'Vortex' Meditates on Dementia and Dreams
The thought of eventually dying is scary. It's an entirely unpleasant thing to ponder (especially given how tragically it might happen, as recent headlines in this country continue to illustrate). And yet, what I'd reason is just as scary, is living long enough to the point when our minds stop working before our bodies do. To shuffle through the last years of your life–trapped, helpless, and without the comfort of self-control–would be a terrible suffering to have to endure.
The idea of control–or more specifically, the helpless feeling of not having it–is something that consumes the mind of writer-director-provocateur, Gaspar Noé. Whether he's interested in the loss of control of our bodies (Irreversible), our minds (Enter the Void, Climax), or romantic partners (Love), his films are intent on presenting suffering in its starkest, bleakest of forms. And we, as the audience, must endure this too as a type of pain-based stamina test, a demented joy ride one is forced to take to see if there's any light at the end of the tunnel. Is there any grander meaning to it after living through such cruel nightmares?
While Noé is well known for being deliberately demented in his pop-shock presentations (seizure-inducing strobe lights are a signature), his latest film–Vortex–is perhaps his most unexpected yet. While it fits within his body of work, Vortex meditates on suffering by telling the story of a dementia-stricken couple living out the final days of their life together. While you won't find any hints of gleefully-deranged hallucinogenic dance parties in this somber, sober, and incredibly moving film, it remains impactful.
In Vortex, we follow an elderly couple living in a cramped French apartment. Sharing a single frame together (an important note for now), they venture to share a meal on the balcony. Elle (Françoise Lebrun) asks him, "Life is a dream, isn't it?" To which Lui (Dario Argento) agrees: "A dream within a dream." And then, this painful dream begins.
We next see them in bed from a bird's eye view. Elle awakes in a sort of silent early morning panic. Heartbreakingly, the frame divides them both into their own frames–to which they will remain throughout the rest of the film. In a visually experimental move, Noé presents the rest of the film in split-screen narrative. We must follow Lui and Elle's lives, played out in real-time sequences lasting for impressively long stretches, from within their isolated frames.
We soon see the early stages of Elle's dementia. Taking out the trash becomes an impromptu trip into a street shop. As we see her wander through the streets, all with a look that conveys vacancy and innocence, Lui continues readying himself for the day, unaware of her whereabouts. When he finally realizes she's gone and finds her, he confronts her with concerned interrogation, her blank face unable to provide answers. As her condition worsens, he remains steadfast in his devotion to her. Or is it that he doesn't wish to acknowledge this new reality–this dream within a dream? This becomes their shared downfall.
At 2 hours and 22 minutes, Vortex is a gripping watch. The longer the story heightens with suspense, the more I was racked with urgency. The film would not succeed without its brilliant actors who inhabit every second of the film, delivering some of the most naturalistic performances. I'm still in awe as I write and think back about how Lebrun, as Elle, is able to convey this specific mind state, with that blank but warm stare on her face. And Argento (who cinephiles will recognize as the director of Suspiria) delivers as equally a realistic performance.
What I noticed about halfway though watching Vortex–with its split-screen narrative–was that I found myself watching Lui more. Why was that? Was I indirectly identifying with him, making him the central character of this story? As if Elle's wandering were only affecting his life? It was a moment where I consciously shifted my main viewing towards Elle's frame–making her the lead character–and, Lui being secondary. Ultimately, the cross-viewing nature only points out–as I believe Noé intends–that both are equally plagued with this disease. A commitment that's built on love, through sickness and in health, is a journey that both will have to take.
Sadly, we all recognize that aging and its ailments are a natural part of life. Some would be so lucky to live as long a life as to experience them. But the matter stands, that the inevitable decline of our bodies–these precious, fragile and temporary little vessels–will break down, leaving us physically trapped, helpless, and without control. In Vortex–as Noé shows–if we're lucky enough, it's a dream we might not have to dream alone.
2h 22m. Distributed by Utopia.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-L-ZcCFePAs
'Happening' Is a Visceral, Vital Abortion Drama For Our Times
Happening tells a harrowing tale of a young girl's unplanned pregnancy, and the torturous journey she is forced to take when she is denied the choice to terminate. Winner of the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival (the festival's highest prize), Happening is one of the most powerful and certainly the most excruciating films that I watched at the Sundance Film Festival this year (and that's including two horror films).
An adaptation of Annie Ernaux's eponymous novel, Happening is the story of Anne (Anamaria Vartolomei), a naturally beautiful girl who's also clearly not interested in men's advances. She waves off their interest to dance on a night out with friends, who are all excited by the allure of male closeness. We see that Anne's real focus and gifts are in the classroom. Clearly bright with academic potential, Anne is passionate about her area of study: Literature and writing.
The film makes an interesting reveal when we see Anne–and not any of her flirtier friends–checking to see if she has gotten her period. "Still nothing," she scrawls onto a notepad. A title card flashes onscreen: "3 weeks." Apparently, she's been hiding something that we're not yet aware of.
At a doctor's appointment, we learn of both Anne's situation and the time in which this is all taking place: we're in 1960s France, a time when abortion is illegal. So when the doctor tells Anne that she's pregnant, she's shocked, and can't believe the news (nothing we've seen onscreen at this point has shown how this could be the case).
Beyond dashing her plans for taking exams to get into University, carrying the baby to term would determine the rest of her life as a struggling unwed mother. With more force than fear, she asks the doctor to take care of it. His furious look back at her with judgment in his eyes shows the larger culture's belief, that this is not a woman's choice. Anne's road ahead is about to be a very tough one and one she'll have to take alone; however illegal and dangerous.
The way the film tells its story and how it divulges information is very smart. Initially setting up Anne as the prudish outsider, only to show that she's actually the one with the deeper understanding of the world, is a powerful reveal. Happening also subverts expectations with how we learn that the subject of pregnancy is taboo altogether. The doctors, students at school, and even her friends meet the topic with discomfort and fear.
Bringing Anne's heartbreaking story to the screen is Anamaria Vartolomei, whose soft exterior transforms into a determined, hardened one. Her resolve grows after each attempt to terminate the pregnancy goes unsuccessful, with suspense growing as the title cards continue to arise (4 weeks, 5 weeks, 9 weeks...). As Anne's focus drifts from her studies and onto her more immediate time-sensitive urgencies, Anamaria brings unwavering conviction ("I'll manage," she says). It leads to a disturbingly depicted scene of Anne attempting to handle it herself, which had my hands gripping my face and watching through my fingers to make it through.
What's terrible is that even this attempt is not where her story ends. Director Audrey Diwan is so fearless in how she keeps us in Anne's point of view the entire time. The decision to shoot in 4:3 aspect ratio keeps Anne in the middle of the frame, speaking to how subtle yet impactful the cinematography by Laurent Tangy is. Anne can't escape this story, no matter how hard she tries.
It's wrenching to watch the film's breathtaking climax. And yet, this challenging finale is also why the film is so important. Beautifully lensed, strongly directed, and with a lead performance that is one of the bravest I've seen from a promising new actor, Happening tells a vital story that is sure to make a searing impression in your mind, and whose politics are still being fought for today.
100 min. Distributed by IFC Films. 'Happening' is rated R for disturbing material/images, sexual content and graphic nudity.
'The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent': The Passion of The Cage
Where to watch: 'The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent' is now playing in theaters nationwide.
Nicolas Cage, Hollywood's mightiest cheese, stands alone. His specific style of comically exaggerated showmanship is renowned, praised, and singular unto himself. His larger-than-life, over-the-top performances channel Brando, using his intense instincts and manic energy to not just bring his characters, but every movie he's in, to life.
And while over-delivery might plague the career of any other person, Cage's performances never feel false. The beauty, purity, and dare I say genius of Nicolas Cage is that his highly theatrical acting feels like it comes not from a place of caricature but of real passion. It comes from the connection he makes to what's on the script's pages.
In the second half of his career, Nicolas Cage and his manic style have also been re-appreciated in this post-modern internet age, where audiences' connection to pop culture now also comes with an implicitly ironic consumption. Which makes his starring role–as himself–in the very meta movie The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent a move to complete this Cage-issance.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKTRbKch2K4
In The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, Nicolas Cage stars as "Nick Cage"–a Hollywood actor who's scrambling to land his next big hit. Although he's a movie star, he's also not above giving impromptu auditions to directors in line at the valet of the Chateau Marmont. Here, he's equal parts passionate student of the craft, as well as obnoxiously ego-centric A-lister.
This "Nick Cage" is a star that's driven by his love of show biz and his own star power, but with insecurities as well. But he's got his ego in his corner to pop up and give him pep talks: a leather jacket-wearing bad boy-era version of Cage named "Nicky" (fun fact: Cage is double-credited in the film for "Nicky" as Nicolas Kim Coppola, his real birth name). Nicky constantly fuels Nick's ego that the next hit film will bring him (them) back; while re-assuring him, "Not that we ever left."
Cage's drive for his career has made him succeed but it's driven his family away. His ex-wife (Sharon Horgan) and daughter (Lily Mo Sheen) are clearly past the point of tolerating Cage's self-interest, leaving Cage more alone on most fronts. He thinks landing the next big film will bring his family together, while his family thinks that would only keep them apart.
And so, a now-desperate (and cash-strapped) Cage takes the next gig that lands from his agent (Neil Patrick Harris): a birthday appearance for a wealthy superfan Javi (Pedro Pascal). A reluctant Cage agrees but not before he's intercepted by CIA agents Vivan (Tiffany Hadish) and Martin (Ike Barinholtz) who inform him that Javi's also a Spanish crime lord who kidnapped a rival's family member.
It's a fun twist that gives Cage a role to play: undercover spy. But Javi is so earnest and kind to Cage that a bromance ensues (he agrees to read a script that Javi wrote). The story deepens as Cage gets closer to Javi, conflicted about his new friend who he's agreed to trap–if Javi really is the crime lord that the CIA thinks they're after.
Directed by Tom Gormican (That Awkward Moment), The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent is a crowd-pleasing comedy that I very much enjoyed watching on the big screen with a packed audience. Gormican's script (which he co-wrote with Kevin Etten) succeeds as both an entertaining action-comedy as well as a Hollywood satire where broad comedy and inside jokes that call back to Cage's career are fun throughout.
As the top-billed stars and central relationship here, Cage and Pascal are wonderful together. Their chemistry is right, with Pascal playing sensitive super-fan to Cage in just the right ways. Perhaps the funniest scene of the movie, in which Nick agrees to take LSD as inspiration for them to write a movie script together, is just hilarious fun. Their comic pairing delights throughout, keeping you on edge for what happens at the end of the film.
The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent is a fun time at the movies that will make you remember the greatness of Cage.
1h 47m. Distributed by Lionsgate. Rated R for language throughout, some sexual references, drug use, and violence.
'The Northman' Owns the Big Screen With Its Astounding Viking Vision
Where to watch: 'The Northman' is now playing in theaters nationwide.
What do we expect from movies today? That they merely entertain us (and be preferably under-90 minutes)? I think of Russell Crowe's rhetorical shout from 2000's Gladiator: "Are you not entertained?," how it's directed not just at those watching from the arena but to the film's audience themselves. When a film is so extravagantly imagined and so magnificently constructed that its ambitious artistry is so obvious onscreen, is that not enough to be entertained? I imagine writer-director Robert Eggers will ponder asking audiences this sentiment with his brutal and brilliantly ambitious new film, The Northman.
The Northman (now playing in theaters nationwide) attempts to be something that lives in the shallow end of being merely "entertaining." Or perhaps more honestly, it attempts to be entertaining by way of blowing movie-goers' goddamn minds away with its period-faithful, painstakingly created images and sequences of Viking past. We're supposed to feel every bit of muck and mud that this Northern Man trudges through, along with feeling every broken bone and torn tendon (whether his own or others) in his single-minded quest of avenging his slain father. It's all so visceral and felt that we can't help but be stunned into helpless submission on this journey into the depths of darkness.
With three feature films now under his belt, we can safely identify the joy–or drive (or obsession)–that Eggers follows when making his films. That being, re-creating worlds of a primal and dangerous past to subject his audiences to. He's a filmmaker who hears this siren's singular call, pulling him (and us along with him) back into time to revisit and unearth some ancient enchantments and spirits that have laid dormant. Simultaneously, Eggers is a man clearly possessed with the need to honor the most period-accurate production choices (which was captured in this fascinating Eggers profile by The New Yorker). It's as if he were the appointed chaperone on a disturbing and perverse time-traveling field trip.
Related: Review: 'The Witch'
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMSdFM12hOw
While 2015's The Witch and 2019's The Lighthouse were trips that ended in madness, either losing your mind or yer beans, The Northman is actually the most straightforward of Eggers' three "The" films. It's the story of Amleth (Alexander Skarsgård), who, as a child (Oscar Novak), swears to avenge his father, King Aurvandil War-Raven (Ethan Hawke), after he's murdered by his uncle Fjönir (Claes Bang). If that story sounds familiar, it's because it's the story that inspired Shakespeare's Hamlet (which inspired Disney's The Lion King). What we get here for its 2h 16m runtime is the unwavering journey that Amleth takes in infiltrating and strategically advancing himself to be able to make his inevitable challenge to his uncle.
Related: ‘The Lighthouse’: Take This Drunken Plunge Into Madness
Unfortunately, it's here where The Northman falls on its own sword. For being so visually astounding and ambitious, the story stays, dare I say, faithful to its simplest form. Knowing we're waiting for this avenging son to make do on his self-made promise, we're kind of left waiting to see what moments of consequence are stuffed here until then. Amleth meets Olga of the Birch Forest (Anya-Taylor Joy) and a partnership and romance ensue. But unfortunetely, we're kept away from any inner-character scenes by the brooding mad, bear-like Amleth (Eggers and co-screenwriter Sjón kept it from going there). There is a bit of a surprising twist that comes late in the film (which I won't ruin) but even that didn't disrupt what is ultimately a pretty predictable story that dulls the impact of the final death blow.
Yet, while The Northman stays painstakingly committed to reaching that ambitious north star, I'm still on the side of advocating for and celebrating this film. While it won't be as beloved as The Witch or The Lighthouse, it's still a dazzling, commanding film that inspires awe for what movies can be. Yes: I am entertained.
2h 16m. 'The Northman' is rated R for strong bloody violence, some sexual content, and nudity.
'Dual': Karen Gillan Must Duel Her Clone In This Dark Comedy
In writer-director Riley Stearns' latest feature film, Dual, a woman and her new clone are forced to battle to the death in order to win the right to continue living that person's life. With an array of medieval weaponry provided to them in order to defeat the other, Stearns sets the stage for a gruesome gladiator-type match-off of "Hunger Games" proportions.
However, fans of Stearns and his previous films will know that he's not interested in grisly bloodsport. Rather, he uses it as a backdrop to show the comic absurdity of people, and the lengths we'll go to in asserting agency over our lives.
In Dual, Stearns furthers his signature directorial style, filtering dark, depressing stories through an ultra-serious lens. The result is an enjoyably, strangely hilarious time that's also entertaining and always thought-provoking.
Related: 'Faults,' a Dark Comedy About the World of Cults
Making its world premiere at this year's Sundance Film Festival, Dual stars Karen Gillan as Sarah, an apathetic woman who moves through her unjoyous life by chowing down on fast food and ignoring her mom's calls. Her sad existence is immediately upended after she's diagnosed with a life-ending disease. The doctor says "You're going to die," to which Sarah replies, in deadpan delivery, "Why aren't I crying?"
Gillan's delivery–along with that of everyone else's in Stearns' detached, cold, emotionless world–ends up making every grim line that's uttered something to grin at. The over-seriousness only highlights the movie's total silliness, which then sets up the main part of the story: Sarah is offered the opportunity of getting a "Replacement"–a clone of a terminally ill patient–to leave behind as a gift for a grieving family.
Without giving it too much thought, Sarah agrees, and "Sarah's double" arrives shortly. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, Sarah's double begins soaking up everything about Sarah before she eventually takes over when Sarah she dies.
Except that, in a turn of events, Sarah learns that she's not going to die. Instead, she goes into full remission. Furthering the universe's idea of a sick joke, Sarah's double has now lived long enough to develop her own self-awareness and has totally taken over Sarah's (the original's) life, including dating her old boyfriend (Beulah Koale) and developing a healthy relationship with her own mom (Maija Paunio). Sarah, then, is edged out of her own life.
The scenes of Karen Gillan acting opposite herself are deceivingly well exacted. Not only is the technical staging impressive, but Gillan even stated that she learned both characters' lines at the same time, recording one version so that she could run lines with herself.
Under the rare circumstances in which an original and double continue to live, they are forced to enter a broadcasted deathmatch (yes, a duel of the "duals") to see who can continue living on (because a world in which two clones would be left living would be simply ridiculous). Now inspired to take back her life, Sarah hires a combat trainer, Trent (Aaron Paul) to teach her the ways of fighting so she can defeat her double.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvChEgWlqbQ
The idea of a weak person deciding to assert themselves through fighting is another idea that's carried over from Stearns' last film, The Art of Self-Defense (which starred Jesse Eisenberg as a white-collar wimp who re-asserted his life through martial arts). It's great to see Stearns continue sharing his personal passion for jiu-jitsu with audiences, which makes his films even more personal and unique.
Related: ‘The Art of Self-Defense’ Kicks Ass – Pun Intended
With a sageness in the art of combat that Dwight Schrute would likely appreciate, Trent trains Sarah in various forms of combat, teaching her moves, the best way to use weaponry in different situations, and identifying various methods of death. In these scenes, Gillan and Paul are fantastically paired, and certain scenes are sure to stick in audiences' minds long after (slow-motion fighting, and hip hop dance classes among them).
I won't spoil the ending, but by the time the film circles towards its climactic end, you realize that aside from its somewhat sadistically silly conceit, there's a deeper, more tender-hearted idea that Stearns is ruminating on: what would you do to fight for your life? Would you be prepared to become someone entirely new, and in that regard, kill the old version of yourself? Dual is a thought-provoking, clever, and fun way to explore the idea of what we're all willing to do to re-assert ourselves and our lives.
95 min.
The review originally ran on January 24, 2022, during the Sundance Film Festival.
'7 Days' is a Cute Romantic Comedy for the COVID Era
Our review of ‘7 Days’ was first published as part of our Tribeca Film Festival 2021 coverage.
Where to watch: Now playing in select theaters. In Los Angeles at the AMC & Alamo Drafthouse Downtown.
Making its world premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival 2021, 7 Days is a feel-good, charming and heartfelt rom-com that perfectly captures this modern moment. It's a pretty conventional rom-com set-up that we've seen before: two young people go on an awkward first date, and when forces greater than them trap them together, must endure each other for much longer than anticipated.
But 7 Days adds to that simple setup. The film's writers–director Roshan Sethi, and one half of the film's stars' Karan Soni–give 7 Days its unique voice by crafting the central premise around experiences they both know well: the pressure felt by young Indian-Americans from their traditional parents to find their future spouses.
We soon find that Ravi (Karan Soni) and Rita (Geraldine Viswanathan), pleasant as they are in person, don't exactly attract. The comedy comes quickly once they find themselves trapped together by COVID's shelter in place orders (the film was shot during the pandemic as well), and it's here where we find that there are some discrepancies in who their parents promoted them to be on their date.
Rita (Geraldine Viswanathan) turns out to be less than traditionally conforming, cracking a morning beer and stowing away to talk to her "daddy" while carelessly leaving her vibrator lying around the house. This shocks the straight-laced and more traditionally-minded Ravi (Karan Soni), on track for medical school and startled to see Rita's true colors.
Between the laughably awkward moments and reveals that Ravi and Rita experience together, 7 Days makes for a very funny time. Geraldine Vaswanathan adds her effortless appeal here, but it's Karan Soni who, as the hilariously effeminate and uptight Ravi, earns most of the laughs, each new reveal eeking out a quietly terrified reaction.
Past the cute setup, 7 Days takes on the more grim reality of COVID (impressively, director Roshan Sethi is also a doctor), and we are given a deeper emotional story than before. It's here when real life health concerns force Ravi and Rita to acknowledge the larger parts about their lives, with their anxieties about getting older and the pressure of finding their future spouses.
Although it all takes place in a single room, the film presents a much bigger scope of life and explore's how the world's bigger than ourselves. The single location does present a limited vision then what you might be familiar with, but it's also what allows the actors to be so comfortable. And it's so well-paced that it doesn't feel limited, exploring little moments like cooking food together and getting drunk in fun ways.
There's definitely not as much cinematic bravado as say, Netflix's Malcom & Marie, a much more self-serious and technically deliberate look at dating and exploring space within a single location. But here, watching Ravi and Rita is like hanging out with fun and affable friends, and the relaxed writing and performances all adds to the film's simple charms.
To these ends, 7 Days is impactful because of its accurate look at young people's mindsets, of which looking for love, completion and the future are all so present. It's also impactful because they track COVID's deadly progression along with the meet-cute story, which is a strange layer of reality to see so soon following the very real pandemic.
And yet, 7 Days remains a fun, easy-to-watch romantic comedy that's straight up funny, going for every laugh it goes for, before becoming a sincere and heartfelt story on relationships in the age of a pandemic. It also leaves you wondering, how am I going to live after COVID? Who will I choose to be, and who will I choose to love? Will I choose to play things more traditional and safe, or dare for something more in this new world full of possibilities?
86 min.
SXSW: 'Bitch Ass': A Slasher Horror From the Hood
With its forwardly foul-mouthed title alone, Bitch Ass certainly makes a stark first impression. That same confrontational quality carries through in writer-director Bill Posley's self-assured film. Certainly, it exudes bold, confident energy from beginning to end. Ultimately though, Bitch Ass's templated writing, low production value, and lack of distinct directorial vision limit it to only being a low-entertainment slasher film.
It's not for a lack of having ambitious inspirations that Bitch Ass doesn't succeed. Opening with a Vincent Price-like narrator who quite literally references famous Black slasher films like Bones, The Bone Collector, and People Under the Stairs, we can assume that director Bill Posley (who also wrote the film with Jonathan Colomb) reveres the genre he's working in. But as Bitch Ass continues, it's pretty clear that those references are more aspirational than earned.
The story follows a group of high schoolers who, at the instruction of gang leader Spade ( ) on "666 night" (just a scary-sounding name), break into the house of a deceased woman to rob it. Little do they know, the youths have stumbled into the house of "Bitch Ass," a once-bullied high schooler who has transformed from a victim–with a love of board games–into a sadistic serial killer, who challenges his prey to elaborately-staged games to the death.
It's not hard to imagine how Jigsaw's infamous "Do you want to play a game?" line may have provided the entire grounds for this story. As the kids enter the house and subsequently get picked off (is everyone really unable to hear each other's blood-curling screams from within this suburban two-story house in the middle of the night?), they each become victims for these games, that wink at names like "Operation" and "Battleship" by re-naming their grizzly counterparts as "Surgeon" and "Mayday."
Bitch Ass is at its most unique and entertaining when we are in the moments of these games. The film quite literally goes into a "versus mode," entering different styles of split screens in which to capture the screaming faces and scenes. But these moments are also pretty cringingly staged, which only exposes the film's silliness rather than scariness. At its best, it's a fun campy experience but at its worst, it's like walking through a cheap haunted house.
If I could ask director Bill Posley a question, it'd be why he never changes the lens on any shot within any scene. Every shot is noticeably ultra-wide, which makes for an odd watch and also compresses the film into one emotional note, making it feel flat and poorly designed. The film could have been heightened even more if we saw varied shots so as to get different experiences within the characters and storytelling.
Even though Bill Posley's execution might not be all the way there, he does offer a lot in terms of creativity and ideas. He aspires to weave together a slasher story while also flashing back to making an origin story of the high schooler who was bullied. He is routinely called "Bitch Ass" by the bullies who torment him, to which the film gets its exciting name; but I think a title that's more board game-related (Don't Pass Go?) would better characterize this movie.
If you're looking to watch a campy slasher movie, or if you're curious to see a version of Saw that is quite literally based on kid's board games, you may enjoy the cheap thrills that Bitch Ass offers. While I didn't find that it transcended its low-budget limitations to become anything more, there's a level of inventive storytelling and raw power that makes Bitch Ass a defiantly unique movie.
'Alice' is Part-Slavery Film, Part-Blaxploitation Riff
Our review of ‘Alice’ was first published as part of our Sundance Film Festival 2022 coverage.
Where to watch: Now playing in theaters.
Alice opens with a shot of a woman running desperately through a field. More specifically, she's a Black woman in a plantation dress, so we have an idea as to why she's likely in fear. She runs until she stops. And then, she lets out a blood-curdling scream. A curiously anachronistic title card covers the screen: "Alice," in a very 70s style font.
This intro and title card reveal is stylistically cool, but also a bit clunky. So is most of first-time feature filmmaker Krystin Ver Linden's directorial debut, Alice, in which a runaway slave escapes her plantation, only to find herself in a different reality.
It's a hell of a premise (actually, I learned that it's also very similar to the 2020 horror film Antebellum, which I've yet to see). Alice is one of those films with a really interesting concept but not a great execution. For this reason, I think some people will really dig it for its inventive and fresh storytelling but if you're like me, you won't be able to escape the problems with its awkwardly mashed-up tone and narrative incomprehension.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZwbhXcwWoM4&feature=emb_title
Back to that opening: it's actually a very exciting start, and really pretty gripping. When that groovy title card splashes across the screen, you think it's immediately about to swerve into fun. But it doesn't. Alice then slogs through a multitude of scenes of plantation life, which move painfully and slowly forward. Any sense of urgency is lost, and we even lose Alice (Keke Palmer) for a good while, too.
Although it's pretty beautifully shot, with very fine period piece production (including its location, costume, and cinematography), the story doesn't launch us forward in an exciting way. For one, we get way too much screentime from Jonny Lee Miller as Paul Bennet, the plantation owner. There are exciting early moments like a different (unsuccessful) runaway attempt. But it's so awkwardly choreographed and without Alice being involved herself, it's confusing to wonder where this movie is really headed.
It's almost halfway into the film when Alice finally asserts herself (running away from that intro's plantation) and the movie makes its reveal. It's not exactly a spoiler to give away what happens next (think M. Night Shyamalan's The Village). In fact, I think people's interest in this movie will be roused by knowing that once Alice runs away and gets to the side of the road, she's almost hit by a car zooming down the highway. It's not the Antebellum south, but somehow, 1973.
She's picked up by truck-driving Frank (Common), who gives her a ride into town. He apparently doesn't find it odd that not only is she struggling to comprehend everything around her in wide-eyed panic, but she's also covered in blood (there's a struggle she's involved with before she gets here). Frank takes Alice to the hospital, but when he sees that she might be admitted to the psychiatric ward, he decides to let her stay with him to look after her.
You might be able to guess what happens next: Alice slowly comes to grips with what time of year it is, a time in which slavery has been abolished (although, she is smack dab in the Civil Rights act). Again: an interesting idea, but the writing doesn't totally work here. Rather than panicking that she's somehow transported a century into the future (or has she?), she's left with lines like asking Frank, "Are you free?," and to his fellow farmworkers, "Are these your domestics?" Keke Palmer gives everything she has to this performance but the awkward writing and story choices force her to do some pretty eye-rolling acting.
Now able to read books in Frank's apartment, she phonetically sounds out words like "slavery" and "Emancipation Proclamation"–which would have been more powerful if silently conveyed. It's this sort of deliberateness throughout Alice that makes the film a little too heavy-handed.
If you're able to get past the awkward writing, then you'll likely appreciate all of the fun that is to (eventually) come. Alice's education and consumption of Black culture are captured through different pop culture media: in magazines like Ebony and Rolling Stone, Stevie Wonder and Nina Simone, and on TV like Sanford & Son and Black Panther news. And then, all roads lead to Alice's most transformative moment: going to the movies to see Pam Grier's iconic classic "Coffy," the singular moment that then shifts the movie from slavery film, to time travel movie, to wild Blaxploitation ending (think Django Unchained meets Back to the Future).
While there are some problems with the story, it's undeniable that Alice is still a fresh new story and interesting vision from a first-time filmmaker, whose idea and concepts should be celebrated.
100 min.