Molly Gordon and Ben Platt, Alexander Bello, Kyndra Sanchez, Bailee Bonick, Quinn Titcomb, Madisen Marie Lora, Donovan Colan and Luke Islam appear in a still from Theater Camp by Molly Goron and Nick Lieberman, an official selection of the U.S. Dramatic Competition at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute

Theater Camp' Lifts the Curtain on Musical Theatre's Eccentricities

The world of musical theater is full of such laughably pretentious pomp and over-the-top circumstances that it makes itself quite an easy target to parody. Who would be better to satirize this insular and absurd world than theater kids themselves?

Turning their 2020 short film of the same name into a feature-length film, Ben Platt and Molly Gordon star as insufferably artsy camp counselors overseeing the production of an original musical in the new comedy, Theater Camp. Directed by Gordon and Nick Lieberman, Theater Camp uses the mockumentary format to satirize the world of theater and its extremely passionate performers.

It's the start of another summer, and eager young campers and budding Broadway hopefuls merrily sing show tunes as they bus it to upstate New York, en route to their beloved haven for thespians: the "AdirondACTS" theater camp. This year, however, will be different: the camp's idolized leader, Joan Rubinsky (Amy Sedaris), has fallen into a coma (which the film sets up as a humorous plot point). Taking over is her "crypto-bro" son, Troy (Jimmy Tatro), who must keep the musical theater paradise of which he knows nothing about running. With his bro vibes, he soon learns that the camp is in a dire financial situation. With no experience and fewer brain cells, it's up to him to secretly find a way to keep the camp afloat.

Meanwhile, head counselors Amos Klobuchar (Ben Platt) and Rebecca-Diane (Molly Gordon) are tasked with writing and directing an original musical theater production (one that will be a life's tribute to their unconscious icon). What follows is a series of sketches, skits, and bits that poke fun at the entire process of putting on a show. Auditioning, songwriting, acting exercises, stunt training, rehearsal, and finally, the opening night performance is not spared from spoofing.

Written by Gordon, Lieberman, and Noah Galvin (Platt's real-life partner), Theater Camp, is a light, silly, altogether enjoyable watch that will surely delight theater kid obsessives (but might not connect with those who aren't as invested in the inner world). The mockumentary nature allows for a loose and (likely) highly improvised nature. Platt, Gordon, and Galvin (who plays a stage manager yearning for the spotlight) create an easy chemistry together. However, after a little while, the tone of the humor does become a little one-note. When every character modulates at the same level of sarcasm, it can start to feel a bit excessive.

The film's liberal use of title cards breaks up the story and adds a very funny component. Popping up constantly throughout the film, they clearly hold no bearing in reality and are written just for laughs. The cinematography also serves the film well, adding an interesting layer. This look could have easily been a digitally-shot affair, with obvious zoom-ins and outs capturing everything But instead, it opts for a "shot on film" look, complete with grainy textures, which evokes a fun throwback feel (but also inadvertently made me forget what time it's supposed to take place in).

I didn't have overwhelmingly high expectations going in, and Theater Camp exceeded those, being much funnier than I thought it would be. The film is produced by Gloria Sanchez Productions, the sister label production company of Will Ferrell and Adam McKay's Gary Sanchez Productions, with a focus on female voices in comedy.

This review originally ran on January 27, 2023, during the Sundance Film Festival.

1h 34m. Distributed by Searchlight Pictures. Opening in theaters Friday, July 14, 2023.


Diego Vicentini

Diego Vicentini Knows He Can't Go Home After Making His Protest Film

Diego Vicentini is more than just a filmmaker. Born in Venezuela, he grew up witnessing the injustices that a corrupt government inflicts upon its people, leading him to become an activist as well. Vicentini's debut feature film Simón (which premiered this year at the 2023 Florida Film Festival) tells the story of a young man who leaves his country behind and fights for human rights. Cinemacy spoke with the writer-director about making his first film, the power of protest, and the life-changing decision to make his film knowing that he would never be able to return home.

 

It’s my absolute pleasure to speak with you, Diego. Where are you from, and where do you currently live? 

Diego Vicentini: The pleasure is mine. I am from Caracas, Venezuela, and currently live in Los Angeles, California. 

What was the first film you saw that got you interested in cinema? 

Diego Vicentini: It was Woody Allen’s Match Point. In high school, I fell in love with Dostoevsky and consequently thereafter, philosophy, and so when I watched Match Point and began to notice that it was a rewriting of Dostoevsky’s “Crime and Punishment,” it completely captured my attention. Woody Allen gave a more nihilistic ending to the story than the novel, which I loved, and that opened my eyes; cinema can be philosophy too.  

Diego Vicentini directs a scene from his debut feature film, 'Simón.' Photo courtesy of Black Hole Enterprises
Diego Vicentini directs a scene from his debut feature film, 'Simón.' Photo courtesy of Black Hole Enterprises

How did you get your start in filmmaking? 

Diego Vicentini: I first did a month-long filmmaking program in New York during the summer after my freshman year at Boston College to see what part of filmmaking, if any, I liked. It was definitely writing, directing, and editing.

I was double majoring in Philosophy and Finance, but then I started taking film classes as well. After graduating I did a Master’s program in filmmaking in LA, and once that was over I started working on my first feature. 

What stories, questions, or themes are you most drawn to telling and exploring in cinema? 

Diego Vicentini: The movies I’ve always loved the most are the ones that make me think; the ones that keep giving upon a second and third viewing. I would love to make something that falls into that category.  

Your feature film, Simón, tells the story of a student freedom fighter who fights to build his asylum case to stay in the US after escaping the control of a brutal Venezuelan dictatorship. It’s also based on a true story. When did you start writing this script, and how did you know that this was the first feature film that you wanted to make?  

Diego Vicentini: This project first started as a short film about the same subject matter, which I made in 2018. The year prior had been a very violent year in Venezuela with protests and repression; many youngsters died on the streets. That motivated me to make the short film, and once it came out and I got to screen it in many countries and see the audience’s emotional reaction to it… that’s when I decided to make a feature about this subject matter. I started writing it in 2019, shot it in 2021, and finished post in 2023.

As the writer, director, and editor of the film, you control every part of the storytelling. What was it like to control all aspects of that? 

Diego Vicentini: For better or for worse, everything I’ve ever made I have occupied all those roles, so in that sense, it was just like every other project. But I just enjoy each of those roles so much, it’s hard to think of giving any one of those up. Or maybe I just have trust issues. The downside though, is I can’t point a finger at anyone else for the flaws in the  film. 

Diego Vicentini directs a scene from his debut feature film, 'Simón.' Photo courtesy of Black Hole Enterprises
Diego Vicentini directs a scene from his debut feature film, 'Simón.' Photo courtesy of Black Hole Enterprises

I’m ashamed to admit that I wasn’t aware of the magnitude of the devastation that Simón tells, that of the most significant exodus of people in the history of the Western hemisphere – 7.1 million people – leaving their homes in Venezuela to escape an oppressive and cruel government. Do you feel that Americans and the world are aware of the extent of this crisis that is currently happening in the world? 

Diego Vicentini: I don’t think so. I think it’s taken 20 years of this situation in our country for the world to have a general awareness that things aren’t great in Venezuela, but I don’t think the details or scale is well-known or understood, though I don’t blame anyone for that. There is so much going on in the world, it’s impossible to keep up with everything everywhere.

But that’s precisely why I wanted to make this film; to raise awareness through entertainment. I think it’s a much easier ask to watch a movie than to read a text or article on the sociopolitical situation of a foreign country. Hopefully, this movie connects with audiences, and in the process, they come out a bit more informed and  empathetic. 

You don’t shy away from showing very brutal parts of cruelty by the government, including detentions, torture, and executions. What was your experience in writing and shooting those scenes? 

Diego Vicentini: The hardest part wasn’t writing or shooting, but listening. Before I started writing, I interviewed several young men who had gone through that experience, of arbitrary detentions and torture; most of those scenes depicted come from real accounts I was told.

So the most difficult part was listening to another human being tell me what this regime had done to them, physically and psychologically. It just further fueled my drive to make this movie. On set, there was definitely a different atmosphere when shooting those scenes, as we were all aware that this was something real that not only happened but was still happening at the same time as we were shooting it. 

A large part of the story centers around the guilt that Simón feels in leaving behind his home country. It made me think of Alejandro Iñárritu’s film Bardo, a personal story that similarly expresses the guilt of a man who left his home country behind. What is your relationship to the feeling of guilt? Is it something you feel still, or did making Simón help you process that?

Diego Vicentini: Guilt is very much at the core of all this. I left Venezuela when I was 15. Since then I’ve only watched from afar how the country has progressively plummeted into a humanitarian crisis at the hands of an oppressive authoritarian regime.

In 2017, millions took to the streets for over 100 days hoping to change things, and so many young men and women were killed. I felt so guilty, that I was in LA studying film, having a good life, while my generation was out there on the streets fighting for the country, risking their lives for our freedom. It’s that guilt that made me want to contribute to that fight in some kind of way, and my way was making Simón.  

Making the movie has definitely helped me process all of this and have new  realizations, though I’m not so sure that the guilt is gone. 

Diego Vicentini directs a scene from his debut feature film, 'Simón.' Photo courtesy of Black Hole Enterprises
Diego Vicentini directs a scene from his debut feature film, 'Simón.' Photo courtesy of Black Hole Enterprises


You’ve said that by making this film, you will no longer be able to go back to your home country. I can’t imagine how heartbreaking that decision must have been to know you would have to leave a part of your world behind. How important was making this film to you in that context?  

Diego Vicentini: If my peers in Venezuela took to the streets, facing military tanks and gunfire, risking their lives for this cause, I thought the very least I could do was make this movie, regardless of what consequences it brought. They are the ones who are courageous and have made all the sacrifices. This movie is for all of them. 

What do you miss the most about your home country, and what do you value the most having left? 

Diego Vicentini: I left 14 years ago and since then I’ve traveled quite a bit. I’ve seen some wonderful landscapes and cities and monuments in these other countries, but it never comes with a sense of pride, because none of those things in those other countries “belong” to me. I miss my city and our people and our landscapes and being able to feel proud because those things “belong” to me, as a Venezuelan - those are ours. Our beaches. Our people. Our parties. Our traditions. Our mountains. I miss being able to feel that. I miss feeling I am in my land. I’m a foreigner everywhere else. 

At one point, one of the oppressive government figures says to Simón, “When the people get tired, the protests stop,” and that “nothing will change.” It’s a frightening line to think about. What do you feel about the importance of protesting? 

Diego Vicentini: That’s one of my favorite lines. Also one of the most painful ones. I think protesting is incredibly important and valuable, but it’s difficult to measure because when the objective has been to change the government and that hasn’t happened, it can feel like it’s useless, that it doesn’t work.

Not only that, many lost their lives in the process, so it’s very disheartening. But for change to occur, pressure needs to be exerted in the direction of that change. The vast majority of authoritarian autocrats have historically been removed by force. A significant percentage of those have been by power shifts within inner circles or military takeovers, but everyday citizens have no control over that.

One way the masses can take matters into their own hands and exert that pressure on a government is by protesting as it happened in Egypt. 

Diego Vicentini directs a scene from his debut feature film, 'Simón.' Photo courtesy of Black Hole Enterprises
Diego Vicentini directs a scene from his debut feature film, 'Simón.' Photo courtesy of Black Hole Enterprises


What have you learned as an artist and humanitarian following the making of Simón

Diego Vicentini: I learned the value of making something that comes from a sincere and authentic place. Now that we have had a couple of screenings, I’ve been able to see and hear audiences react and connect to the feelings in the movie, and share that they too have felt that way and that it’s touched them.

It’s something I’ll take with me for my next  projects - make sure I make something I care about and feel for, and most likely (or hopefully), it’ll filter into the movie and through the movie into the audience.  

What three takeaways have you learned in your journey as a filmmaker so far that aspiring filmmakers should also know? 

Diego Vicentini: From my very limited experience so far, I’d say, always shoot and practice. Make things you genuinely care about (not what you think others will care about), and love the process. It’s an extremely difficult career path, you have to love doing it absolutely. 

Is there one message that you would want audiences to take away after watching Simón?

Diego Vicentini: The most important fights we’ll have are with ourselves. Healing from past trauma is one of those difficult fights, but utterly necessary to truly grow, move on, and keep fighting.

Simón is currently awaiting distribution.


'Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse.' Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures Animation

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is an incredible, mind-blowing work of art that is also one of the best films of the year. The film dives even deeper into the concept of the multi-verse(s), and its spectacularly animated sequences reach dizzying new heights in this sequel to 2018's Into the Spider-Verse, which won the Oscar for Best Animated Feature Film. 

The story continues with Miles Morales (Shameik Moore) as he continues to figure out his life as New York's newest Spidey. Zipping through cityscapes with the greatest of ease, his biggest struggle is balancing his teenage life: honoring his commitments to his mother (Luna Lauren Vélez) and soon-to-be-police chief father (Brian Tyree Henry), looking ahead to college and oh yeah, trying to save the world–all while keeping his identity a secret from those he loves.

The only ones who know Miles' true identity are the league of Spider-Men who helped teach him the ropes (webs?) after crash-landing into his universe in the previous film. All of the Spider-Men, including punky introvert Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld), are spread across different worlds.

The film opens with Gwen's origin story shown over an incredible drum-solo montage that also illustrates each world's specific visual style (Gwen's is a watercolor one, while Miles' ink-blotted world more readily resembles comics). After Gwen is attacked in her world by the universe-hopping villain Vulture (Jorma Taccone), she also unexpectedly meets a few more Spider-Men and women (Oscar Isaac as Spider-Man 2099 and Issa Rae). These heroes are part of a "Spider-Society" that protects the multi-verses from "canon disruptions." Wishing to leave her world behind, she pleads to join theirs. Against better judgment, she decides to pop over to Miles' world for a quick visit.

While Miles has matured since the first film, although still wise-cracking and perhaps a bit too cocky in his Spidey role, he underestimates the arrival of a clumsy new villain, Spot (Jason Schwartzman). Spot warns Miles that he is his new nemesis and holds him responsible for his genetic mutation; being covered in spots that he can use to travel through space (a result of the first film's universe collider).

A surprise visit from Gwen excites Miles, and the two web-sling around the city in friendly flirtatious fun. But when he sneakily follows her and her Spidey task force into a new universe (we travel to many in the film; buckle up) and disrupts a key moment in that world, he learns of an unintended truth that the Spider-Men share: some events, while tragic, are fated to happen and keep all of the universes connected and in order. Miles learns that he can't save everyone, a truth he struggles to accept and ultimately, doesn't.

Written by Phil Lord, Chris Miller, and Dave Callaham, Across the Spider-Verse takes Miles' story into even larger worlds and consequences. Directors Joaquim Dos Santos, Kemp Powers, and Justin K. Thompson's film explodes with dizzyingly brilliant animation that constantly feels like you're trying to hang on to a mechanical bull. With a runtime of 2 hours and 20 minutes, this is the longest American animated film to date. Across the Spider-Verse also claims to have the largest crew of any animated movie ever, with around 1,000 people working on it. It has 240 characters and takes place in six universes.

And yet, while it's the most wow-worthy and spectacular thing I've seen this year so far, it fails to capture the same heart as its predecessor Into the Spider-Verse did. Likely, there is too much going on. The first film was more self-contained, in that all of the action crash-landed into Miles's world. By the time we've jumped into our sixth universe, you do feel a sense of endless abandon that makes it difficult to remain emotionally connected to the looming threat lurking back in Miles's world.

Beyond the astounding animation, the vocal performances remain perfect and excellently cast. Shameik Moore returns as Miles, expressing the same boyish gusto with a bit more frustration and angst to color his world. Hailee Steinfeld as Gwen is given even more spotlight to express her story, which is the most heartfelt part of the film. Newcomers Oscar Isaac and Issa Rae are wonderful inclusions here too. Isaac specifically lends a bottled rage that turns troubling when we learn that his Spider-Man isn't exactly in Miles' corner.

Further shouts go to Daniel Kaluuya as Spider-Punk and Karan Soni as Indian Spider-Man Pavitr Prabhakar. And beyond all of the web-slingers, Miles's loving parents played by Brian Tyree Henry and Luna Lauren Vélez give the world a grounded, heartfelt center for Miles's story.

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is an incredible work of art that bursts with fun and visual wonder that proves the sequel game can remain strong (Beyond the Spider-Verse will return in March 2024).

2h 20 minutes. Rated PG for sequences of animated action violence, some language, and thematic elements.

https://youtu.be/shW9i6k8cB0


Joaquin Phoenix as Beau in 'Beau Is Afraid,' a film by Ari Aster. Courtesy of A24

Beau Is Afraid

Film director Michelangelo Antonioni once said, "A film that can be described in words is not really a film." Since it's nearly impossible to describe the new dark comedy Beau Is Afraid (now playing in theaters nationwide), I suppose that makes this a film with a capital "F."

Beau Is Afraid is the story of one helplessly fear-stricken man's stress-inducing, anxiety-ridden, paranoia-packed odyssey to see his late mother amidst the threats of a harrowing world. Written and directed by Ari Aster, the film is equal parts absurd and visually astounding, and by its end will leave audiences speechless and confounded as to what they just experienced.

Beau (Joaquin Phoenix) is a sensitive, inept sadsack who lives in a comically uninhabitable version of New York's inner-city, constantly evading a world of psychos who threaten his everyday life. As Beau's misfortune would have it, on the day he is to visit his doting mother (who he admits smothered him since he was a child during a therapy session in the film's opening scene), he loses his keys, leaving him helpless to break the news that he is to stay home. When he receives the news of her unexpected demise just one day later, against all of his fears, he sets forth to journey to her through a world of dangers that lie in front of him.

Beau Is Afraid is a big bundle of childhood anxieties and unprocessed emotions wrapped up in a 2-hour and 59-minute runtime. It's also a fascinating journey through many imaginative and distinct worlds, including a deliriously deranged low-rent apartment building where he lives; a suburban home with suspiciously kind parents (Amy Ryan and Nathan Lane); a forest-turned-full-on animated parable; and then a nightmare-ending that is the film's most head-spinning part.

Audiences are likely familiar with writer-director Ari Aster's previous films, Hereditary (2018) and Midsommar (2019), which were both equally polarizing and shocking for their depictions of horror and traumas around the devastating losses of family. Beau Is Afraid is a painfully punishing movie that stuffs guilt, trauma, and physical injury upon its lead character, and Joaquin Phoenix is up to the challenge. Pushing his bloated body to the brink through physical and psychological torture, Phoenix is nothing short of amazing here. He's joined by comic performances from Nathan Lane and Amy Ryan, as well as Stephen McKinley Henderson as Beau's therapist. In its last, and most WTF section, Parker Posey and Patti LuPone show up to push the film over its edge of sanity.

Beau Is Afraid is a work of incredible artistry (indie distributor A24 should get a special mention for producing a movie that is so defiantly unique, challenging, and original–much like how they did with last year's Everything Everywhere All At Once). It's been fun to talk about Beau Is Afraid, and its word-of-mouth seems to continue to grow, making for conversations around this deranged psychoanalytic dive into unprocessed childhood trauma that Freud would have a field day dissecting.

If you're looking for a dose of easily watchable popcorn entertainment, this film is not for you. Whether you end up loving or hating it, don't be afraid to check it out for yourself.

2h 59m. Rated R for strong violent content, sexual content, graphic nudity, drug use, and language.

https://youtu.be/PuiWDn976Ek


Paint


If you're going to have someone play a Bob Ross-type character in a movie, there's no one better to do it than Owen Wilson. It's this casting alone that made me want to watch Paint, in which Wilson stars as a not uncoincidentally-imagined fictional basic cable painter known for his serene landscape portraits.

However, Wilson's gimmick of channeling Ross's famous hippie vibes with his trademark chill is only rewarding for so long. While it's an intentionally silly sendup and a mildly funny world to live in, Paint isn't nearly as subversive or funny enough to become a new comedy classic.

Wilson plays "Carl Nargle," a hippie host of a live painting program for the local Burlington PBS affiliate TV station. With his good vibes and worldly bits of wisdom, Carl is beloved in his small town. The ladies especially love him, too. They rush him after every show merely for the chance to hold his paintbrushes.

Times are good for ol' Carl Nargle. Except–predictably–the times are about to change. Once the station's ratings start to go south, the station manager (Stephen Root) brings in a new painter. Ambrosia (Ciara Renée), a new hip young gal, is to add to Carl's success with another hour of live painting.

Carl and the rest of the station are surprised at the new blood that Ambrosia brings to the show. Literally, in the form of her first painting: a UFO drawing up a geyser of blood. It's quite the change from the peaceful mountains and calm creeks painted by Carl for his mostly-senior viewers. But her fresh energy–and new female empowerment–push Carl to the sidelines. Soon enough, he's left alone as an aloof artist and out-of-time man.

If this setup sounds similar to Anchorman, it's because it really is. I wonder if this was a conscious or unconscious template that writer-director Brit McAdams had in mind when creating this movie. With his curly blonde afro and woodsman-styled facial hair, even Carl's comically dated '70s appearance channels that of Ron Burgundy.

Paint predictably continues with what you might expect: Carl's once-fawned-over charm and sex appeal turn quickly into misogyny. And worse (to him), his landscape paintings are soon enough regarded as dull, superficial, and uninspired. The film weaves in something of a love triangle, in which Carl works with his former love, Katherine (Michaela Watkins). Surprisingly, she also explores a new side of her femininity with a fling with Ambrosia.

What's more unfortunate is that I did find an interesting story a few layers underneath Paint, which comes about towards the end of the film. When Carl's sidelined and down and out, he finally confronts how his "hotel art" compares to more compelling works like modernism. The film somewhat confusingly takes place in the modern day, not the '70s that the movie constructs itself to be in.

He wanders into the Burlington modern art museum and looks at art in a Ferris Bueller-like montage, which was compelling. And Carl going mad, flinging paint from the rafters, is when the movie feels most alive. Could there have been a version of this film that was more interested in telling that story? Versus just being edged out of a low-performing public access channel? Does Paint itself stay in too familiar territory to be worthwhile?

I wish the film followed the blueprint that last year's Weird Al parody-biography Weird: The Al Yankovic Story did so well: weaving biography and wild absurdism together actually drew laughs. But Paint is more of a low-grade daze; the kind of sluggish high you'd feel sparking some pot found in the back of your dresser drawer from years ago.

While perfectly cast, Owen Wilson is only so watchable as the film drags on. It's enough to make you wonder how much longer it'll take for the paint to finish drying.

1h 36m. Rated PG-13 for sexual/suggestive material, drug use, and smoking.

https://youtu.be/K9TX-6HyuOc


The Five Devils (Les Cinqe Diables)

Adèle Exarchopoulos, the alluring French actress best known for 2013's Blue is the Warmest Color, has an obvious beauty to her. But it's her beguiling aura that communicates something more complex underneath that makes her transfixing to watch onscreen.

Exarchopoulos stars in The Five Devils (Les Cinqe Diables), a new witchy thriller that aims to unsettle by unearthing the unspoken parts of people's past lives. To level-set: it's a film in which no actual devils pop up; but rather, symbolic ones. This might disappoint those looking for more of a demonic occultist bloodbath horror along the lines of Hereditary.

Instead, director Lea Mysis's film is something more akin to a romantic drama with supernatural elements (oh, and time travel). The Five Devils is a uniquely observed, surprisingly tender, and thought-provoking film. It explores past loves, desires, and how repressed feelings can quite literally come back to haunt us.

The film opens with a raging, blazing inferno, with screams far off in the distance. It's unclear why a few young women in sparkly unitards gather around it consoling each other. Among them is Joanne (Exarchopoulos) who in the present day, now works at a community pool. She follows this by plunging into an icy cold lake. The film's immediate focus on fire and water emphasizes the characters' connection to natural elements, as well as the dualities that link them together.

The elements are literally alluring to Joanne's young adolescent daughter, Vicky (Sally Dramé). With her quiet, but all-knowing vibes, Vicky busies herself by jarring and labeling various scraps of earth, making them into an odd personal collection. That alone might be just an innocent eccentricity but it's when Vicky reveals to Joanne one day just how powerful her sense of smell is (Joanne actively tries to hide from Vicky during a playful game of hide and seek, but fails) that she reveals something uniquely special about herself.

This slight disturbance convenes with the even more distressing news that Joanne's husband, Jimmy (Moustapha Mbengue), shares: he's invited his sister, Julia (Swala Emati), to stay with them for a few days. We're left as confused as Vicky to see why this angers Joanne so deeply. Drawn to her newly arrived, mysterious aunt–and continuing to jar her interests–Vicky mixes them all together, and inadvertently creates a youngster's version of a cauldron, which sends her back in time.

Vicky sees her mother at seventeen years old, as well as her father. They're accompanied by another friend, Nadine (Daphné Patakias), as well as Julia, all palling around to various degrees of physical affection. They're all close, but noticeably, it's Joanna and Julia whose chemistry burns hottest. Vicky moves throughout them like a ghost. Until she gets to Julia, who screams upon locking eyes with her: Julia is the only one who sees her like a ghost walking among them.

It's here where The Five Devils is most engrossing. Vicky continues to dive back into the past to see more of her mother and aunt's special friendship. A queer relationship–let alone a bi-racial one–was not something that was publicly approved of, clearly. We also see Joanne and Julia's real-time reconnection happen, too. Clearly, there are flames that still flicker with each other.

Written by Léa Mysius and Paul Guilhaume, The Five Devils is an inventive supernatural thriller but it's a more intimate romance than I was expecting. The film is more interesting, and more successful when exploring the forbidden relationships and lost loves that plague these characters. Also, don't forget about their fourth friend Nadine, who was noticeably affectionate towards Jimmy.

At this point, you might wonder: what, or who are The Five Devils? Well, it'd have to be the four young friends, who (spoiler alert) all end up without their true love. And the fifth? I could only deduce that it was the daughter, Vicky. A child born out of false love, she is uniquely able to bring them all toward their rightful lovers.

The Five Devils might not be a new cult classic. But it's fairly intoxicating and stylishly hypnotic in ways that I haven't seen in queer witchy thrillers in recent times.

1h 43m.

https://youtu.be/GlU6SSYIMYc


Cody Schroeder, Julie Ledru, and Antonia Buresi in 'Rodeo.' Photo courtesy of Music Box Films

Rodeo

From writer-director Lola Quivoron comes Rodeo, the story of a tough young woman whose passion for riding motorbikes leads her into a world of criminality and danger. Bringing an authentically-captured French motorbiking subculture to the big screen, Rodeo is both a gritty character study and crime movie that plays like Emily the Criminal, The Place Beyond the Pines, and Fast & Furious.

If life is a rodeo, then Julia (Julie Ledru) is a wild bronco, unable to be tamed. The movie opens with her shooting out of her home as if a starting gun has just been fired. She's intent on doing just one thing: testing out a new motorbike. After inspecting it from an unsuspecting male seller, she asks for a test drive. Which, she subsequently races off with, her middle finger blazing behind.

This says exactly what we need to know about her. That she's unstoppable, and only lives life in one direction: forward, and fast. With her oversized shirts and unkept hair, Julia's clearly not interested in the typical girly world. We soon enough see where she feels most at home: on a motorbike speeding down an open road.

Julia takes her new possession to the local dragstrip, where young bikers fly past her, popping wheelies and tricks that amaze and wrack the nerves. Noticeably, she's the only woman in this mostly male world. However, the insults that the aggressive crowd of bros hurls her way bounce off of her like a steel engine. When the cops come to bust it up, she scatters away with a new group, taken in by one boy Kaïs (Yannis Lafki). Without a place to sleep, she asks Kaïs and his crew if she can sleep in their garage (like a bike herself).

She soon learns that the crew steals and flips bikes. And it's under the direction of the ringleader, Domino (Sébastien Schroeder). Fearless and looking for refuge and the opportunity to ride, Julia offers to lend her services of stealing bikes. And so, she does what she does best: tries out bikes, then speeds off leaving unsuspecting men in the dust. The closer she gets to the crew and begins to establish trust, the more she feels like family. It all leads up to a heist, the climax of the movie, that has deadly results.

Rodeo throttles in and out of exhilarating moments, as well as narrative consistency. Particularly the riding sequences, when bikers rev engines that roar and pop wheelies, feel exhilarating. The film also downshifts, into a slower more emotional story. We see that Julia gets closer to her new makeshift criminal family, making for strong emotional moments.

Writer-director Lola Quivoron creates a world that feels real, raw, beautiful, and dangerous. Julia's world is most compelling when it juxtaposes the dualities mirroring "throttling" and "braking" of riding itself: balancing the fast with the slow; the loud with the quiet; the male with the female; and the peace and danger.

Her relationship with Kaïs has a hint of romance, but it's the bond that Julia develops with Domino's wife, Ophélie (Antonia Buresi), and her young son, that is the more compelling, heartfelt relationship. We see how Ophélie is similarly trapped in a world of oppressive males, which Julia notices and bonds over (in a familial, but also suggestively intimate way).

There's also the storyline of Julia being haunted by a tragic death that takes place earlier on in the film, as well. Nightmares begin to plague her (though to the film's detriment, not much adds beyond that). With no exposition, Julia's backstory is a mystery (she literally asks to be called "Unknown" in her heists). It's as if she herself is a bike without any identifying plates, made of different parts she replaces along her hard-lived journey of life.

As Julia, Julie Ledru is perfect for the role. She's tough and unafraid to get physical when needed. But she also plays the slower, quieter, emotionally affected moments that the film demands of her as well. It's here where her face betrays how haunted she is. She can more than hold her own in a world where everyone's edging her out, but it will soon take its toll.

Raphaël Vandenbussche's cinematography is beautiful and evocative. Gritty handheld cinematography, composed in ultra-wide format captures the wide frames that the motorbike sequences and film need.

While Rodeo falls into a familiar crime story that didn't leave me particularly thrilled or roused, the riding sequences themselves are quite exciting. Blazing fast shots take on an ethereal, transcendent feeling. At its fiery end, we understand that for some, riding fast is the only speed that people can live.

1h 45m

https://youtu.be/F5iXef4071U


The Quiet Girl (An Cailín Ciúin)


Being neglected and denied affection and love is a tragedy that can keep a person from becoming, or even knowing, their best self. But having the fortune of receiving love is a gift that allows us to grow tall and full like a beautiful forest of trees.

Those themes form the story of The Quiet Girl (now playing in select theaters). Ireland's official submission and nominee for Best International Feature Film at this year's Academy Awards (spoken in Irish with English subtitles), The Quiet Girl is a tender, sensitive, moving film about a young girl who experiences care and affection for the first time in her young life.

Set in rural Ireland in 1981, The Quiet Girl tells the story of Cáit (Catherine Clinch), a quiet girl whose dysfunctional family sends her away for the summer to live with relatives she has never met.

The couple–quiet themselves, middle-aged and middle-class–look after her in their modest, tidy home. Eibhlín (Carrie Crowley) lends affection to Cáit instantly, brushing her hair and dressing her with the family's extra clothes when she's left without her suitcase.

Initially uneasy (as wetting the bed always indicates), Cáit slowly begins to feel more comfortable in the house. She helps prepare meals and do simple chores alongside Eibhlín, who smiles affectionately at her. Soon after, the formerly despondent Seán (Andrew Bennett) warms to Cáit, bringing her to work with him on their dairy farm, and their connection grows as well.

It's a newfound world of care for Cáit, the family making her feel safe by telling her, "There are no secrets in this house." Except, Cáit learns about a large secret the family keeps (why do the clothes she was initially given fit so coincidentally well?), forcing her to learn more about the world.

The above plot point might make The Quiet Girl instantly sound like a mystery or thriller, but I ultimately found it to be a modest domestic drama. Writer-director Colm Bairéad adapts the film from the short story "Foster" (by Claire Keegan) with devoted patience. Bairéad and editor John Murphy match the film's slow pace to that of Cáit's slowly absorbing learning of the world.

Director of photography Kate McCullough sets Cáit in a dark, drab, colorless world early on. But when she moves to the new home surrounded by healthily flourishing nature, greens overpower and show the life Cáit begins to live.

Newcomer Catherine Clinch makes her feature film acting debut here in the lead role of Cáit. Clinch has the essence of a quiet girl, taking in the world through her large eyes and silent, unimposing behavior.

As Eibhlín, Carrie Crowley (Vikings) is aptly heartfelt. And Andrew Bennett (God's Creatures) is able to grow into the role, surprisingly taking over the main parental role of affection.

Some of the best moments of the film are the sequences in which Cáit runs down the driveway to get the mail with Seán, a moment of "father-daughter" connection. Looking up to see she's underneath a forest of highly grown trees, it's clear that she is also blooming while being here, how tall she's grown when she must return home to her biological family.

The film reminded me of other quiet films about childhood, particularly Céline Sciamma's Petite Maman and Lukas Dhont's Close, the latter being nominated for Best International Feature as well.

At one hour and thirty-four minutes, The Quiet Girl isn't long by any stretch. However, it's about an hour until the film reveals its climactic plot point, and the film doesn't exactly build toward this moment with scenes that made it pay off for me in too big of a way. But the film speaks volumes to the point that we should all give our love and affection so that we can help each other live our lives loudly.

1h 34m.

https://youtu.be/LGWyqty2m-A