Releases from 2023

22.11.23 Whatever happens in life, for better or worse, never forget your roots. Past Lives is one of the year’s most pensive and introspective films. It shines in its emotional validity, slow storytelling and measured sound design which allows the actions and connections of the main characters to be fully ruminated. The focus of Past Lives is a love triangle of sorts, concentrating on the ties from this lifetime and previous ones between Nora, Hae Sung and Arthur. Used in this way, the narrative device feels fully unique and appealing to me as an expat, but its themes are universal and heartfelt. The main actors wonderfully portray inner conflict and delight through small gestures and expressions. Greta Lee’s Nora, like my wife, could have stayed in Asia as most of her family did, but instead, I was lucky enough that she moved abroad to meet me. In that respect, Past Lives deserves recognition for allowing for a personal contemplation into love, fate and the morality of moving away from home in a way that just allowed me to have a greater appreciation for the real life I have, and the love within it. Although a short film, there are many slow moments, deliberately so I think, like Nora moving into the resident retreat, walking around an empty house for a few minutes, unsure of what’s going on or what happens next. In Past Lives’ quiet parts, I sensed the leads’ inner yearning to connect. There is also an engaging role reversal between the shy Hae Sung and self-assured Nora, flipping gender stereotypes in Asian relationships. A thoughtful and elegant study of human connection that deftly explores the complexities of modern love. Sadly, I do not feel there are many excellent films from the perspective of a woman with such intelligence, ambition and relatability all rolled into one, which is probably why Past Lives has achieved such acclaim over a large variety of audiences. At just 105 minutes with long takes, the editing must have been enormously challenging, but Celine Song and her team show such incredible maturity and insight for a debut. Hopefully, this teases confident visions which should promise more great things ahead with her filmography, and A24 yet again.

16.1.24 Either Franz Rogowski is a great actor, or he’s one of the most loathsome people I’ve ever seen on screen. A sour love square and an examination of relationship self-sabotage, Passages bluntly addresses if we need partners at all. Ben Whishaw delivers his trademark empathetic supporting turn, but Franz Rogowski outshines as the lead Tomas, exhibiting an intensity and foulness reminiscent of Joaquin Phoenix’s Commodus from Gladiator. While the film admirably examines relationships and compromise in modern society, too many scenes feature off-putting, uncomfortable characters. Adèle Exarchopoulos as Agathe, who I also saw last year in Zero Fucks Given (also on MUBI), callously uses colleagues and acquaintances for sex and favours in an unsympathetic fashion. The story pivots on unrealistic, sudden revelations that strain credibility. I also felt that it plays on the stereotype of adultery and bed-swapping within queer relationships which although may suit the realities of modern Paris, felt banal and stale. However, Rogowski’s soulful performance and thematic ambitions make Passages at least partially worthwhile. The ending packs a punch, culminating in a poignant final shot. Rogowski displays transformative range here, and his simmering talent deserves greater attention (I plan to seek out his other acclaimed work in Great Freedom and Undine). It’s a film that frustrates and captivates in almost equal measure thanks to a love-hate central performance and odious characters that I couldn’t personally side with, aside from Agathe’s parents, but I am sure others will get much from it. Available on MUBI.

25.7.23 Just the two weeks needed to collect my thoughts and words on this but here we go… Oppenheimer is a staggering feat of modern cinema. It simultaneously delivers an unsettling, sometimes uncomfortable viewing experience, as well as being supremely engrossing and memorable. Through its dense and epic storytelling, the film delivers so much in so many different ways, words fail me. It truly feels like a film that cannot and should not be compared to anything else. The sheer magnitude of the narrative that Nolan has helmed is impressive in itself. It’s of course a demanding watch at three hours long, but that is wholly justified, as the length immerses you in the world. The film’s scope is wide-ranging and hits in different ways; emotionally, mentally and philosophically. It is down to the way the film is constructed that this is possible, with the editing and creative decisions allowing for a constant absorption of ideas, threats, predicaments and outcomes.  Oppenheimer’s further success is due to the talent of its huge cast, led superbly by Cillian Murphy. The actor’s ability to convey the inner turmoil and moral grappling of Oppenheimer through subtle facial expressions and body language is outstanding; you can’t imagine any other actor being up to the job. Countless times, the tension is amplified by the anguish seen in Murphy’s pained expressions. Combined with Nolan’s incredibly innovative and multifaceted direction, Oppenheimer in a way can be seen as an acting showcase that matches its grand scale in storytelling. The film’s closing moments, as expected from Nolan’s best features, are breathless, powerful, and leave a stark image burnt in the mind. With no reliance on CGI, Oppenheimer should be looked back at favourably for its masterful use of analogue audio and controlled explosions to vividly bring its most intense scenes to life. I remember seeing YouTube videos interviewing Nolan during the making of the film, and it felt so rewarding to see his commitment to capturing visceral practical effects rather than resorting to digital trickery be so resoundingly effective on the big screen. Watching this front row at the London IMAX, when the knocks of those first nuclear test explosions echo through the full audience, you feel it in your core. The sound design is just top-notch, ratcheting up the tension of the film’s most pivotal scenes to almost unbearable levels. The ominous score, and sharp, deafening blasts at unexpected times coalesce into a terrifying clamour of sound, putting the audience right alongside the cast in those pivotal moments of destruction.  While Oppenheimer may lack some of the lofty, emotionally-resonant narratives of Nolan’s prior films like Interstellar or Inception (which I need to rewatch but feel like 5-star films to me), it more than compensates with armchair-gripping realism and dramatic creative decisions. The use of colour and black & white to differentiate between subjectivity and objectivity is particularly inspiring and creates a memorable story that works even without all the amazing positives I have tried to summarise. I haven’t even mentioned the performances of Robert Downey Jr., Florence Pugh or Matt Damon, all of which are excellent (and many, many others are very good). This will undoubtedly be remembered as one of the most frightening and intense movie-going experiences of my life. I’ve made many poor choices in my lifetime, but securing a front-row seat for the IMAX screening during Barbenheimer weekend was certainly not one of them. It’s challenging to come up with fitting superlatives to describe the experience of seeing this film in a packed-out London theatre, but it’s probably the best 4.5-star film I can think of, as I don’t quite love it, and I didn’t find the experience of watching it life-changing. Having said that, Oppenheimer is truly a cinematic tour de force. Through innovative storytelling, expertly crafted tension, and phenomenal performances, it cements itself as an unforgettable blockbuster for the ages.

25.12.23 I’m not mad Ben, I‘m just disappointed. Hollow, boring and not funny despite trying so hard to be, Meg 2: The Trench is one of 2023’s biggest letdowns. What should have been an exciting romp on the ocean floor instead falls flat thanks to a dull script and immense lack of directorial flair. The megalodons, which should be the stars, feel totally marginalised as the turgid human drama takes hold. What’s most astounding is that this second outing comes from director Ben Wheatley, known for his dark satire, British stylings and taut storytelling. None of that is evident here: the attempts at humour are tone-deaf, the ‘action’ spreads thinly across locations in a poor Fast and Furious impression, and any tension gets sucked away by endless “check this out” lines of lame dialogue. Having the protagonists disconnected across different geographical locations is such a cliche we’ve seen overused by the huge franchise films of the last decade or so. It might be the worst film I’ve seen this year simply for hugely bellyflopping its potential into the fucking sea. The cynic in me sees the relationship between Statham’s Jonas Taylor, his teenage stepdaughter Meiying and her uncle Jiuming, who ludicrously fancies himself as somewhat of a shark tamer, as appealing to the lowest common denominator and for the Chinese market. Their terrible sitcom-like chemistry suggests the franchise could lurch in an even more painful direction next. Wheatley brings none of his trademarks to Meg 2 and instead delivers a film that is tediously lacklustre and utterly humourless. Give me Sharknado 7 over Meg 3, any day of the week.

22.1.24 May December is told with a level of equivocation that makes the entire film an uncomfortable watch. But despite that, it has moments of unique brilliance, such as its alluring score, constant moral questioning, and a sideswiping performance by Charles Melton. Like most of Todd Haynes’ work, it isn’t the sort of film I enjoy, but there is much to admire. Both darkly funny and profoundly sad, sometimes at the same time, May December feels like a movie only Haynes could have made. From seeing his past work, I’ve always felt he admirably focuses on vulnerable people and their digressions. Here the focus is similar, but it also adds a mystery surrounding Julianne Moore’s character Gracie, questioning if she was the leader or follower in an underage relationship and now odd marriage with Melton’s character Joe. The screenplay by Samy Burch and Alex Mechanik is very clever, weaving together different stories and genres with just the right amount of dialogue that doesn’t over-intrude into the families’ lives, leaving many spaces for audiences to make up their own minds. Some things don’t work, such as the texts from Joe’s phone appearing on the screen – a tired and overused device. However, I can see what they are trying to do with that creative choice, suggesting that Joe is still somehow stuck in a childlike state and that immature messaging would be something he would have done when he was 13. The score is very odd, but intentionally so, to create a sense of eeriness and unfamiliarity. What I liked most was not knowing who the good and bad people are, which can be narrowed down to an examination of the main three leads in a twisted ‘kind of’ love triangle in the most unconventional of cases. I’m also not generally a fan of Natalie Portman so her as the lead didn’t do much for me, although I would struggle to think of a better casting choice for a difficult, awkward role. Buoyed by some great scenes, most memorable with Joe and his son smoking on the roof, May December is a hazy psychological portrait of manipulation, inspired by a real-life sex scandal. Though Todd Haynes’ style doesn’t always appeal to my tastes, his daring and enticing style means that any new project he releases will command my attention.

3.1.24 Maestro has an excellent performance from Bradley Cooper and a great one from Carey Mulligan but the whole film simply feels like surface-level Oscar Bait. Hurrying through the life of celebrated American composer Leonard Bernstein, the film shows some of his growth, selected parts of his professional process, and softly approaches his sexual fluidity. As well as feeling quite lighthearted, all the cast apart from Cooper and Mulligan feel underutilised, especially Bernstein’s first male love interest David Oppenheim, played by Matt Bomer, and their daughter Jamie, played adeptly by Maya Hawke. There’s the distinct feeling that the film avoids tackling the thorns of Bernstein’s true, complex self, failing to do justice to the controversial real-life figures we see before us. Maestro does however shine in moments: the rapturous ovation he receives in his chance opening concert, arguments between Leonard and Felicia that reveal their passions and hangups, and Leonard’s later concerts displaying his masterful command of the orchestra. If only the film could maintain this level of insight and energy throughout. At over 2 hours long, Maestro still feels like it’s barely scratching the surface of a modern icon. It’s interesting but hardly satisfying, offering just an outline sketch of a great but troubled man, rather than a portrait.

18.9.23 Surprisingly affecting and boasting a pair of young stars with beautifully synchronised chemistry, Love at First Sight is a mildly diverting romantic drama that leans into melodramatic tropes whilst being firmly enjoyable. The film follows hopeless 20-year-old Hadley (Haley Lu Richardson) who meets a Yale math student (Ben Hardy) in a chance encounter on an overnight flight from New York to London. Despite their trivial differences in personality, they feel an instant connection and spend the flight conversing, laughing, and ultimately falling for each other. While the cute setup lends itself to clichés, director Vanessa Caswill brings a light touch, elegantly intimately capturing the simple confines of the cabin setting. Richardson and Hardy have an effortless rapport that buoys the film through some predictable turns in the second half. Despite a simple and formulaic plot journey, the film wrings emotion from the on-the-nose dialogue about choosing fate, and a wistful but generic indie pop soundtrack complements the fairylight-illuminated London atmosphere. A major draw of Love at First Sight for me was the talented Richardson, whose naturalistic acting style I’ve admired since her outstanding turn in the indie gem Columbus. Her roles in films like The Edge of Seventeen and After Yang similarly showcase her ability to occupy a character with understandable troubles and vulnerabilities. Plus, as a huge fan of seminal British comedies like Alan Partridge and Smack the Pony, it’s great to see British icon Sally Phillips try her hand at a more serious, heartwarming role here as Oliver’s mother. Overall, while far from groundbreaking, Love at First Sight offers a pleasantly escapist viewing experience, held aloft by the two leads. The romantic formula is tried and true, making this a harmless option for fans of the genre, even if it never quite soars. And yes, as others have said, I have no idea why they didn’t call the film Love at First Flight!

15.2.23 Living is a gentle but emotional British drama led by Bill Nighy’s poignant performance. It feels like a period piece, and displays London’s golden age in sepia tones, reflecting simpler times. Most of the film concerns the bureaucratic tedium of public office, but through the protagonist’s anguish, the mundane instead feels sophisticated and dutiful, reflecting the life of Nighy’s Mr Williams.  Perhaps it was the award-laden anticipation of the film, or that it is based on the classic Japanese film Ikiru (which I haven’t seen, but I imagine is more sombre and affecting than Living), but I felt quite disappointed leaving the cinema, and wanted something more powerful. Perhaps it didn’t resonate with me, and I should check out the source film so I may appreciate it more. Living is very charming and has a warm, life-affirming message, but it isn’t anything special.