'Fair Play' Explores a Risky Relationship After a Promotion
Making its world premiere at this year's Sundance Film Festival earlier this year is Fair Play. A romantic thriller set in the world of high-stakes finance, it stars Phoebe Dynevor and Alden Ehrenreich as a young couple who must navigate their relationship after a work promotion elevates one above the other. Writer-director Chloe Domont's (Suits, Ballers) directorial debut aspires to leave audiences gripped with suspense.
On the surface, Emily (Phoebe Dynevor) and Luke (Alden Ehrenreich) are attractive, successful, lustful, and in love. It's a seemingly perfect relationship, but one that they must hide. That, along with the news of their recent engagement since they work together at an affluent New York investment firm.
Their secret news, however, soon benefits from some good fortune. An opening at the company provides the opportunity for Luke's promotion. The couple grows excited at the possibility, but a twist disrupts their plans. Their boss (Eddie Marsan) tells Emily that it's she who the firm is promoting.
Emily breaks the news to a surprised Luke and even offers to help promote him from her new rank. Luke is initially supportive, but Emily's new position creates a subtle distance between them. This all slowly weighs on Luke's psyche, and the tension between them grows and makes for unstable, dangerous circumstances.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vICUPlr3EEI&ab_channel=Netflix
Writer-director Chloe Domont's brisk and moderately suspenseful feature debut has a lot of winning elements. Its high-stakes finance world setting is feverishly exciting, making for a fast-paced energy and tension that grows as the story gets more dangerous.
The secret romance between Emily and Luke drives the film's propulsive energy. The gender dynamics on display are also powerful and very perceptively shown. In this male-dominated world, Domont writes Emily into a situation that feels exactly like what a bitter man might internalize if they felt overlooked next to a female partner. It's also another fascinating read on gender and power and weak men that is a fascinating part of the film (and, look for the reference to the female-asserting last line of Eyes Wide Shut here, too).
While Emily ascends to power, a once stoic Luke struggles to take this blow to his ego and starts spiraling into the world of internet self-help videos (that also recall the fragile male ego of Don't Worry Darling). Now, without giving away the explosive (and awkwardly staged) ending, Luke does become our true villain, making for a riveting standoff between the two characters.
Ultimately, what holds Fair Play back for me is that the film didn't lean into its genre elements even further. I think that would have been solved if it committed one hundred percent to make Emily the clearly defined main protagonist. Instead, Emily's story is balanced with Luke's perspective, so it's something of a shared couple's story until its climactic ending.
The appeal of Fair Play boils down to the chemistry between Phoebe Dynevor and Alden Ehrenreich. Theirs is one that feels exciting and dangerous. Dynevor is commanding and owns the screen in some very demanding scenes. Ehrenreich delivers an excellent performance, turning from charismatic to embittered and unraveling. Both are captivating at every turn, even when the writing fails to meet them at their level.
1h 53m.
This review was originally published on Jan 24, 2023, as part of our Sundance Film Festival 2023 coverage.
Director Cory Choy Goes For A Total Sensory Experience
Just watch the beginning of his feature film debut, Esme, My Love, and you'll know that there's a special talent behind the camera. Cory Choy–who has an Emmy under his belt for sound mixing–recently made his directorial debut: a supernatural thriller about a mother and her daughter that is as eery as it is profound.
Cinemacy spoke with Cory Choy about all things filmmaking: how he began making movies, developing his first feature as an indie director, working with a nearly all-female crew and cast, and the production issues he faced that nearly ruined the film ("It just goes to show that even when it seems like all is lost, there is sometimes a way forward."). Read on for our full interview.
Where did you grow up, and where do you currently live?
I grew up in Silver Spring, Maryland, right outside of Washington DC. I currently live in Bedford-Stuyvesant, also known as BedStuy, in Brooklyn, New York.
What film made you want to make movies?
I don't think there really was a single film that made me want to make movies. But I can say that a huge influence on me, in general, is my parents. My mother is a playwright and author. My dad was a computer programmer, and they are both musicians. My father plays guitar and my mother plays accordion. Because of them, music and theater were a big part of my life growing up.
As a result, I always had a love for storytelling. Because of my father's programming influence, when I was in middle school, I actually designed my own video games in Macromedia Flash. They were hosted on the site Newgrounds, and I believe you can even find one of them today online (it's called The Chickenator 2000). From there, I developed a love of animation. I think that was one of the big reasons I ended up going to film school; I wanted to pursue animation–I thought.
Some films I loved as a kid in no particular order: Edward Scissorhands, The Phantom Tollbooth, Pink Floyd: The Wall, Dumbo, The Goonies, 'Weird Al' Yankovic: UHF, Léon: The Professional, The Ring, Fight Club, Beetlejuice, and Wayne's World. Video games also had a huge impact on me, particularly the cinematic and iconic Lucas Arts games like the Monkey Island series, Day of the Tentacle, Sam and Max Hit the Road, and Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis.
You are an Emmy Award-winning sound mixer. When did you realize that you wanted to direct?
Although professionally I got my start as a sound person–both on location and in post–I've always been working on my own projects. Oftentimes, small animations songs, or podcasts.
At that time, because I was focused professionally on developing my craft and making a living in sound, I really just found that I didn't have time to work on my own films full-time, and realized that I wouldn't ever unless I made a concerted effort. That probably happened around 2013 or '14 when I realized that my sound studio and business were finally stable enough so that I could finally work on a doc I wanted to make for a long time: a doc about the coffee house musical performances my parents were putting together and running in Maryland for many years.
What steps did you take to develop your earliest projects?
I think I was pretty acutely aware that to make a good film, it was of utmost importance that I had the best possible collaborators. So when I decided to start directing my own projects, the first thing I would do would be to think about finding the best collaborators to work with. People who were both talented and on the same page as me, but who also would be willing to help me out since I didn't have any sort of huge financial backing from anyone.
Having run Silver Sound and worked as a sound mixer and designer for many years on many people's projects, I realized that I had a large network of eager people who I had done many favors for and who would probably be more than willing to return some of those favors when it came to helping me make a feature film.
I didn't want to ask everybody to work for free, though, so I still needed to raise a good amount of money. I was extremely fortunate to find two main investors who put in roughly half of the shooting budget of $90,000 and I raised the rest on my own.
How did you first conceive of your feature film directorial debut, Esme, My Love?
The easiest inciting incident to pinpoint for wanting to make this movie was speaking to a woman about an experience she had with her first daughter that to me sounded terrifying, but to her was one of the most amazing experiences she ever had in her life. I won't go into super extreme detail for privacy reasons, but basically, she had an encounter with an angel, and to her, it was absolutely glorious. However, to folks who heard the story, the circumstances seemed absolutely terrifying. This made me think about how two different people can interpret the same things very differently.
Another thing that I wanted to explore was the mother-daughter relationship. There comes a time in every person's life when they realize that their parents are not infallible. It's usually a pretty important moment, a coming of age.
What made you want to make this story your first feature film?
Part of me wanting to tell this story is from a thought experiment: What would you do if you thought you had to kill the person you loved most in the world to protect them from untold suffering?
Esme, My Love stars Women, was co-written and co-edited by women, with cinematography by a woman, and a score composed by women. Was that intentional, and what dynamic do you think this brought to the film?
This is a story about a woman and a girl, and it was absolutely critical to work with a woman co-writer (Laura Allen). Fletcher Wolfe–my cinematographer–Charlotte Littlehales, and Stephanie Griffin–my composers– brought so much to the film in terms of quality and... vibe? I guess it's kind of the word, but not exactly. All the love and empathy are channeled by Charlotte's voice, while the strings bring tension and fear.
I don't think that my cinematographer necessarily needed to be a woman. It just so happens that Fletcher was absolutely the best person for the job. The music, however, I do think was important for someone who had the experience of being female to write, since so much of the "maternal love" aspect of the film came through the music. One of my editors, Ellie Gravitte, is a woman, and so is my UPM (Crystal Arnette), my production designer (Kyra Boselli), casting director (Catherine Corcoran), and sound mixer (Ash Knowlton). Did these roles need to be fulfilled by women specifically? No. These folks happened to be the best suited for the job. But it makes me proud that so many of them were women.
What was it like working with your two lead actors?
Audrey Grace Marshall is an absolutely unique talent. She was only 9 years old at the time of filming and she might have been eight years old when she auditioned. Even at that age, she was already a very professional presence on set and I would credit that to her acting coach and guardian, her mother Heidi. When working with Audrey, because she was so young, I wasn't just working with her, I was also working pretty closely with Heidi. She didn't like to over-rehearse things, or even really do them that many times so that she was able to keep things fresh and just be in the moment. Moment. Once I was able to embrace that, it became much more fun to work with Audrey and Stacey, who plays her mom.
Stacey was a real trooper. The role of Hannah is extremely physical and you have to be willing to get in the mud literally and also emotionally. Also, the practical special effects makeup at one point basically erases Stacey's face, rendering her blind and only able to breathe through narrow slits in real life. When we filmed that day, she had to be guided by the AD by hand to get around. Something like that takes an incredible amount of professionalism and trust.
Among some of the production issues you said you had to overcome was the picture car’s engine dying, as well as the underwater camera casing not working–which you only discovered after you brought everyone to the island for shooting. What were those moments like to endure on the day, and what did it teach you about the importance of resiliency?
One of the things that I learned is that if you can avoid it, you shouldn't try to both direct and produce at the same time. I tried to do both and I ended up extremely stressed out because it's just too much for one person to take on. There were a lot of challenges on set, and I think it would have been a lot easier to deal with had I had someone producing for me, and being able to focus solely on directing. Because I was producing and working on a very limited budget, I had to make sure that most of the crew was released before overtime kicked in.
One day we needed to shoot one of the opening shots, the car driving around a bend down the mountainous road. However, I had run out of time and had to release the crew. My DP stayed on board, generously, and I was going to drive the car because my actresses also had been released by that point. And of course, that is engine decided to kick out. But we persisted, and the light still works. Thank goodness, so I literally got in the car and we rolled it down the hill and I was straining with the non-power steering but we managed to get the shot, and it's very important for the opening of the film.
The underwater housing thing was bonkers. There's a water scene that is very pivotal in the film, and the location we had to go to. We could only go to once. It was the last day of shooting, I believe. So we went through a lot getting everything moved on this boat to this small island where a dock was shallow enough to be safe but also deep enough to be convincing. And then of course, after we got all set up, the underwater housing for the A-cam failed; it was leaky. I was devastated. But the first thing we did was shoot as much as we possibly could from the surface without going under because the B-cam was lighter.
We also sent the DP into the water, just very, very careful to get some surface-level shots that way as well. Then, as if to add insult to injury, one of my crew members accidentally drops her phone into the water. I'm like, "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," and she goes, "Oh no. No, don't worry. It's one of those new iPhones that's waterproof, so I think it's going to be fine." And I was like, "Wait a second–your phone is waterproof? Give me that phone." And we actually ended up shooting some underwater stuff on the phone. Not a ton of it made it into the actual finished film, but a few split seconds did. Being able to film underwater just brought the morale back to the crew and cast when we were all in a pretty dark spot. It just goes to show that even when it seems like all is lost, there is sometimes a way forward.
What have you learned as a filmmaker, artist, and storyteller after making this film?
I learned so much about everything while making this film. It's pretty hard to quantify, but I think some of the big takeaways are, definitely have a good producer and enough support people. There are many different roles in production and they all have a purpose. If you are eliminating a position, you need to make sure that the folks who are picking up the slack are able to handle it. I learned that sometimes it's more important to take the shot than wait for it to be perfect before you shoot. I also learned that working with more than one editor can be extremely rewarding perspective-wise.
What have you learned about the business of filmmaking that people getting into filmmaking should know?
One of the most important things that I learned is that your movie can basically be sold or taken on a track to be sold before you shoot anything. If you decide to go in on your own, you're going to go through the process of trying to distribute and show people things on their own as well. If you come in with a team, you are going to finish with a team and you're going to be in a much stronger position.
What is one message that you wish audiences would take away after watching Esme, My Love?
I think more than anything else, I want people to watch my movie as a total sensory experience. I want them to feel the sum total of all its parts: the music, the sound, and the visuals all join together to not just set a mood, but also tell integral parts of the story. There are some things in life that are impossible to completely explain with words, and that is one of the reasons why I love filmmaking so much.
Watch this movie at the highest resolution possible, on the biggest screen possible with the best sound system possible, preferably in a place with no outside noise or light; it will make a huge difference.
For more information about Cory Choy, visit his website and IMDb. For more information on 'Esme, My Love,' visit the film's website.
Fremont: A Whimsical Story of an Afghan Immigrant
Portraying the mundanities of everyday life in a humorous, smartly observed, and profoundly moving way is what makes the film Fremont so magical.
A mostly slice-of-life film told through a series of funny and touching vignettes, the modestly made Fremont follows the life of a young Afghani immigrant in the US. Photographed in fabulous black and white, Fremont draws comparisons to the work of John Cassavetes and personally made me think of Frances Ha. Premiering at this year's Sundance Film Festival, it was the most endearing and enjoyable film I saw.
Donya (Anaita Wali Zada) is a young Afghani woman living in the quiet town of Fremont, California. She lives alone but among a strongly concentrated Afghani community. She takes the bus into San Francisco where she works a low-thrills job packaging cookies at a fortune cookie factory, passing the time listening to small talk from her quirky friend and the encouragement from her good-hearted Chinese immigrant boss.
A largely quiet presence, Donya listens to the thoughts and opinions of a revolving cast of characters. It's a wonderful storytelling device, allowing us to see this unique slice of Americana through her eyes.
Donya's quietness should not be mistaken for passiveness–and certainly, not for weakness. With piercing eyes, she has a fixed, almost steely gaze–something almost challenging. But as the camera captures, there's an enduring warmness and intelligence that lies underneath. Donya watches the world with both curiosity and caution as if constantly on guard.
To this end, we see that Donya has trouble sleeping and wants to get sleeping pills. Before she can receive the prescription, she must sit through weekly sessions with a psychiatrist (Gregg Turkington). These repeating sessions allow us to learn more about the closed-off Donya. And it's here where the film makes its reveal: Donya fled from the threat of the Taliban after working as a translator for the US Army.
https://youtu.be/wu8CzVfik-4?si=a_SSpDQ9TFl4UHR7
Instantly, Fremont explodes into a global story, widening out beyond just the sleepy American city where she lives. Immediately, the film's slow, quiet rhythms of humdrum life stand in stark contrast to what we can imagine was her previous life—a war-torn country filled with constant danger and chaos.
All of the simple, pleasant joys that we then see her live–nightly talks about Indian soap operas with a small restaurant owner, a job promotion to begin writing her company's fortunes, and the possibility of a budding romance (Jeremy Allen White)–feel even more special and magical.
Directed by Babak Jalali (from a script he wrote with Carolina Cavalli), Fremont is a small, but incredibly heartfelt and enjoyable film. The story's many vignettes feel like chapters in a personal diary. I found myself either laughing at its droll jokes, touched by the heartfelt moments, or amazed by its profound observations.
Fremont also has a strong visual identity that's a pleasure to watch. The black-and-white cinematography by Laura Valladao is beautiful, harkening to what made Roma so distinct. Along with directing and co-writing, Babak Jalali edits the film too and lets the story unfold slowly, and gently. Mahmood Schricker's warm single trumpet jazz score creates a relaxing rhythm to fall completely under its spell.
Of course, the thing that makes the movie work is its star. First-time actress Anaita Wali Zada as Donya is perfectly cast. This makes sense when you learn that she is in fact, a real-life refugee. Her performance is natural, raw, and one of pure observation. Slowly, Donya starts to open up, and the tiniest hint of a smile starts to sneak through. You can feel that a whole world of color and wonder lies waiting ahead.
1h 31m.
This review was originally published on January 24, 2023, when first viewed at Sundance Film Festival 2023.
Mutt
The word "mutt" is one that typically refers to a dog that doesn't belong to an officially recognized breed. It also brings to mind thoughts of someone who feels lost, unloved, and without a home. That feeling of loneliness–as a result of one's mixed identity–is at the heart of the new film, Mutt, a heartfelt and revealing look at the modern trans experience.
The film follows one long day in the life of Feña (Lio Mehiel), a young trans male struggling to get by in New York City. We follow Feña over one night that spills into the day as he encounters a number of people from his life, present and past. That includes his ex-boyfriend (Cole Doman), younger sister (MiMi Ryder), and father (Alejandro Goic) who struggles to understand the transition his former daughter took to realize his male self.
All of these moments are stitched together by the struggles most young people face, like getting locked out of your house or knocking your head after hopping over a subway turnstile that you can't pay for. They're small trivialities but for Feña, they speak to his larger struggle, which is simply living life as a trans person.
There's a lyrical quality to Mutt. Something that doesn't feel exactly "real," but more dreamlike and poetic. Written and directed by Vuk Lungulov-Klotz, the film is structured by scenes of running into the most important people in your life and then being able to have real, deep, sometimes uncomfortable conversations with them about things we struggle to understand or come to terms with.
Being his first feature-length film, Vuk Lungulov-Klotz's script is incredibly perceptive, honest, and bravely written (it also feels like it must have been a cathartic experience to write). Comprised mainly of two-person scenes, the dialogue feels written to intentionally reveal a lot about what it is like to be trans. These questions and topics that arise naturally in the story feel like a gateway for introducing these ideas to larger audiences, which is incredibly important.
The shooting style is quite artful to complement the captivating writing. Mutt captures stretches of dialogue in long, single takes, and from far away. Watching scenes from corners feels like we're peering into something real. Director of Photography Matthew Pothier also captures New York City's raw and dangerous energy, where dark shadows are cast on characters to allow them to either thrive or hide behind.
In the lead role of Feña, Lio Mehiel is absolutely magnetic and commands the screen at every point. His anxieties and insecurities make Feña a character that audiences will no doubt connect with. Whether displaying the discomfort of having to take his shirt off in front of his ex, or the frustration felt over a father who still can't understand his transition, it is a commanding lead performance that holds the whole movie together.
While some might not lock into its sprawling, slower-moving story, Mutt is deeply emotive and artful and offers a very important perspective on the trans experience that should make people of all kinds feel loved and hopefully less alone.
87minutes. Not rated.
https://youtu.be/zCwTxQVjqbo
The Pod Generation
The more we intertwine technology with our lives, the more honest we must be in asking ourselves what we are losing as humans by doing so. Because if we don't, it's going to overtake humanity completely.
This is the idea that the entertaining and interesting sci-fi comedy The Pod Generation considers by way of its eerily comic premise about a couple who decide to begin a family and circumvent nature by using an artificial womb in the shape of a sleek, mobile pod.
Written and directed by Sophia Barthes, The Pod Generation smartly observes and satirizes this modern moment and what we as humans may forget we are giving up to embark on the frictionless futures that we have furthered by our fetish with AI and technology.
Set in the very near future, The Pod Generation follows Rachel (Emilia Clarke) and her botanist husband Alvy (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a loving couple who is ready to start a family.
When Rachel lands a highly coveted spot at The Womb Center–a facility that offers families artificial wombs (or "pods") to have surrogate children–they nervously move ahead with their decision to conceive, beginning their tech-paved path to parenthood.
Sophie Barthes’ third feature is a sleekly designed, sharply observed sci-fi comedy that works on a number of comedic and more philosophically worthwhile levels.
As a lighthearted comedy, Barthes depicts the silliness of the modern (and near-future) moment, showing how pregnancy with a pod might look the same as remembering to charge your iPhone.
Funny lines that come from The Womb Center executives, like offering eager new parents their service of playing podcasts for their developing newborns so that babies aren't "bored" in utero are completely laugh-worthy.
But Barthes also observes deeper questions too, such as examining our relationship with nature. It's a poignant moment when Alvy says "We decided nature was a commodity, and that's when everything started to unravel."
Further, The Pod Generation also communicates interesting perspectives on gender roles in society, by way of showing how traditional pregnancy inhibits a woman's freedoms in a much larger way than a man's.
In fact, the pitch that The Womb Center gives Rachel and Alvy, is that when a woman is liberated from having to carry a baby, and the toll that takes on the body, then both parents are able to be more participatory and continue living their lives. "No woman is free until she has control over her reproductive system," they say.
The other side to that coin is that Rachel's job only offers her a pod-based child so that a mobile pregnancy can allow her to continue to be productive at work, ultimately fueling capitalist ideology.
The world that is built is incredibly well designed, with Andrij Parekh's cinematography capturing the smooth, rounded-off edges of this neat future world.
Emilia Clarke is wonderful in the lead role, able to lend her comic skill in the film's funnier moments, as well as express more heartfelt emotion in sequences where she dreams of herself carrying her baby naturally.
Chiwetel Ejiofor is perfectly cast here too. His love for nature and botany provides the necessary pause to go headfirst with the artificial womb. His chemistry with Clarke makes for a good pairing that ends the film on a note of real contemplation over technology.
I was definitely more entertained by the beginning of the film, all the way up through the middle after the "conception." The film slows down once we start seeing the advance of the pregnancy and how they interact with the egg-shaped pod, which loses steam resting on conventionality.
Overall, The Pod Generation is a timely movie about the growing influence of AI and tech and also the things that we are willing to give up for resistance-free living. It's a future that we'll need to truly think about before deciding to bring any other generations into it.
109 minutes. PG-13 for brief strong language, suggestive material, and partial nudity.
https://youtu.be/rGMx_7oAeUM
Oppenheimer
At a time when the future of movie theaters continues to grow more unstable and uncertain, every new film from Christopher Nolan–who intends for his films to be seen on the biggest screens possible–is a moment that cinephiles should celebrate. I saw Oppenheimer in its premiere format: at Hollywood's TCL Chinese Theater projected on 70mm IMAX film. It is, of course, nothing short of visually spectacular. Oppenheimer is a towering, magnificently made epic that showcases the very best of cinema's power.
Nolan's twelfth feature tells a story that's thematically similar to his other movies, that of one brilliant but haunted man's crusade to save humanity from world-ending events. At this point in his prolific career, it wouldn't be a stretch to wonder if Nolan sees himself in each of his protagonists; how he must relate to being on an equally important mission: nothing less than saving cinema.
Nolan's first biopic tells the story of the father of the atomic bomb, J. Robert Oppenheimer, aka "the most important man in history" as the film quite literally states. In classic Nolan fashion, there are multiple timelines that make up the film. There's "Fission," in which we are introduced to the brilliant theoretical physicist (Cillian Murphy) and see how his expertise in atomic energy leads to him being called upon by the U.S. military to lead a secret project to weaponize the explosive power of the atom, as fascism and communism threaten the U.S. amid world war. And then there's a timeline labeled "Fusion," which takes place at a later, post-war time, in which Oppenheimer must defend his actions and character from a government that has turned on him and is eager to strip him of his celebrity, credibility, and power.
These timelines interweave quickly, like dueling protons and electrons anxiously stealing each other's centers. A film of mostly talking heads in various courtrooms and classrooms, the intercutting is similar to The Social Network (that, along with the familiarity of seeing a man and his questionable character being put on trial after changing the world). Jennifer Lame edits the film with a propulsive and suspenseful thrust throughout, an achievement for a film that clocks in at three hours long.
The leaps between timelines also come with visual format changes. Shot by longtime Nolan cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema, we see Oppenheimer's rise and the development of the a-bomb at Los Alamos, New Mexico, presented in color, while the courtroom sequences featuring Lewis Strauss (Robert Downery Jr.)–the hopeful Presidential Cabinet Member trying to discredit Oppenheimer–is presented in black and white. The film further cuts between fullscreen and widescreen sizes, depending on IMAX-specific sequences (which may even distract audiences).
Like the mighty atom that lies at the heart of Oppenheimer, there's a duality to the titular character that makes for a compelling film. Oppenheimer is both a bookish scholar that enjoys academics, as well as a playboy that enjoys lapping up the country's spotlight. He's an artist and a politician. Someone brilliant enough to build the deadliest weapon in human history, but shortsighted enough to not understand its eventual consequences for the fate of the world. The tension in Oppenheimer's dualities–between fission and fusion, stability and explosion, and theory and reality–make for a suspenseful story and examination of humanity's capabilities and shortcomings.
And yet, the emotional toll that should be the film's most fascinating element is not something that Nolan dives into fully; that bomb never exploded fully, for me. Nolan's emotional storytelling has always had trouble meeting the level of his intellect. Oppenheimer is both an incredibly accomplished film but also short-sighted in failing to show the emotional toll that Oppenheimer felt after its use on Japan. While Nolan experiments with surrealistic flourishes that surprised me, the film doesn't fully wish to penetrate into Oppy's brilliant, tortured mind that a man who acknowledges himself as "becoming death, destroyer of worlds" would really feel.
That's not to discredit the absolutely phenomenal job that Cillian Murphy does in bringing the character to life. The thousand-yard stare he gives throughout the film, racked with some consuming sense of existential dread swirling in his gaunt, skeletal face, silently communicates the humanistic horror that lies brimming in his mind. Surrounding Murphy is an enormous ensemble cast. There's Oppenheimer's hard-drinking wife, Kitty (Emily Blunt, who's unfortunately completely one-note); the gruff General Leslie Groves (Matt Damon) that brings Oppy into the fight; and Danish scientist Niels Bohr (longtime Nolan faithful Kenneth Branagh). There are also so many more familiar faces that add to the massive world, such as Josh Hartnett, Florence Pugh, Rami Malek, and Benny Safdie, to name just a few.
I enjoyed Oppenheimer much more than his last film Tenet, as well as Dunkirk before that. Both of those films felt like they were more concerned with showing how Nolan was smart enough to work out a long-form math equation for wide-eyed pupils (although we do still see characters working out long-form math equations here, too). The fact that Oppenheimer has opened with a massive debut is really something to celebrate, both for theaters and cinema on the whole. But although the film depicts the nail-biting development of the atomic bomb with a grand vision–one that I'll always remember where I was when I saw it–I think that after the dust settles, I'll still be left wondering what the emotional fallout was for this brilliant, lonely destroyer of worlds.
180 minutes. Rated R for some sexuality, nudity, and language.
https://youtu.be/bK6ldnjE3Y0
Theater Camp' Lifts the Curtain on Musical Theatre's Eccentricities
The world of musical theater is full of such laughably pretentious pomp and over-the-top circumstances that it makes itself quite an easy target to parody. Who would be better to satirize this insular and absurd world than theater kids themselves?
Turning their 2020 short film of the same name into a feature-length film, Ben Platt and Molly Gordon star as insufferably artsy camp counselors overseeing the production of an original musical in the new comedy, Theater Camp. Directed by Gordon and Nick Lieberman, Theater Camp uses the mockumentary format to satirize the world of theater and its extremely passionate performers.
It's the start of another summer, and eager young campers and budding Broadway hopefuls merrily sing show tunes as they bus it to upstate New York, en route to their beloved haven for thespians: the "AdirondACTS" theater camp. This year, however, will be different: the camp's idolized leader, Joan Rubinsky (Amy Sedaris), has fallen into a coma (which the film sets up as a humorous plot point). Taking over is her "crypto-bro" son, Troy (Jimmy Tatro), who must keep the musical theater paradise of which he knows nothing about running. With his bro vibes, he soon learns that the camp is in a dire financial situation. With no experience and fewer brain cells, it's up to him to secretly find a way to keep the camp afloat.
Meanwhile, head counselors Amos Klobuchar (Ben Platt) and Rebecca-Diane (Molly Gordon) are tasked with writing and directing an original musical theater production (one that will be a life's tribute to their unconscious icon). What follows is a series of sketches, skits, and bits that poke fun at the entire process of putting on a show. Auditioning, songwriting, acting exercises, stunt training, rehearsal, and finally, the opening night performance is not spared from spoofing.
Written by Gordon, Lieberman, and Noah Galvin (Platt's real-life partner), Theater Camp, is a light, silly, altogether enjoyable watch that will surely delight theater kid obsessives (but might not connect with those who aren't as invested in the inner world). The mockumentary nature allows for a loose and (likely) highly improvised nature. Platt, Gordon, and Galvin (who plays a stage manager yearning for the spotlight) create an easy chemistry together. However, after a little while, the tone of the humor does become a little one-note. When every character modulates at the same level of sarcasm, it can start to feel a bit excessive.
The film's liberal use of title cards breaks up the story and adds a very funny component. Popping up constantly throughout the film, they clearly hold no bearing in reality and are written just for laughs. The cinematography also serves the film well, adding an interesting layer. This look could have easily been a digitally-shot affair, with obvious zoom-ins and outs capturing everything But instead, it opts for a "shot on film" look, complete with grainy textures, which evokes a fun throwback feel (but also inadvertently made me forget what time it's supposed to take place in).
I didn't have overwhelmingly high expectations going in, and Theater Camp exceeded those, being much funnier than I thought it would be. The film is produced by Gloria Sanchez Productions, the sister label production company of Will Ferrell and Adam McKay's Gary Sanchez Productions, with a focus on female voices in comedy.
This review originally ran on January 27, 2023, during the Sundance Film Festival.
1h 34m. Distributed by Searchlight Pictures. Opening in theaters Friday, July 14, 2023.
Interview: Diego Vicentini Knows He Can't Return Home
Diego Vicentini is more than just a filmmaker. Born in Venezuela, he grew up witnessing the injustices that a corrupt government inflicts upon its people, leading him to become an activist as well. Vicentini's debut feature film Simón (which premiered this year at the 2023 Florida Film Festival) tells the story of a young man who leaves his country behind and fights for human rights. Cinemacy spoke with the writer-director about making his first film, the power of protest, and the life-changing decision to make his film knowing that he would never be able to return home.
It’s my absolute pleasure to speak with you, Diego. Where are you from, and where do you currently live?
Diego Vicentini: The pleasure is mine. I am from Caracas, Venezuela, and currently live in Los Angeles, California.
What was the first film you saw that got you interested in cinema?
Diego Vicentini: It was Woody Allen’s Match Point. In high school, I fell in love with Dostoevsky and consequently thereafter, philosophy, and so when I watched Match Point and began to notice that it was a rewriting of Dostoevsky’s “Crime and Punishment,” it completely captured my attention. Woody Allen gave a more nihilistic ending to the story than the novel, which I loved, and that opened my eyes; cinema can be philosophy too.
How did you get your start in filmmaking?
Diego Vicentini: I first did a month-long filmmaking program in New York during the summer after my freshman year at Boston College to see what part of filmmaking, if any, I liked. It was definitely writing, directing, and editing.
I was double majoring in Philosophy and Finance, but then I started taking film classes as well. After graduating I did a Master’s program in filmmaking in LA, and once that was over I started working on my first feature.
What stories, questions, or themes are you most drawn to telling and exploring in cinema?
Diego Vicentini: The movies I’ve always loved the most are the ones that make me think; the ones that keep giving upon a second and third viewing. I would love to make something that falls into that category.
Your feature film, Simón, tells the story of a student freedom fighter who fights to build his asylum case to stay in the US after escaping the control of a brutal Venezuelan dictatorship. It’s also based on a true story. When did you start writing this script, and how did you know that this was the first feature film that you wanted to make?
Diego Vicentini: This project first started as a short film about the same subject matter, which I made in 2018. The year prior had been a very violent year in Venezuela with protests and repression; many youngsters died on the streets. That motivated me to make the short film, and once it came out and I got to screen it in many countries and see the audience’s emotional reaction to it… that’s when I decided to make a feature about this subject matter. I started writing it in 2019, shot it in 2021, and finished post in 2023.
As the writer, director, and editor of the film, you control every part of the storytelling. What was it like to control all aspects of that?
Diego Vicentini: For better or for worse, everything I’ve ever made I have occupied all those roles, so in that sense, it was just like every other project. But I just enjoy each of those roles so much, it’s hard to think of giving any one of those up. Or maybe I just have trust issues. The downside though, is I can’t point a finger at anyone else for the flaws in the film.
I’m ashamed to admit that I wasn’t aware of the magnitude of the devastation that Simón tells, that of the most significant exodus of people in the history of the Western hemisphere – 7.1 million people – leaving their homes in Venezuela to escape an oppressive and cruel government. Do you feel that Americans and the world are aware of the extent of this crisis that is currently happening in the world?
Diego Vicentini: I don’t think so. I think it’s taken 20 years of this situation in our country for the world to have a general awareness that things aren’t great in Venezuela, but I don’t think the details or scale is well-known or understood, though I don’t blame anyone for that. There is so much going on in the world, it’s impossible to keep up with everything everywhere.
But that’s precisely why I wanted to make this film; to raise awareness through entertainment. I think it’s a much easier ask to watch a movie than to read a text or article on the sociopolitical situation of a foreign country. Hopefully, this movie connects with audiences, and in the process, they come out a bit more informed and empathetic.
You don’t shy away from showing very brutal parts of cruelty by the government, including detentions, torture, and executions. What was your experience in writing and shooting those scenes?
Diego Vicentini: The hardest part wasn’t writing or shooting, but listening. Before I started writing, I interviewed several young men who had gone through that experience, of arbitrary detentions and torture; most of those scenes depicted come from real accounts I was told.
So the most difficult part was listening to another human being tell me what this regime had done to them, physically and psychologically. It just further fueled my drive to make this movie. On set, there was definitely a different atmosphere when shooting those scenes, as we were all aware that this was something real that not only happened but was still happening at the same time as we were shooting it.
A large part of the story centers around the guilt that Simón feels in leaving behind his home country. It made me think of Alejandro Iñárritu’s film Bardo, a personal story that similarly expresses the guilt of a man who left his home country behind. What is your relationship to the feeling of guilt? Is it something you feel still, or did making Simón help you process that?
Diego Vicentini: Guilt is very much at the core of all this. I left Venezuela when I was 15. Since then I’ve only watched from afar how the country has progressively plummeted into a humanitarian crisis at the hands of an oppressive authoritarian regime.
In 2017, millions took to the streets for over 100 days hoping to change things, and so many young men and women were killed. I felt so guilty, that I was in LA studying film, having a good life, while my generation was out there on the streets fighting for the country, risking their lives for our freedom. It’s that guilt that made me want to contribute to that fight in some kind of way, and my way was making Simón.
Making the movie has definitely helped me process all of this and have new realizations, though I’m not so sure that the guilt is gone.
You’ve said that by making this film, you will no longer be able to go back to your home country. I can’t imagine how heartbreaking that decision must have been to know you would have to leave a part of your world behind. How important was making this film to you in that context?
Diego Vicentini: If my peers in Venezuela took to the streets, facing military tanks and gunfire, risking their lives for this cause, I thought the very least I could do was make this movie, regardless of what consequences it brought. They are the ones who are courageous and have made all the sacrifices. This movie is for all of them.
What do you miss the most about your home country, and what do you value the most having left?
Diego Vicentini: I left 14 years ago and since then I’ve traveled quite a bit. I’ve seen some wonderful landscapes and cities and monuments in these other countries, but it never comes with a sense of pride, because none of those things in those other countries “belong” to me. I miss my city and our people and our landscapes and being able to feel proud because those things “belong” to me, as a Venezuelan - those are ours. Our beaches. Our people. Our parties. Our traditions. Our mountains. I miss being able to feel that. I miss feeling I am in my land. I’m a foreigner everywhere else.
At one point, one of the oppressive government figures says to Simón, “When the people get tired, the protests stop,” and that “nothing will change.” It’s a frightening line to think about. What do you feel about the importance of protesting?
Diego Vicentini: That’s one of my favorite lines. Also one of the most painful ones. I think protesting is incredibly important and valuable, but it’s difficult to measure because when the objective has been to change the government and that hasn’t happened, it can feel like it’s useless, that it doesn’t work.
Not only that, many lost their lives in the process, so it’s very disheartening. But for change to occur, pressure needs to be exerted in the direction of that change. The vast majority of authoritarian autocrats have historically been removed by force. A significant percentage of those have been by power shifts within inner circles or military takeovers, but everyday citizens have no control over that.
One way the masses can take matters into their own hands and exert that pressure on a government is by protesting as it happened in Egypt.
What have you learned as an artist and humanitarian following the making of Simón?
Diego Vicentini: I learned the value of making something that comes from a sincere and authentic place. Now that we have had a couple of screenings, I’ve been able to see and hear audiences react and connect to the feelings in the movie, and share that they too have felt that way and that it’s touched them.
It’s something I’ll take with me for my next projects - make sure I make something I care about and feel for, and most likely (or hopefully), it’ll filter into the movie and through the movie into the audience.
What three takeaways have you learned in your journey as a filmmaker so far that aspiring filmmakers should also know?
Diego Vicentini: From my very limited experience so far, I’d say, always shoot and practice. Make things you genuinely care about (not what you think others will care about), and love the process. It’s an extremely difficult career path, you have to love doing it absolutely.
Is there one message that you would want audiences to take away after watching Simón?
Diego Vicentini: The most important fights we’ll have are with ourselves. Healing from past trauma is one of those difficult fights, but utterly necessary to truly grow, move on, and keep fighting.
Simón is currently awaiting distribution.