March 1, 2024

12.12.23 Bottoms is pretty bonkers as far as high-school comedies go. It’s elevated by great comedic timing, especially from Rachel Sennott, who has been excellent in both films I’ve seen her in so far (Shiva Baby and Bodies, Bodies, Bodies). What I like most about the film though, is how it manages to capture one of the universe’s most powerful feelings so well: horniness. It’s also pretty accurate, although in an over-the-top way about how high school can be such an intense landscape of closed cliques and social hierarchies. There’s a boisterous energy to the story and a sense of mayhem that attempts to blend the best parts of Heathers, Superbad and Booksmart all into one. But while Bottoms tries to craft a compelling narrative amongst the chaos surrounding the characters we see, the film doesn’t quite reach the hilarious heights that the movie’s name suggests. To my taste, the jokes are mildly funny at best, relying on raunchiness and swearing rather than clever writing for laughs. Outside of Rachel Sennott’s committed performance, the young cast hustle, but don’t sell the big laughs. The absurdist ending also didn’t work for me, feeling like a bit of a cop-out and missing an opportunity to make a more meaningful statement.  Bottoms has a playful mischievous spirit and is unafraid of being ridiculous, much to the credit of its cast as well as its talented young director Emma Seligman. But for all its youthful mischief, Bottoms doesn’t come out on top as even near the year’s funniest films and instead squanders its intriguing premise.

3.12.23 Thatcher, Thatcher, the gay rights snatcher. Blue Jean offers a searing look at the challenges of living as a half-closeted teacher in 1980s Britain under the unjust Section 28 ruling. The film transports us back to the sights and sounds of the vibrant yet politically charged decade, and while the grainy cinematography and new romantic song choices aim to celebrate 80s culture, they also shine a sober light on how difficult it was to embrace one’s identity during the Tory heyday of the recent past. The lead Rosy McEwen delivers an impressive performance as Jean, a woman seeking to reconcile her sensible profession with her awakened self. She is in practically every scene and carries Jean with an emotional intensity and physical acumen that brings her conflicted character to life. She walks an emotional tightrope in embodying these dual roles and there are some great moments of sheer astonishment, such as her revelation at the birthday party and its aftermath which I found to be an incredibly tense, well-crafted moment. Aside from the marginalisation of ‘immoral’ homosexual lifestyles, we also get to feel other stressors facing the lives of socially private teachers at the time – banal staff room politics, uncomfortable student interactions, and the daily microaggressions that chip away at one’s resolve. I greatly enjoy films where the political backdrop becomes so important, sometimes almost feeling like a character in the story. I thought that Red Rocket did that supremely well last year and Blue Jean does it very well too, allowing Thatcher’s voice and the appearances of some of her party’s Members of Parliament to pop up as vitriolic enemies of self-expression. However, Blue Jean falls, disappointedly, just short of greatness. The ending feels abrupt without a clear resolution, leaning away from Jean’s social dilemma and more into the legacy of her lesbian community. Additionally, while Jean’s arc is compelling, her relationship with her conventionally unattractive partner strains believability. Their connection, though emotionally complex, doesn’t ring true on-screen despite the strong acting.  I can’t say I know anything about debut director Georgia Oakley, but she’s created another impressive female-led British feature this year which serves as a time capsule of 80’s counterculture whilst at the same time indicting Maggie’s socially oppressive government; one that today, through Braverman, Sunak and 30p Lee Anderson, seems to be creeping back in as the UK disgustingly tilts ever more to the right.

28.10.23 Blackberry plays out like a lo-fi version of The Big Short, with a punk energy and washed-out aesthetic that I found very refreshing. Like many films from the last 10 years that have tried to emulate the style of Aaron Sorkin’s work, it’s full of rapid-fire dialogue, biting humour and some sharp directing choices that give it an energised, indie spirit. Its 90’s culture nods and energised soundtrack full of bands from my youth such as NOFX, Elastica and The Strokes give the film ‘time-capsule’ appeal, and the attention to detail capturing the styles and culture of the 90s tech boom is impressive. Glenn Howerton, who I’ve only ever seen from series one of Fargo, nails it as Jim Balsillie, balancing toughness and humour perfectly. His intensity paired with spot-on comedic timing electrifies every scene he’s in, similar to what Christian Bale did with Michael Burry; a different type of character but both add to the seriousness of the narrative they find themselves in. In minor criticism, I wanted Blackberry to be longer to flesh out more of the fascinating history behind the iconic smartphones’ rise and fall. The first half focusing on Blackberry’s underdog beginnings deserves even more exploration as well. The cast of underknown big-screen actors, including YouTube’s ProZD, give smart, subdued performances that make the story seem impressively real. Blackberry would make for an ideal double bill with Steve Jobs, as while Apple continues rising to greater heights, we are reminded of the downfall of the phones that once dominated but couldn’t keep up with the times. The parallels give the ending added weight that resonates hard, especially when the percentage of Blackberry’s market share inevitably, and quite sadly, hits zero. An insightful drama and humorous study of contrasting leadership styles within business and how their actions shaped future landscapes in our tech-obsessed world.

29.12.23 A Serbian film. Kill List. Irreversible.  There are many infamous films known for how fucked up they are. The problem, I think, with Beau is Afraid is that it is fucked up, surrealist and relatively mainstream all at once, due to the popularity and past horror success of director Ari Aster. In that sense, it is a letdown due to the pressure from past prestige and the terrifying originality of the director’s other celebrated works. Aster’s third and most loftily ambitious film, Beau is Afraid is an intolerably long, self-indulgent tale that blurs the line between visual sadism and actual entertainment. Trolling the audience from the getgo with its two hours and 59-minute runtime, the film subjects viewers to Joaquin Phoenix’s full-blown and unadulterated role as Beau; a character of sheer exasperation, until finally, blessed relief comes in the form of Beau’s mother, played by stage legend Patti LuPone. Amongst a huge cast of stars, she surprisingly ends up being the highlight of the narrative slog, even if her character is the reason the build-up is so boring. The weighty themes that Beau is Afraid attempts to explore end up lost and meandering due to the film’s emotional hollowness and inability to evoke universal relatability. The fantastic cast, including Nathan Lane, Amy Ryan and even less known actors like Hayley Squires (I, Daniel Blake), try their hardest but seem unclear on the actual meaning of what’s unfolding before them. Aster, known primarily still for his atmospheric horror films Midsommar and Hereditary, seems to think the despair itself is funny in an absurd, pathetic way. But as a huge fan of Aster’s previous work, I felt that none of the attempts at black comedy landed. What comes across most strongly in Beau is Afraid is seeing it as a commentary on American Jewish neuroticism; one that tries to channel the sentiments of Woody Allen and Larry David by way of Freudian psychoanalysis. But these half-baked ideas never coalesce into anything meaningful. With such scale and expertise available, Aster had a golden chance to lead many intriguing concepts to fruition but instead blew them on a bloated film far less fascinating than what viewers have come to expect from him. Congested and infuriating, but with certain unforgettable moments, Beau is Afraid is a film I’d be unlikely to revisit even if forced.

24.7.23 “We sell dreams, imagination, and sparkle…and when you think of sparkle, what do you think of next? Female agency.” Barbie is one of the funniest and most socially acute films of the year. It also gets bonus points from me for being a fantastic cinema experience at a raucous weekend showing in Camden. Naturally, it portrays a candy-floss world of subversion, where every pink artifice is both an ideal and a self-aware commentary on our Westernised consumerist culture.  Greta Gerwig has directed the source material with flair, and clearly has an exacting understanding of the line between embracing and parodying the character’s legacy within the Mattel framework which we are sure to see for years to come on the big screen. I have to give credit where it’s due because I’ve really not been a fan of her or writer Noah Baumbach’s work over the years. Ryan Gosling is frankly, fucking hilarious as the vacant yet good-natured Ken, eliciting delight with his oblivious line deliveries and keen commitment to the role’s inherent absurdity. The audience at my screening practically laughed every time he appears on the screen, even before opening his mouth. It’s akin to his comedy performance in The Nice Guys but turned up to eleven. He nearly steals the film if not for the perfectly cast Margot Robbie; she channels Barbie with grace and surprising nuance, and her journey frequently subverts expectations, veering into wild tangents and surprising directions.  The storyline explores relevant themes of women’s societal positioning and gender inequality through Robbie’s inspiring assertions and emotional releases. Whimsical dance numbers underscore the film’s self-awareness, such as the fantastically energised ‘Dance the Night’ sequence. While shamelessly upbeat in tone, the film also carries a sincere emotional weight at its core, with Barbie’s desire for independence and pursuit of self-definition sure to resonate with many viewers. I think most kids below teenage years may not understand what’s going on, and it’s sure to rub a certain breed of men up the wrong way but that’s not an issue for me and most adult cinema-goers. While highly saturated in bubblegum shades, Barbie has many cerebral and eye-opening issues for us to consider regarding modern femininity. It’s the rare type of accomplished film that is funny, subversive and visually dazzling without being deemed as ‘arthouse’ or pretentious. A true meta film that both pays tribute to and slyly comments on an iconic cultural symbol.

16.12.23 “Welcome to the asshole of Los Angeles…” 2023 belongs to Margot Robbie and Babylon is her fucking zenith. It’s a debauched 3-hour epic that throws a lot of blood, vomit, animal shite and snake venom on the screen. Not all of it sticks, but I had a blast watching it over two nights. It may be too sloppy and uncontrolled to be a truly great film, but I don’t know why I waited so long to check it out. The first 25 minutes is archaic, jaw-dropping cinema. It’s one of the best opening scenes I’ve seen in years, and for better or worse, it reminded me of The Deer Hunter’s extended wedding opening scene, and more obviously Chazelle’s La La Land. The first hour introduces us to many likeable characters and maintains a brilliant pace and energy before things start to drag a bit from the hour mark up until the last 40 minutes. But it certainly captures the pounding enthusiasm of Chazelle’s other musical numbers on the screen and goes a step further in terms of ambition and scale. Due to Robbie’s vibrant performance, another easy comparison is Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, with the huge cast, golden age LA setting and the backdrop of aspiring to stardom. Margot Robbie’s role specifically echoes her Sharon Tate performance which is clearly intentional and just reminds the audience across both films what a huge, deserved talent she is. Chazelle shows keen insight into the era, using the cast’s free-flowing chemistry to comment on how the end of the silent film era often left talents stranded, which also allowed me to make the comparison to Hazanavicius’ The Artist. The ending is a beautifully cerebral and emotive experience, almost feeling like a separate film in how Chazelle masterfully brings this ode to old Hollywood and Los Angeles together. It displays all his talents and hallmarks as a director while providing meaningful commentary on the costs of ambition. Babylon may be overlong, but it’s one wild ride with incredible highs that make it worth the slower points. The final sequence speaks to deeper societal shifts, showing that reaching one’s dreams while maintaining a moral compass can be as difficult as ascending to fame and the supposed glory that comes with it.

6.7.23 Asteroid City offers visual schtick and striking colour schemes, but overall feels rather contrived and hollow. It’s full of “it’s that actor!” moments, which is fun in a novelty sense, but the film crucially lacks narrative impact. Wes Anderson as usual assembles an immensely talented cast, but the play-within-a-play construct feels more ambitious than interesting, and distances us from forming an emotional connection with what unfolds. Whilst the premise of students at a 1950s space camp awards night has initial intrigue, and the retro production design surrounding it pleases the eye, the staging and story sequencing are jarring, flashing disjointedly between government bureaucracy, TV teleplay insertions, and a vast range of postmodernist devices. Overall, elements meant to draw us in instead feel like they hold viewers at arm’s length. I’ve heard others say this is the director at his most ‘Wes Anderson-ness’ which I do agree with; an observation that his recent films lack some of the warmth and charm compared to The Grand Budapest Hotel or Moonrise Kingdom, my two favourites of his. With roles both big and small, stellar performers like Tilda Swinton, Margot Robbie, and Adrien Brody leave barely a mark. Amidst the crowded canvas, only Jason Schwartzman registers a commanding performance in duel roles, succeeding in both ‘worlds’ as a widowed father and screenwriter scrambling to pull the TV show backstory together. Visually, the UFO arrival stands out as a confident spectacle, with its eerie aftermath and awesomely surreal Jeff Goldblum cameo making it particularly memorable.  While not without inspired moments, Asteroid City lacks the core emotions and coherence of Anderson’s best. I would have enjoyed it so much more without the black-and-white scenes and more time in the desert, but you have to give it to Wes for always pushing his creative tendencies. As a summer screening, it does pair well with Oppenheimer as two films about isolation set in the desert, and even Barbie as two colourful, postmodern fables. It doesn’t put me off the work of a remarkable auteur, and I’m intrigued to see what Anderson does in shorter form with his upcoming Netflix film later in  the year.