January 2025 - Ian Thomas Malone

Friday

31

January 2025

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COMMENTS

‘Emilia Perez’ review: trans people may consider detransition after sitting through this abomination

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

There is a certain obligation that many pieces of transgender media feel to explain the trans identity to a wider audience. We’re more than a decade removed from having trans characters in film and television that are more than just dead bodies for the likes of Law & Order: SVU or CSI, yet plenty of cisgender people know very little about our community. For trans artists and those seeking to include trans people in their own stories, the inherent need to hold the audience’s hand playing ‘trans 101’ can be extremely frustrating.

The film Emilia Perez spends very little of its time diving into the identity of its eponymous trans character (Karla Sofía Gascón), a Mexican cartel kingpin who enlists Rita (Zoe Saldana), an attorney, to help her undergo a steal gender transition. Emilia, previously known as Manitas, transitions in stealth under the dead of night in Thailand, a highly unrealistic proposition fundamentally rooted in decades-old preconceptions of trans people. After having every procedure under the sun in one fell swoop, Emilia misses her family, having shipped off her wife Jessi (Selena Gomez) and kids to Switzerland to avoid retribution from rival gangs.

Inexplicably, she sends for them to join her at her Mexican estate, posing as her former identity’s aunt to a family who has precisely zero idea that their new benefactor is actually their father/husband. Director Jacques Audiard seems to operate under the utterly clownish impression that trans people shed our entire prior identities, fully integrating into the cis way of life after a weekend in Bangkok. Emilia Perez contains what is very likely the worst song ever written about gender dysphoria, guaranteed to make any trans person regret the life decisions that might cause people to associate themselves with this trainwreck.

It’s unclear why Emilia Perez is a musical. The songs are all terrible and add nothing to the experience beyond padding an excruciating 132-minute runtime. Audiard doesn’t know how to film musical numbers either. Somehow, against all odds, Gomez, a professional singer, sounds just as terrible as Saldana and Gascón, not that anyone could put lipstick on the lyrics that somehow made it into a professional film.

Saldana and Gascón’s chemistry provides some intrigue to the film’s anemic second half, which takes a four-year jump after Emilia’s gender confirmation procedures. Rita is more of the lead than Emilia, but Saldana doesn’t have much to work with for her character. Rita is unfulfilled at her job and upset at being a bachelorette in her forties. The fact that she supposedly became immensely rich after arranging Emilia’s surgeries is cast aside, for whatever reason.

Audiard’s gross incompetence squanders a brilliant premise. Trans people rarely get to play fun roles like drug kingpins. Emilia’s transformation from cartel overlord to nonprofit benefactor is poorly explained and inconsistent. Most trans people will tell you that gender-affirming care does not lead to a complete 180 in character and personality. If Audiard knows a single trans person other than Gascón, it doesn’t come across in his superficial narrative that cares little about its subject beyond her medical procedures. Judging solely by his film full of racist stereotypes, it’s unclear whether Audiard, a French native, knows any actual Mexican people either.

Cis people might be fooled by some of Audiard’s attempts at compelling drama. One of Emilia’s children notes that she smells like their father once did, aside from her off-putting perfume, another trans stereotype. A change in body odor is one of the most immediate effects of hormone replacement therapy. Somehow, this child, who never indicates that he sees a physical resemblance between Emilia and his father, picks up on what would be an unlikely medical anomaly, unless we’re to believe that Emilia keeps using the same deodorant.

Audiard’s pathetic depiction of trans issues belies Emilia Perez’s more glaring issues. This is a profoundly bad movie. The music is awful. The screenplay never dives deeper than its superficial surface. Trans people might be embarrassed that this film was made, but cis people won’t have a very good time either.

Wednesday

29

January 2025

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‘The Brutalist’ review: Adrien Brody carries an uneven odyssey

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews

One of the great beauties of the artistic process is the way that the act of creation can help you drown out everything else going wrong with your life. The reconnection with one’s craft can bring the soul back from oblivion, or it can doom an obsessive heart inside a prison of its own making. The film The Brutalist takes its audience on an odyssey through one man’s grief and his efforts to hold on to what’s left of his humanity.

László Tóth (Adrien Brody) is a Hungarian-Jewish architect who arrives to America in 1947 after surviving the Buchenwald concentration camp. Separated from his wife Ezrsébet (Felicity Jones) and niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy), László finds work at his cousin’s furniture shop. An expensive commission by a wealthy businessman Harry Lee Van Buren (Joe Alwyn) for his father Harrison (Guy Pearce) gives László a chance to put his Bauhaus education to work in a suitable setting. Harrison’s angry reaction to his son’s surprise renovations causes strife between László and his cousin Attila (Alessandro Nivola), who has already angered László with his assimilation into American culture and conversion to Roman Catholicism.

Harrison seeks out László a few years later, now working menial labor, to make amends and to hire him to design a community center that he intends to construct as a tribute to his late mother. Harrison also pulls strings to have Ezrsébet and Zsófia approved for immigration. László quickly butts heads with Harrison’s team, bristling at any suggested changes and repeatedly clashing with Harry, who resents the Tóth’s presence in his life.

Director Brady Corbet’s most impressive feat is how he makes 215 minutes fly by. The Brutalist is exhausting, but never boring, wasting little of its mammoth runtime. Lol Crawley always keeps things interesting with his fantastic, dreamy cinematography. Even in well-trodden territory, Corbet manages to carve out a fresh perspective on the horrors of that era.

Brody completely loses himself in his lead role. László is a proud man with great depth. Brody captures the essence of a soul that spent too far much time in survival mode, totally immersed by his rare second chance to redefine his own legacy, even at the expense of everything he thought he held dear. Few people who lose everything get a chance to taste the peak of the mountain once again.

The film does fall short in a few crucial aspects. Corbet doesn’t really know what to do with Jones, who doesn’t make an appearance until part two, after a lengthy built-in intermission. Ezrsébet is very charming, befriending everyone in her husband’s extended orbit. There’s tension between the two as a result of Ezrsébet’s decision to hide her health problems from her husband, now confined to a wheelchair from osteoporosis brought on by malnutrition from years of living in famine. The introverted László can wax poetic about the beauty of architecture, lacking that same chemistry with his own wife.

Corbet has such tunnel vision for László that he undersells the rest of the cast. Despite his best efforts, Pearce fails to elevate Harrison into much more than a cartoon villain. We see snippets of his jealousy toward László, who possesses the artistic talent he desperately craves, but his scenes are one-note and repetitive. The depiction of the architectural process leaves a bit to be desired. We see László’s vivid descriptions of his passion for his work, but we rarely see the application of his craft. There’s too much telling and not enough showing.

The shortcomings of Corbet’s storytelling abilities are best apparent through an epilogue tasked with significant heavy lifting for a narrative that had three and a half hours to set up its third act. The Brutalist is a deeply frustrating piece of art. Like its protagonist, you can see the meticulous effort that went into every frame. You can also see the tunnel vision of a mind that may have benefited from additional voices in the room.

Corbet’s vision grapples with Emerson’s timeless saying, it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. A person like László, whose life was filled with unthinkable horrors, might understandably be fixed on the destination as a way to triumph after years of hardship. As for the audience enduring the odyssey that is this film, there’s no question that the journey matters more than the rather underwhelming destination.

Monday

27

January 2025

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‘Sing Sing’ review: Colman Domingo is a tour de force in this quietly gem

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

As America sinks deeper into a fascist theocracy, it’s worth frequently pointing out how little our government seems to care about anything that can be found in the Bible. From Hebrews 13:3 to Matthew 25:39-40, the Good Book is pretty clear regarding how we should treat our incarcerated. Prisons are supposed to be about rehabilitation, not the contemporary idea of using the criminal justice system to exploit the labor class.

The film Sing Sing is based on the real-life Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) program at the eponymous correctional facility in upstate New York. The RTA is a non-profit that stages theatrical productions for inmates across ten facilities. Many former RTA alumni make up the cast of the film, playing fictionalized versions of themselves.

The narrative follows the production of a light-hearted time-traveling comedy. Divine G (Colman Domingo) recruits new member Divine Eye (Clarence Maclin, playing himself), who initially dismisses the therapeutic value of the troupe. Divine G, incarcerated for a crime he didn’t commit, struggles under the weight of his upcoming clemency hearing, as well as his desire to use the stage to work through his own demons.

Director Greg Kwedar uses a soft touch for much of the film’s 105-minute runtime. The plot is warm and uplifting, allowing the cast to shine through their fantastic chemistry with each other. Few films manage to make their audiences feel like they’re in the room with the performers, an inviting sense of flow to the narrative.

Domingo puts forth what might be the strongest performance of his career. The pain never quite leaves Divine G’s face, even as he spends the bulk of the film trying his best to help others. At one point early on, Divine G notes to Divine Eye that the RTA is all these people have, a reality of the bleak nature of incarcerated life, but there’s such a richness to their sense of community. Amidst all the darkness of life behind bars, the innate human need for connection shines through.

Prison films are not exactly known for their uplifting nature, which is perhaps Sing Sing’s crowning achievement. Our society fails the incarcerated at every level. While our government turns its back on its imprisoned except in times of exploitation, these men never gave up on each other. There is always light, even in the darkest hour. Anyone questioning the sheer power of the arts should look no further than this quietly powerful gem of a film.

Wednesday

15

January 2025

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COMMENTS

‘Sonic the Hedgehog 3’ review: a little overstuffed but easily the best installment in the franchise

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

The Sonic the Hedgehog franchise has become quite the anomaly in the entertainment realm. Amidst a landscape where television shows take years in between seasons and many major films take half a decade to get off the ground, Sonic has consistently put out a new installment every two years. Perhaps even more impressive is the fact that, against all odds, the films somehow manage to get better each time.

Sonic the Hedgehog 3 continues the modern trend of major franchises prioritizing the introduction of new characters over established stalwarts. Shadow the Hedgehog (Keanu Reeves) is a beloved figure in Sonic lore, making his debut in Sonic Adventure 2, the swan song for the Dreamcast, Sega’s final piece of hardware. The Dreamcast’s entire original demographic is old enough to have kids of their own, a reality never lost on the filmmakers.

The plot is fairly cookie-cutter, if not a little overly complicated. Shadow wakes up from fifty years in suspended hibernation to seek revenge on the Guardian Units of Nations (G.U.N.) that put him there. Team Sonic, now composed of the titular hedgehog (Ben Schwartz), Tails (Colleen O’Shaughnessey), and Knuckles (Idris Elba) are summoned by G.U.N. Director Rockwell (Krysten Ritter) to stop Shadow from wreaking havoc on one of their facilities. Shadow quickly overpowers all three, while a surprise attack casts suspicion on G.U.N. as an organization, causing Team Sonic to form an uneasy alliance with arch-nemesis Dr. Robotnik (Jim Carrey).

While the narrative often throws a little too much chaos energy into the mix, director Jeff Fowler does an excellent job juggling the film’s many moving pieces. 3 corrects many of the mistakes of the second film, particularly its over-emphasis on the human characters. James Marsden and Tika Sumpter largely take a backseat role, while Jim Carrey performs double duty as the Eggman and his grandfather Dr. Gerald Robotnik, the head of Project Shadow who spent the last fifty years imprisoned. Carrey’s character work is particularly powerful, elevating the script above its mostly juvenile ambitions.

Reeves brings ample emotional depth to Shadow, without much of the forced humor that was dumped on Knuckles in the last film. Fowler takes his time building up the newcomer over the course of the 110-minute runtime. That does come at the expense of the titular hero, who largely plays second-fiddle to Shadow and the Robotniks. There’s an interesting subplot concerning teamwork within Team Sonic that doesn’t receive as much attention as it deserved. Tails and Knuckles aren’t given enough to do, perhaps to be expected with the amount of principal characters.

The script shows some legitimate improvements over the last two. There are a few pop culture references too many, but plenty of the jokes land. The filmmakers are clearly aware of how many adults are in the audience. There’s a lot of humor that no child would possibly understand, and a few fun references to Sonic lore.

Sonic the Hedgehog 3 is not exactly great art, but Fowler deserves a lot of credit for competent blockbuster filmmaking. 3 is a major improvement over the first two. The franchise juggles the space between mainstream appeal and children’s fare quite well, even if it’s a little too preoccupied with low-hanging fruit. Beyond that, consistency is something sorely lacking across the modern entertainment sphere. Sonic may not fully capture the Sega zeitgeist, but it’s certainly an enjoyable time at the theater.

Monday

13

January 2025

0

COMMENTS

‘Small Things Like These’ review: Murphy shines in a subtly unsettling drama

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

History is full of horrifying events that beg the simple question, how did anyone let this happen? Storytelling helps unpack the complexities. Heinous injustice doesn’t merely operate in the shadows, but often in plain sight. Plenty of communities would rather sweep things under the rug than dare to disrupt the status quo.

The film Small Things Like These centers its narrative around the Magdalene Laundries that operated in Ireland for most of the 20^th century. The Magdalene Laundries functioned as asylums for unwed pregnant women, where women were forced to work as indentured servants under inhuman conditions. The Laundries were highly secretive, preying on vulnerable populations to meet their labor demands.

Bill Furlong (Cillian Murphy) is a hardworking coal merchant working in the small town of New Ross in the 1980s, raising five daughters with his wife Eileen (Eileen Walsh). While delivering coal to the local convent, Bill finds a young pregnant girl Sarah (Zara Devlin) who was locked in a shed overnight in the freezing cold. Bill’s effort to get to the bottom of why a young girl would be kept outside to freeze offered no reassurances, as Sister Mary (Emily Watson), Mother superior of the convent, resorts to bribery in the obvious cover-up.

Director Tim Mielants opts for a no-frills approach to his carefully constructed slow burn. Bill doesn’t say much, but Murphy speaks volumes with every facial expression. Occasional flashbacks to Bill’s childhood poverty provide the closest thing the film has to character development. For a man who spent his life trying to reveal as little as possible about himself to his community, Murphy paints an entire portrait of Bill through his eyes alone across the 98-minute runtime.

Enda Murphy’s screenplay possesses ample room for silence, following the lead of Claire Keegan’s sparse novella of the same name that provided the source material. In cases of abuse, it’s often what people don’t say that really matters. The panopticon of Sister Mary’s empire leaves little space for the voice of a single dissenter.

Mielants’ work cares little for the theatrics of filmmaking, giving great dignity to the horrors he depicts through his refusal to bend toward sensationalism. The only entertainment value to be found in Small Things Like These comes from the masterclass in subtlety that Murphy puts on for the duration of the narrative. It’s not an easy watch, but there’s ample grace to be found in the way he earnestly presents his material.

One of humanity’s great tests is the way we respond to injustice that doesn’t directly affect ourselves. Looking the other way is easy, especially when the oppressor has a tantalizing reward for those willing to play by their rules. Doing the right thing rarely pays off in the same way. Small Things Like These is a powerful reminder of the quiet evil all around us.