Ninja Cafe/Kung Fu Tea

 

Co-located at 5815 Samet Drive at the Palladium in High Point, Ninja Café and Kung Fu Tea are the Japanese fast casual and bubble tea franchise (respectively) sides of the same business. The establishment is open from 11 to 9 (9:30 on weekends) daily. An app with a built-in loyalty/rewards program is available, and limited-time tea flavors change regularly.

 

Kung Fu Tea

A rare commodity elsewhere, bubble tea is hard to avoid in High Point. Even so, Kung Fu Tea sets itself apart by offering a nearly overwhelming number of options. You can choose from classic, fruit, and milk teas and customize them (size, hot or cold, sweetness levels, bubble toppings, etc.) to the hilt. Throw in some intriguing seasonal options (strawberry cream, brown sugar, and rosehip pineapple in addition to the requisite pumpkin), and it's hard to NOT find something here. Of course, some trial and error may be involved in arriving at a favorite.

We went with a rosehip pineapple tea during our most recent visit. It was sweeter than expected, but the pineapple's acidity tempered that somewhat, and the tapioca bubbles are quality. The staff here have never been anything but polite, and pricing ($3-4.50 for most of the teas and a bit more for slushes) is fair.

Anyone in search of a refreshing beverage near the Palladium shouldn't sleep on this place.

 

Ninja Cafe

Though it offers a small selection of appetizers (gyoza, tataki, takoyaki), sushi rolls, and even sushi burritos, Nina Cafe's biggest draw, as with the tea side of the house, is its customizability. For $8 or $11 respectively, you can build your own cooked or poke bowl including your choice of rice (sushi or brown), proteins, veggies, toppings (for the poke bowl), and sauces. The portions are filling (a bowl can feed two), and miso is included.

While everything tasted fresh, this isn't the best poke I've had (Greensboro's Poke Bowl offers better execution of a similar concept) though it is fairly satisfying. Be forewarned that custom bowls do take a bit of time to prepare.

If your basis of comparison is your favorite traditional Japanese restaurant, Ninja Cafe will fail to impress. But as a quicker, cheaper, more casual alternative, it acquits itself well.

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)

 

After being dumped by the Joker, psychiatrist turned crazed criminal Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) suddenly finds a long list of enemies gunning for her. That list includes crime kingpin and club owner Roman Sionis (Ewan McGregor), who compels Harley to steal back a diamond that teen pickpocket Cassandra Cain (Ella Jay Basco) stole from his deranged henchman Victor Zsasz (Chris Messina). Wanting to keep Cassandra safe, Roman's reluctant accomplice Dinah Lance (Jurnee Smollett) tips off dogged police detective Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez), who is after Harley as well as an elusive crossbow killer targetting underworld figures. Faced with the threat posed by Roman's considerable resources, Harley, Renee, and Dinah must work together to keep Cassandra alive.

The first shared-universe superhero film of 2020, Birds of Prey is an incomprehensible mess that perfectly (if unintentionally) captures the year's disappointments and frustrations. Poorly written, heavy-handed, and shallow, it offers briefly redemptive moments of humor and exhilaration to accompany the glimpses of how much better it could have been.

As is the case with many DC Comics adaptations as of late, the script is a major liability. Birds of Prey is a poor adaptation of its source material, dropping Barbara Gordon (the former Batgirl turned paralyzed information broker Oracle) in favor of placing Harley Quinn front and center. As a result, nearly every non-Harley character comes across as thinly drawn, often to their detriment. Cassandra, for instance, is Cassandra in name only, losing her inspiration's martial arts training and linguistic challenges. Add to this a premise similar to and self-aware tone evocative of the better-crafted Deadpool 2, and Christina Hodson's script is as bad as, if not worse than, the rightly-derided writing in Suicide Squad and Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice.

Of course, there is plenty of blame to go around here. The best that can be said about Cathy Yan's direction is that Birds of Prey is far from visually dull. Frenzied and colorful, it features a few standout set pieces, such as Harley's creative use of a beanbag cannon. At times, however, the choreography is sloppy: watching random mooks seemingly standing and waiting to be hit detracts from the experience. Whereas an Edgar Wright film can make it work, the near-constant bombast of the soundtrack here comes across as an attempt to distract from a glaring lack of substance.

Amid these constraints, the cast delivers mixed results. Robbie (who also produced) gives a spirited portrayal in the lead role, offering a compelling mix of zaniness and psychological insight. Mary Elizabeth Winstead works well as her foil, the grim, professional Huntress, but she doesn't have nearly enough screentime to flesh out the character. As Sionis, McGregor isn't given much to work with, either. He captures the character's selfishness but his hammy faux-charisma undercuts any sense of menace (save for a few brief moments toward the end). He is so obviously built up as a man for the film's women to take down that Birds of Prey plays like a bad parody of feminist themes rather than a sincere expression thereof. Both Smollett and Messina play very different takes on characters that will be familiar to television audiences. Though Smollet's Black Canary at least has an interesting backstory and a believable sense of reluctance, it's hard to see Messina's Zsasz (a repugnant creep deeply infatuated with his boss) as anything other than inferior to Anthony Carrigan's quirky cheerful sadist version on Gotham.

Were character development not given such short shrift, Birds of Prey could have been a solidly entertaining super(anti?)heroine ensemble film. Instead, bad writing and a clumsy treatment of theme place it toward the lower end of DC adaptations, and that's saying something. In an interview, Yan claimed that Birds of Prey's tepid box office was a result of audiences not being ready for a female-led superhero movie. Quite to the contrary, we're long overdue for a good one, and hers isn't it.

Memorial Drive: A Daughter's Memoir

 

When Natasha Trethewey was nineteen, her mother was murdered by her abusive, unstable former stepfather. Years later, Trethewey has crafted a memoir that looks at her childhood, her relationships with the woman who raised her and the man who took everything, and the circumstances surrounding the fateful event.

 

A former U.S. Poet Laureate, Trethewey writes with the precision and care one would expect, but her prose amounts to far more than well-crafted turns of phrase. Though reflective and digressive, Memorial Drive is marked by undercurrents of sadness and tension that enchant audiences and bind the narrative. Trethewey shifts fluidly from personal ruminations to documentary evidence such as police reports and phone transcripts. The latter’s inclusion may seem jarring, but it helps to create an indelible (and horrifying) impression of the terror that Joel Grimette subjected his (former) family to and Gwen’s rational yet futile attempts to resist.

 

There are strong parallels here between Tretheway’s tale and the one shared by Trevor Noah in Born a Crime. Like Noah, Trethewey is biracial, and as in Born a Crime, Memorial Drive explores the complexities of racial identity. But whereas Noah (a comedian) tempered his accounting of his life’s calamities with humor, Trethewey leaves us only the anguish of avoidable tragedy.

Jojo Rabbit

Toward the end of World War II, Jojo Betzler (Roman Griffin Davis), a naïve and idealistic ten-year-old German boy, joins the Hitler Youth. “Adolf,” a version of Hitler himself (Taika Watiti, who also wrote and directed), appears as Jojo’s supportive imaginary friend. One day, Jojo discovers Elsa Korr (Thomasin McKenzie), an older Jewish girl whom his mother Rosie (Scarlett Johansson) has been secretly hiding in their home. Though they start off mutually hostile and distrustful, the more he gets to know Elsa, the more Jojo begins to question Nazi beliefs, infuriating Adolf.

 

On paper, a dark comedy adaptation of Christine Leunens’ earnest novel Caging Skies sounds like a tasteless trainwreck in the making. However, Jojo Rabbit largely works in spite of its alienating premise, adding the hilarity and audacity of Blazing Saddles-era Mel Brooks and the quirky precociousness (and bright color scheme) of Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom to a familiar Anne Frank tale. Jojo Rabbit leans fully into its absurdity, yet it does so while still offering biting digs at Nazism’s vicious idiocy.

 

These dual purposes are perhaps best represented by Waititi’s take on Hitler. The director, a self-described "Polynesian Jew," sports a bad German accent (as does much of the cast) and plays the dictator as disarmingly chipper throughout the first half of the movie. The remove from the historical Hitler is such that the audience is always aware that “Adolf” is a figment of a Nazi-indoctrinated child’s imagination, and the portrayal gradually gets darker and angrier as Jojo wises up.

 

For his part, Davis makes quite an impression in his debut role, giving Jojo a believable mix of vulnerability, gullible innocence, and put-on Aryan superiority. Sam Rockwell, so often the sleazy racist imbecile, gets a nice change-of-pace here as Captain Klenzendorf, who runs the Hitler Youth camp. Rather than the sadistic ideologue one would expect in that position (Rebel Wilson as his female counterpart is truer to that type), Klenzendorf bumbles around apathetically, his indifference masking his bravery as a soldier and his closeted (until the end) sexuality. Unfortunately, the women aren’t given quite as much to work with. Elsa’s character is somewhat thinly drawn though McKenzie does a great job of trolling Davis by feeding him ridiculous myths about Jews to see what he will believe. Johansson’s Rosie is compassionate, brave, and not afraid to smack Klenzendorf around, but she doesn’t have a lot of screentime.

 

If the comedic elements don’t already do so, the fact that Jojo Rabbit offers the Nazi-adjacent a sympathetic viewpoint will strike some as morally irresponsible. It’s not an unwarranted criticism inasmuch as its one that overlooks the film’s satirical intent. As with Blazing Saddles, at the end of the day, the racists are made to look bad, and they lose.