Author Archives: Alex Stedman

Season 1 of Brand New Cherry Flavor will premiere on Netflix on Aug. 13.

Brand New Cherry Flavor has nothing at all to do with cherries, but it does offer an abundance of flavor in a sea of preachy teen dramas and staid supernatural romances. This limited Netflix series is one of the freshest shows to hit the streaming platform in some time, bringing an unparalleled amount of style and surrealism to the small screen with a dash of David Lynch-like magic to boot.

Created by Nick Antosca (The Act, Channel Zero) and Lenore Zion (Billions, Channel Zero) and based on the novel of the same name by Todd Grimson, Brand New Cherry Flavor stars a ferocious and fiercely independent Rosa Salazar (Alita: Battle Angel) as Lisa N. Nova, a young, cutting-edge filmmaker who just spent a stint in the woods working on a short horror film called “Lisa’s Eye.” Hotshot director Lou Burke (Eric Lange) invites her to LA, where he makes an offer to option her short as a feature length film. However, their uneasy mentor-protégé relationship turns sour, leading Nova on a bizarre journey through LA’s seedy underbelly where she meets Boro (Catherine Keener), a shadowy, supernatural figure who’s willing to help her get back at Lou — for a price.

Brand New Cherry Flavor is a revenge fantasy told through the lens of the early ’90s and soundtracked by R.E.M., The Pixies, Primus, and other prominent artists of the era. From vine-covered ceilings to the trap-door encrusted floors, the series is an undeniable love letter to the decade, and each scene is practically soaked in nostalgic remembrance of days gone by. It helps, of course, that the tale of those in powerful positions taking advantage of young and vulnerable creators is unfortunately a timeless one. This is a story that resonates just as much in 2021, from Burke’s unwanted sexual advances to his endless lies and anger directed at Nova after she shuts him down.

Though Rosa Salazar brings some much-needed bite and venom to her role as Nova, Catherine Keener shines as Boro, the rust-haired elder with a Woodstock attitude and a Log Lady-esque affinity for cats…as well as the literal zombies she keeps in her rainforest-like dwelling as pets. She’s certainly the source of plenty of disturbing content, which I found enhanced each episode in several ways. The show is heavy on gross-out moments, such as Nova being forced to vomit up kittens at will for Boro’s nefarious purposes. It goes even further than that later on in the show and, well, let’s just leave it at saying it has to be seen to be believed.There’s a decadent display of otherworldly sights and sounds, and these visuals ensure there’s never a dull moment, and continue to build until the very end.

But it’s not all darkness, revenge, and an increasingly feral Lisa. There’s plenty of room for humor, as Nova’s revenge quest turns into a game of cat and mouse between Burke and all of their respective allies. It’s like watching two cartoonishly evil villains one-up each other in a ’90s action flick, and this occasional comedy will elicit a grin here and there.

Some of the most engaging moments emerge from Nova’s interactions with Code (Manny Jacinto) and his girlfriend Christine (Hannah Levien). Despite an initially chilly reception upon Code welcoming Nova into the pair’s apartment, Christine is a sympathetic ear for the jilted director. Brand New Cherry Flavor happily subverts the “jealous girlfriend” trope and instead sees Christine and Nova become initially uneasy but fast friends. Their interactions are whip-smart and realistic, and I was pleased to see a potentially tired and rote situation turned into a positive one between the two women. And for once, there’s no romantic subplot about Nova trying to win her ex back — the spotlight remains firmly on Nova’s well-deserved revenge.

There’s still time for romance, however, as self-destructive movie star Roy Hardaway (Jeff Ward) quickly realizes Nova could be the person who finally helps him overcome his lifelong death wish. The pair has definite onscreen chemistry, and their relationship is unexpectedly straightforward and sweet.
All of Brand New Cherry Flavor’s out-there moving pieces could come across as messy. Fortunately, Antosca and Zion keep it moving at a rapid clip, with enough exposition and disturbing revelations to keep you from reaching for the remote even when things begin to slow down. Introspective moments about Nova’s past are insightful and moving, and learning about movie star Hardaway’s troubled past adds another layer to an action movie hero that I initially wanted to write off as just another pretty face. There’s a lot to love about every character, so much so that by the end you’re left feeling as though you just spent time getting to know a very dysfunctional — and violent — family.

Val is now streaming on Amazon Prime Video.

It’s hard to sum up the high highs and low lows of Val Kilmer’s career since the early ‘90s, but that’s just what Val, Amazon Prime’s engrossing and insightful new documentary, takes on. Directors Leo Scott and Ting Poo skillfully situate Kilmer’s career choices and trajectory within a larger examination of the very nature of stardom itself, juxtaposing decades of archival footage (amassed by the man himself) against his current situation as he recovers from throat cancer, with a double tracheotomy making it difficult for him to speak in anything past a hoarse croak.

With Kilmer mostly unable to talk for himself, he turned to his son, Jack, to read his narration, and the younger Kilmer’s voice sounds so hauntingly similar to his father’s younger years it’s easy to lose ourselves in the illusion that it’s Val himself speaking to us from across the chasm of time. Walking us through his life and career in linear fashion, the documentary has ample discussion (and footage) of his early years and family life (including the trauma of losing his brother at an early age) before he made the leap to stage and screen.

In hindsight, it’s rather remarkable just how much of his life Kilmer managed to capture on home video, with young stars like Sean Penn, Kevin Bacon, and Tom Cruise flitting in at various moments. Long before the ubiquity of cell phones made it practically second nature for many, Kilmer did all this when it actually took effort. And while one could be tempted to say that’s the narcissism of an actor at work, the truth is Kilmer did a tremendous service both for himself and us in capturing small behind-the-scenes moments that would otherwise be lost to the ages.

Things like shooting the breeze with Rick Rossovich between takes of Top Gun, watching Kurt Russell don his Wyatt Earp getup on Tombstone, and rocking Marlon Brando in a hammock on the set of The Island of Dr. Moreau are all testament to a remarkable life, something Kilmer himself is acutely aware of, especially given the distance of time. The omnipresent video camera also ended up capturing moments such as Kilmer and actor David Thewlis arguing with the late John Frankenheimer on the famously fraught Dr. Moreau set, with the director finally losing his cool over being constantly recorded.

Given just how big of a star Kilmer was at one time and how many big movies he got to be a part of, these snippets of interaction are obviously exciting for any film buff to witness, but they also offer a useful framework of how he views himself –– then and now.

One of the most poignant found footage moments for me wasn’t from a set at all, though; it was a simple scene of Kilmer putting his son in a coin-operated Batmobile from Batman Forever, the kind you see outside a grocery store, allowing the child to experience the innocent joy of being Batman in a way Kilmer himself never really felt while playing the role. We also get a peek into his romance with ex-wife Joanne Whalley, from their whirlwind wedding to their eventual separation and arguments over child visitation. It can feel uncomfortably voyeuristic at times, but it’s nonetheless necessary if the goal is to take in the totality of the man.

In that sense, it’s unquestionably bittersweet to see the archival Kilmer in the ‘80s and ‘90s, speaking so confidently of himself and his craft, and then cutting to him in present day, mostly making do by attending conventions and special events where he interacts with fans and signs autographs. While it’s no doubt rewarding to know your work has touched audiences and continues to entertain them, Kilmer himself seems, if not saddened, then resigned to the reality of his “top of the marquee” days likely being behind him. Of course, that realization also allows him to speak with a candor and clarity about his career that’s refreshing and never catty, guided wonderfully by the directors’ steady hands.