Reel advice: Tragedy and comedy

Within the first few minutes of Lily Keber's doc, Bayou Maharajah: The Tragic Genius Of James Booker , we learn that the late James Booker, known as "The Piano Prince of New Orleans," was also called "The Ivory Emperor" by the Governor of Louisiana. A conspiracy enthusiast and applause junkie, the openly gay Booker had multiple aliases and was known to dress in drag. A man "on the edge," the bottom line is that Booker was a virtuoso with various labels applied to him.

The mythology surrounding Booker was as enormous as his talent. Booker, who wore an eye patch, did little to dispel the talk swirling around him. How did he lose his eye? Depending on who you talk to, the answers range from a fight in Angola State Pen (where he served time following a heroin bust), glaucoma, a debt (he had the choice between losing an eye or a finger), an infection, the CIA (file under conspiracy enthusiast), the mafia, a pool cue, Jackie Kennedy (!), being thrown from a window, a record company dispute and a fight with Ringo Starr (hence the star on the eye patch).

Born in New Orleans in December 1939, Booker spent some of his early years in Mississippi. Back in NOLA, a child prodigy of sorts, he performed (under age) at various establishments including the legendary Dew Drop Inn. From the ages of 16-20, Booker was an in-demand player and went on the road with several touring musicians. How did his mother let him go on the road as young as he was?

Unfortunately, Booker's downfall into drug and alcohol addiction was rapid. It fueled his paranoia and made him a prima donna. Although he never felt valued in the States, he did find a truly appreciative audience in Europe. But his erratic behavior eroded that following. On and off of the substances he abused for years, Booker died waiting to see a doctor at Charity Hospital in New Orleans at the age of 43.

In addition to a wealth of vintage performance footage, Bayou Maharajah: The Tragic Genius Of James Booker, includes several interviews with Booker himself, which provides great insight into his character. The doc is augmented by interviews with those who knew and worked with booker, including John Parsons (owner of Maple Leaf Bar), jazz poet Ron Cuccia, Allen Toussaint, Charles Neville, Harry Connick Jr., Dr. John (who credits Booker with teaching him how to play organ), Irma Thomas, historian Douglas Brinkley, producer Joe Boyd (who tells the great "black Liberace" story), actor/musician Hugh Laurie and many others.

Although Booker, who was at work on his own autobiography, is quoted as saying that "the James Booker story does not need elaboration," we can be grateful to Lily Keber for bringing his story to the screen. It's music to our ears and eyes. [Bayou Maharajah: The Tragic Genius Of James Booker screens on May 2, 7 pm at Society for Arts as part of Chicago International Movies & Music Festival (CIMMfest). Visit cimmfest.org ]

Let's get this out of the way first. Nick Cassavettes' The Other Woman wants to be this year's Bridesmaids. From its unconventional approach to female bonding (a wife and her husband's mistresses team up for revenge) to its gastrointestinal gag (emphasis on gag), The Other Woman wears its influences on its designer sleeve. While we're on the subject of influences, didn't there used to be a longer time between when movies used the same title? For example, the Natalie Portman dramatic vehicle The Other Woman was in theaters in 2009. Wouldn't The Other Other Woman or The Other Women have been a more suitable name for this 2014 Cameron Diaz comedy?

As it turns out, Diaz, who plays lawyer and unwitting mistress Carly in The Other Woman isn't really even the star of the show. This movie belongs to Leslie Mann. Mann, who plays cuckolded wife Kate, finally gets to show her talents and range as a comedic actress. The most sympathetic character on screen, Kate's experience of discovering her husband Mark's (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and his important hair) infidelity, and the irregular way in which she processes and then accepts her fate, is at the root of Melissa Stack's screenplay.

Spilling over (like other mistress Kate Upton in a bikini) with an array of physical comedy situations, The Other Woman almost holds its own throughout. It isn't until the shattering finale that it simply crashes in on itself. Still, there are a multitude of laugh-out-loud moments, as well as Mann's triumphant performance, that make The Other Woman worth recommending.

Almost 60 years since The Bridge on the River Kwai won several Oscars, the story of the British POWs interred and brutalized in a Japanese labor camp during World War II gets a new telling in Jonathan Teplitzky's The Railway Man (Weinstein), based on the memoir by Eric Lomax. An agonizing journey of forgiveness, The Railway Man begins in England in 1980 where train enthusiast Eric (Colin Firth) meets and unexpectedly falls in love with Patti (Nicole Kidman).

It doesn't take long for Patti to discover that Eric is haunted by his past and the indignities he suffered as a prisoner of war. Told in a series of flashbacks, young soldier Eric's (Jeremy Irvine) time in the labor camp, where the prisoners were given the backbreaking and spirit-crushing task of building a nearly impossible railway system, was one of almost unendurable suffering. It is here that Eric's rail enthusiasm, and connected fascination with maps, works against him. After he and fellow engineers, including Finlay (Sam Reid), are caught making a radio to get news of what was happening in the outside world, they are punished. Eric is singled out by translator Nagase (Tanroh Ishida) and is relentlessly beaten and tortured – something that is portrayed in graphic hide-your-eyes-but-watch-between-your-fingers detail.

Eric was a soldier who never surrendered, but remained at war internally. The war he brought home with him tears apart the fragile fabric of his marriage. Patti, who clearly doesn't approve of the code of silence perpetuated by the other retired soldiers, seeks advice from the older Finlay (Stellan Skarsgård), who seems to have recovered better than Eric. When Finlay discovers that Nagase (Hiroyuki Sanada) is still alive, running a museum on the site of the camp, he encourages Eric to seek revenge. But now that he's a husband, Eric has no intention of going after Nagase. Findlay baits Eric into taking action by committing suicide

Naturally, Nagase is surprised to find Eric still alive. As Eric's interrogation of Nagase begins, the threat of violence and retribution hangs in the air. But Eric is a civilized man, in spite of what he endured. With vengeance echoes of the Israeli film The Debt, The Railway Man can be difficult to watch, as it pulls into Redemption Station. Firth's intense performance lacks the nuance and subtlety of his work in Tom Ford's A Single Man or his Oscar-winning performance in The King's Speech. Kidman is so mousy here that she almost disappears into the grey scenery, while Skarsgård is as wooden as ever.

Holocaust films fall into three categories; masterful (Schindler's List, Sophie's Choice and The Pianist), mediocre (Life Is Beautiful and Jakob The Liar) or miserable and manipulative (The Boy In the Striped Pajamas and The Book Thief). Walking With The Enemy (Liberty) falls squarely into the latter category. Well-intentioned but clunky, Walking With The Enemy suffers from being heavy-handed, an overuse of less than subtle Christian messages, and actors who are out of their depth. Not even Ben Kingsley (who appeared in Schindler's List) as Hungary's Regent Horthy can elevate the quality of the film.

Inspired by the true story of Pinchas Rosenbaum (represented by the character of Elek Cohen, played by Jonas Armstrong), Walking With The Enemy is set in Hungary months before the war reached the country. "Charmer" Elek meets Hannah (Hannah Schoen) at a nightclub, but things rapidly go downhill as they get a taste of the anti-Jewish sentiment overtaking Budapest. To their dismay, Nazis, led by Adolph Eichmann (Charles Hubbell), are soon marching through the streets and Jews are being displaced and deported, aided by Hungarian fascists known as the Arrow Cross Party.

Through a series of fortunate, but violent, events Elek and others are able to acquire Nazi uniforms, allowing them to impersonate soldiers and, in some cases, save a handful of lives that would have otherwise been lost. But it's minimal when compared to the senseless and brutal murders that occurred in Hungary at the time.

Sluggish and belabored, Walking With The Enemy could have probably been better in more capable hands. The villains, for example, border on being caricatures. For instance, the initial appearance of the insidious and jagged-scarred Skorzeny (Burman Gorman), might make you momentarily wonder if his name translates into "Scarface" (it doesn't). With so many other films on the subject from which to choose, it would be wise not to walk with the enemies in Walking With The Enemy.