'The Menu' Serves a Slice of Humble Pie to Elitist Eaters
The world of fine dining is an elusive one. The thought of spending a month's paycheck on a meal–regardless of how many Michelin stars it has–feels like a blasé act reserved for the affluent community (and the affluent community alone). So, when the opportunity arises to enter into the world of elitist eaters for one unforgettable night, of course, one would jump at the opportunity. What could possibly go wrong? Turns out, a lot. Director Mark Mylod's (Succession) satirical thriller The Menu puts a clever spin on the "Eat the Rich" anecdote that, while mesmerizing to look at with the right amount of humor, leaves us wanting more.
Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy) and Tyler (Nicholas Hoult) are a well-off and stylish couple who are about to embark on the experience of a lifetime: partake in a lavish tasting menu from the globally-celebrated Chef Julian Slowik (Ralph Fiennes). From the onset, the couple gives an "oil & vinegar," "opposites attract" vibe; an apathetic Margot in her black leather jacket tries to stay interested as she listens to an overzealous Tyler talk about what they can expect at Hawthorn, the exclusive restaurant on the remote island they are heading towards. With tickets in hand for this once-in-a-lifetime dining experience costing thousands of dollars (which a sensible Margot immediately views as suspicious) the couple, along with a handful of other guests, board the charter boat headed to fine dining mecca.
Awaiting them on the island is the reclusive Chef Julian Slowik, manager Elsa (Hong Chau), and their obedient staff, who have prepared a luxurious night for the special guests. Along with Margot and Tyler are boisterous tech bros, Bryce (Rob Yang), Soren (Arturo Castro), and Dave (Mark St. Cyr), well-mannered repeat customers, Anne (Judith Light) and Richard (Reed Birney), arrogant restaurant critic Lillian Bloom (Janet McTeer) and her minion editor Ted (Paul Adelstein), an aging movie star (John Leguizamo) and his assistant Felicity (Aimee Carrero). It's a cornucopia of egos and entitlement, to which Margot is definitely the odd woman out. Once seated in the minimalist open-concept kitchen and dining area, the guests are treated to avant-garde creations that are both wacky and genius. "Bread is food for the poor," laments Chef, so he offers his guests a bread basket with no bread. Confused but engaged, the guests embrace the theatrics of the Chef's multi-course menu. However, things take a dark turn when a sous chef commits suicide as part of the menu and the guests realize that danger is served.
The Menu has a cheekiness that feels both fun and dark; there are moments that are laugh-out-loud funny–mostly due to Ralph Fiennes' *chef's kiss* performance– while other moments exude heightened tension. The containment of the characters on the remote island with no working wifi or plausible escape route works in the film's favor and builds suspense and a sense of dread almost immediately. Adding to the film's robust tension is the score from celebrated composer Colin Stetson (who created the eerie soundscape for Hereditary).
Director Mark Mylod pokes fun at food culture not just within the story of The Menu, but in how the film is structured. Before the film begins, a title card acts as an invitation into this elitist culinary experience, welcoming audiences to the event that is to unfold. An obvious inspiration is also the David Gelb-helmed Netflix series, Chef's Table. Some shots pay homage to the show by mimicking how the distinct courses are framed, described, and lusted over by eager foodies.
However, what falls short is the story itself. The execution is fully-formed, but the plot feels half-baked. The biggest question I was left with after viewing was "Why?" Why this group of guests? Why did Chef choose this night? Why that grand finale? Perhaps answers to those questions would've helped provide answers to another qualm I have about the inadequate backstory. The characters deserved more backstory, especially Tyler who-contrary to what the poster implies–is not a main character. I'm aware that what I'm going to say next is purely a personal preference but I also wasn't convinced Anya Taylor-Joy was the right actress for this role. It felt as if she was going through the motions. In this role, she lacks the charisma and power that is needed when acting against Ralph Finnes, making for an off-balanced output.
Ultimately, for as beautiful and stylish as it is, The Menu leaves a mediocre aftertaste. If you're looking for an "Eat the Rich" film, I suggest The Menu be your appetizer and Triangle of Sadness be your main course. Perhaps Bones and All can be dessert.
106 minutes. Rated R. 'The Menu' is now playing in theaters.
Chanda Dancy Premieres Track From ‘Devotion’
There's a scene in director J.D. Dillard's upcoming aerial war epic, Devotion, that completely caught me off guard. Navy officer Jesse Brown – played by a mesmerizing Jonathan Majors – stares intensely at his reflection in the mirror at base camp. It's quiet, eerily so, until composer Chanda Dancy's ruminating score takes hold of the scene and pushes Jesse to the verge of a total breakdown. The restraint in this pivotal moment of character development could be viewed as risky to some, but it's the delicate attention to detail and subtext that makes this war drama sound unlike other films in the genre.
Based on the bestselling book of the same name by Adam Makos, Devotion tells the inspirational true story of Jesse Brown (Majors), the first Black aviator in Navy history, and his comrade and friend, Tom Hudner (Glen Powell), as they set out to fight in the Korean War at the start of the 1950s. The film depicts a brutal reality – one of hardship, loss, and hate – while also keeping the themes of brotherhood, sacrifice, and love close by. It's a rich film full of high moments, tragic realizations, and everything in between – all of which are encapsulated in Chanda's emotive orchestral score.
Cinemacy is excited to premiere “The Lighthouse”, from Sony Pictures and Black Label Media’s Devotion, below:
Much like the fighter jets in the film, "The Lighthouse" soars through a symphony of melodic strings and EDM synths. Chanda brings the audience into the cockpit of the plane by using sounds that resemble engines, wind, and other elements of flight. Speaking about her creative process, she explains, "Love is everlasting - love for your friends, love for your family, love for country, and love for your fellow human. That is the true meaning of Devotion, and I wanted the score to reflect that. From the elation of flight in “The Lighthouse”, to tender love for a wife in “A Gift For Daisy”, true friendship in “Be There For Them”, duty to country in “Procedure”, and the very essence of standing up and showing up for others in “Measure Of A Man”, I hope to give the listener a sense of these emotions, and in turn, a glimpse into the lives of Jesse Brown, Daisy Brown, Tom Hudner, and the aviators of U.S. Navy VFA-32."
Chanda started composing orchestral works at the age of 12 and is an alumnus of both the USC Film Scoring Program and the Sundance Composers Lab. Her most recent project, the documentary Aftershock, won the Impact for Change award at the 2022 Sundance Film Festival in addition to being nominated for the Grand Jury prize. Her 18+ years of experience in the film and TV space has not gone unnoticed in the music community, as Anthony Parnther, conductor of the San Bernardino Symphony, confidently states that Chanda is “quickly gaining recognition as a foremost black American contemporary composer.” Her next project is scoring the upcoming Whitney Houston biopic, I Wanna Dance with Somebody.
Lakeshore Records is releasing the ‘Devotion’ Original Motion Picture Soundtrack on Friday, November 18th. Listen to the album here.
‘Devotion’ opens in theaters everywhere on Wednesday, November 23rd.
'Utama' Elegantly Depicts The Honoring of Family Traditions
Utama comes into my life at a time when I'm feeling extra sensitive toward the importance of honoring family traditions passed down from older generations. One's legacy can be appreciated while still earthside, but it's especially in death when their physical absence is felt, does their impact realize itself. Life, death, and how we spend the time in between is the thesis statement of writer-director Alejandro Loayza Grisi's subtle yet remarkably powerful debut feature, Utama.
Immediately taken by the colorful garments set against a dry and dusty landscape, we're transported to the Bolivian Altiplano, home of elderly Quechua couple Virginio and Sisa (José Calcina and Luisa Quispe). Presumably, in their late eighties or so, the couple spends their days following the same simple routine: he manages the llamas and she walks to town to gather water.
However, when their only source of drinking water goes dry, the effects of this ongoing drought begin to have real consequences for the townspeople. It doesn't help that Virginio is secretly battling a mystery cough, and a lack of appropriate resources like water could cause him grave danger.
Amidst the troubling prospects, Virginio and Sisa are in for a surprise when their grandson, Clever (Santos Choque), shows up at their remote home. His hope is that he can convince his grandparents–specifically his bullheaded grandfather–to move with him to the city where water and resources are boundless.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmI3R__51Qc
But Virginio is offended by Clever's good-natured offer; he won't accept a handout, even from his own family. Virginio's stubbornness and loyalty to tradition are at odds with Clever's more progressive way of life. His unwillingness to adapt ultimately does more harm than good to his family.
Utama, which literally translates to "our home," is a tightly packaged, slow burn of a film that radiates with a heart both onscreen and off. Alejandro Loayza Grisi's portrait of a struggling community proves to be as devastating as it is breathtaking.
Loayza Grisi's respect for the people and the culture is apparent from the very first frame, as we get swept up in the picturesque visuals and unique sounds of Bolivia. The decision to use non-actors, José Calcina and Luisa Quispe, further grounds the film in its reality, almost teetering on the feeling of a documentary.
An elegant depiction of honoring family traditions and their impact on future generations, Utama is a beautifully crafted film that radiates with sincerity.
This review was first published on Jan 25, 2022 as part of our Sundance Film Festival 2022 coverage.
Jimmy LaValle Shares Track From 'Something in the Dirt'
It's always a eureka moment when you discover a new film or filmmaker that you believe will be the industry's next big breakout. Sundance is known for bringing a plethora of both established talent and artists on the rise to its festival lineup, which is accessible to all via its virtual screening platform. As you're watching from home, look deeper into these independent gems and you'll find there is so much to be discovered sonically as well, like composer Jimmy LaValle and his score for the sci-fi horror film Something in the Dirt.
Directed by Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead (Marvel’s Moon Knight), Something in the Dirt is described as an oddball, twisted talkie with supernatural tendencies. Using this as his reference, LaValle uses synthesizers and various tonal effects to bring a nuanced palette of textures and dense, evocative atmospheres to this sci-fi feature.
Cinemacy is thrilled to premiere “Is that Morse Code?" from Something in the Dirt.
Jimmy LaValle has been releasing music as The Album Leaf since 1999, and much like his synth-forward, electro-musical moniker, LaValle continues to explore the boundaries of sound in his film compositions. His music defies easy categorization, much like the minimalist composers and sound manipulators he considers idols like Philip Glass and Cliff Martinez. LaValle is carving out a niche in the music industry with his signature style that creates soothing melodies that are highlighted by jolts of unexpected dissonance. He continues to explore the unlimited horizons of sound and composition with his film soundtracks.
To hear more of LaValle's score, check out Something in the Dirt, opening this Friday at AMC Theaters.
This article was originally published on January 24, 2022, during the Sundance Film Festival
'Brainwashed: Sex-Camera-Power' Exposes the Male Gaze in Film
Nina Menkes is not only one of America’s earliest independent filmmakers but is also considered a cinematic feminist pioneer. Her first feature, Magdalena Viraga (1986) tells the story of a prostitute who gets sent to prison for killing her pimp. The film went on to win the Independent/Experimental Film and Video Award at the Los Angeles Film Critics Association Awards that same year. Since her bold debut, Menkes has spent the last 30+ years observing a disturbing trend within the film industry, which she exposes in her latest documentary, Brainwashed: Sex-Camera-Power.
Playing like a TED Talk, Menkes takes the stage in a packed auditorium to discuss the nuanced but damaging gendered politics of shot design. She opens her argument by playing a clip from Bladerunner 2049 (2017), that infamous scene where a naked Ana de Armas interacts with Ryan Gosling. Over the course of the film's hour-and-a-half runtime, clips like these will prove her hypothesis that shot design is gendered, and males are consistently shot differently than females. Welcome to feminist film school 101.
As Menkes shows, being a filmmaker also means accepting a great level of responsibility. What you create has an effect on those who watch your movie. And for too long, women have been treated less than or objectified more than their male counterparts.
Aiding in Menkes' theory is Laura Mulvey, the film theorist who coined the term the "Male Gaze." Mulvey, alongside film school professors, psychotherapists, and film directors, all contribute stories from their first-hand experiences of misogyny in the industry that has a love/hate relationship with women.
Using over 175 film clips from Hollywood blockbusters and cult classics, Menkes points out how simple, subtle techniques like framing and lighting can disempower women on the screen. For example, women are countlessly shot in fragmented ways, like close-ups on breasts, hips, and butts while men are usually always shot full body (even in hyper-sexualized films like Magic Mike). Another point, slow-motion has been consistently used on women to emphasize sexualization or victimization, whereas it's used on men to emphasize action scenes and toughness.
Menkes calls this a vicious triangle of repeated torment: the visual language of cinema can lead to employment discrimination against women which can lead to sexual abuse/assault. All that to say, what we see on screen has real-life consequences, "If the camera is predatory, the culture is predatory as well."
Although the points Menkes addresses are hard to hear (at times I even found myself wanting to defend these films), her points are indisputable. Watching her criticize scenes from some of my favorite films like Phantom Thread, Contempt, and Eyes Wide Shut (okay, that one may be obvious) made me feel uncomfortable–but that's the point. Brainwashed: Sex-Camera-Power is provocative on purpose. Its whole purpose is to shake up the industry to the subliminally victimizing messaging that we've been watching and accepting for far too long.
This review originally ran on January 26, 2022, during the Sundance Film Festival.
107 min. Distributed by Kino Lorber. In theaters this Friday, October 21st, aia Kino Lorber at DCTV's New Firehouse Cinema in NYC and the Laemmle in LA.
'Descendant' Uncovers the Last, Secret American Slave Ship
In her latest film, Descendant, documentary director Margaret Brown points her lens at a decades-long mystery that has cast a shadow on the small Africatown community of Mobile, Alabama.
For generations, residents of the blue-collar town–which was founded by enslaved ancestors–have passed down a sordid oral history of their origin story. Namely, the kidnapping and selling of their ancestors to slave owners back in the 1800s.
What Margaret and her film crew are here to investigate is a local legend that the last known slaving vessel brought to America in 1860–an illegal ship called the Clotilda–is still buried somewhere off the coast of the town of Mobile.
Direct descendants from the Clotilda never gave up hope that one day, the missing ship would be recovered. Although they had no physical evidence to prove that the Clotilda was so close, word of mouth passed down from generation to generation kept its history and memory alive.
The community was in shock when the government agreed to search for the ship in 2018, and it was a miracle when the ship was, in fact, found. As we come to discover, the captain and other men who were engaged in this illegal activity tried to hide their reprehensible act by sinking and burning the slave ship. And it had been kept a secret for over 100 years.
“Many black people don’t know who they are,” says one of the Africatown residents, a heartbreaking fact to comprehend. There are many Americans whose family history has been forever lost due to intentional destruction at the hands of slave owners and other abusers. While that’s a devastating reality, how the community of Mobile, Alabama chose to persevere through hardship is admirable, and is a true testament to their strength and spirit.
One of the strongest scenes from Descendent comes toward the end when a direct descendant of the slave ship captain meets the direct descendants of the slaves his family trafficked over 100 years ago. It’s highly emotional for all involved, but shame is quickly met with grace and forgiveness. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an act of strength shown onscreen before.
In addition to highlighting a community that is totally deserving of a platform to finally tell its story, Descendant also pays homage to the earliest days of storytelling. Before technology, stories were passed down verbally; a total oral history. Now, we rely on visual mediums to communicate and remember our special moments. Descendant proves that history can never be erased if we continue to talk and share our stories, no matter how deeply a secret may be buried.
Distributed by Netflix. 108 min.
In Theaters and on Netflix this Friday, October 21st.
This review originally ran on January 27, 2022, during the Sundance Film Festival.
The Banshees of Inisherin
The meaning of life is hidden within The Banshees of Inisherin, I just know it. How we spend our days – our very limited time on this planet – is the crux of writer/director Martin McDonagh's buddy comedy that also doubles as a cinematic spiritual awakening. On the surface, this is a forlorn story about a friendship breakup between the well-meaning but dim-witted Pádraic Súilleabháin (Colin Farrell) and his longtime friend Colm Doherty (Brendan Gleeson), a stoic man a couple of decades his senior. But this isn't just a story about ex-BFFs. Filmed on location on the idyllic Irish coast, The Banshees of Inisherin is a quiet masterpiece that tackles the rhetorical question of how to live a reverential, more conscious life.
Colm's sudden ex-communication is a mystery to Pádraic, who cannot comprehend why he would abruptly end their relationship. His stubbornness and refusal to talk only confuses Pádraic further and with no understanding of social cues or personal space, he continues to bother Colm for answers, much like a mosquito buzzing in your ear that you swat at but it still won't leave you alone. Pádraic's sister Siobhan (Kerry Condon) and his acquaintance Dominic Kearney (Barry Keoghan) do the best they can to help Pádraic move on, but he can't. He needs to know why. And finally, Colm tells him.
As we get older, we realize that we have control over what we choose to tolerate in our lives. The people-pleasing default that many grew up with slowly morphs into making autonomous decisions that may or may not align with other people's expectations – much like Colm. Seemingly overnight, he has reached a new level of self-awareness and decides to prioritize what matters most in life: time. In an effort to stop wasting what precious time he has left, Colm has decided that he will no longer put up with Pádraic's small talk, benign chatter, and fleeting thoughts. Colm has found that playing the fiddle – creating something with permanence like music – is a better use of his time. And so he exchanges Pádraic for a fiddle. The fascinating observation here is that both men, confident in their opposing wants, are both right. And, one could argue, both are completely wrong. Colm wants to be left alone; Pádraic wants company. Who deserves to get what they want?
The Banshees of Inisherin caught me completely off guard. I thought I was walking into a standard, period-set drama about a complicated relationship between two grown men, but my premature assumptions were quickly proven to be wrong. What we have here is an unforgettably dazzling achievement – both onscreen and off – with some of the year's most phenomenal performances, original dialogue, and affecting score. Colin Farrell channels a Larry David-type unawareness that gives this dark comedy a more contemporary feel. His sweet demeanor is at odds with Brendan Gleeson's boorish ignorance and watching these two celebrated actors play out his dynamic on screen together is something special.
Religion is a looming figure throughout Banshees, both literally and metaphorically. Cinematographer Ben Davis uses his sharp eye for detail to create gorgeous shots that look like renaissance paintings. Even with the breathtaking views of the Irish coast and vibrant hills, some of my favorite shots take place indoors. Many times, we see our protagonists peering into homes through windowpanes that look like a crucifix. Recalling the Catholic belief that "God is always watching," which Colm knows firsthand as he routinely participates in confessional, this use of framing seems to imply the judgment the characters cast on others.
Off camera, it's fun to play the six degrees of separation game within the cast. Writer/director Martin McDonagh worked with Colin and Brendan in 2008's In Bruges and re-teamed with Colin in 2012's Seven Psychopaths. In 2017, Colin worked with Barry in Yorgos Lanthimos' The Killing of a Sacred Deer. Composer Carter Burwell and Cinematographer Ben Davis also return after their work on Martin's Academy Award-winning Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.
The tonal bait and switch from dark comedy to introspective, sensitive drama is what makes The Banshees of Inisherin such a powerful film. It hints at the meaning of life in a delicate way and leaves audiences with some food for thought as the credits roll. It's also a film that I'm already looking forward to rewatching again, and again.
Distributed by Searchlight Pictures. In theaters Friday, October 21st.
In 'To Leslie,' Andrea Riseborough is an Unlucky Lottery Winner
Winning the lottery has the potential to change someone's life forever but there have been many times, very publicly, when this fairytale spirals into a dark nightmare and makes for one very unlucky winner. This is when we meet Leslie (Andrea Riseborough), a woman who once had it all before blowing her fortune and finding herself completely at rock bottom. Making its World Premiere at SXSW, director Michael Morris' feature film To Leslie – inspired by true events – tells the story of one woman's fall from grace and her fight to reach normalcy once again.
"Here I Am" by Dolly Parton opens the film as we see Leslie and her preteen son James (Owen Teague) celebrating her $190,000 lottery win on cable TV. As a single mother in West Texas, Leslie's excitement can't be contained as she boasts about what she wants to do with her newfound "fortune". Fast forward six years later, and we see a disheveled Leslie who is now an alcoholic living out of a single suitcase and sleeping on the streets – a far cry from the woman she was on TV not that long ago.
Penniless and abandoned, Leslie seeks to rekindle her relationship with her now teenage son. Their relationship, like most things in Leslie's life since the event, has become strained and fragile. Despite his initial hesitancy, James lets his mom back into his life under the condition that alcohol is forbidden. But Leslie is an addict and it's not long before he finds her drunk, on his couch, from the alcohol she bought by stealing his roommate's cash. Having burned that bridge, again, Leslie is forced to return home alone and finds herself even further from the fractured relationship she desperately tried to mend.
It's here, outside of a roadside motel, where Leslie catches the attention of Sweeney (Marc Maron) and Royal (Andre Royo). Seeing – and at this point, smelling – her desperation, Sweeney offers Leslie room & board in exchange for her help cleaning the rooms and grounds of the motel. She accepts and thus begins Leslie's slow journey of redemption, self-forgiveness, and shot at a second chance at life.
Andrea Riseborough brings Leslie's story to life with such urgency and fragility; we are angry at her decision to drink but at the same time, understand that it's a disease controlling her actions and not her better judgment. Riseborough plays up Leslie's many layers, she is not afraid to get grimy and vulnerable. Rounding out the cast of supporting characters are the equally impressive Allison Janney and Stephen Root, in addition to Marc Maron, Andre Royo, and Owen Teague.
To Leslie is a humble story about survival, the struggle to acknowledge your past – no matter how littered – and serves as a reminder that it's never too late to better your life.
This review was first published on March 18, 2022 as part of our SXSW 2022 coverage.