'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.
'After Yang' is a Gorgeous, Thoughtfully Imagined Sci-Fi Meditation
Our review of 'After Yang' was first published as part of our Sundance Film Festival 2022 coverage.
Where to watch: Now playing in select theaters and on Showtime.
With his gifted eye for aesthetics, Kogonada's films are among the most arresting in movies today. His ability to compose beautifully designed, richly crafted shots of environments and the people who inhabit them, makes his films visually and singularly special. Add to that, his inclination as a storyteller to explore deeply meditative stories that reflect on the meaning of life, and you'll find that watching a film by Kogonada is a truly transcendent experience. What's crazy about that high praise is that he's only made two feature films to date: 2017's Columbus, and now, After Yang.
It might give you pause to wonder how a person who's only made two movies in his life could make them so artistically accomplished. However, those who know Kogonada's story also know that, prior to directing, his professional career consisted of creating video essays, whose excellence elevated the importance and recognition of the entire medium as an art form itself.
Understanding and showcasing the filmmaking methods of cinema's greats is no doubt what also made his first feature, Columbus, so refined and such a praiseworthy debut. Here, with his even more ambitious second feature After Yang, it's exciting to see him expand his artistic talents by entering a world of highly conceptual sci-fi that visualizes even more complex worlds with even deeper questions to ponder.
Making its world premiere at last year's Cannes Film Festival, but now making its North American premiere at this year's Sundance Film Festival, After Yang is set in the future in which humans exist alongside artificially intelligent androids, whose self-aware sentience now force humans to confront their own lives; and with that, their shortcomings.
Adapted from a short story by Alexander Weinstein ("Saying Goodbye to Yang"), After Yang tells the story of a beautiful–but at first glance, curiously diverse–family, whose connection we've yet to understand. We learn that Jake (Colin Farrell) and Kyra (Jodie Turner-Smith) are parents to an adopted Chinese daughter, Mika (Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja). The last one to run into the framing of a self-timed family photo is the techno-sapien, Yang (Justin H. Min).
Yang's inclusion in the family is part of society's larger trend in which parents buy "Second Siblings," autonomous robots that are able to provide companionship as well as a cultural history of their adopted children's heritage to them. Wise and thoughtful, Yang also provides philosophical guidance to Mika, helping her better understand her own adoption, in one instance likening her to a branch that's been grafted onto a tree to create new life. In this respect, Mika's connection with Yang is uniquely special. So, when Yang abruptly stops functioning, it throws Mika into disarray. Jake takes Yang to a third-party worker, and when Yang is examined, a discovery leads to shock: a piece of technology is found to allow Yang to create memories from his life.
Kogonada uses Jake's studying of Yang's memories (visualized as gorgeously glowing web-like stars in the sky) to reflect upon how much he's lost touch with his own family, and the special moments he's overlooked in his own life. Montages of these fleeting moments from Yang's point of view–daylight spilling in through a window, leaves nestling in the wind, nature in its most simple and beautiful form–are beautifully lensed by cinematographer Benjamin Loeb (When You Finish Saving the World). Similar to Pixar's Soul, the mundane moments are seen as the real magical moments of life.
It's here, within the reviewing of these temporal, fragile memories that Kogonada puts forward his deepest questions and philosophical statements. I can't stop thinking about one such scene between Yang and Kyra, in which, as they discuss the temporality of life, Yang wisely quotes Lao Tsu, saying "what the caterpillar calls the end, the rest of the world calls a butterfly."
A moving score from ASKA, as well as an additional theme composed expressly for the film by Oscar-winning legend Ryuichi Sakamoto, add even more beauty to After Yang. Kogonada's masterfully crafted second feature film examines life's deepest questions on the grandest level of life. What's more, we also see Kogonada reflect on his own Asian ancestry, which also allows the audience to question our own identities through understanding our ancestry.
The performances throughout the film are all emotionally felt. Each of the actors' scenes, including Colin Farrell, Jodie Turner-Smith, Justin H. Min, and Haley Lu Richardson, all resonate deeply in their tender honesty. They convey a tranquil serenity to Kogonada's gorgeously created world, while also expressing such deeply felt feelings like grief, loss, and the fear of life's finiteness.
While you'll have to slow yourself down to its patient, slow-burning pace, it left my heart swelling, eyes tearing, and soul transcending. After Yang is a deeply beautiful, profound, and amazing achievement from Kogonada that will make you look at your world and life with a little more wonder after.
96 minutes.
The Sweeping Musical 'Cyrano' Aims For The Heart, and Hits
The new movie Cyrano is a heartfelt romantic musical that turned me into putty in its hands. Based on the timeless tale of Cyrano de Bergerac–a man gifted with words yet fated with an unconventional appearance–it's the story of a heartbreaking and tragic love triangle. However, seeing the power of true love on screen also makes for one of the most uplifting movies to see this season.
When he learns that his friend and secret love, Roxanne, has fallen in love with another man, the gifted wordsmith Cyrano agrees to write his love letters to her. Concealing his own feelings, he resigns to living a life where he hides away his love. Directed by Joe Wright (Atonement, Pride & Prejudice), Cyrano stars Peter Dinklage in the title role.
From Stage to Screen
The original story goes back to the classic “Cyrano de Bergerac,” written by Edmond Rostand. Director Joe Wright's Cyrano is based on the most recent stage play adapted and directed by Erica Schmidt (who's married to Dinklage). Previous versions of the story make Cyrano's comically long nose his character's tragic physical feature. Yet the film uses Peter Dinklage's short stature as the attribute that fuels Cyrano's insecurities and society's rebuke.
For such an open-hearted romantic musical to work, the music needs to be truly moving. And this score is. Written by The National (music written by Aaron & Bryce Dessner and lyrics by Matt Berninger & Carin Besser), Cyrano's soundtrack is brooding and moving in ways that fans of the band will recognize. The most sweeping song that is sure to stick with audiences is "Someone to Say." It's a heartwrenching and beautiful song that's buried itself deep in my head since seeing it in the film's trailer.
Peter Dinklage Captivates
As the title character, Peter Dinklage captivates and commands the screen. He showcases his trademark charm and wit. But seeing him long for Roxanne as a sort of doomed "Phantom of the Opera" shows even more range than what we've seen from him before. His chemistry with Roxanne–the centerpiece romance of the film–is also uplifting and heart-aching. As Roxanne, Haley Bennett is wonderful. Her singing voice is beautiful, her character desirable, and her character so pure-hearted.
Rounding out the cast is Kelvin Harrison Jr. as the young Christian. As the one who Roxanne falls in love with, at first sight, his role is tricky. Christian needs to play the "dumb hunk" who needs Cyrano's words, but also someone with who we connect to and sympathize with. And Harrison Jr. plays both sides well, with a great singing voice too. The real villain role is saved for Ben Mendelsohn. As the powerful De Guiche, Mendelsohn snarls his way into banishing both Cyrano and Christian away from Roxanne–who De Guiche himself is set to marry–by sending them into a war that looms large over the country.
A Heartaching Love Story
If there's anyone who knows how to make an impassioned romantic period piece film, it's Joe Wright. His most recent sweeping love stories Pride & Prejudice (2005) and Atonement (2007) are among the more recent classic love stories in modern cinema. Although Cyrano is his first musical, Wright knows how to craft a heart-aching love story and make it resonate with audiences. With exceptional performances from Dinklage and Bennett, as well as The National's moving score, Cyrano moved me in all the right ways.
Ultimately, I absolutely recommend Cyrano to fans of musicals, period piece films, or fans of sweeping romantic dramas. Fans of Joe Wright, Peter Dinklage, or The National will also find plenty to love about Cyrano. It's an accomplished film and respectable musical. And it is sure to resonate in your head and heart long after watching.
2h 4m. 'Cyrano' is rated PG-13 for some strong violence, thematic and suggestive material, and brief language. In theaters on February 25, 2022.
This review originally ran on December 28, 2021.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5e8apSFDXsQ&ab_channel=MGM
In Twist-Filled Drama 'Sundown,' Tim Roth Reveals His Shadow Self
Where to watch: 'Sundown' is now playing in select theaters and available to rent on Digital Platforms.
When it first begins, Sundown slows you down to its wonderfully relaxing, worry-free vacation time. The sight of Tim Roth endlessly lounging in a luxurious resort overlooking a beautiful Mexican coastline had me enjoying every gorgeously serene and sun-drenched moment (and made me remember his other vacation film, 2021's Bergman Island). Then, Sundown's darker story begins to unfold, and the shadows begin to loom large. Soon enough, I also remembered the other side of the fantasy that vacations offer: escaping from your current circumstances, and yourself.
Related: In 'Bergman Island,' An Artist Couple Confront Their Love on the Coast
Unless anybody spoils the story for you (don't worry, I'll spare you any overly- revelatory details here), you'll have absolutely no idea what to expect in this twist-filled, thrilling drama. Heading into Sundown as blind as possible really will make for the best viewing experience. Although even I knew a tad more than I would've liked to have known before going in, I was still entirely unprepared for what Sundown had in store.
Written and directed by Michel Franco (2020's New Order), Sundown is a slow-burn film that follows Neil (Tim Roth) on vacation in Mexico with his family, Alice (Charlotte Gainsbourg), Alexa (Albertine Kotting McMillan), and Colin (Samuel Bottomley). When an unexpected emergency summons them all back home to London, the family must cut their trip short and hurry to the airport. It's a tense moment, made even more heart-dropping when Neil realizes that he's forgotten his passport back at the hotel. Unable to join them on the flight and now separated from his family, he hops into a taxi. When the driver asks where he's headed–and it's here where the film gets interesting– Neil simply requests to be taken to a hotel–any hotel.
Puzzled, we're left trying to make sense of what's going on in Neil's head by studying his calm demeanor and blank, expressionless stares (the film definitely hints that something's on his mind, with shots of him staring vacantly into the ocean and pools). Neil proceeds to aimlessly walkabout in his flip-flops, having beers on the beach, and even meeting a local, Berenice (Iazua Larios). While Alice continues to try to contact him, Neil continues to deceive and avoid her calls. We're now fully only along for this mysterious ride, and the Sundown only dials up the heat from there.
Writer-director Michel Franco patiently divulges every piece of new information, which ratchets up the suspense in every scene. Neil's avoidance really gets under your skin–a cinematic sunburn–when you consider how easy it would be for any one of us to do exactly that. We've all had fantasies where we imagine leaving our old lives behind, impulsively staying on that never-ending vacation. Sometimes it's in the pursuit of enjoying the pleasures that the world has to offer, other times it's for deeper, more twisted and complex reasons. Like avoiding sinister truths that we can only attempt to outrun for so long.
Franco teases out the rest of Neil's larger story so well, and especially in regards to how he shoots the film. Yves Cape's (2012's Holy Motors) beautiful cinematography consists of widely framed shots, immersing and hiding Neil in his surroundings. The enduring images in Sundown are of Neil slumped over in various lounge chairs, staring vacantly into large bodies of water (the ocean, a hotel pool, it makes no difference). Also, from behind, in three-quarter, and side-profile shots (there is always a side of him we're not seeing). Franco uses the idea of the sun and the shadow to further symbolize Neil's internally conflicted state. Neil stays mostly in the shadows of his hotel room or on the beach, except for a sprinkling of moments where he's head-on in the scorching sunlight.
Tim Roth is truly exceptional here. As Neil, Roth gives a mostly quiet, internal, and understated performance. The longer Neil remains unwaveringly relaxed under these distressing times, the tension grows to wildly unexpected new heights. We eventually learn about Neil's history and his family's global significance as an affluent business, which reveals Neil's strange behavior. With Sundown, Roth continues to re-emerge onto the film scene as an unsettling, pathological figure (look for him as an unnerving villain in Resurrection, which premiered at Sundance this year). Just by sipping a beer, or even while doing nothing, Roth radiates an unnerving quality who seems to be possessed by the question: what is peace? Is it the sustained feeling of happiness, or can peace just be what's left when you've outrun the darkness?
Related: Sundance: Rebecca Hall Unravels in Psychological Thriller, ‘Resurrection’
If you're intrigued, and in search of a smartly-written film that starts as a slow-burn drama before ending up as a head-spinning, jaw-dropping hallucinatory fever dream of a film, then look no further than Sundown. Led by an incredible performance by Tim Roth, Sundown is one of the most unexpected, gripping, and utterly arresting dramas I've had the joy of seeing recently.
1h 22m. 'Sundown' is rated R for sexual content, violence, language, and some graphic nudity.
https://youtu.be/dte6YUfWwHw
Sundance: 'Summering' Celebrates Girlhood and Friendship
James Ponsoldt is a director who's made a wide range of movies. Of them, there are some I've really connected with, like 2013's The Spectacular Now and 2015's The End of the Tour. Looking closer, I think the reason behind why I appreciate both films is because, in them, characters are drawn towards pursuing a strangely alluring kind of darkness in life. His new film, Summering, a coming-of-age story about a group of friends who bond over an unexpected discovery during their last days of summer, couldn't be further from those films. But Ponsoldt does infuse a bit of fate into this childhood story that makes it just a bit more elevated and smart than it might've been in the hands of another writer-director.
It's an interesting shift of gears that Ponsoldt makes here. Having previously made movies with more mature themes and artistic stature–whether about alcoholic high schoolers or the tragic beauty of David Foster Wallace–he's now at a place in his life where he wants to celebrate the transient beauty of young people and their friendship. Perhaps after making these darker films, he knows how fleeting this pure time in life is.
As Ponsoldt said while (virtually) introducing the film during its premiere at the Sundance film festival, Summering was born "out of a desire to see better films about his daughter wife, and mother." So, it's clear that he intended to make something lighter, something he could show his family and that they would hopefully also enjoy. After watching the film, it's quite obvious how much he wants to celebrate girlhood, and girl power, from a very proud girl dad.
It's the last few days of summer, and four best friends–Daisy (Lia Barnet), Dina (Madalen Mills), Mari (Eden Grace Redfield), and Lola (Sanai Victoria)–intend to spend it together, playing in the bright sunshine without an adult in sight. Summering sets out to capture the magic of youth, friendship, and growing up. Ponsoldt's camera captures highly stylized sequences of them all running in slow-motion and making dreamlike leaps over creeks, magical moments with enchanted music underneath. If the whole thing feels a bit too cheesy, it's clearly because he can't help himself. But then again, with this much joy and beauty being captured, why would you want to?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BEyJP5pHcU
However, the magic is quickly countered when they stumble upon a dead body in their secret spot in the woods (cue Stand By Me). Interestingly, they aren't scared or even shocked. In fact, they stoically and smartly decide not to tell anyone about it, knowing they'll just be coddled ("They'll think we're like, traumatized.") (Side note: they're not?).
Ponsoldt doesn't forget that these young friends are still just kids. But what he does here is treat them with respect, and give them a sense of autonomy and agency. They stake their claim with their discovery: "This is our body." They make a secret pact, and the remainder of the movie follows their shared journey to discover who the deceased man was and bond along the way.
While Summering feels like a very family-friendly film–at times, too packaged and kiddie–Ponsoldt still puts forward interesting themes that the kids discuss. They're a few days from entering middle school, but their conversation ranges to talking about death, even the topic of suicide arising (perhaps it speaks to their collective impressive intelligence on the matter, but their inability to truly understand it just yet).
Although it's not destined to become a new classic in the coming of age genre (nor high on my personal list of Ponsoldt's films), Summering may very likely be a movie that gives a new, younger moviegoer and their friends something to connect to and bond over.
87 minutes.
Sundance: 'The Exiles' is an Education of the Tiananmen Square Massacre
"How do I describe myself? Fuck you, how do you describe me?" These are the words of the greatly influential (and highly spirited) documentarian Christine Choy, the central figure of the new documentary, The Exiles.
The Exiles is the winner of this year's Grand Jury Prize in the Documentary section at this year's Sundance Film Festival. It begins as a biography of Christine Choy, the rowdy, rambunctious, and prolific political activist, whose contributions to documentary filmmaking have helped shaped the art form as we know it today.
Don't worry if you haven't heard of her before, as she quickly makes herself known. The Exiles begins as an introduction to and biography of Choy. Loud-mouthed and confrontational, she's a fiery Chinese woman with Tazmanian devil energy. The kind of person who would become a part of the Black Panther Party for resonating with their efforts to progress the rights and cause of marginalized people (she did).
Judging from her slender, skinny frame alone at first, her singular attitude and swagger it's not immediately clear. But once she starts talking–cussing up a storm, with a constantly lit cigarette in one hand and her preferred drink in the other (vodka on the rocks)–it's immediately clear her conviction to be a formidable and passionate activist who inspired filmmakers today.
Directed by first-time feature filmmakers Violet Columbus (Chris Columbus's daughter) and Ben Klein, Columbus and Klein are both Choy's students, and Joker director Todd Phillips–a former student of Choy's–sits for an interview to sing her praise, with Choy bobbing in the background).
It's a fun intro to meet this wild woman, rocking to the beat of her own drum. As we soon learn, among her many contributions to documentary storytelling, we learn her 1989 film Who Killed Vincent Chin? landed her an Academy Award nomination, but didn't win in part because there were no Asian members in the branch at the time.
Columbus and Klein then widen the documentary out to show her connection to the historic and horrifying event in Chinese culture that still affects today. With a mix of humor, shock, heartbreak, The Exiles is an accomplished film that entertains and enlightens.
It's all fascinating and fun to learn of Choy and her story, whose work in political activism got her attention to cover the Chinese student protests, We soon enough learn that one of her unfinished projects was capturing the protests. As history would soon show, this turned into the Tiananmen Square protests. As The Exiles shows, this was not just a protest: the Chinese government turned their military on the students. To this day, there is no account as to how many died (by some accounts, thousands) as bodies were whisked away and cremated immediately.
The Exiles is eventually about Chinese exiles who were ex-communicated from their homeland, and Choy meets the people who she once interviewed years before. They are scattered around the world, the US and France. We see how that historic day forever shaped their lives.
Christine Choy is a staple in documentary work and continues her story today. The fact that this won the Grand Jury Prize should help get more people aware of Choy and the Chinese people.
If You Haven't Seen Any of Asghar Farhadi's Films, Start With 'A Hero'
Where to watch: 'A Hero' is now playing in select theaters and available to stream on Amazon Prime this Friday, January 14th.
I'll admit, I hadn't seen a film by Iranian director Asghar Farhadi before watching his newest film, A Hero.
I guess the only positive thing that I can say to that is, without having seen any of his other movies to date, I was able to watch his newest film with eyes anew (hey, we're all here to continuously discover new films, aren't we?).
Although, it is particularly embarrassing that I (a film critic) am just now seeing my first of Farhad's films, an accomplished director who has won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film twice, for A Separation (2011) and The Salesman (2016). It's a feat shared by only a few directors worldwide.
His newest film, A Hero (which is also Iran's official submission to this year's Academy Awards), has been on a lot of 2021 year-end lists and has received a ton of critical reception to date. Last year, it won the Cannes Film Festival's Grand Prix (the second-most prestigious prize of the festival after the Palme d'Or).
Knowing all of this, and very much wanting to begin my journey into seeing the Oscar-winning director's work, I watched a digital screener of the film at home in advance of the film going up on Prime Video this Friday.
First off, A Hero is a film without an obvious directorial style to it. It's not visually flashy and doesn't use grandiose camerawork in its storytelling. I don't even think there was any score, either. So, it's not exactly a film that rings as "cinematic," in those senses.
However, forgoing style makes its substance resonate so deeply. The people in this story, who are brought to life by a fantastic ensemble cast of actors, make the story feel even more human and real. And for a film that is intent on exploring the human condition, removing these layers of cinema to let the performances and story shine is exactly the right choice.
At 2 hours and 7 minutes, A Hero is about Rahim (Amir Jadidi), a man imprisoned for not being able to pay back a loan, and on temporary leave for two short days. With only a part of the money he needs to pay back his debt, he asks his creditor to withdraw his complaint against the payment of part of the sum. When the creditor denies, Rahim enacts a plan to attempt to settle his debt.
Fabricating a story of goodwill that is picked up by the local media, Rahim instantly turns into an overnight hero in his community. However, just as soon as his fame has risen, cracks in his charitable story start to emerge threatening his reputation, and his plans of freedom.
What makes A Hero such a great film–which it is–is that it's not a movie that lets you easily pass judgment or ascribe labels on people or their motives. Rahim may sound like a calculating, contemptuous figure, but what Farhad adds in his excellently written script is to show that Rahim, in fact, has purer motives underneath.
While he may not be telling the full truth in his story, the larger truth is that Rahim embellishes his story as a means to an end, looking to use his new goodwill to land a job to then pay back the creditor the rest of his money. Farhad's nuanced writing and shrewd observation of such a complex and conflicted character, as well as the larger human condition, forces the audience to consider the entire spectrum of ethics, as well as our own.
So, if you're like me, and have been largely unfamiliar with Asghar Farhadi's films to date, start with A Hero. You'll not only find a wealth of rich, thrilling drama that looks at the human condition but even consider the ethics by which you live your own life too.
2 hours 7 minutes. 'A Hero' is rated PG-13 for some thematic elements and language.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAJ6_lmr_HQ
In 'Italian Studies,' Vanessa Kirby Wanders New York Without Her Memory
Identities are an elusive thing. While having a fixed identity gives each of us the cognitive ability to function as humans within a society, it also ends up confining us to live lives based upon the limits of who we are; or, as Adam Leon poses in his new film–Italian Studies–who we think we are.
Originally premiering at last year's Tribeca Film Festival and releasing in theaters and on-demand this Friday, Italian Studies explores how we live our everyday lives based on the stories we tell ourselves.
Adam Leon's new film–which he wrote and directed with his film's muse, Vanessa Kirby–stars Kirby as a nameless woman walking around New York City. She's beautiful but very clearly suffers from severe memory loss. She doesn't know who she is, whether or not she eats meat, or even if she's Jewish or not. She doesn't know where she's supposed to go but does have the feeling that she's supposed to be looking for a girl.
Essentially, that's the outline of the story. Leon and Kirby conceived Italian Studies based on the simple idea of what would a film be like about a woman wandering around New York with no recollection of who she is. So, don't expect a conventional plot-driven movie here. A more "genre" version of this film would have Kirby needing to remember who she is against some sort of arbitrary ticking clock plot device to make for a thrilling movie.
That's not to say that Leon and Kirby don't create an intriguing film here. Italian Studies uses the mystery surrounding Kirby and her character in a suspenseful way. The more characters that she meets (a group of highschoolers become the main supporting cast) as well as what we learn of her backstory (and the meaning behind "Italian Studies"), the deeper the film's core theme and questions become. It's a mystery-filled arthouse movie that's definitely experimental in nature, channeling major "neo-realist" vibes that are likely very aware of the films of John Cassavettes.
For a movie like this to work, it all comes down to whether or not Kirby can pull off the highwire act of being intriguing enough to an audience while only being able to play dazed and confused. And yet, she's alluring and magnetic. Coming off of her last film, 2020's devastating Pieces of a Woman (which earned her an Oscar nomination), Kirby proves that she can hold down the center of a film with nothing more than her instincts and enchantment.
Italian Studies is an intriguing, dreamy, and altogether hypnotic film that stands as one of the best new films that you can watch in this early part of the year. Vanessa Kirby is someone you won't soon forget.
1 hour 21 minutes. 'Italian Studies' is in theaters and on-demand this Friday, January 14th.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBgubizv64g&ab_channel=MagnoliaPictures%26MagnetReleasing
In 'Licorice Pizza,' Paul Thomas Anderson Follows His Bliss
You might not think that the same person who made a movie named There Will Be Blood would also make a movie as un-serious and sweetly-named as Licorice Pizza.
But writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson's ninth feature film is as funny and heartfelt a film as he's ever made. Licorice Pizza is a coming-of-age story centered around young love set in the 70s-era San Fernando Valley. And its cinematic bliss that will overjoy movie lovers.
Sweetly Nostalgic
After seeing her from afar on school picture day, 15-year-old Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman) instantly falls in love with 25-year-old Alana Kane (Alana Haim). Gary immediately pursues the somewhat older woman. Though he's sweet and sincere, she instantly laughs off his innocently expressed advances with incredulous disbelief. In her eyes, he's just a doe-eyed kid.
But Alana is also lost and wandering in her own life. Gary continues to show interest, and she slowly starts to connect to him as another young person of pure-hearted intention and entrepreneurial ambition. It leads the pair to embark on adventures of all kinds throughout the San Fernando Valley.
First-Time Actors Wow
Paul Thomas Anderson has shown his talent for directing some of the biggest movie stars in the world. His resume has included collaborations with Daniel Day-Lewis, Joaquin Phoenix, and Adam Sandler, to name a few. In Licorice Pizza, he casts two young talents who have never acted in a movie of any kind before. It's a bold and unorthodox move for anyone making a movie. Let alone for one with a sizable budget and Oscars chatter.
But being a master of modern cinema, Anderson's intuitive casting choices are right on the money. Playing Gary is Cooper Hoffman, son of the late Academy Award-winning actor Philip Seymour Hoffman (one of Anderson's regular actors). The young Hoffman channels his late father's cherubic charisma and brings an irresistible charm to Gary. He wins over the audience by starting out as a childhood actor and ends as both a waterbed salesman and pinball store manager.
But stealing the show is first-time actor Alana Haim, whose center Licorice Pizza orbits. Music fans will recognize her as the youngest of the all-sisters rock band Haim. But here, she makes her feature film acting debut–and to impressive acclaim. Her performance is one that holds her own against some of the other real movie stars in the film, including Bradley Cooper, Tom Waits, and Sean Penn.
Free-Wheeling and Heartfelt
Hoffman and Haim's effortless performances give the film a laidback and lighthearted vibe. The Boogie Nights director Anderson himself has said that American Graffiti and Fast Times at Ridgemont High were among Licorice Pizza's main influences. Their adolescent episodic adventure natures can definitely be seen here. It also has the artistic ambitions of channeling a time that the director knows and wishes to re-create so well. Much like Tarantino's Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood did for the end of Los Angeles's sixties era.
Beyond its all-around enjoyability, Licorice Pizza advances Paul Thomas Anderson's filmmaking style and voice as a director. And that's entirely exciting to see at this stage of his career. The film is quite simply one of the best-looking films of the year as well (Anderson again hops behind the camera as cinematographer). I saw the film projected on 70mm film at Westwood's The Regent theater, and it was one of my very favorite big-screen experiences I've had at the movies this year. I can't recommend seeking out this heartfelt and incredible film for everyone I know.
2 hours 13 minutes. 'Licorice Pizza' is rated R for language, sexual material, and some drug use. Now playing in theaters everywhere.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofnXPwUPENo&ab_channel=MGM
'Spencer' Imagines the Unbearable Duty of Being Diana
A Royal's holiday duties
Since you, dear reader, likely aren't royalty, you might think that the holidays are a time for simply unwinding, relaxing, and being yourself amongst your closest loved ones.
For royalty, however, holidays are orderly affairs of the strictest manner. Meals are orchestrated and scheduled at exact times. You must be on your best behavior always, smiling courteously in your already-chosen outfit for each event (and don't even think about swapping your morning and afternoon attires).
Much like your entire life, it's a performance. A wholly lifeless charade where enjoyment and self-expression have no place at the table.
These dignified traditions continue from one generation to the next, as the Royal family sees the highly fashionable acts as fulfilling a duty to their country.
But times change, and pressures grow. They certainly did for Princess Diana, a young woman at the center of the media sensation and the public's fixation on the world's largest stage.
How might the pressures of one's highly scrutinized life reveal over a holiday gathering? What sort of psychological horrors would hide behind those castle's looming doors and drape-drawn windows?
An impressionistically painted portrait
That is the question that Spencer asks. Director Pablo Larraín, having last showcased John F. Kennedy's late wife in 2016's Jackie, once again returns to examining the inner sadness of a stoic matriarch.
Related: ‘Neruda’ Review: Director Pablo Larraín Ends Year on a High Note with Poetic Biopic
This time around, though, Larraín (with a screenplay from Steven Knight) takes greater artistic liberties by inventing the events that happened over one holiday weekend.
Based on the factual accounting of a stay that Princess Diana (Kristen Stewart) spent at home with her large Royal family, Spencer imagines the conversations, events, and episodes that the Princess of Wales may have secretly suffered.
While the events themselves might not have happened in the way they are depicted in the film, the impressionistic portrait makes for a different kind of honesty: one that's more truthful of an emotional state versus events.
In taking such narrative liberties, Spencer is free to tread into dangerous, almost horrifically surprising grounds. Stuffy dinners aren't just seen as uncomfortable, but as grotesque nightmares in which we are trapped, panic-stricken, and helpless. It's beautiful, but also an unshakeable fever dream of anxious, overly suspicious proportions.
Kristen Stewart's finest hour
And of course, the film holds together with a captivating and career-defining performance from Kristen Stewart.
Stewart might not be the first person you'd think of to play the late figure (perhaps because she's only 31, and isn't British). But when you look at Stewart's career of playing anguished, grief-stricken women–along with her own history of being fixated upon by the media and public alike, the elements all come together. They make for an experience that feels spiritually connected (credit the costume and makeup department too, for masterfully capturing the look).
Stewart exudes a wide range of emotions: the tender grace in her lighter moments, as well as a heavier sense of hurt in darker moments. Spencer builds to hallucinatory anxiety, in which she spirals over her lack of control in her life. Of not owning your identity, and living life as a construction of others' perceptions.
In Spencer (one of the best films of the year), Larraín and Stewart do something that I was reminded of after seeing Quentin Tarantino's Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood, and what that did for the late actress Sharon Tate. By inventing a new story about a young woman who was also tragically taken from the world too soon, Spencer gives Diana her life back–at least in the public's perception. A life that's liberated from obligation and expectation. Here, she is able to live on her terms–duties be damned.
1h 57m. 'Spencer' is rated R for some language. Now playing in theaters everywhere.
'The Souvenir: Part II' is a Brave, Beautiful Bookend to a Personal Journey
Firstly, to properly discuss The Souvenir: Part II, we need to begin by remembering the film's predecessor.
Remembering The Souvenir
I was absolutely floored when I first saw The Souvenir upon its release in 2019. The film began as a simple depiction of a troubled relationship. Masterfully, it unfolded into a larger, devastating story. A portrait of how one person struggled to support, and then survive in the shadow of the other's darkness, which sought to consume and doom them both. Upon seeing the film's final frame, my mind was blown. Then, the end credits revealed that The Souvenir would return in a second part. Aghast, I instantly wondered: "Where would this story go from here?"
The Souvenir: Part II, which is now playing in select theaters, answers that question.
An Auto-Biographical sequel
Director Joanna Hogg continues with the semi-autobiographical story of Julie (Honor Swinton Byrne). Her devastating relationship with Anthony (Tom Burke) has ended. Nervously, she must figure out how to move forward in the aftermath of those recent tragic events—independently and alone.
The Souvenir focused mainly on Julie and Anthony's turbulent relationship, ending by only briefly showing Julie entering film school. The Souvenir: Part II sees Julie towards the end of school and embarking on making her thesis film. The story that Julie, the student filmmaker, decides to make is that of a young woman in a turbulent relationship.
Joanna Hogg's cinematic catharsis
Fascinatingly, Joanna Hogg–a woman who previously made a film about a woman navigating a dark chapter in her life–has now returned with a film about a woman making a film about a woman navigating a dark chapter in her life, bringing an even deeper level of poignancy and meta-reflection to the storytelling.
This sequel (of which the format type is rarely seen beyond superhero movies and prestige TV) works wonderfully here. If the story of The Souvenir was to have ended with that film, we would have been left to create the rest of her life's story in our own heads. The Souvenir: Part II provides the necessary closure and cathartic release to Julie's story, which its director feels deeply connected to resolving.
Spell-binding cinematic closure
Beyond its incredible emotional honesty, the film is beautifully constructed from a cinematic level. Visually, the film is lensed through a soft, pastel world, which perfectly captures Julie in 1980s London. The Souvenir films should be admired for their visual and technical artistry just as much for their emotional storytelling. The focus of the drama in this film is, while Julie is now liberated, can she process and make sense of her life's recent events? Still timid and soft-spoken (the white she wears likens her to a floating ghost), those around her throw unsure glances. How will she process this heavy trauma? Is she even capable of doing so?
However, if there's a shortcoming that I found in my experience with Part II, it's that there isn't the same effect in the grandly measured reveal that defined the first film. The Souvenir bloomed into a large and suspenseful story. Part II is more defined by seeing how, or if, she will come to terms with her past, and how, or if, she will realize her artistic vision.
Takeaway
Still, it's all told so bravely, and shot so beautifully, that I am enthused to recommend not just this film, but both, to everyone. Truly, they are among the most special pieces that have been shared about a person's life, and depiction of an artist's struggle, that I've seen shown on film in recent times. The Souvenir films should forever be cherished as a thing to have to remember a life-changing journey by.
With 'The French Dispatch,' Wes Anderson Invents With Short Stories
In a conversation I was having with some cinephile friends earlier this week, one asked the group–ahead of The French Dispatch releasing in theaters today–"Does anyone else feel Wes Anderson-ed out?"
I'll admit, I considered the question at length. I remembered the exuberance I felt while watching the film on the Aero theater's big screen. But the question remained. With his ninth feature, had I finally had my fix of Wes Anderson's fastidiously designed films? Had my storybook sensibilities been utterly exhausted?
Anyone who has seen all–or even just one–Wes Anderson movie knows that every outing from the prolific auteur is pure dessert for moviegoers. A mere moment is among the richest of intricately made confectionary treats. Eating an entire box in a single sitting is either the most savory of experiences, or the most uncomfortably stuffing.
A familiar brilliance
Throughout his entire filmography, Wes Anderson has stayed his course in realizing a vision that recalls the European cinema of the past. With his symmetrical compositions, his vision is unmistakably unique, and utterly his. He's detoured only slightly in his filmography, opting to pit-stop into stop-motion animated films twice (both of which feel just as natural in their meticulously crafted nature as with his real-life films).
The question I pose is, considering the entire body of familiar and brilliant work that The French Dispatch will enter into the company of–like the next ornamentally designed hardcover book slotting into his shelf of others–how and where does it fit in?
I'm happy and relieved to say that the new film is actually, again, something of another detour in Anderson-land. Where Wes' previous eight films have all adhered to a single plot-driven storyline, the writer/director breaks from that convention only slightly in creatively making The French Dispatch an anthology series of short stories.
That larger backdrop is a fictional magazine (the Liberty Kansas Evening Sun) and its press, which he clearly loves the history of both. It's actually obvious to see how The New Yorker magazine–which he was fascinated with as a child (can't you just picture it?)–inspired his particular and creative writing style that evokes high-society intelligentsia. The French Dispatch is an homage to the institution and people that shaped that early artistic vision.
Anderson, and the anthology
The film's structure breaks from his previous films, in that this outing is a series of short films–articles within an edition that cleverly mirrors a magazine itself. And it's this anthology structure that makes it so welcome and appetizing at this point in his filmography (where was he supposed to go after the enormous accomplishment that was the decades-spanning screwball caper The Grand Budapest Hotel?).
Anderson's recognizable camerawork and cast fit together like clockwork once again: Bill Murray leads the ensemble as the magazine's Editor in Chief, Arthur Howitzer Jr. His personal sayings "No crying" and "Just pretend you meant to write it like that" can't help but call back to Wes' own fixation with composed deliberateness.
The rest of his regulars pop up again as well, all understanding their assignments. Owen Wilson strolls the city as a "man about town" bicycling reporter. Tilda Swinton earns laughs as an art lecturer. Adrien Brody entertains as a greedy art dealer, and newly-minted Oscar winner Frances McDormand shows she can deliver dry humor better than any.
It's the new faces though that make the biggest splash, and who provide the most exciting time in the film. Benicio Del Toro and Léa Seydoux star in the film's second short story, playing a brilliant but tortured artist/prisoner, and that prisoner's muse/guard. "It" boy Timothée Chalamet stars as a student protestor attempting to lead a revolution in 60s France. And in the film's fourth story (and most emotionally profound), Jeffrey Wright plays a writer and food critic with a larger story to tell.
Welcoming the short story
Following Anderson's last feature film, 2018's stop-motion pup tale Isle of Dogs, The French Dispatch feels like the right welcome back for Wes to display his filmmaking mastery. You can feel how excited he is at giving himself the opportunity to create not just one, but five (and within that, 500) worlds to play in.
However, the nature of the short story is also the film's biggest limitation. For all of its brilliantly-staged choreography that binds everything together, I was left without feeling a deeper significance to invest into, rather than let myself simply be in awe over these madcap comedies. Anderson clearly connects to these stories and characters: of Del Toro's tortured artist, Chalamet's youthful rebel, and Jeffrey Wright's melancholic food critic, in which we see Wes offer profundity and poignancy in a very welcomed way.
I don't think that The French Dispatch will be included in the shorthand of Wes Anderson's most memorable films. However, it is a different sort of achievement in its own right. A love letter to journalism and the writers and institutions that crafted himself as an artist, you can admire the heart that Wes shows here. And I shouldn't downplay that fact that it really does rival the intricate complexities and huge vision that The Grand Budapest Hotel displayed too. Just try and mentally pause any frame at any moment in your head, and notice the mastery of any one shot.
What was the question again? "Anyone else feel Wes Anderson-ed out?" To that, I say this: empty your head beforehand. Leave your memories, expectations, and projections behind. And then watch it, with eyes anew. I did. And the endless awe and inspiration that I drew from it gave me something worth writing about.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TcPk2p0Zaw4&t=1s&ab_channel=SearchlightPictures
'The French Dispatch' is in theaters Friday, October 22nd.