Gray begins his story on the first day of sixth grade at P.S. 173 in Queens, September 1980. Little Paul Graff (Banks Repeta) doesn\u2019t quite fit in, so he tries to be a class clown; classmate Johnny Davis (Jaylin Webb), proves something of a kindred spirit, so become the favorite targets of their humorless teacher Mr. Turkeltaub (Andrew Polk). Right away, Gray nails the non-stop parade of fear and humiliation that is the grade school classroom \u2013 and how, though they\u2019re both troublemakers, Johnny, who is Black, is presumed the ringleader. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Whatever the case, it\u2019s all a little embarrassing to Paul\u2019s mother Esther, who is president of the P.T.A. (\u201cHow much power do you have at school?\u201d Paul inquires, as his disciplinary troubles increase). Esther is played by Anne Hathaway in a totally tuned-in performance; shiksa though she may be, Hathaway handily puts across the contradictions of the character, who both indulges her son and is exasperated by him, and is ultimately exhausted by it all. (If you want to see a stunning little sliver of screen acting, watch Hathaway trying and failing to contain her tears when Paul asks her if everything is ok with grandpa.) Similar complexities imbue Jeremy Strong\u2019s work as Irving, the patriarch, a working class guy who seems gentle and thoughtful \u2013 at first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The hints of a darker side come early, during an unruly family dinner, in which Esther\u2019s warning that \u201cYou are gonna catch your father\u2019s temper\u201d carries real weight and history. Her later promise that \u201cI\u2019m gonna have to talk to your father\u201d has a sobering effect on her son, who goes from cocky one second to terrified the next, and the single scene of full-bore discipline is more terrifying than any of the horror films I\u2019ve seen recently. \u201cYou\u2019re gonna get it, kid,\u201d Irving growls, going after Paul with his belt, mercilessly; the boy begs him to stop, wailing, and the power of the scene lies not in the shocking violence, but in the knowledge that this was not out of the ordinary behavior. If anything, it\u2019s quiet the opposite \u2013 this is something parents used to just do<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat\u2019s enough crying,\u201d his father barks, \u201cStop blubbering!\u201d And his mother offers no comfort; her face is a ball of rage as she snaps, to his pleas, \u201cYou think that\u2019s smart? Say another word.\u201d There\u2019s a tendency, among actors, to indulge in the golden glow of nostalgia when playing characters of this era, or of filmmakers to cast that light upon them. To Gray\u2019s credit, he does not soft-soap the genuinely horrible aspects of these characters \u2013 nor do his actors hesitate to play them, at full tilt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Gray is similarly unafraid to coach Repeta to indulge in the complexity and prickliness of a real kid; he can be sweet and sensitive one minute, and a little shit the next. Moreover, Gray\u2019s script is keenly attuned to the way kid logic works, how they arrive at these absolute terrible ideas<\/em>, and the agony of watching helplessly as he makes some awful choices becomes a key part of the experience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The casting of Anthony Hopkins, as Paul\u2019s Grandpa Aaron, is less successful; his freewheeling mixture of accents is particularly distracting early on, before there is some attempt at explanation (makeshift though it might seem). But you get why Gray took the gamble; the simplicity with which he tells his grandson, \u201cTake care of yourself and remember your past,\u201d or advises him, regarding his Black classmates, \u201cYou be a mensch to those kids. They never had your advantage\u201d\u2026 well, not a lot of actors can give you those particular goosebumps. (The film\u2019s biggest problem is Gray\u2019s notion of dramatizing Paul\u2019s little fantasies of fame, which are mostly silly and too sporadic; he should have either done more or none.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n The trickiest material in the picture \u2013 and, so far at least, the most controversial \u2013 is the material dealing with race. Paul\u2019s friendship with Johnny is about all he\u2019s got at P.S. 173, but when their shared trouble gets him transferred to the upscale Forest Manor private school, he finds himself surrounded by rich racists, both in the form of students and alumni and donor Fred Trump. (His daughter Maryanne gives a speech at the school, in that fall of 1980, sneering at \u201chandouts\u201d and \u201cfree lunches,\u201d a none-too-subtle reminder of the straight line from this \u201csane\u201d iteration of the Republican party to our current one.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n But when Paul and Johnny commit a crime together, in a virtuso sequence of creeping certainty that nicely compliments the jittery energy of the Clash cue that accompanies it. The outcome is pointed, and the denouement is a delicate indictment of white privilege, and its intersection with Jewish liberal guilt. That\u2019s awfully fertile soil for a thoughtful filmmaker like Gray, and if all of his material doesn\u2019t quite add up, the broad ambition and honorable intentions of a movie like Armageddon Time <\/em>go a very long way.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Armageddon Time” is in theaters Friday.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/Armageddon-Time2-1024x682.jpg\")
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