Giving Birth to a Butterfly
Theodore Schaefer’s debut feature Giving Birth to a Butterfly takes an artful approach when it comes to the classic American trope of shedding one's limiting preconceived notions and reclaiming a new sense of self–much like how a monarch emerges from its cocoon as a completely changed animal. In a cinematically surreal story of identity, two women from very different backgrounds embark on a road trip that ends up sending one down the road less traveled and ends up changing her life forever.
Diana (Annie Parisse) is getting the bare minimum of enjoyment out of daily life. As the mother of two kids, she is responsible for a lot of the housework and continuously gets affected when her husband (Paul Sparks), overly optimistic to a fault, unintentionally steamrolls her and her feelings. The night their son returns home with his pregnant girlfriend, Marlene (Gus Birney), Diana is at her breaking point–only to be pushed over the edge when she discovers that she's been the target of identity theft and her bank account is wiped clean.
Determined to track down the thieves, Diana convinces a heavily pregnant Marlene to come with her on this revenge road trip. The objective may have initially been to confront the criminals but by the time the duo reach their destination and discover whose doorstep they've landed on, their initial plans go out the window, and instead, they start a new, unexpected journey towards enlightenment. By the end of the film, only one woman has given birth; not to a human, but to a belief.
Schaefer, the executive producer of We're All Going to the World's Fair, gives the film a pastel-toned hue, perhaps to signify a type of "rose-colored glasses" from our protagonist. The decision to shoot on 16mm film with intimate framing forces the audience to have a sort of tunnel vision perspective, at times it can feel claustrophobic but given the small scope of the production, this choice makes sense. A bit soap opera-esque at times, Giving Birth to a Butterfly has a solid nugget of wisdom buried within but unfortunately, that can get lost amongst its various filters and seemingly unnecessary stylistic choices.
This review originally ran on August 24, 2021, during Fantasia Fest.
Distributed by Cinedigm. Now streaming on Fandor, the company’s indie discovery platform, and VOD.
BlackBerry
From director Matt Johnson comes BlackBerry, a fictionalized story inspired by real people and events leading up to the uncharted success and ugly demise of the world’s first smartphone.
In the early 2000s, the BlackBerry was a symbol of status. Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton would carry their Swarovski-covered accessories to and from Hollywood’s most exclusive clubs, and teenage girls everywhere (*raises hand) subconsciously equated this bedazzled phone to power. A device that you could call, text, and check your email? It was a cultural revolution. Running 124 minutes long, we’re treated to revisionist history’s version of BlackBerry’s ripe rise and sour fall.
The year is 1996. Mike Lazaridis (Jay Baruchel) and Douglas Fregin (Matt Johnson) are on their way to pitch the latest invention born out of their small Canadian-run business, Research in Motion. The men are on a mission – a deal with a corporate big shot would mean financial security and technological advancements the world has never seen.
Unfortunately, their dreams seem even further out of reach after stumbling their way through the presentation for their "computer-in-a-phone" device in front of businessman Jim Balsillie (Glenn Howerton). Jim is a fast talker and brutally honest straight shooter and barely acknowledges the men, even as they speak directly to him. Jim has too much to do and too little time and he makes that known.
Deeming the pitch a disaster, Mike and Doug begin to feel the prongs of desperation grip their bodies. Everything changes when, after a moment of clarity, Jim returns with a counteroffer that would take the company and the device to the next level. What ensues is a Wolf of Wall Street-type ebb and flow of nerdy engineers who fell into an influx of cash and don’t know what to do with the newfound success.
Mike has always been the most level-headed of the group and keeps one foot rooted in reality but not Jim. If he’s not trying to buy a professional hockey team, he’s unethically trying to poach employees from competitive companies or letting personal grievances get in the way of the health of the company. The final nail in the coffin comes during Apple’s keynote address when Steve Jobs (using archived footage from a real event) introduces the world to the first iPhone. Game over.
Now, the reason why you should see this film: Glenn Howerton.
Director Matt Johnson, who also co-stars in the film, creates a thoroughly engaging, high-stakes comedic adaptation from his inspiration source: the book “Losing the Signal: The Untold Story Behind the Extraordinary Rise and Spectacular Fall of Blackberry”. BlackBerry is shot in a style that’s similar to The Office. It's not a faux-documentary but the loose, handheld camerawork gives BlackBerry a breathy nature that contrasts the corporate world we’re living in. The film’s soundtrack further sets the mood and takes us down memory lane, with tracks from Joy Division, The White Stripes, and The Strokes to name a few.
Now, the reason why you should see this film: Glenn Howerton. His performance as a manic, loud-mouthed, egomaniac is entirely pitch-perfect and hilarious. His comedic fingerprints are all over this film in the best way possible; anyone acting alongside him is automatically elevated to his level. The energy that radiates from this film probably equates to a double shot of espresso.
BlackBerry was an official selection of the 2023 SXSW Film Festival and is distributed by IFC Films. If you ever wondered about the evolution of the smartphone and how it landed into the palms of people everywhere, or just looking for a smart, comedic gut punch, this is for you.
124 minutes. Opening in select theaters on Friday, May 12, 2023.
'The Eight Mountains' Review: A Visceral Nod to Male Friendship
Co-directors Felix van Groeningen and Charlotte Vandermeersch bring Paolo Cognetti’s novel The Eight Mountains to life delicately and compassionately in this stunning adaptation based on his famous Italian novel. Written for the screen by van Groeningen and Vandermeersch, the film takes the literature’s words and transforms them into a visceral, heart-stirring nod to male friendship and the ties that bind us.
The Eight Mountains is a love story about friendship. Two boys from different walks of life, Pietro (Luca Marinelli) and Bruno (Alessandro Borghi) strike up an unusual relationship after first meeting as 12-year-olds. Pietro is a city boy, whose familial aspirations include a career-driven life beyond their modest hometown. Bruno, on the other hand, has grown up in a remote mountain village, the last child of the nearly-forgotten community, and has no desire to ever leave. Through the years (which turns into decades) we follow Pietro and Bruno as they grow up, navigate the complexities of young adulthood, and fall in and out of each other’s lives just as the tide washes to and from the shore.
Relationship reassignment is a normal part of life. Many of us have outgrown the childhood friendships that we swore would last forever; the BFF necklaces stuffed in the back of the dresser drawer instead of proudly displayed hanging from our necks. It’s a gradual mourning that sometimes we don’t realize has happened until the memories of our time together become more than the actual time spent. Then there are the people we seem to have a soul contract with, the people that will stay in our lives forever. This is the bond that Pietro and Bruno share. Throughout all of life’s inconsistencies and hardships, true friendship will always rise.
Another through-line in this coming-of-age story is the relationship dynamic between fathers and sons. Both boys had complicated family dynamics which they played out in their adult lives in different ways. Masculine trauma and the expectation to uphold a legacy, abandonment issues, grief, and loss are just some of the threads pulled throughout the film.
The world of The Eight Mountains is stunning, both visually and through the film’s use of music. Nature is a major theme in the film, and the directors do a wonderful job of contrasting its beauty and melancholy so elegantly. The snowy mountaintops, nighttime bonfires, and cattle farms evoke a sense of spiritual easiness, reminding us that people and the environment can co-exist peacefully.
Adding to this ethereal mood is the score by Daniel Norgren, who directors Felix van Groeningen and Charlotte Vandermeersch consider the Swedish version of Bruno. They have stated, “Like Bruno, he lives far away from the crowd, in the woods, on his own mountain, building his own house and his own music studio. He finds his inspiration wandering in the woods.” This expression of isolation is felt throughout the score, it’s vulnerable in all the right ways and hits all of the right notes, especially the angelic recurring piano theme.
The Eight Mountains offers many nuggets of wisdom, and at least one is bound to resonate with you personally. One moment in the film has stuck with me since first watching, and I’ve been contemplating this rhetorical question ever since: “At the center of the world is the tallest mountain, the Sumeru, which is surrounded by eight seas and eight mountains. The question is: who has learned the most, the one who has been to all eight mountains, or the one who has reached the top?” There is no wrong answer here, and our past may dictate what we value as more impressive. However, we should remember that progress isn't linear, accomplishments are relative, and life is more enjoyable with a good friend.
De Humani Corporis Fabrica
Let me start by saying De Humani Corporis Fabrica should be watched with caution. Preferably on an empty stomach. And definitely not while eating ground beef.
If you're familiar with the sensory sea-epic Leviathan, you'll know what to expect from directors Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Véréna Paravel. This includes intense, tedious, and often time uncomfortable moments from the natural world that force viewers to expand their horizons and thresholds. But instead of getting enveloped in the oceanic environment of an industrial shipping vessel, this time our attention is drawn to the smallest of minutiae in one of the highest-stress environments: the operating room.
De Humani Corporis Fabrica derives its name from the collection of books by anatomist André Vésale from the mid-1500s. The books thoroughly detail human anatomy based on Vésale's findings from dissecting human bodies for science. The film quite literally lives up to its name; human flesh is cut, punctured, probed, cracked, sliced, and sewn in this deeply affecting commentary on the fragility of life.
Playing up slice-of-life (pun intended) vignettes over a traditional storyline structure, the film is an intimate look at the goings on inside the walls of a hospital during incredibly heightened moments. Knowing that as a patient, one needs to place their trust in the hands of a stranger–albeit, an incredibly smart and capable stranger–is a crazy thing when you really think about it. These situations, no matter how routine, are always life and death. The subjects in the film clearly have good intentions and maliciousness isn't perceived once but the muttering of "I'm lost" by a surgeon as he's in the middle of a surgery is as horrifying to witness as the surgery itself.
Despite the film's graphic nature–which includes a Lasik-type eye surgery, an emergency C-section, and spinal surgery to combat severe scoliosis–perhaps the most somber moments come from the nursing facility that the filmmakers intermittently cut to between scenes. Here are senior citizens who are close to the brink of death, some of whom are aware the end is near. It's haunting and humbling all at once.
De Humani Corporis Fabrica marks Castaing-Taylor and Paravel's fourth feature film collaboration. The directing duo currently works out of the Sensory Ethnography Laboratory (SEL) at Harvard University. A quick Google search describes the center as an experimental laboratory that promotes innovative combinations of aesthetics and ethnography. Using various forms of expression–including analog and digital media, installation, and performance–the directing duo's work aims to explore the aesthetics and ontology of the natural and unnatural world.
118 minutes. Distributed by Grasshopper Film and Gratitude Films. Opening in LA at Laemmle Glendale on Friday, April 28, 2023.
32 Sounds
This review originally ran on March 14, 2022, during the SXSW Film Festival
32 Sounds is unlike any other documentary in the SXSW lineup. For one, headphones are strongly encouraged. This is a highly sensory film and to achieve the filmmaker's intended impact, audience members are to fully immerse themselves into the sonic landscape by wearing headphones. Also, this is the only film I've ever watched that encourages you to close your eyes.
Oscar-nominated filmmaker Sam Green (The Weather Underground) is the man in charge of leading us through this journey through sound. His voice is eerily similar to Owen Wilson's (since we're paying such close attention to detail, I couldn't help but notice this uncanny resemblance). He, along with JD Samson (Le Tigre, MEN)–who also provides original music for the film–provides an interactive cinematic experience to illustrate the importance of sound, its history, and how it can shape the world around us.
Sound is the first sense we develop. We unconsciously are attuned to what we hear when in the womb; we may be alone, but we are still connected to the world through the sounds we hear. To illustrate this point, the audience is asked multiple times throughout the film to close their eyes and just listen to the audio that's being pumped into our headphones. "Sound is an energy channel," Sam states, as we explore 32 distinct sounds throughout the course of the film.
Taking us back to Thomas Edison's invention of the phonograph in 1877, Sam explains that prior to this technology, once you died, your voice was gone forever. Since its creation and accessibility over time, we are able to "play sounds of the dead" by listening to music from record players, CD players, and streaming apps, with unlimited potential for the future.
Continuing our sonic journey through the senses, we're introduced to avant-garde composer Annea Lockwood who's most famous for her Piano Burning performance. At 81 years old at the time of filming, we see Lockwood is still just as fascinated with the sounds of the natural world, and her awe easily fills us with awe as well.
We round out the film with a visit to a foley artist's studio and watch her create cues for film and TV, manipulating various objects to sound like different objects. We're also given a slightly amateur yet still entertaining education on the difference between binaural sound vs surround sound (again, the headphones come in handy here).
32 Sounds is a unique watch that feels like it belongs in a museum rather than a traditional movie theatre. Its interactive nature is engaging from start to finish, and well worth a watch if you're interested in a meditative approach to understanding the auditory sense.
Distributed by Abramorama. Playing in select theaters this Friday, April 28, 2023.
'Nam June Paik: Moon is the Oldest TV' Review: A Dazzling Portrait of an Enigmatic Figure
Who was Nam June Paik, the inventor of video art? Director Amanda Kim turns this question about the enigmatic figure into a dazzling portrait of reverberating inspiration in the documentary Nam June Paik: Moon is the Oldest TV. Kim, a former creative director at Vice Media, offers a generous look into the fascinating life of this true thinker. One that bustles with sound, color, and electrifying discovery.
No words will be enough to describe the legendary impact this avant-garde Korean artist had on the video art community, but many have boiled it down to one word: Eccentric. Paik's unusual, bewildering performances left audiences in awe, and his relationship with how we embrace and utilize technology is still revered to this day as revolutionary. He had the uncanny ability to chart where technology was headed and his art reflected the potential damages, as well as possibilities, that would bring.
The film follows a traditionally linear path from Paik's childhood in South Korea, to his studies in Germany–where he received a Ph.D. in pre-Renissance Music and Philosophy–to his professional career as an artist in New York City. Paik's personal writings are read aloud throughout the film by Steven Yeun (Minari, Nope). The documentary does a thorough job of incorporating archival footage, as well as past and current interviews with his contemporaries (including composer John Cage and members of the Fluxus movement).
Nam June Paik has been called "The George Washington of Video Art," the "Citizen Zero of the Electronic Superhighway," and a "Cultural Terrorist." But those who knew him best describe him as a humble, reserved man who spoke 20 languages and was always fiddling with something. His art took priority in his life, up until the very end. In 2006, Paik passed away at the age of 74 due to complications from an earlier stroke. "It's the artist's job to think about the future," Paik so eloquently states at one point in the film. Not surprisingly, Paik's impact on the future goes beyond his physical work. He has even been credited as having come up with the phrase “electronic superhighway” (which later was ascribed to the Internet).
Of all of Nam June Paik's accomplishments, it's his expression of spirituality interconnected with technology that is the most profound (aka the "why" behind his installations and performances). His way of thinking has inspired countless artists, some of whom we see in the film. Paik continues to inspire future generations through his notable works, many of which are still on display through traveling exhibitions including his 1974 video sculpture "TV Buddha." Paik is credited with opening the door to the technological revolution, and it is our duty to make sure that door stays open.
Sick of Myself
From the producers of Joachim Trier's Academy Award-nominated film, The Worst Person in the World comes Sick of Myself (Syk Pike). Norwegian-born filmmaker Kristoffer Borgli takes twisted relationship dynamics to extreme lengths in this dark, demented comedy about the "actual" worst person in the world and their no-holds-barred addiction to sympathy. Nominated for the Un Certain Regard Award at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival, Sick of Myself is a 97-minute-long insanity spiral and a nihilist's delight.
Kristine Kujath Thorp plays Signe, a woman in her early twenties who has the emotional maturity of a toddler. Signe and her boyfriend Thomas (Eirik Sæther)–another stunted adult–have a rather unconventional relationship; despite presenting a compassionate and fun-loving facade, the duo vindictively takes any opportunity to outshine and undercut their partner. When the film begins, the stakes already seem high but turns out that stealing a $2,300 vintage bottle of wine is just the beginning.
Thomas is a contemporary artist whose star is on the rise. This upsets Signe, a barista, whose jealousy oozes through her pores. She wants the attention–the good, the bad, the ugly. It doesn't matter from who, as long as it's her name is in the mouths of their friends, and not Thomas'. Things take a nasty turn when Signe realizes that feigning an illness may be her golden ticket to notoriety.
Her desperation goes too far, even for her, when hair starts falling out in chunks, blood pours out of her mouth and head, and fainting spells become all too common. Signe–clearly spiraling from delusion, a bruised ego, and desperation– becomes a shell of herself, unrecognizable from the inside as well as the outside. Her "mystery illness" turns out not to be a medical condition but rather a sickly amount of narcissism.
From beginning to end, Sick of Myself is an unhinged black comedy fueled by gaslighting of the highest degree. Kristine Kujath Thorp’s performance is praiseworthy and her complex villain origin story is one we love to hate. The rest of the cast equally holds their own, including a short guest appearance by Norway’s finest, Anders Danielsen Lie.
With Sick of Myself, Kristoffer Borgli has solidified himself as a director to watch. Although, he's far from new on the scene with over 10 short film credits on his IMDb. Born in Oslo, his childhood revolved around skateboarding and making videos (not unlike our other favorite Norwegian filmmaker). It's this effortless confidence behind the lens and strong directorial point of view that makes Sick of Myself one of the most exciting films of the year thus far.
97 minutes. Distributed by Utopia. Opening in theaters this Friday, April 14, 2023.
How To Blow Up a Pipeline
Director Daniel Goldhaber does not shy away from controversial subject matter in his films. In 2018, he made his directorial debut with Cam, a psychological horror film set in the underbelly of webcam pornography. His sophomore feature, How To Blow Up a Pipeline, thrusts gonzo climate activists into the spotlight. A semi-thrilling adaptation of Andreas Malm’s book of the same name, this cinematic and political statement sees a group of underdogs fighting to reclaim their power, but falls a bit shy of making a hard-hitting impact.
Distributed by indie champion NEON, the film is a nonlinear look at how a group of activists from across the country come together to fight the oil industry. We first meet the collective, made up of eight young men and women from various backgrounds. They have convened in West Texas, with plans of destruction already in motion. The film moves quickly (almost too quickly). At first, the lack of context for the first 15 minutes feels insufficient and mildly confusing. However, the characters' backstories and how they all came to meet are eventually revealed. Patience is key here.
Once we're given more information on who these people are and why they're risking their freedom and lives to make a statement, their reasoning seems justified. Passion and anger fuel their actions, and their message, on the whole, is one worth supporting. There are enough twists in the script to make How To Blow Up a Pipeline an enjoyably unpredictable watch. Yet, I fear it lacks the staying power to make it a cinematic political statement of the highest degree.
The film's aesthetic is comforting in its warm and grainy look, similar to Power Ranger films of the mid-90s. The editing is also reminiscent of old-school superhero shows you'd find on TV after school. It gives the film an organic texture that feels rooted in the Earth, almost like we can feel the effects of global warming through the screen. Composer Gavin Brivik incorporates the sounds of the enemy – oil drums and pipes – into his score by recording samples with distorted and pulsing synth sounds.
There's no doubt that this story is one worth telling. How To Blow Up a Pipeline is a commendable effort to bring attention to this crisis. While it may not rank among my favorite ecological thrillers (Woman at War and Night Moves to name a couple), How To Blow Up a Pipeline's message alone is worth the watch.
100 minutes. Opening in theaters on Friday, April 7, 2023.
Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda
This review was originally published on December 7, 2020.
One of the hardest adjustments I've had to make since lockdown started back in March is not being able to visit my favorite bar. No, not for the drinks, but for the hi-fi audio equipment and their vast collection of classic and rare records from all over the world. This Japanese-style "listening bar" is where I first discovered Ryuichi Sakamoto, and for that, I am ever grateful.
Thankfully, MUBI has cured my quarantine-induced hi-fi blues with the 2017 release of Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda, a documentary about the daily life and creative process of one of the industry's most innovative and revelatory artists.
Ryuichi Sakamoto is a man who has dedicated his entire life to creating art. The documentary wonderfully sweeps through his musical career– highlighting his days as a member of the techno-pop band Yellow Magic Orchestra to his work on Alejandro Iñárritu's The Revenant. His accomplishments are many, and those familiar with his work consider him to be one of the greatest living artists of our time. Despite the accolades, awards, and notoriety, his humbleness remains untouched.
It's fascinating to watch how passionately Sakamoto respects sound and the concept of its use. How it's created, how it's used, and, semi-morbidly, how it will reflect on him when he's gone. Sakamoto lives with throat cancer, but he doesn't let that get in the way of consistently creating. Using field recordings of running water, forest air, and other natural sounds, he creates a purity that amazingly complements the delicateness of his piano keys. The result is a sound unlike any other, hauntingly beautiful and dynamically all-encompassing.
Thanks to MUBI, this special edition release, directed by Stephen Nomura Schible, also includes the full concert documentary Ryuichi Sakamoto: async At The Park Avenue Armory. And although my Sonos is no match compared to the "listening bar," Sakamoto's music transcends standard commercial speakers, making me feel like I'm back in my favorite place once again.
Distributed by MUBI, Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda is available to stream on MUBI and for purchase via Kino Lorber.
Enys Men
Filmmaker Mark Jenkin takes us on a trip through the cerebral cortex in the art film-psychological horror hybrid, Enys Men. Acting as the film's director, writer, cinematographer, editor, and composer, Jenkin puts every fiber of his being into this visionary feat. The result is a genuinely singular point of view – albeit abstract – that touches on the idea of life and death and its meaning in the metaphysical and spiritual realm.
To put it simply, Enys Men tells the story of a wildlife volunteer (Mary Woodvine) who is in the middle of a residency on a remote island in Cornwall, UK. Her responsibilities center around a small patch of flowers, observing their growth and noting any inconsistencies in their development. Alone with her thoughts, day in and day out, she begins to crack at the seams, losing her grip on reality and fading into delusion.
Much like how Robert Eggers' film The Lighthouse is a slow spiral into madness, our protagonist encounters a similar fate. Being the only living person on the secluded British island (or is she?), the volunteer begins to lose herself among the earthly offerings and folkloric superstitions. Mark Jenkin's aesthetic throughout Enys Men is swoon-worthy, from the highly saturated colors to the score that weaves together field recordings with long drawn-out synths. Jenkin uses the same type of equipment and film stock as many low-budget horror films of the 70s, which is how he achieves this retro look.
Some people will get a thrill from the labyrinth that unfolds within the 90-minute runtime, giddy to get lost in the uncanniness of the script and the purposefully vague and nonsensical montages the film so devilishly derails into. Others may try to assign meaning to the madness, to which I say, good luck! I fell right in between these two sentiments. I found myself transfixed by the film's visual and sonic grip, yet I stumbled when I tried to understand the "why" of the plot.
Enys Men is a film that simultaneously feels both dated and timeless. It could have existed 50 years ago and its ingenuity would not have been lost to time. For those interested in checking out this transfixing work, be prepared for long stretches of nothingness. It may be a beautiful trip. but you've been warned that this isn't your stereotypical traditional horror film.
91 minutes. Opening this Friday in select theaters.
https://youtu.be/f7Pwf94_XLY
Inside
Willem Dafoe puts on a one-man show in the tragically dismal psychological thriller, Inside. Greek filmmaker Vasilis Katsoupis makes a bold directorial debut here, poking holes in the perception of affluence within the art world and its superficial meaning when compared to life itself. Starring Willem Dafoe in the role of a lifetime – who acts alone for nearly the entire film – Inside offers high-concept commentary on the meaning of art and what happens when we devoid it of context.
Cats die. Music fades. But art is for keeps. This is the mantra that justifies the actions of Nemo (Dafoe), a member of an art thief ring who has successfully broken into the temporarily vacant NYC penthouse of an ultra-wealthy art collector. Remembering a prompt he was given as a schoolboy about what he would save from a house fire, Nemo recalls putting the priority on his sketchbook, not on his parents. Fast forward to today, Nemo is hurriedly pulling paintings and memorabilia off of the apartment's towering walls as his partner, only heard from through a walkie-talkie, gives him a minute-by-minute countdown. Nemo has millions of dollars worth of artwork in his bag. Everything has gone according to plan. That is until the high-tech security system is accidentally triggered and locks Nemo inside the palatial apartment.
After a frantic effort to disable the alarm's blinding lights and screeching alerts, the reality of the situation sets in. His partner – scared off by the misstep – abandons him. The museum quality doors won't open. There is no exit in sight. Also, the apartment's temperature system has been wrecked, and uncontrollably raises the interior up degree by degree. With food scarce and the water supply cut, Nemo is sweating out more of his sanity with every hour that passes. It's funny; on the one hand, literally, he is worth millions of dollars. But what good is it to be a millionaire when you're dead?
For a film about extravagance, it's fairly minimal in its execution. Willem Dafoe gives a tour de force performance and holds nothing back, his malnourished frame getting more obvious as the days pass with little to no food or water. By watching Inside, we're witnessing a man unravel from the inside; going from sensible to insane in a matter of days (or weeks, it's purposefully ambiguous). Dafoe's execution of a psychological mental is extraordinary, never once feeling forced or untrue. Paired with the airy, unnerving score by Frederik Van de Moortel, the increasingly frenetic energy gets absorbed by the audience. I caught myself taking shallow breaths during heightened moments of tension multiple times.
Despite this being a film about the disillusionment of art, its gorgeousness is still something to swoon over. The architecture, spacial awareness, interior design, and gallery walls would no doubt be featured among Architectural Digest's most-watched home tours. There's also an abstract beauty to the film in the way director Vasilis Katsoupis plays with sound and space. Reverberations and sporadic moments of deafness in the music edit combined with the rich and dramatic lighting foreshadow the space's stronghold over Nemo, and its ability to destroy him.
Inside is isolation insanity at its peak while simultaneously shining a light on the dark side of luxury. Despite its gritty and suffocating nature, this is one of the most beautifully meditative films on materialism that I've seen in a long time.
Distributed by Focus Features. Opening in theaters this Friday. For times and locations, click here.
Nainita Desai Debuts Track From 'Villeneuve Pironi'
Betrayal is one of the cornerstones of filmmaker Torquil Jones' upcoming documentary about one of the sports world's most tragic events. And who better to encapsulate this frenetic, invigorating energy and put it into music than Jones' past collaborator, the Emmy-winning composer Nainita Desai?
Having last worked together on the Primetime Emmy and Grierson-nominated Netflix documentary 14 Peaks: Nothing Is Impossible, Desai jumps into the driver's seat of the multi-award-winning director's latest project, Villeneuve Pironi for Sky TV in the UK.
Villeneuve Pironi tells the story of two supremely gifted Ferrari F1 drivers, forever torn apart by a historic and hugely controversial moment in time. In this epic story, friendship, duplicity, ambition, and honor all collide at racing speeds. Told through compelling interviews by both the Villeneuve and Pironi families, a friendship becomes a rivalry and a rivalry becomes a tragedy in this Shakespearean tale, told – for the very first time – by those who were closest to the men involved.
Cinemacy is excited to premiere the track "The Betrayal - End Credits" from Villeneuve Pironi
A pulsating electronic beat – which could quickly be mistaken for a heartbeat – sets the tone at the onset of the score. As the tension builds, the inclusion of orchestral strings adds another layer of mysticism and passion. This nod to the documentary's larger themes of unpredictability and intrigue within the score is both subtle and imperative; Nainita has smartly designed her sound with this experimental, deeply immersive approach in mind.
"I wanted to create something almost operatic with 'The Betrayal', says Nainita. "It is the emotional culmination of the friendship with a dramatic twist that takes place over the course of a thrilling race. On top of the energy, propulsive earthy percussion floats a strong melody that has gravitas and elegance followed by a counter melody that eventually takes over. It emulates the real-life rivalry between Gilles and Didier and the outcome of the race.”
Nainita continues to expand her reputation as an in-demand composer within the industry. Her previous score for the documentary The Reason I Jump was highly regarded throughout the awards circuit, winning the News and Documentary Emmy in the Outstanding Music Composition category and landing nominations at the British Independent Film Awards and the Cinema Eye Honors. In addition to film scores, she also has a long list of credits in the television and video game space. Her next film, The Deepest Breath, premiered at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival in collaboration with A24, Ventureland, Motive Films, and RAW, and is set to be released later this year.
"Villeneuve Pironi" (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) will be released on digital platforms from Sky Music this Friday, March 17th.
Icelandic Composer and Filmmaker Kira Kira Debuts 'We The Lightnings'
A score is the heartbeat of a film; the smallest of nuances in a key change or the inclusion of certain instruments or effects can alter how one perceives the story being told. It can be hard for a filmmaker to get their vision to translate sonically, but not for Kristìn Björk Kristjánsdòttir. Kristìn – who goes by the name Kira Kira – dually operates as both the director and composer in her short animated film We The Lightnings, a tenderly told story about the healing power of love, friendship, music, and nature when a person comes undone.
We The Lightnings is made up of dreamlike hybrid animation with art from Oscar nominee Sara Gunnarsdóttir (My Year of Dicks). The film revolves around Nua, a young woman who returns to her birthplace in rural Iceland, a sanctuary at the end of the road where her friends have gathered for a letting go ritual in honor of her mother’s passing. Music, performed by an ensemble of Icelandic musicians who appear in the film and play on the score, serves as the welcoming embrace that catches Nua on her arrival back home after her life has spiraled out of control.
Cinemacy is excited to premiere the title track from We The Lightnings.
The dreamy atmospheric vocals with lullaby-like melodies feel like a warm hug by a cozy fire. It immediately transports the audience to a safe place, one where we are given permission to feel our raw emotions and complicated feelings. Through her score, Kira Kira connects with the sense of grasping for tangible connection, only to realize that the most precious gifts of all – time, love, and memory – can never be held. It's the feeling of letting go that so beautifully resonates throughout the track We The Lightnings, its ethereal nature as precious as life itself.
"The music I wrote for We The Lightnings is an act of love for that which remains with us at times of loss," says Kira Kira. "So rather than lamenting what or those who have passed, I like to gently move on in the certainty that love does not die. Music is energy and keeping a sacred space of clarity around it is paramount to me. That does not mean articulating why or explaining how. It is just a filtering system that only lets love through. I hope the music beams some sense of wonder and comfort out there."
Born in Reykjavik, Kristìn comes from a background of experimental ambient music and soundscapes. In 1999, she founded the music collective/label Kitchen Motors with guitarist Hilmar Jensson and the late, great composer Jóhann Jóhannsson. In 2011, Kristìn's first film Grandma Lo-fi won the sound & vision award at CPH DOX and screened at MoMA, SXSW, IFFR, and hundreds of international film festivals. In addition to film scoring, Kristìn has recorded 5 solo albums that have been released internationally on various labels, including Berlin's Morr Music, Tokyo's After hours, California's Time Released Sound, and Iceland’s Smekkleysa.
“We The Lightnings” (Original Film Soundtrack) will be released on digital platforms and 10” vinyl from Reykjavik Record Shop this Friday, March 10th.
Our Favorite Moments from the 2023 Film Independent Spirit Awards
Last Saturday, Cinemacy returned to the giant tent on the Santa Monica beach to celebrate the 38th annual Film Independent Spirit Awards.
The event has become a mainstay throughout awards season for its total dedication to celebrating independent storytellers, and always attracts top talent who recognize the importance of keeping indie film alive. This year brought new changes too, including the switch to gender-neutral acting categories ("Best Actor/Actress" became "Best Lead Performance"), a distribution shift from being broadcast live on the IFC channel to IMDb.com, and – perhaps most impressively – Everything Everywhere All At Once's near awards sweep. With the Academy Awards only days away, the Spirit Awards have had a history of predicting who will walk away with an Oscar on Sunday. Keep reading for highlights from this year's awards show, as well as where you can watch the winners.
Everything Everywhere All at Once
This is no doubt the darling of awards season, racking up seven total trophies at this year's awards show including Best Feature, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Lead, Supporting, and Breakthrough Performance, and Best Editing. Directed by Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, the film stars Michelle Yeoh, Ke Huy Quan, Stephanie Hsu, and Jamie Lee Curtis in roles that are guaranteed to take you through the full spectrum of emotion. The logline is simple: an exhausted Chinese American woman can't seem to finish her taxes. But this doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of the absurdist comedy's unexpected depths, its unmatched genius vision, and unforgettable pop cultural moments (hot dog fingers, Raccacoonie, everything bagel). You can rent Everything Everywhere All At Once on iTunes and Amazon, now streaming on Showtime.
Aftersun
It's hard to believe that Aftersun is director Charlotte Wells' first feature. The mastery of craft and the confidence to let her actors, Paul Mescal and Frankie Corio, explore their characters on screen is something that usually comes with years of experience. It's no surprise that the Best First Feature award went to Wells, who generously shared the honor with her filmmaking crew. Aftersun tells the story of a young, single father and his daughter on holiday before she is set to return to her mother's house and start up the school year. Wells so effortlessly captures the innocence of childhood memories and the unbreakable bond between father and daughter. Aftersun still remains among Cinemacy's favorite films of 2023, and clearly, the rest of the independent film community agrees. We're all excited to follow Wells' career and are looking forward to seeing what she does next. Aftersun is available to rent on Apple TV and Amazon.
Women Talking
Director Sarah Polley and her incredible cast of actors took home the Robert Altman award for best ensemble. Sarah and her casting director John Buchan, who also happens to be her brother, accepted the honor by acknowledging the strength and power of the women who turned Miriam Toews' novel into a force of nature on screen. Women Talking tells the story of a group of women within an isolated religious community who grapple with reconciling a brutal reality with their faith. Starring Claire Foy, Rooney Mara, Jessie Buckley, Judith Ivey, and Frances McDormand. Women Talking is available to rent on Apple TV and Amazon.
All the Beauty and the Bloodshed
Winner of Best Documentary, All the Beauty and the Bloodshed is a standout, revelatory addition to the growing number of films raising awareness around the opioid crisis. Academy Award-winning filmmaker Laura Poitras (Citizenfour) uses her gifts as a documentarian to tell the story of renowned photographer and activist Nan Goldin, whose mission has become to seek justice against the Sackler family, the pharmaceutical dynasty who was greatly responsible for the opioid epidemic's unfathomable death toll. Interweaving rare footage and intimate interviews, All the Beauty and the Bloodshed is a tough watch told in a tender way. All the Beauty and the Bloodshed is streaming on DirectTV, available to rent on Amazon and YouTube.
God's Time
The chaotic energy of New York City is bottled up, shaken, and set to explode in writer-director Daniel Antebi's offbeat comedy, God's Time. The first-time filmmaker tells the tale of two addicts on a misguided mission to stop the murder of their mutual crush's ex-boyfriend. It's messy, but so is life sometimes! God's Time is not for the sensitive viewer. Its lighthearted look at sobriety mixed with tongue-in-cheek humor about addiction woes make for an at-times uncomfortable watch but it's obvious that Antebi doesn't try to play this dark comedy safe.
Addiction comes in many forms, and for best friends Dev (Ben Groh) and Luca (Dion Costelloe), it's the embodiment of Regina (Liz Caribel Sierra). Regina is a fellow recovering addict and the source of their shared infatuation. A topic that comes up a lot during their recovery meetings is Regina's passionate hatred of her ex-boyfriend (rightfully so–he stole her dog, after all).
Her flippant comment of saying she wants to kill him is usually followed by "In God's time," a semi-morbid sentiment that implies he has death coming to him soon enough. But when Regina leaves out that three-word foreshadowing during one outburst, Dev and Luca are convinced that this was her premature confession. And so, they take it upon themselves to stop a crime that hasn't yet been committed.
For fans of Jobe'z World, Zola, or any Safdie Brothers-adjacent film, God's Time has similar tonal energy. Dev continuously breaks the 4th wall and addresses the audience, keeping us up to speed on their thought processes (no matter how bizarre). It's fast-paced and hip, fitting squarely into the growing category of films for the Euphoria crowd.
Daniel Antebi's unique perspective on recovery is a welcomed one, as he allows audiences to find humor in the darkest of places. He offers us the opportunity to laugh with the characters as they poke fun at the antiquated notion of trusting a higher power to fix your problems. Produced by Topic Studios, God's Time is an intoxicating serotonin hit that you'll want to chase.
Distributed by IFC Films. Opening at Laemmle Glendale and on VOD this Friday.
This review originally ran on June 22, 2022, during the Tribeca Film Festival.