loyal relationships stretching back a lifetime.

Lorne

HPR Lorne (2026)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

The perpetually busy documentarian Morgan Neville profiles the perpetually busy producer Lorne Michaels in another of the moviemaker’s sturdy celebrity profiles. Following closely on the heels of nostalgia snapshot “Breakdown: 1975” and the Paul McCartney and Wings time capsule “Man on the Run,” “Lorne” attempts a career retrospective of the “Saturday Night Live” creator. Now 81 years old, Michaels continues to guide the influential sketch comedy series, which debuted October 11, 1975 under original title “NBC’s Saturday Night.” Given that SNL’s essential formula has remained in place for more than half a century, it comes as no surprise that Michaels is framed as a creature of habit and routine.

For casual viewers seeking a basic introduction to the workings of SNL as well as a trip down memory lane, “Lorne” takes care of business. Hardcore fans, who track and trace every installment of the series year in and year out, might even appreciate some of the behind-the-scenes glimpses already well-documented in print (such as the Tom Shales and James Andrew Miller oral history “Live From New York”), YouTube breakdowns, and previous television specials (including the recent “SNL50: Beyond Saturday Night”). But the most voracious appetites who come looking for some revelatory critique of the notoriously private Michaels won’t be satisfied, despite Neville’s “unprecedented” access.

It is impossible to say what kinds of concessions Neville agreed to make in that exchange, but Michaels’ performative annoyance regarding the presence of the cameras hints at the tight ship in Studio 8H. Michaels guards his professional reputation as fiercely as he withholds access to his family. And while I certainly respect the subject’s decision to control the narrative outside the workplace, surely there is a better and more satisfying version of this story when it comes to the consideration of longstanding criticisms, like the show’s track record on diversity and representation in the cast (to name just one thing), that could have/should have been addressed.

Neville makes mention of Lorne’s early professional connection with Lily Tomlin but a 13-year marriage to writer Rosie Shuster is maddeningly glossed over. Shuster appears in the doc with the insulting title “Lorne’s Ex-Wife.” Longtime Michaels pal and neighbor Paul Simon fares better in the telling of a road trip tale that humanizes the man in a manner largely absent from the roundtable featuring Fred Armisen, Bill Hader, Andy Samberg and John Mulaney. Those four comedians feed the mythology of Lorne as a powerful father figure everyone desperately aims to please.

The snowball effect of Lorne Michaels impressions and tributes, embedded in everything from Mike Myers’ Dr. Evil to Alec Baldwin’s Jack Donaghy to Mark McKinney’s Don Roritor, attests to his Olympian status among performers and picks up even more speed with the addition of some new animated “TV Funhouse” segments led by Robert Smigel. Those bits, which concoct outrageous “re-creations” of impossible aspects of Michaels’ deep show business connections and expansive privilege, add some zest simply by their novelty – since we know that the film will otherwise lean heavily on dozens and dozens of familiar clips from classic SNL bits.

Queen of Chess

HPR Queen of Chess 2 (2026)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Issues of gender reside at the heart of Rory Kennedy’s entertaining documentary “Queen of Chess,” available on Netflix following a January world premiere at the Sundance Film Festival. In the feature, Kennedy explores the remarkable career and achievements of the phenomenal Judit Polgár. The Hungarian’s staggering stat line should pique the interest of any viewer. As the greatest female chess player of record, Polgár remains the only woman to be ranked on the worldwide list of top-ten players, the only woman to attain an Elo International Chess Federation rating over 2700, and the only woman to reach the final stage of the World Chess Championship.

Kennedy’s movie, which features extensive interviews with Polgár and the members of her close family, intensifies the heavyweight-champ drama by devoting significant time to the longstanding rivalry between Polgár and superstar Garry Kasparov, culminating in the triumphant 2002 duel marking the only time a woman has defeated the reigning number-one player in the world. Kasparov’s presence suggests an almost mythic clash of titans akin to Muhammad Ali versus Joe Frazier. Arguably the highlight of the entire movie is the dramatic recounting of the 1994 face-off in which Kasparov broke the touch-move rule by releasing a knight and then quickly changing his mind.

That entire sequence, as constructed by Kennedy and her ace editors Azin Samari and Jesse Overman, unfolds as a suspenseful cat-and-mouse conflict worthy of Hitchcock. Drilling down on the hypotheticals (a formula repeated in other parts of the film), Kennedy knows exactly how to tighten the screws – even when the historical outcome is fixed and known. The “revelation” that unattended cameras brought by a Spanish TV crew were left running quickens the pulse. It is equally satisfying, then, when Kennedy returns later to the unlikely friendship between the adversaries. Footage of Polgár and Kasparov banana boating and enjoying some beach time offers up an unexpected contrast to the sedentary posture of a cerebral chess confrontation.

The veteran documentary filmmaker previously interacted with the world of chess as one of the producers of the fantastic Liz Garbus feature “Bobby Fischer Against the World” back in 2011. In the new movie, a brief clip of Fischer’s sexist claims about the prospects of women in chess is perfectly timed to make the controversial and enigmatic legend look foolish. The unmistakably sweet flavor of victory is served as Polgár breaks Fischer’s 33-year-old record as the youngest player to become a grandmaster, which she accomplished at the age of 15 years and 4 months. Along with Fischer’s dismissive comments, Kennedy includes other concrete examples of men struggling mightily to cope with the “threat” of successful women.

Despite Kennedy’s access to Polgár, the decorated prizewinner and precedent-smasher remains somewhat enigmatic. Polgár’s father László, who “experimented” on his three daughters by rigorously training and teaching them to become competitive in the chess world, hints at the potential costs exacted by the relentless pursuit of excellence. And Judit’s sisters Zsófia (Sofia) and Zsuzsanna (Susan) might have revealed more of their own feelings about sibling dynamics while living under such incredible pressure. Even so, “Queen of Chess” takes a position alongside “Queen to Play,” “Queen of Katwe,” and “The Queen’s Gambit” to inspire the game’s next generation.

Deep Water

HPR Deep Water (2026)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Leagues more entertaining than its logline and/or trailer might initially suggest, Renny Harlin’s “Deep Water” smartly avoids taking itself too seriously by fully embracing its delightfully trashy pedigree as a genre-bending mashup of classic disaster movie and shark attack chiller. Coming together under the big umbrella of the survival formula, the result of the cross-pollination is a pleasing diversion for moviegoers looking to shut off their brains for the respectably efficient 107-minute running time. The industrious Harlin, whose strong desire to continue churning out features connects forgettable stuff like “Refuge” and “Skiptrace” to the Hollywood peaks of “Die Hard 2” and “Cliffhanger,” has already directed two theatrically-released 2026 features with two more in post-production.

Re-teaming with Aaron Eckhart, who starred in Harlin’s “The Bricklayer” in 2023, the prolific filmmaker reaches all the way back to his 1999 sci-fi sharkstravaganza “Deep Blue Sea” to come up with several complications between humans and the shortfin makos who want to chomp them. The earlier movie, indebted to “Jurassic Park,” has become a cult item for wild onscreen deaths. While “Deep Water” doesn’t quite match its predecessor’s tongue-in-cheek self-parody, Harlin’s workmanlike cross-cutting and commitment to his stock-in-trade action beats check all the boxes for a good time at the multiplex.

The sizable squad of writers who worked on the movie did their homework before polishing a screenplay that brings together the white-knuckle fears of commercial airplane crashes and hungry maneaters like the delicious combination of peanut butter and chocolate. Eckhart’s Northeastern Airlines first officer Ben, struggling to deal with his young son’s cancer treatment, joins the cockpit of a Los Angeles to Shanghai flight captained by Ben Kingsley’s retirement-age Rich. The movie’s first major segments trace a malfunctioning phone charging cable that ignites a luggage container in the cargo hold. From there, Harlin pumps the adrenaline in a bravura sequence visualizing the chain reaction that starts with a spark and ends with a splash.

For my money, the screaming spectacle of the plane peril tops the subsequent shark encounters. Your mileage may vary. Just as in life, bad things happen to apparently good people, although movie rules insist from the first moment we lay eyes on him that obnoxious, self-centered heel Dan (Angus Sampson) – the unwitting culprit of the whole airborne catastrophe – will be a casualty of either the jetliner’s nosedive or the jaws of the waiting ocean predators. As for the rest of the souls on the passenger manifest, fickle fate will spare some while removing others from the board.

No disrespect to Australian veteran Kate Fitzpatrick, whose self-aware eye rolling as a flinty grandma occasions a winking Shelley Winters quip indicating some reverence for “The Poseidon Adventure,” but Harlin could have used several more Academy Award winners beyond Kingsley. Like the 1972 Ronald Neame/Irwin Allen classic and so many other disaster flicks, “Deep Water” employs the template in which small groups of key characters must solve predicaments that will claim lives en route to the eventual resolution. “Poseidon” boasted five Oscar-winning performers in its ensemble and Allen would return to the practice for “The Towering Inferno” in 1974. Imagine the fun if Harlin’s cast could have included Julianne Moore, Helen Mirren, Susan Sarandon and Dustin Hoffman!

The Chronology of Water

HPR Chronology of Water (2025)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Kristen Stewart’s critically well-received directorial debut should do better in its second life on digital streaming platforms and VOD than it did during the very limited theatrical release it received stateside at the tail of end of 2025. For physical media collectors overseas (as well as those in the United States with region-free players), the British Film Institute’s Blu-ray will be available on April 27, 2026. Shot on glorious 16mm by Corey C. Waters, “The Chronology of Water” approaches Lidia Yuknavitch’s raw 2011 memoir with the cinematic intensity of a veteran filmmaker at the helm.

For admirers who have watched Stewart make a series of strong choices following the peak of her young fame as Bella Swan in the “Twilight” franchise, the sharp visual sensibilities at play in “The Chronology of Water” will come as no surprise. Like her frequent co-star Robert Pattinson, Stewart shrewdly alternates between high-profile studio films and much smaller arthouse fare made by visionary talents. Stewart’s directors, including Kelly Reichardt, Olivier Assayas, David Cronenberg, Pablo Larrain, and Rose Glass, have obviously been excellent instructors. Stewart proves as comfortable behind the cameras as she is in front of it, turning “The Chronology of Water” into a compelling piece of biographical fiction and a showcase for lead Imogen Poots.

Poots plays Yuknavitch over the span of quite a few years, beginning in high school as the competitive swimmer whose desire to escape her controlling and sexually abusive father (a frequently chilling Michael Epp) would take her from Olympic aspirations to drug and alcohol-fueled self-destructiveness. The performer’s work here, arguably her career-best, is all the more remarkable given director Stewart’s commitment to the deliberately fragmentary approach that embraces frequent time-jumps and vignettes. Poots and Stewart collaborate to resist any temptation they might have had to represent Yuknavitch with any one of the reductive traits that might otherwise drive an adaptation.

In other words, the Lidia we encounter onscreen is, like the complex personality of the page, simply not reducible. Her bad choices do not translate into the common movie cliches that would result from catastrophic losses. Certainly, the audience sees Lidia pushed to the limits of endurance in circumstances that could cause anyone to “act out.” But Stewart treats atonement and reconciliation with the same matter-of-factness that accompanies everything from Lidia’s fluid sexuality and BDSM experimentation to the court-mandated community service she is required to perform.

In one of the movie’s longest sustained sections, Yuknavitch finds her way to the University of Oregon and a group collaboration with legendary writer and counterculture figure Ken Kesey (Jim Belushi) that would result in the 1989 novel “Caverns.” True to the style she has established, Stewart filters the experience through the perception of Lidia, who simultaneously seems grateful for Kesey’s companionship/mentorship and wary of what could be construed as nearly inappropriate attention. Certainly, the flinty encounter between Kesey and Lidia’s dad underlines the fragile father-daughter dynamics that haunt her, but for the most part, Stewart shows as much restraint here as she does throughout the film’s many short but effective passages.

I’m Chevy Chase and You’re Not

HPR I'm Chevy Chase (2025)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Veteran documentary filmmaker Marina Zenovich has chronicled a number of powerful men in entertainment, politics and popular culture, including Roman Polanski (twice), Richard Pryor, Robin Williams, Lance Armstrong, and Jerry Brown, so neither her most recent subject nor her methodological approach should surprise any viewers who have enjoyed her consistently watchable work. In “I’m Chevy Chase and You’re Not,” Zenovich continues her pattern of grappling with a complicated and divisive personality. Now in his early 80s, Cornelius Crane Chase has seen as many peaks and valleys as any seasoned mountaineer.

Coinciding with the film’s New Year’s Day premiere on CNN and eventual streaming home on HBO Max, a clip of Chase insulting Zenovich made the rounds. When the filmmaker remarks, “I’m just trying to figure you out,” Chase responds, “No shit. It’s not gonna be easy for you.” Zenovich replies, “Why not? Why is it not gonna be easy?” and Chase retorts, “You’re not bright enough. How’s that?” The moment sets a tone for the entire movie: Chase’s legendary cruelty and meanness is matched by his fearlessness and self-confidence, even if the former seems to mask some amount of deeply submerged pain or even self-loathing.

From the earliest days of Chase’s national profile as one of the original “Saturday Night Live” Not Ready for Prime Time Players, the performer’s mercurial career decisions left both industry professionals and fans scratching their heads. The initial breakout star of the series, Chase quit early in the second season. Several bridges were set on fire, but did not burn all the way through. Soon enough, Hollywood success would seem as effortless as the man’s ability to keep selling physical and verbal comedy that delighted millions. Blazing chops and a quick wit fit hand in glove with WASPy elitism and libidinous come-ons (as was the custom of the day). But Chase was just as adept at projecting frustrated middle-class dad energy, turning Clark Griswold into an all-time great.

Zenovich will later button up the movie with footage of Chase basking in the adulation of an enthusiastic crowd at one of the many semi-regular, victory-lap screenings of “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” where the actor participates in a moderated conversation and audience Q & A. Curiously, the irascible old clown appears to enjoy it. Before we get there, however, the director plays Chase’s greatest hits and biggest bombs. Celebrity pals, wife Jayni and their three daughters bear witness to all manner of celebrity misadventure and hubris, from box office disaster and talk show-hosting embarrassment to longtime cocaine addiction and near-death hospitalization.

Chase’s infamous and tasteless homophobic bullying of Terry Sweeney during the former’s SNL hosting gig in the 1985-1986 season sets the table for another elephant in the room: the narrative surrounding Chase’s departure from “Community,” linked to an outburst in which he reportedly used the N-word. Since Zenovich was unable to convince Dan Harmon or any cast members to speak on camera, the segment is somewhat unsatisfactorily represented by Jay Chandrasekhar. Zenovich’s movie certainly isn’t the last word on its polarizing subject but it is a sturdy enough exercise in showbiz portraiture.

In Conversation With Peter Stormare

HPR Stormare 4 (2026)

Interview by Greg Carlson

The Fargo Theatre’s Centennial Film Series opens this Tuesday evening with a special 30th anniversary screening of “Fargo.” Nominated for seven Oscars, including Best Picture, “Fargo” received two Academy Awards: Frances McDormand was named Best Actress in her role as indefatigable Brainerd Chief of Police Marge Gunderson and Best Screenplay honors went to brothers Joel and Ethan Coen.

In the film, Peter Stormare’s taciturn Gaear Grimsrud may not deliver many lines of dialogue, but his onscreen presence is indelible and unforgettable. HPR film editor Greg Carlson spoke with Stormare ahead of his “return” visit to Fargo. The actor will participate in an on-stage Q&A following the April 14 screening. Tickets are available at the Fargo Theatre.

 

GC: We look forward to welcoming you to Fargo. Not only will you be reunited with the woodchipper and also see our Marge Gunderson statue, you are coming to a place with a very high concentration of people of Swedish descent.

PS: Yes, I see by your name that you’re not a Norwegian or a Dane with an “s-e-n.” You do it with an “s-o-n.”

 

GC: You grew up in a really small town in northern Sweden. How did you make it from a little village to the Royal Dramatic Theatre?

PS: I don’t know. When I was five years old, I told my parents that they weren’t my real parents, like every kid does. But I also said to my mother that my real mother lived in California. And when I get older, I’m going to reunite with my real mother in California.

My folks always teased me about it. “Oh, when are you going to move to California?” I said, “Stop teasing me about it. It’s real. I’m going to work in movies.” “You will have to take us out there one day once you make it there.”

It was a dream I had deep inside. I never talked much to anybody or my friends about it. But I told my parents when I was young, and I kept the dream alive.

 

GC: Did your parents encourage you or discourage you to follow that dream?

PS: I think they thought I was a little bit loony. They just shook their heads and laughed it away and said, “Yeah, he’s strange. He’s sitting in the attic in the dark, just looking at stars. So let him be. Let him fantasize while he’s still young.”

Eventually, I made it down to Stockholm. I started walking, more or less. And by a fluke, I got a ticket to go to the theater. I had just turned 20 when I saw my first play. It was like God had opened the gates for me and I came into heaven.

We have academies in most European countries, where you have ballet and opera singers and actors together with painters and choreographers in something like an academic community. You get a grant from the state to go to school.

It’s a great thing to be part of as a young person. I was only 21 or 22 when I got accepted. The first National Theater play I was in received rave reviews and became a huge hit that ran for several years. That was a great start for a new guy in town. And then I met Ingmar Bergman and started working with him in his productions.

 

GC: Bergman directed you in three big shows, right?

PS: More than three, but the big ones were “Long Day’s Journey Into Night,” “Miss Julie” and “Hamlet.” I mean, those were three giant leaps for me. And you have all the lines in your head at the same time while you’re rehearsing a fourth show during the day. So you have to hold four different scripts in your head.

 

GC: At this point in time, you’re performing “Hamlet” in Swedish. The Britt Hallkvist translation had been commissioned for this production. Did you prefer Hamlet in Swedish or in Shakespeare’s original English?

PS: We did a two-week run at the National Theater. I got to meet a lot of actors, like Anthony Hopkins and Helen Mirren, and Royal Shakespeare Company artistic director Peter Hall. Big, big stars I looked up to. They all wanted to see this completely new translation of Shakespeare.

Bergman really idolized Hallkvist. She had previously done many translations of Shakespeare. It was very special for me to contribute and be involved with the brand new “Hamlet” she wrote for us.

 

GC: What was different when you directed your own version of “Hamlet” at the Tokyo Globe Theater? 

PS: In Japanese, instead of rhymes they might use alliteration, which felt very strange at first. So I worked very closely with my assistant director, who was fluent in English and Japanese and also knew German.

It is easier working with a translator when you don’t have only one word but can circle a feeling with four or five different words. The translation we did was so poetic, so dreamlike.

The ghost was influenced by the old “Ugetsu Monogatari.” The ghost comes as three guys in white, with bandanas and white masks and a bow with arrows that are shot right over the audience, up to a styrofoam board. They speak their words simultaneously, which becomes very eerie.

Hamlet sees his father from the front with the three ghosts standing behind him. In Europe we have a harder time making a ghost believable. But that is not the case in Japan.  For them, it’s part of life.

 

GC: Right, things like yūrei and kami.

PS: One of my first questions to the translator was, “How is the ghost for you? Does the way we handle the ghost work for you?” And he said, “In my family, my father’s ghost comes and visits me. We have no problem dealing with ghosts.”

That production became a big hit. Japan appreciates and understands Shakespeare. When the box office opened, I looked outside and saw 200 kids between the ages of 16 and 24 lined up to buy tickets. And the shows usually sold out.

I’m married to a Japanese woman and I’ve spent so much time in Japan that it feels like I belong in Japan. Like I should have been born there. I think Shakespeare would have loved to see his plays being performed today in Japan.

 

GC: One of my favorite things that’s been said about you comes from the Fade to Black YouTube channel. I am paraphrasing, but it is this idea that you are like a stone dropped into still water. And that over the course of your career, you have mastered the art of creative disruption.

PS: I can have a long beard. I can have a shaved head. I can have a strange walk. I can be different in every part and have a different accent. I don’t want to fall into the trap of just being a money-making machine stuck in the middle doing the same thing over and over.

That has happened to too many American actors and it’s very sad to see. Some of them try to do different things but when they get bad reviews it’s back to playing the same old guy again.

 

GC: You also do so much with so little screen time.

PS: I don’t need to be Wayne Gretzky. I want to be the guy who passes the puck to Gretzky and makes the best assists. I want to come into a movie and not have the heaviness of carrying the whole thing. I don’t want the burden that if it flops, I’m dead. Or the pressure that if it’s good, I’ll have to do the same part again. I want to be the secondary guy who can really be a character.

 

GC: You’ve played Lucifer and Dracula and plenty of murderers. What is the appeal of the darkness?

PS: I think it comes from the stage. I don’t know if you direct as well, but if you put, let’s say, 100 actors on stage and ask them, “Who wants to play the Prince of Darkness?” you’re going to have 99 stepping forward. I think it’s very boring to do Prince White, the good guy.

A long time ago, I had a conversation with Harrison Ford and he said to me, “I’ve tried to play bad guys but when I do, nobody wants to see me in those movies. I always have to be on the good side.”

 

HPR Stormare 3 (2026)

 

GC: You’ve been featured in movies by Joel and Ethan Coen, Steven Spielberg, George Romero, Louis Malle, Terry Gilliam, and Lars von Trier, to name just a few. How do you like to be directed? 

PS: The best thing for an actor is when they’re properly directed. I learned this from Bergman. He built you a corral and said, more or less, “You’re a wild horse. And I’m not going to tame you. But this is your corral. It’s pretty big but I want you to stay inside it.”

He said, “My suggestion is that you do this and do this and do this. If you don’t like my suggestions, that’s fine, but don’t jump out of the corral. Don’t destroy the corral. You’re only one color. And there’s other people on stage, not just you.”

Like the Coen brothers, Bergman was very specific, like, “Lift the glass here” or “After you say that line, take the knife and then put it down and then say your next line.” But at the same time, if I didn’t like the way things were working, he would tell me to try something else.

 

GC: Not too many actors can say they have been directed by Ingmar Bergman and Michael Bay.

PS: When it comes to Michael Bay, as an actor, you can be an actor. Bay has been criticized and looked down upon, as if all he can do is stage action. I think he’s a very good director. He’s just as specific as Bergman and the Coens and he’s very thorough and he prepares like crazy.

Sometimes he just takes over the camera, starts to move it and says, “I’m shooting now, John.” And John [Schwartzman, the director of photography] gets pissed and says, “No, I want to shoot this one. You take the B-camera.” Bay knows exactly what he wants in every shot.

 

GC: You have more experience than some of your directors.

PS: It can be hard with younger, modern directors who have not done their homework. They have a digital camera. They can shoot 47 minutes without saying cut. And they have not done any prep.

It’s like you think you’re going to play soccer and then your coach announces you’ll be playing on ice. “Ice? Then shouldn’t we have skates? Shouldn’t we be playing hockey? What do you mean? We’re playing soccer on ice?” That can make you very insecure as an actor. And usually the results are bad.

 

GC: You’ve played scenes with some of the biggest stars in the business, from Robin Williams and Tom Cruise to Jeff Bridges and Arnold Schwarzenegger and Keanu Reeves and on and on. Who are some of your acting heroes? 

PS: I will choose two icons, one departed and one who is still here: the late Spencer Tracy and Clint Eastwood, who is still alive and kicking. One a legend and one a living legend. Inspirations for as long as I can remember, since I was a kid and started going to the movies.

Clint has something phenomenal in his way of being. From “Rawhide” to his films with Sergio Leone, you can observe him just breathing and believe that he will be able to say a lot without the need to use many words or talk all the time.

 

GC: The descriptive phrase that gets attached to you maybe more than any other is “quiet menace.”

PS: The audience will come to me if I’m quiet. Even if I only have two scenes in a movie, I try to work something in so the audience wants to see more of me. If nothing else, they go out after the movie ends and say, “Oh shit, I wish there were more scenes with that guy.”

My aim is not to steal the show but to at least make an impression. When I was younger and working with Bergman, there was a saying that if you take a question mark and you hang it upside down, like they do in the Spanish language, it becomes a hook. Don’t be afraid of being a question mark up there on stage or in front of a camera, because people tend to bite onto that hook.

Bergman might not show a face 100%. Maybe just half a face will be lit so the audience can use their imagination to add what the rest looks like. He would say, “Don’t give the audience everything because they have paid money and they want to use the fantasy and be co-writers of the story.”

 

GC: Are you a cinephile? Do you go out to see a lot of movies?

PS: No. I have claustrophobia. I’m afraid of people. I’m like a hermit. I don’t like movie theaters. I get annoyed if someone eats an apple like three rows away from me.

 

GC: Or talks or looks at their phone.

PS: Something inside of me turns anxious. I can occasionally go to a cineplex in the middle of the day if there’s only three other people in the auditorium and I can sit far away from them. I really should be fighting more for movie theaters but even as a kid it was hard for me to be among a lot of people.

These days I mostly watch documentaries because for me to see episodic series and movies, having been in the business so long, I recognize locations, I recognize people. “I’ve worked with him. I’ve worked with her. Oh, they’re in Toronto and pretending they’re in New York. That’s Vancouver. Oh, I know that spot. That’s Atlanta. Okay, now it’s Bulgaria standing in for New York.”

 

GC: Do you watch anything with your family?

PS: No, my wife and my kids don’t look at those kinds of movies. They have their own preferences. I think it can be hard to see certain things with your dad. My wife is more into Brazilian and French movies and has, you know, Japanese taste.

 

GC: You’ve described your wife Toshimi as an incredible chef. What’s your favorite meal that she makes?

PS: Something called oden, a one-pot stew with boiled vegetables that you eat with hot mustard. It’s like a peasant dish, a winter dish. But you can eat it all year round. It’s really great with an ice cold beer and daikon and all those good things they have in the broth. Oden connects you to the roots of Japan and what people ate in the old days when you cooked whatever vegetables you could find and made it taste good.

 

GC: You are a musician and I’ve seen a photograph of you wearing a Jesus and Mary Chain shirt and a more recent image of you in a Thin Lizzy shirt. What are the bands you can’t live without? 

PS: There are three bands for me, although Thin Lizzy might come in fourth. My life would not be as rich without the Beatles, the Clash and Nirvana. Those three bands have something in common: they broke new ground.

They wrote their own material and explored new avenues in music without just repeating what was previously successful. Unfortunately, Kurt Cobain took his life. He could have done so much more. But, just to dare to put together “MTV Unplugged in New York” … what a gift.

 

GC: Yeah, stunning, spare and transformational. It’s a timeless artifact.

PS: When you listen to the White Album, it sounds like it could have been recorded today and not close to 60 years ago. The Beatles were workhorses who would do it every day for up to fourteen hours. Even when they were fighting like crazy, they came in and made music together. In little more than 7 years, they released 13 albums. Where do you want to go? “Revolution 9” together with “Honey Pie.” What is going on here? How the hell could they do this in three months?

With the Clash, “Sandinista!” is one of the best things I could listen to. It’s innovative and improvised. It’s so in the moment and it turned out to be gold nuggets. With both the White Album and “Sandinista!,” some were saying, “No, no, this is too much, too many different directions.”

 

GC: I watched Peter Jackson’s Beatles documentary and marveled at the band’s working process. I gained a whole new level of love and appreciation for Ringo.

PS: Ringo is going to be the surviving member. As a kid, he was nearly declared dead several times. He doesn’t need to die anymore. I think he will survive to his hundredth.

 

GC: I hope so. I want to wrap up by saying we avoided talking about “Fargo” because you’re going to have a great Q&A when you’re here in a few days. And people are ready to hear your stories about that particular moviemaking experience. 

PS: Yes! We will let some new ones out of the closet.

HPR Stormare (2026)

Forbidden Fruits

HPR Forbidden Fruits 4 (2026)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

“Forbidden Fruits” practically begs for the grammarian’s old “which witch is which” query, given that Meredith Alloway’s wildly uneven feature directorial debut bounces from one genre to another and never quite finds a consistent tone or gear. The filmmaker’s game cast members, channeling the sensibilities of inspirations from “Heathers” to “The Craft” to “Jawbreaker” to “Mean Girls,” stretch out the frequently thin satire with generous mock seriousness. The principal quartet – all terrific – includes Lili Reinhart as alpha queen Apple, Victoria Pedretti as dim-bulb sex bomb Cherry, Alexandra Shipp as the brainier and more secretive Fig, and Lola Tung as newcomer/initial outsider Pumpkin.

Set in a Dallas, Texas shopping mall where Apple, Cherry and Fig clerk at the overpriced boutique Free Eden, “Forbidden Fruits” launches a full volley of putdowns and jabs aimed at a wide variety of targets. From toxic competition among good friends (who are anything but true-blue) to a critique of materialism and consumer culture in thrall to the worst features of mindless capitalism, Alloway initially indicates some interest in unpacking the difficulties and complexities of girlhood/womanhood in our artificial(ly) (un)intelligent landscape. Curiously, the movie also embraces a level of violence and gore arriving quite late in the story.

Viewers are invited to identify with the experiences of Pumpkin, who trades the unflattering paper hat of food court pretzelmaker Sister Salt’s for the chic attire worn by her new pals. Unfazed by the revelation that the Free Eden staffers operate as a coven of witches, Pumpkin soon discovers dark and unsettling secrets that deflate the phony sisterhood championed by her new coworkers. On paper, “Forbidden Fruits” promises enough over-the-top provocation to satisfy seekers of the weird and wonderful. And our actors never flinch at the most outrageous stunts, including a spell involving menstrual blood that caused one viewer in my screening to nope out.

Whether or not Alloway’s movie ever attains the kind of cult status enjoyed by some of her film’s cinematic influences, at least “Forbidden Fruits” demands a consistent level of attention. It’s a bummer, then, that the director’s visual instincts, or lack thereof, tend toward monotonous and flat compositions that stick to medium shots better suited to tablets and phones than the big screen. That approach is a shame, given the ability of any of the performers to partake in some serious scene stealing. Pedretti, whose oversexed Cherry channels the vulnerability of Marilyn Monroe while engaging in a raucous series of dressing room seductions, transcends her role’s vapid desolation.

Alloway co-wrote the screenplay with Lily Houghton, adapting the latter’s 2019 play “Of the Woman Came the Beginning of Sin, and Through Her We All Die.” As translated, the stage origins are impossible to ignore. South by Southwest hosted the film version’s world premiere just last month, ahead of a short theatrical window and an eventual home on streaming services (Shudder and the Independent Film Company are distributing). And while the bulk of the movie’s audience will discover it at home, “Forbidden Fruits” is best experienced in an auditorium filled with people gasping and laughing and injecting an energy upon which it desperately depends.