Blue Jean
We're halfway through 2023 and I can confidently say that writer/director Georgia Oakley's Blue Jean has a snug place on my forthcoming list of favorite films of the year. This indie gem–winner of the Venice Film Festival’s People’s Choice Award and four British Independent Film Awards–is not only a confident directorial debut, but an achingly resonating drama about one woman's desperation to safeguard herself when her livelihood is threatened.
In a phenomenal lead performance by BIFA-winning actress Rosy McEwen, Blue Jean captures the life of a closeted queer woman living against the backdrop of Margaret Thatcher’s conservative England. The year is 1988 and P.E. teacher Jean (McEwen) rounds up her squirrely class of high schoolers to discuss the day's topic: fight or flight. Honing in on the fact that one doesn't decide how to react, but rather this instinct is innate and unique to each of us, Jean soon faces her own fight or flight dilemma. Mounting political pressure from the right pushes a new law, Section 28, into the forefront of conversation among her colleagues, who are unaware of Jean's sexuality. The law, which is equivalent to Florida's "Don't Say Gay' bill, prohibits the "promotion of homosexuality" by local authorities, essentially intimidating all queer men and women into silence.
As the prospect of living under this proposed government regime infiltrates Jean's mind, her girlfriend, Paula (Lainey Shaw) is someone who doesn't seem too affected. With a shaved head, piercings, and a leather vest to complement her motorcycle, Paula is the definition of a woman who is not interested in anyone's opinion. This confidence scares Jean, who finds herself downplaying their relationship when out in public or caught off guard.
Jean's hidden secret is further challenged when a new student enrolls in her class. 15-year-old Lois (Lucy Halliday) is unlike the other girls, she keeps to herself and doesn't care to assimilate into the school environment. One night, at the gay nightclub Jean and her group of friends frequent often, Jean spots Lois at the bar. Terrified that Lois may out her, Jean is quick to realize that she needs to be very cautious about how she approaches Lois from here on out. It's a delicate dance between teacher and student, which culminates into a crescendo in the film's final act.
Blue Jean is a stunning and meticulously beautiful feature debut from Georgia Oakley. A debut like this feels few and far between, creating a sense of both wonderment and disbelief that such talent has been discovered. Much in the same way that Charlotte Wells' Aftersun stunned audiences with its unexpected greatness, Blue Jean deserves the same attention.
The film grain adds a layer of visual aesthetic that radiates a warm and lived-in quality. Cinematographer Victor Seguin captures a saturated moody England, playing to the shades of blue and all-over desperation of the situation. Equally as impressive as the cinematic choreography is the score by composer Chris Roe (listen to the Blue Jean OST here). The melodic scales he traverses throughout the gentle, ambient score make the music feel alive, like living art.
Blue Jean is a modern-day masterpiece, an astounding feat by all involved. Its entry into the queer cinema canon is a welcomed addition, and its impact will no doubt resonate with all who watch.
Distributed by Magnolia Pictures. Now playing in select Los Angeles theaters.
Tribeca: Smoking Tigers
Writer/Director So Young Shelly Yo makes her feature film debut with the poignant coming-of-age drama, Smoking Tigers. Set in Southern California, Yo tells a tenderly-told story about a high schooler struggling with the pressure to keep it all together. Making its World Premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival, Smoking Tigers is a touching story that will appeal to anyone who's ever felt like an outsider. Announced yesterday, Smoking Tigers won Best Performance in a U.S. Narrative Feature (Ji-Young Yoo), Best Screenplay in a U.S. Narrative Feature (So Young Shelly Yo), and the Nora Ephron Award Special Jury Mention.
Hayoung (Ji-young Yoo) is a Korean-American girl who, like most sixteen-year-olds, feels lost. As if starting at a new high school isn't enough to worry about, her home life proves to be anything but a respite from stress. She constantly plays the mediator between her estranged parents, absorbing their hurt and internalizing it in the process. Her parents are well-meaning but don't offer her the tangible support she needs during this crucial time. Her mother demands perfection and is quick to enroll Hayoung in summer college prep courses when her mock entrance exam comes back slightly less-than-perfect. Her father, goofy yet slightly removed, tries his best to keep their relationship strong, but sporadic and missed visits don't make Hayoung feel like she is a priority in his life as much as he is in hers.
The other concern that pollutes Hayoung's mind is her family's social status. She comes from a low-income family and is terrified her elite boarding school classmates will find out and won't give her a chance to reinvent herself. Her anxiety lessens when she befriends a few classmates during summer school, even sparking up a romance with one of the boys, but her concern is never far from the surface. At the end of the day, Hayoung must decide to either let go of her unwarranted shame and live authentically, or risk feeling like an unworthy imposter forever.
Smoking Tigers offers a unique perspective on the continued struggles of multi-ethnic teenage girls. At its core, it has a similar storyline to Everything Everywhere All At Once, despite it taking place in just this single universe. Hayoung and her mother operate from two different schools of thought: traditional versus modern, and have a hard time understanding each other because of their upbringings. The mother-daughter growth through hardship theme is explored heavily here and reaches a satisfying conclusion by the film's end. Although, her relationship with her father, while it doesn't lack for sweet moments, unfortunately, feels like a rushed "happily ever after" ending.
The biggest strength of director So Young Shelly Yo is her ability to simultaneously envelop the audience in warmth and grief. We feel Hayoung's pain in her attempts to be perfect for her school, her friends, her family, and her future. Creative choices in the cinematography, including staging and lighting, visually evoke the film's core themes. In one scene, Hayoung walks through her empty childhood house. When the scene opens, it's dark and she's alone, but the further she walks down the hallway and into the kitchen, the lighting emerges and a familiar family dinner setup appears right in front of her. This dreamlike sequence beautifully encapsulates nostalgia for her childhood and the seemingly perfect life she once had and wishes she could still hold on to.
Smoking Tigers is a slow and simmering watch, and the burden that our protagonist carries throughout is deeply felt. For its heaviness, however, there is a sense of weightlessness in Masayoshi Fujita's score and Heyjin Jun's cinematography. The recurring shots of reflections from the pool, glass doors, and other surfaces, act as a cinematic introspection into our main character. The beauty that surrounds Smoking Tigers is evident, and a strong introduction for filmmaker So Young Shelly Yo.
'Smoking Tigers' is currently awaiting distribution.
Tribeca: The Graduates
At the time of writing this review, there have been over 296 mass shootings in America since the start of this year alone. The statistics are shocking, proving that gun violence is as much an everyday occurrence as brushing your teeth or putting gas in your car. Although we will never be comfortable with the number of times that headline appears as a text alert or makes front-page news, at a certain point–regrettably–it doesn't come as a surprise. The aftermath of one such tragic event is explored in writer/director Hannah Peterson's feature film The Graduates.
Making its World Premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival, gun violence is the quiet catalyst in The Graduates. The film follows Genevieve (Mina Sundwall) as she navigates life as a high school senior and gun violence survivor. When we meet "Gen", it is one year since a horrific shooting claimed the life of her boyfriend. She and other classmates now enter the school through metal detectors, undergo routine gun drills, and walk the haunted hallways with a looming sense of dread, sans the lockers of the deceased that are covered in loving post-it notes and in memoriam messages.
Her world has been rocked by the events, and the closer she gets to graduation, the more confused she gets. She and her classmates have already been forced to grow up too fast, their coming-of-age innocence ripped from them the second that trigger was pulled. If this is the "real world" that people look forward to post-high school, Gen wants nothing to do with it.
The Graduates is a heavy but hopeful film, helmed by strong performances from Mina Sundwall and John Cho, who plays Genevieve's boyfriend's father. Equally grieving the loss of his son yet determined to follow through with his commitment as head coach of the school's basketball team, Cho's quiet strength is executed so precisely. As he listens to voicemails left on his son's phone after his death, a bittersweet experience that reminds him of how loved his son was, emotions stir both on and off the screen. It's a real pull-at-your-heartstrings-type moment.
Hannah Peterson's decision to start the film after the shooting and refer to it only in subtle ways is a graceful way to approach such sensitive subject matter. Flashbacks allow the audience to understand who Gen was before the tragedy, and how much her life has changed since then. The Graduates leans into this style of less is more, which is a welcomed approach for any first-time filmmaker. It is not overindulgent in its outward finesse or music moments (although I personally would have loved to continue listening to Andrew Orkin's score). Rather it plays through a more atmospheric point of view. This is a story that requires respect and in that regard, The Graduates deserves an A+.
'The Graduates' is currently awaiting distribution.
Asteroid City
Wes Anderson’s latest film, Asteroid City, may be missing the auteur’s most repeatedly cast actor–Bill Murray–but his absence doesn’t leave too big a dent in this otherwise riotous affair. Jason Schwartzman–and to some degree, Bryan Cranston–anchor this meta-tale of a science field trip gone wrong and the controlled chaos that occurs after a small town's unexpected meet-and-greet takes place with an extraterrestrial.
Wes's quintessential quirks and styling shine in this dry desert landscape. Combined with the film’s use of a once-again perfectly-curated soundtrack, Asteroid City is one of Anderson’s more commercially accessible feature films.
Asteroid City is a nostalgic take on America's nuclear-era obsession with aliens. Set in 1955, the town of Asteroid City (population: 87) is set to hold a convention for families to congregate and celebrate their children being named Junior Stargazers. Augie Steenbeck (Schwartzman) arrives with his son Woodrow (Jake Ryan) and three daughters and quickly meets the other families attending the literal star-studded affair.
Midge Campbell (Scarlett Johansson), her daughter Dinah (Grace Edwards), and three other Space Cadet award winners and their families are also amongst the group. Their cumulative IQ is highly concentrated in this remote city, but despite being some of the smartest people in the American Southwest, no one could have guessed that what they were about to collectively witness would change their lives forever.
Of course, this being a Wes Anderson film, there is more to the story than this surface-level synopsis. The unexpected narrative choices and plot delivery throughout the film allow the audience to go inward and explore the themes that resonate with them personally. Watching the movie and mining for themes myself–both subtle and loud & clear–it is obvious to me how Anderson intentionally creates scenes with characters that have juxtaposing outlooks on love and loneliness, grief and hope, and life and death. Pick your fighter; I’m Jeff Goldblum.
It should come as no surprise to hear that the acting is superb. As mentioned earlier, Bill Murray is missing from the typical all-star lineup, but like a classic SNL skit, nearly all returning cast members are represented (even if it’s just for a cameo). That includes Edward Norton, Jeffrey Wright, Tilda Swinton, Adrien Brody, and Tony Revolori. While not meaty enough for any one person to be a frontrunner in the awards conversation, as an ensemble, the synergy fits like a glove.
The deadpan dialogue between the characters is delightfully funny but the real humor comes from what isn’t said. A subtle look, a lack of acknowledgment, a simple sign indicating that road construction has stopped indefinitely. In addition to expectedly brilliant soundtrack curation by music supervisor Randall Poster, Alexandre Desplat's score, and costumes by Milena Canonero, special attention should be paid to the puppeteers, specifically Andy Gent (please stay through the credits to see why he deserved a shoutout).
The most spiritual in his film canon to date, Wes Anderson pokes the philosophical bear by creating Asteroid City to play as a cosmic meditation on life outside of our atmosphere. How people react to the unfamiliar–like being quarantined in a new city, adapting to the death of a loved one, or even the invention of new technology–is explored here.
One of the lines that have stuck with me, and that is a good barometer read of the film’s intention, states, “You can’t wake up if you don’t fall asleep.” Interpret it as you will, but it's no doubt Asteroid City will take you on an explorative journey of how we embrace “the other."
104 minutes. Distributed by Focus Features. Exclusive engagements in NY and LA on June 16, and in theaters everywhere on June 23.
https://youtu.be/9FXCSXuGTF4
Tribeca: Q
The thing about cults is that no one willingly joins one. It just sort of happens with time. Dependency on the leader slowly becomes a necessity, outside relationships become fraught, and one's perspective of the outside world begins to narrow. One woman's experience with a clandestine religious group is detailed in the new documentary Q, a fervent portrait of faith and how unconditional commitment has the potential to cause more harm than good.
Making its World Premiere in the Documentary Competition at Tribeca Film Festival, Lebanese-American filmmaker Jude Chehab documents her mother's experience as a Muslim woman in the Qubaysiat, a secret, all-female Islamic religious order led by "Anisa." Anisa's identity is not revealed, however, her grip on Jude's mother, Hiba, is strong. Anisa requires all followers in the sisterhood to engage in full days of prayer–up to 17 hours–among other things, and Hiba dutifully obeys as much as she can.
As a wife, mother, and teacher, her time is stretched thin but she always prioritizes the Qubaysiat, much to the bewilderment of her daughter, filmmaker Jude, and the irritation of her husband. "Love is very dangerous," Hiba reminds Jude. But it's nearly impossible to decipher if Hiba is referring to her love for her husband, or her love for Anisa. After witnessing Hiba's devotion, it's hard to know who she loves more.
Visually, Q is stunning and incorporates many pops of art-film moments that juxtapose the traditional Eastern subject matter. Making her directorial debut, Jude Chehab commands the screen with a strong eye and creative storytelling methods. Archival footage of Jude as a child puts necessary context into the story, as we see Hiba's evolution from then to now. Peeking into their personal lives feels very intimate but never an invasion of privacy. The score by composer William Ryan Fritch is also phenomenal, with beautiful strings and melodic drum beats that particularly highlight moments of tension and release.
Q ultimately shows how blind devotion can cause more harm than good. Given that the documentary was made by Hiba's daughter, the film is innately told through an empathetic lens. This unique perspective is Q's biggest strength. The moments of beauty and the moments of pain are met with compassion by the director and, therefore, the audience.
"That's life. It has to end. May we have a good ending," says Hiba toward the end of the film. I think we can all agree that this is a sentiment that rings true regardless of faith. For Hiba, Jude, and their family, we are optimistic that their ending is filled with more peace.
8 AM Metro
The butterfly effect is such a fascinating phenomenon to consider. Imagine, one small decision has the potential to impact your future and send you down a path toward success, failure, or somewhere in between. Every day, we gamble with fate without even knowing it. The outcome of one of these "happy accidents" can be seen in director Raj Rachakonda's film, 8 AM Metro, which tells a bittersweet story about how a chance encounter ends up saving the lives of two people who had been secretly struggling.
8 AM Metro opens with Iravati (Saiyami Kher), a 29-year-old housewife who has been away from her family while taking care of her pregnant sister. Even though her trip is only a couple of weeks long, she misses her husband and two children and looks forward to returning to her familiar routine.
Another reason why she longs for the comfort of home is that while she's been in this new city, she has had to confront her irrational fear of riding the train. Facing this phobia head-on and alone has been challenging, Iravati is constantly on the brink of panic attacks and fainting spells. That is, until she meets a kind stranger, Preetam (Gulshan Devaiah). Preetam calms her down, immediately establishing trust with his willingness and ability to help and her acceptance of support.
Iravati and Preetam go on to develop a platonic relationship, in which they discuss their families, fears, and struggles. “What do people think about moments before suicide?” one asks, while the other engages in conversation about the "lonely funeral project." Their discourse is predominately heavy and much of the film harkens back to talk about anxiety, depression, and intrusive thoughts.
However, there is a lightness that comes from the characters' shared interest in poetry. As writers and readers of the art form, the characters use poetry to express things that would otherwise be difficult to say. Although for Preetam, he continues to hide a secret that threatens to unravel his newly-formed relationship with Iravati and push him even closer to the brink.
Written by Shruti Bhatnagar, Asad Hussain, and Raj Rachakonda, the story is visceral and dark but poignant in all the right places. “We often remember relationships from the last few moments we spend together,” whispers Preetam to Iravati during one of their afternoons together. The subtext is also strong as we sense the characters waver between the lure of remaining platonic to becoming more than friends.
While the dialogue intermittently switches between English and Hindi, the closed captions are unfortunately so tiny that they were almost illegible. At times during non-English moments, they drop out altogether. So unless you speak Hindi, it's difficult to understand what’s going on in those stretches.
Bringing audiences back into the world of the film are the original songs by composer Mark Robin. Upbeat music and poetic lyrics set against sweeping montages give the film a space to breathe and decompress from the heaviness of the subject matter in other scenes.
It's been said that people pass like ships in the night, and this sentiment is true in the sweet, affecting 8 AM Metro. Sometimes people who make the biggest impact in one's life are those we barely know. Although the film could have trimmed about 20 minutes out, 8 AM Metro is a valiant effort at showing how a simple act of kindness has the power to change someone's life.
Bhagwan Bharose
Indian director Shiladitya Bora shares a message of optimism in the spiritual coming-of-age film, Bhagwan Bharose (For Heaven’s Sake). Set in a rural yet vibrant village in 1980s India, this independent film leads with heart and uses the resources it has to its highest potential. This is a story about asking tough questions, challenging long-held beliefs, and ensuring future generations have a clear and safe path toward the future.
Bhagwan Bharose tells the story of two young boys navigating a rocky road on their journey of faith, leading to poignant questions and deeply moving revelations. Bhola (Satendra Soni) and Shambhu (Sparsh Suman) engage in a modest lifestyle. They attend a faith-based school, fly kites competitively and participate in religious activities with their parents. A shake-up occurs when a television is introduced into the village, as they have been without outside influence since birth. Although Western advances are foreign to the boys, they readily adapt to this progressive change and are drawn to the possibilities that await them from the TV screen.
From here, the film relies on religious parables to propel the story forward. “Do not commit sin” is a reoccurring message, as is “God is the reason for everything.” Bhagwan Bharose isn't subtle in the nods to scripture–perhaps too heavy-handed for audiences who don’t consider themselves religious–but the intentions are good. There is a moment when a science vs religion debate plays out between the boys’ school teacher and Bhola. “How can anything hang in the air?”, exclaims Bhola when questioning the fact that the Earth revolves around the sun. The boys must not have gotten to the chapter on gravity yet.
Despite a mild lack of urgency in the pacing of the edit, Bhagwan Bharose is a warm film that may appeal more to the religious crowd than mainstream audiences. There is humor sprinkled throughout, such as when a monkey disrupts the electricity connection to the television set. This humor is balanced by somber moments too, including violence and death that stuns the community.
The devastating effects of violence, especially among children, is the important message director Shiladitya Bora hopes will resonate with audiences. The closing lines of the film are something that we can all agree upon, despite one’s religious affiliation. Atheist, Christian, Hindu, etc., the message is a universal one that we are left to ponder:
“Communal violence results in many deaths around the world.
Children are robbed of their childhoods, displaced, and abandoned by loved ones.
Children are the future, they deserve protection and safety.”
Ariel Marx Premieres Track From NEON's 'Sanctuary'
Composer Ariel Marx is dominating the film industry. Since the last time we spoke during the 2021 Sundance Film Festival (on behalf of her documentary Rebel Hearts), I've seen her name pop up in the credits section more and more frequently, proving herself to be the latest composer in demand for both the big and small screen.
You might've heard her score in the ABC series A Small Light or Hulu's Candy (which was ranked #3 in Indiewire’s Best TV scores of 2022). Or in one of my favorite indie films of the last five years, Utopia’s Shiva Baby. Most recently, and arguably garnering the most eyeballs and eardrums on any film to date, Marx lends her genre-bending arsenal of sounds to NEON's erotic thriller, Sanctuary.
Sanctuary, directed by film critic-turned-filmmaker Zachary Wigon, is a risque dark comedy that follows a dominatrix (Margaret Qualley) and her wealthy client (Christopher Abbott) as they engage in a high-stakes role-playing game for power and control. The psychological thriller (which premiered at the 2022 Toronto International Film Festival) tells a highly contentious story about exposing skeletons buried deep in one's closet.
In the wake of inheriting his father’s hotel chain, Hal (Abbott) attempts to end his long and secret relationship with Rebecca (Qualley). A battle of wills ensues throughout one incredibly fraught night, with both Rebecca and Hal struggling to keep the upper hand as the power dynamics swing wildly back and forth.
Cinemacy is excited to premiere “She's In Control Now”, from NEON's Sanctuary, below:
The juxtaposition between the film's raunchy storyline and the wholesome nature of the score creates friction that feels cheeky in all the right ways. Using strings and wind instruments gives the film an old-school persona that sounds like a counterpart to a romance film from the 40s.
Says Marx of her creative process, "Writing the score for Sanctuary was delightfully like living in a twisted, romantic fever dream. It was a composer’s playground — the music somersaults between comedy, romance, horror, and erotic thriller. Many thanks to Zach Wigon, Micah Bloomberg, David Lancaster, and Stephanie Wilcox for encouraging such a bold score."
Proving to be an industry mainstay, Marx's ability to combine orchestral and rare instruments with electronics makes her sound unique. An eclectic composer and multi-instrumentalist, Ariel Marx is a member of the music branch of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, the Television Academy, and is a Sundance Film Music and Sound Design Lab alumn. In addition to scoring to picture, she is also a solo artist, having recently released her solo album "Luthier" with Node Records.
Lakeshore Records is releasing the ‘Sanctuary’ Original Motion Picture Soundtrack on Friday, May 26th.
‘Sanctuary’ is now playing in theaters everywhere.