Releases from 2023

29.10.23 Killers of the Flower Moon is not a masterpiece. And in the annals of history, I don’t think this will go down as one of Scorsese’s Top 10 films. But it’s still one of the most memorable films of 2023 so far. For all that impresses, and there is much that does, the film toils due to its episodic style and predictable plotting, which I’d argue is different than levelling it with the lazy criticism of simply being ‘overlong’.  7 years in the making and with a 200 million dollar budget, Martin Scorsese’s epic-in-scope Western details the unfathomable ‘slow massacre’ of the Osage Indians by duplicitous men attempting to ‘buy-in’ to the rich native families following the First World War. Reading that last line back to myself reminds me of my main criticism of the film; I truly think it would have worked better as a TV show helmed by its studio, Apple TV, rather than a storyline within the constraints of cinema, that I felt was pretty underwhelming. Based on David Grann’s sprawling book, Killers of the Flower Moon is impressively well made and the vast majority of the cast (aside from the over-the-top lawyer played by Brenden Fraser) give natural, believable performances that are just so fantastic to behold. Scorsese’s direction and screenplay, co-written with Eric Roth, chronicled this dark chapter of American history in elaborate detail. De Niro plays the villain well, albeit predictably, and Scorsese’s top boy DiCaprio acts his face off in gurning glory. But it’s Lily Gladstone who impresses the most with her stoic, undertowed performance. She’s the highlight of every scene she’s in, with her intense but reserved persona and occasional emotional releases dominating key moments of the film. But through DiCaprio, Burkhart’s actions strain believability. He is portrayed as a simpleton, easily manipulated by his uncle without being a convincing wrongdoer. The suspense is minimal as we see the murders unfold step-by-step rather than building anxious tension. This is another personal gripe of the film that for me holds it back from being Scorsese’s best, making it nothing like Goodfellas, The Departed or The Irishmen in terms of dramatic narrative. My overall feeling is that Scorsese seems unable to cut superfluous scenes that lead to unavoidable repetition. He can’t decide on a genre, trying to be a drama, mystery, political statement and love story all at once. While I recommend seeing Killers of the Flower Moon and respect the hard work and dedication to historical facts, it is ultimately a film to be admired rather than fully enjoyed. The strengths of Scorsese feel wasted despite the exemplary camerawork, lead performances and production values. A really good film but not the great one that we should have expected, and I am sure that will be the film’s legacy, although I’d love to see Gladstone pick up some awards and rightful recognition.

4.9.23 Joyride aims to be a hilarious buddy comedy with road trip elements, but unfortunately, the humour falls flat in too many scenes. This film pairs uptight Audrey (Ashley Park) with her relatively wild best friend (Sherry Cola) for an unpredictable adventure across China, showcasing some of the country’s natural beauty and unique culture. While both actresses give likeable performances, much of the gross-out slapstick and attempts to exploit Asian stereotypes come off as derivative and juvenile.  A few raunchy gags land, but overall the comedy lacks sophistication. Where Joyride succeeds is in its heartwarming central story about Audrey rediscovering her Chinese identity and heritage. As she journeys across her ancestral homeland, an uplifting tale of cross-cultural connection and self-discovery is the central part of the film that I quite enjoyed. Too often the story gets bogged down in silly antics and superficial humour. Stephanie Hsu has some funny moments, although it’s an awkward, over-sexualised performance, lacking the earnestness of her role in Everything Everywhere All At Once which was so impressive. The message about embracing your roots and openness to new friendships deserved better than much of the clumsy comedy on display, and the less said about Sabrina Wu trying to channel Alan from The Hangover films, the better. In the end, Joyride is well-intentioned but all over the place. For all its missed jokes, I appreciated the poignant exploration of cultural identity, although Return to Seoul did it ten times better, and I’m still looking forward to catching the rave-reviewed Past Lives sometime this month.

30.10.23 Remarkably provocative but with a questionable finale, Infinity Pool reflects the continued development of Brandon Cronenberg, similar to his father, in making films revolving around the destruction of the human self. Following a vacationing couple whose getaway takes a depraved turn into the bizarre and otherworldly, the film showcases a visually explorative story masquerading as one with deep meaning. Cronenberg pulls the viewer into a hypnotic world juxtaposing gorgeous resort luxury and sinister secrets. Alexander Skarsgård gives a positively exhausting performance as the morally ambiguous James, showcasing his acting range and subverting expectations by portraying a ‘beta male’ protagonist miles from the arrogant alpha Matsson he played in Succession. Mia Goth is fantastic as the unsettling Gabi, delivering a frightening yet flamboyant performance that builds on her work in Pearl. There is the sense that her performance is over-sexualised and many scenes are gratuitous, but it fits the journey of the disturbing narrative.  Fans of Brandon’s first feature, Possessor, will appreciate the film’s subversive moments. It attempts to satirise reckless hedonism and power dynamics between the social classes, but it does feel a bit strained in its message. The narrative thread that resonated with me the most surrounds Infinity Pool’s commentary on the ‘package holiday’ consumer culture and ignorance of the nation’s traditions and laws. Surprisingly, there are also some exceptionally funny moments which come out of nowhere and play on audience reactions. Not all of its themes hold weight, however, and I’m not particularly impressed with the ending, but there are plenty of ‘Cronenbergian’ themes to enjoy for those who enjoy morbid cinema.

8.12.23 How to Blow Up a Pipeline does a pretty good job, initially, at immersing viewers in its direct and divisive narrative on eco-terrorism. Like the book it was modelled on, it attempts to offer a call to action encouraging civil disobedience, justifying property damage as minor compared to the larger climate vandalism carried out by ‘Big Oil’ companies.  The film’s non-linear narrative structure is an interesting touch, unravelling the characters’ motivations for joining the coalition and taking down the pipeline. Each character’s personal stakes in the fight against environmental degradation adds respectable depth and the build-up to the final set piece is pretty intense and entertaining. However, while the film introduces compelling characters, they come across as somewhat juvenile and lack the character needed to make them truly impactful or significant. At least in intention through the film’s casting, the inclusion of both young Gen Z actors and familiar faces from the 2000s and 1990s, such as Jake Weary (It Follows, Animal Kingdom) and Irene Bedard (the voice actor for Disney’s Pocahontas) feels like a smart move. However, the acting overall doesn’t stand out, with the tension and the film’s message taking centre precedence over any single performance. Despite its flaws, How to Blow Up a Pipeline somewhat delivers a bold narrative that, while not serving as a convincing calling card for green radicalism, serves more like a pamphlet or advertisement for a larger discourse. I feel like it’s a film that wants to be taken seriously, but may have to settle as one that simply gets people’s attention in the very short term. It is unapologetic and honourably committed to its message, which makes it a noteworthy addition to the conversation surrounding the impending climate crisis.

30.12.23 Just like the titular kaiju, Godzilla Minus One came out of nowhere in 2023, and it does three things exceedingly well. Firstly, it evokes the original spirit of the 1954 classic with the king of the monsters acting as a metaphor for nuclear war in post-imperial Japan. Secondly, it is both culturally respectful of Japanese norms and customs whilst also appealing to Western audiences and beyond. Thirdly, and most impressively, it’s a fantastic blockbuster with an incredibly threatening aberration taking nearly all of the limelight. The film features a reluctant, dishonourable hero lead along with a modern, against-tradition love story that adds ample human heart. The beautiful acting from the young Sae Nagatani in a prominent role tugs at the heartstrings. This is the best on-screen Godzilla ever I would say, and I loved it because it does something never seen in a movie like this before – we see the creature evolve like Charmander becoming Charizard in Pokemon. It’s exciting and activates the childhood nostalgia in me from other adored Japanese shows and films. However, there is a cynical and predictable final shot which alludes to inevitable sequels, which slightly took off the shine for me as part of me hopes this is just a stand-alone film unlike other Godzilla films and huge monster franchises. Why is that? Well because it’s the rare kaiju movie that delves so profoundly into the inner turmoil and driving motivations of the human characters, desperately fleeing for their lives from the earth-shattering ginormous A-hole rampaging through Japan. It inspires awe with its modern take whilst simultaneously making me yearn to revisit the groundbreaking 1954 original that started it all.

24.11.23 Bring on the bloat. Fast X is simultaneously one of the most heavy-knuckled but pointlessly lightweight films I’ve seen in years. It mindlessly sets up set piece after set piece, just to smash them all into fodder, and inexcusably tries to enlist every character possible, even one we thought had died (again). Its primary purpose is not to entertain, but instead build to the inevitably disappointing sequel and closing outing of the entire film series. Even more frustrating are the film’s villains. The exact moment we meet Aimes and Dante on screen, it’s so glaringly obvious they will serve as this film’s generic, cardboard cutout villains. As Dante, Jason Momoa is a homo-erotic, embarrassing imitation of Heath Ledger’s Joker; an evil baddie who just does dumb shit for no reason apart from the cause of chaos. Additionally, the number of times the filmmakers conveniently ‘flip’ old villains into allies has become the most unrealistic and lazy plot contrivance in cinematic history. I’m also bored with the distracting shoehorning of John Cena and Brie Larson into token roles that add little value or purpose other than stale star power. At least we get half a good street race, a satisfactory diverting showpiece in Rome and some mildly impressive scenes with Jason Statham’s Deckard. But as a long-time fan who admired the focused, street racing thrills of the original and got back on board for the global adventures starting with Fast Five, I’m afraid Fast X finally seals this franchise’s coffin shut for me. Saving this waning series would require major changes, but Fast XI will likely just deliver more of the same overblown action devoid of any substance. What began as a guilty pleasure has now become a pointless exercise in franchise fatigue.

4.2.24 Falcon Lake poetically illustrates just how utterly terrifying first love can be. In Charlotte Le Bon’s haunting directorial debut, we see death, desire and underage drunkenness collide in the beautiful but sinister surroundings of the lake, a ghost story and rites of passage tale both eerily rolled into one.  The film allows an intimate, fly-on-the-wall observation of Bastien (Joseph Engel) growing besotted with the mysterious Chloe (Sara Montpetit), an older girl with an almost big-sister resonance alongside a muted sexuality  As the teens venture deeper into the outdoors together, an ominous feeling sets in as their connection grows deeper. Le Bon perfectly captures the exhilaration and danger of young summer love; with Chloé giving Bastien a taste of adulthood’s pleasures and Bastien allowing her the freedom to be a kid once again. In by far the film’s best scene, we see Bastien pulled along to a party, where he gets drunk and throws down some impressive dance moves, much to the awe of the crowd. As we see him coming alive and growing in stature, it quickly and sadly dissipates when he sees something across the group that makes him lose his confidence so quickly. I empathised so much with him in this crucial, telling moment. It’s just fantastic for so many reasons but mainly for capturing that spirit of youth that we all long for again as we get older. Like many great coming-of-age stories, Falcon Lake finds meaning in the blurred areas between the young lovers’ forbidden bond. It’s never lost on them that one is lusting and one is just passing time, which adds a layer of truthful sadness to the whole.  Le Bon has crafted a gorgeous, naturalistic teen romance spiked with mystique, thanks to its unsettling location and quivering cinematography; a debut to be truly proud of. The heartbreak of summer love might be an old song, but here it is sung in a darkly beautiful new key.

3.2.24 Fair Play is a surprisingly prickly ‘corporate thriller’, a subgenre of film that appears to be increasingly popular each year. Through the observation of an increasingly toxic relationship, the romance of the two leads (Phoebe Dynevor’s Emily and Alden Ehrenreich’s Luke) begins to curdle as her star rises at the corporate office where they both work, in spite of his falling. What begins as a subtle power imbalance between the couple mutates into impotence, attempted dominance and total disharmony.  A clash of career ambitions and gendered interlacings becomes more and more unbearable for them with each scene. While the metaphor connecting these ambitions is sometimes heavy-handed at times, it aptly depicts how weakness and insecurity manifest as domestic control. The script provides incisive commentary on male privilege, workplace competition and an exploration of the feminist concept of the ‘glass ceiling’, all of which I think are considered intelligently. However, the repetitive settings and melodramatic dialogue limit the film’s cinematic potential. The tense plot builds steadily but lacks surprises and nuance, thus Fair Play succeeds greatly as a sociological study and slightly less so as a narrative drama.  Other personal highlights involve the role of Eddie Marsan as the sneering company boss Campbell. He promotes Emily’s talents through gritted teeth while indulging Luke’s entitled complaints. His characterisation captures the dynamics that allow toxicity to fester in competitive environments, as do many of the other predominantly male cast members in the stylish office setting.  For those interested in the psychology behind abusive and manipulative relationships, Fair Play provides plenty of insights. While not of the standard of other corporate thrillers such as Margin Call or The Big Short, it joins that collection of films peering behind the curtain of elite financial organisations, whilst also exposing male characters as problematic rather than celebrating them as antiheroes.