Ian Thomas Malone

Movie Reviews Archive

Tuesday

5

March 2024

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COMMENTS

The 2024 Oscar Nominees for Best Picture Ranked

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2023 was a fantastic year for filmmaking. The nominees for the Academy Award for Best Pictures have several contenders that would have been worthy winners in any of the three years since the pandemic. Of course, awards don’t work that way. Best Picture winners are forever immortalized, even in the years when any number of films could’ve eked out a victory.

Art is subjective, an inherent flaw of awards shows. Any number of people could rank the Best Picture nominees in a thousand different ways. My list reflects the way each filmmaker’s storytelling landed for me. Your list would almost certainly be different.

As a critic, I’m primarily interested in two elements of filmmaking: craftsmanship and messaging. All ten Best Picture nominees feature exceptional acting, an element of the art form that can often be found in complete turkeys. It is a far more daunting task to elicit genuine emotion from the audience toward perspectives quite foreign to their own. Art reminds us all of the inherent relatability of the human experience across the boundaries of space and time.

Here is my list, ranked from most deserving of Best Picture to least deserving. Your thoughts on the nominees and my ranking are encouraged in the comment section.

1. Anatomy of a Fall A legal drama has not won Best Picture since 1979’s Kramer vs. Kramer. Anatomy of a Fall does not seem likely to break that trend, but Justine Triet’s intimate depiction of a writer on trial for the death of her husband presents one of the most captivating treatises on language depicted on film in the modern era. Sandra Hüller plays an eminently cold individual who manages to draw sympathy from the audience almost through a force of gravity, a gripping slow burn. Alternating between French and English, Triet constantly plays with the nature of identity and the agony of a human heart at war with itself. Few films manage to capture the claustrophobia of marriage without pointing fingers. People are often awful to each other. Life is not a scorecard, except in places like the courtroom, where everything is on the line.

2. Past LivesFew films capture the quiet, painful dignity of heartbreak quite like Celine Song’s work. Greta Lee delivers a performance of eloquent nuance as Nora, a South Korean expatriate whose journey to America separated her from her childhood crush Hae Sung, played by Tae Yoo. For all of us, the passage of time is full of what-ifs, moments that could consume an entire existence if one allows it. Song handles her material with such grace, a style reminiscent of French romanticism and the best elements of the 2000s mumblecore wave. Few films capture the humanity of loss with such a restrained approach. No other Best Picture nominee captured the pain of love quite like Past Lives, a marvelous feat of filmmaking.

 3. The Zone of Interest The greatest triumph of Jonathan Glazer’s adaptation of Martin Ames’ 2014 novel of the same name is the way the film communicates the horrors of the Holocaust so vividly without ever depicting them on screen. The narrative focuses on Rudolf Höss and his family’s comfortable life in Auschwitz, with a single wall separating their idyllic existence from the atrocities just beyond their backyard. The cinematography puts quite a bit of distance between its subjects and the audience, though Christian Friedel and Sandra Hüller, the latter nominated for Best Actress for her work in Anatomy of a Fall, put forth commanding performances in the lead roles. The Zone of Interest is a tough film to watch, but Glazer deserves a lot of credit for his innovations in a well-trodden genre, an experience that leaves you completely drained by the time the credits roll.

 4. Oppenheimer Oppenheimer will almost certainly win Best Picture. Christopher Nolan’s work is both larger than life and strangely intimate, anchored by a tour de force performance from Cillian Murphy in the lead role. Few films with three-hour runtimes move with such deft precision, using Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin’s 2005 biography American Prometheus as its lodestar. The “Barbenheimer” phenomenon represented a singular convergence of blockbuster filmmaking and genuine art. Nolan’s split timeline non-linear narrative has the weird effect of taking the film outside both its subject and his bomb, a dynamic that starts to shrink Oppenheimer as the story progresses. Oppenheimer loses a bit of his mystery as a man when the narrative shifts to Los Alamos, appearing more like a traffic conductor or a politician than someone who rather singularly transformed the entire world.

 5. BarbieThe defining blockbuster of 2023 is a worthy awards show contender. Greta Gerwig managed to transform a doll designed to be everything to everyone and deliver a message that felt both personal and universal, a sentiment best expressed through America Ferrara’s Oscar-nominated supporting performance. Robbie and Gosling are quite delightful in the lead roles, shuttling between the plastic world of Barbie and the plastic world of Los Angeles. Barbie gets a little cutesy when awkwardly poking fun at itself, but Gerwig’s work is well-deserving of a nomination, even if the film is unlikely to walk away with many trophies.

 6. Poor Things ­­– Few filmmakers can elicit genuine shock quite like Yorgos Lanthimos. An adaptation of the Alasdair Gray’s 1992 novel of the same name, the film follows Bella, a woman who was revived after her suicide when a mad scientist implanted her unborn child’s brain into her body. Emma Stone is absolutely captivating in the lead role, easily the best performance of her career. The film possesses the best set design of all the nominees, with gorgeous steampunk aesthetics, but the story loses a lot of its power as the narrative wears on. Lanthimos’ most beautiful film is quite compelling in its own way, though its quasi-feminist messaging leaves a lot to be desired.

 7. American FictionCord Jefferson’s adaptation of Percival Everett’s novel Erasure is an absolute delight that marches to the beat of its own drum. Jeffrey Wright delivers a commanding lead performance as a writer/professor who finds unexpected success with a satire of stereotypical Black narratives that pander to white audiences. A powerful and necessary scathing rebuke of the publishing industry’s treatment of marginalized authors. Jefferson’s work struggles a bit down the stretch, but it’s a delightfully charming film. Sterling Brown, Tracee Ellis Ross, and Issa Rae deliver strong supporting performances.

 8. The Holdovers There is a lot to like about The Holdovers, a charming 1970s period piece about a Massachusetts boarding school. Paul Giamatti showcases his leading man chops as a hapless curmudgeonly teacher, bolstered by strong backing performances from Da’Vine Joy Randolph and Dominic Sessa. Director Alexander Payne plays it a little too safe with his narrative that borrows too heavily from filmmakers of the time period. Giamatti would be a worthy upset over likely Best Actor winner Cillian Murphy, but The Holdovers itself is hardly Best Picture worthy.

 9. Killers of the Flower Moon ­The framing for Martin Scorsese’s epic western centered on the 1920s Osage Indian murders is a complete disaster, focusing on a woefully miscast Leonardo DiCaprio instead of the far more compelling Lily Gladstone. Nominated for Best Actress, Gladstone finds herself sidelined for much of the unwieldy 206-minute runtime. Robert DeNiro and Jesse Plemons put forth strong supporting efforts. The cinematography is superb, but Scorsese’s exceedingly relaxed pacing undoes almost all its dramatic tension.

 10. Maestro – Bradley Cooper shows off his ample technical skills as a director in his sophomore effort, while also exposing some glaring flaws as a storyteller. Cooper’s first film, A Star is Born, was the third remake of the 1937 classic. Maestro presented no easy crib sheets, a meandering slog that feels much longer than its 129-runtime suggests. As an actor, Cooper disappears into the role of Leonard Bernstein, but he doesn’t have anything compelling to say. Carey Mulligan does her best grasping at straws for material amidst this poorly conceived avant garbage.

Friday

1

March 2024

1

COMMENTS

Dune: Part Two is a worthy adaptation of unwieldy source material

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There’s a simple reason why one of the most popular science fiction books in the history of popular literature has struggled to find a worthy film adaptation. It’s not exactly accurate to say that Dune is unfilmable, but the book and its sequel are exceedingly heady philosophical exercises that don’t play well to adaptation. Denis Villeneuve’s first Dune took an admirable stab at the novel’s first half, often succumbing to the unwieldy weight of exposition and the sheer scope of the cast.

The back half of Dune is a bit more of an intimate affair. With Leto (Oscar Isaac) dead, the exiled Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) and Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) find a new home among the Fremen, who dedicate their lives to disrupting the spice production now returned to House Harkonnen after they usurped House Atreides. One of the Fremen leaders Stilgar (Javier Bardem) is convinced that Paul is their messiah, quickly inserting Lady Jessica into the mechanics of their political world as the new Reverend Mother.

Dune is a very dense text. Villeneuve does an excellent job breaking the material down for casual audiences, even if much of the nuances of groups like the Bene Gesserit is lost in the pacing. The women of the film, particularly Lady Jessica and Chiani (Zendaya) provide most of the emotional backbone of the narrative, often exposing the flaws of the White Savior trope in the process. Herbert’s writing spent a lot of time focusing on prophecy that a film doesn’t really have time to explore. The book has the luxury of presenting Paul’s ascendency over hundreds of pages as a matter of fate. The abridged runtime makes for a far more awkward presentation of a young teenager as the messiah of this rich world.

Villeneuve shows off his confidence with a relaxed sense of pacing, leaning heavily on the exceptional cinematography to carry the narrative instead of Herbert’s densely packed plotting. Part Two cuts a lot of stuff out, often to the point of making you wonder why the first film spent so much time on unnecessary exposition. There is something beautiful about the way Villeneuve focuses on the beauty of Arrakis instead of trying to cover as much material as possible.

The film does buckle under its obligations to function more like a blockbuster film than an exercise in philosophy. The limits of its 165-minute runtime are quite exposed when the narrative leaves Arrakis for a bit to focus on the Emperor (Christopher Walken) and House Harkonnen. Feyd-Rautha is a flimsy, underdeveloped villain, a shame given Austin Butler’s obvious enthusiasm in the role. Stellan Skarsgård does an admirable job as Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, making the most of a limited runtime, but there’s an obligatory sense to the villainy that the film never quite shakes.

The action sequences are a bit of a mixed bag, much like the first film. The individual fight choreography is quite good, but the broader battles leave a lot to be desired. The cinematography of the actual fighting pales in comparison to the simpler frames showcasing the planet. The sandworms themselves aren’t given the same beautiful care and attention as they received in the first film.

Many popular science-fiction films have riffed off Dune’s basic premise over the years. Paul suffers from the weight of so many who came before him. Villeneuve never truly sells his lead as this necessary messiah figure, a reality exacerbated by the excessive amount of parental figures he has in the film, including Lady Jessica, Stilgar, and Gurney Halleck (Josh Brolin).  All three work hard to sell Paul as a figure of destiny, but Chalamet is rarely given much space to run with the ball. Zendaya is a much more satisfying emotional care of the film, an awkward reality that the source material can’t really compensate for.

Villeneuve spends so much time capturing the feel of Arrakis that he sometimes forgets that the audience needs to feel something toward Paul, perhaps the weakest character among the principal cast. It’s not necessarily Villeneuve’s fault that audiences are bound to be familiar with the Luke Skywalker’s and the Neo’s of the world who owe so much to Herbert’s work, but the headiness of Paul’s character is quite lost in the shuffle. One has to wonder if some of the time spent on characters who only appeared in the first movie might have been better allocated to the newcomers in Part Two whose introductions feel quite rushed.

Dune probably needed three movies to get everything right. As it stands, Part Two is a very good film. Casual moviegoers may find themselves checked out at times, especially when Florence Pugh’s Irulan swoops in for what’s essentially an important extended cameo, but Villeneuve delivered a worthy adaptation of Herbert’s work. Some of the material’s inherent flaws are products of its time, as well as Hollywood’s reluctance to invest in newer work. Paul’s weaknesses as a messiah somewhat reflect the reality that our society has moved beyond some of the confines of Herbert’s sandbox. Villeneuve has crafted a beautiful film that will likely go down as the definitive take on the franchise, while also exposing many of the flaws that demonstrate why it took so long to get made in the first place.

Wednesday

14

February 2024

0

COMMENTS

The Zone of Interest is a powerful commentary on the mundane cruelty of apathy

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The breadth and depth of the broader World War II genre, especially the entries that focus on the atrocities of the Holocaust, have immortalized horrors that humanity cannot afford to forget. The most effective historical films tend to be the ones that teach us something ugly about the present that we take for granted. The film The Zone of Interest dedicates its narrative to one simple question anyone who’s ever learned about the Holocaust is bound to have asked: how could anyone let that happen?

Over a million Jewish people were killed at Auschwitz during World War II. Director Jonathan Glazer keeps his narrative at arm’s length from the camp itself, instead focusing on the home life of Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel), who was commandant of the camp for three years during the war. Höss and his family lived in a house that shares a border wall with the camp, his wife Hedwig Höss (Sandra Hüller) working hard in the garden to build an idyllic sanctuary away from the horrors happening right next door. Like his wife, Rudolph spends his days buried in his work, always too busy to process the horrors he’s in charge of perpetuating.

Largely shot like a documentary, with multiple cameras rigged inside the Höss family home and frequent long takes, Glazer presents an approach that feels intentionally hands-off. The director doesn’t really need to worry about his audience having a familiarity with the subject material. Instead, The Zone of Interest aims to cast a light on the mundane nature of evil. Real life doesn’t have secret villain layers. Instead, there are far uglier realities, like a swimming pool that’s only a few meters away from a crematorium.

Friedel and Hüller both perform well under untenable circumstances as lead actors in a film with no protagonists. Hüller plays Hedwig like a selfish housewife, only able to see the blessings that a life at a post like Auschwitz had afforded to her family, a reality of her own choosing. Friedel threads a more subtle needle, a boring administrator glued to his singular task.

The 105-minute runtime flies by, an impressive feat for a film that deliberately keeps a fair amount of distance between its narrative and its audience. There are a few occasions where Glazer practically forces his viewers to be alone with the cruelties he structures the film around while never actually showing the camp in operation. The deafening silence that lies at the core of The Zone of Interest is nauseatingly powerful, an impressive feat of filmmaking within a well-trodden genre.

We all know the horrors of the Holocaust. Modern audiences would do well to remember that genocide does not happen in a vacuum. It takes the work of countless people such as Rudolf Höss to perpetuate the wheels of destruction, as well as the apathy of all who surround them. Few films can convey such a message with so light a touch. The Zone of Interest isn’t an easy film to watch, but it’s quite impossible to forget.

Monday

22

January 2024

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COMMENTS

Saltburn’s luscious scenery can’t save its empty narrative

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Satire often functions best when those being lampooned carry with them a degree of humanity. It’s easy for fiction to craft strawmen to tear down. There are far greater ramifications for the audience when a certain level of discomfort sinks in when you realize that you feel some sympathy for the people you’re supposed to hate.

Emerald Fennell’s sophomore effort Saltburn fills its narrative space with nothing but unsympathetic characters. Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan) is a scholarship student struggling to find his place in elitist Oxford. He builds an easy rapport with classmate Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi), an outgoing member of the ruling class with plenty of sympathy for Oliver’s fish-out-of-water status. Oliver fabricates much of his biography, earning an invitation to spend the summer at Saltburn, Felix’s family’s massive country estate.

Saltburn has all the makings of a delicious drama. Felix’s family, including mother Elspeth (Rosamund Pike), father Sir James (Richard E. Grant), sister Venetia (Alison Oliver), and cousin Farleigh (Archie Madekwe) are a delight to watch as they skirt the line between inviting and off-putting, their welcoming nature perpetually contrasting with the impermeable barriers of the inherent inaccessibility of their class. An outsider might feel at home at Saltburn, while never forgetting that they’ll never truly belong.

The cinematography is absolutely delightful, with some of the best camera work in modern filmmaking. Anthony Willis, who scored Fennell’s debut film Promising Young Woman delivers a chilling score that works with the cinematography to support the singular aesthetic put forth by Saltburn as an estate. The playground that Fennell has constructed is wonderfully inviting, almost able to make you forget that there’s supposed to be a story here.

Unfortunately, Saltburn falls a bit short when it’s time to pivot from the sugar high of watching beautiful people behave horribly toward a narrative with any sense of takeaway. The acting is phenomenal across the board, but Keoghan’s work never really feels in service to anything beyond the constant shock value. Much as Fennell tries to put forth the idea of a subversive narrative, Saltburn never really tries to get beneath the surface of its shallow themes.

The film loses much of its steam by the time the third act rolls around. The 131-minute runtime is a bit too bloated for substance free diet that Fennell presents to her audience. It’s not necessarily a bad thing that there’s nobody to root for in Saltburn. Life is not necessarily a game of heroes and villains, especially when you’re dealing with the privileged Oxford class.

The core issue at hand with Saltburn is Fennell’s reluctance to leave her mark on the audience. The film puts forth a few scenes that are destined to remain in the public discourse for at least the next few years, undoubtedly bolstered by the rising star power of Keoghan and Elordi, but Fennell has nothing to say about wealth or status. In that regard, Fennell is no different from her shallow subjects.

Saltburn is pretty and plenty of its audience will delight in being able to say they were in on the joke whenever the film resurfaces on social media. A viral movie is not necessarily a good movie. When the shock wears off, there’s little left beyond the gorgeous scenery. It’s a shame to see such a first-rate production so ill-served by a script with nothing to say.

Wednesday

20

December 2023

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COMMENTS

Classic Film: Roadblock

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The American Dream has never really been able to shake its problematic relationship to the never-ending wheels of capitalism. A happy, content life, is never enough. The accumulation of wealth, flashy goods, and above all else, status, is the ugly reality of our nation’s most treasured ideals.

The 1951 film Roadblock examines a previously content life shaken off the straight and narrow path. Joe Peters (Charles McGraw) is a skilled insurance detective, working in tandem with his partner Harry Miller (Louis Jean Haydt) to track the loot stolen from a bank robbery. On his way home to Los Angeles, Peters makes the acquaintance of Diane (Joan Dixon), who pretends to be his wife in order to secure a discounted rate on her plane ticket.

Peters and Diane have an innate chemistry fueled by the former’s insecurities toward his middle-class life, and the latter’s unabashed gold-digging. Diane enjoys the finer things society has to offer, and doesn’t care what shady men she associates with on the path to riches. Peters’ monthly $350 income simply can’t sustain the life she’s accustomed to, throwing him off the straight-and-narrow path. Peters makes a deal with known criminal Kendall Webb (Lowell Gilmore) to rob a mail train, his share of the potential haul being more than enough to keep Diane happy for the rest of their lives.

Director Harold Daniels assembles all the pieces of a rich noir thriller, but Roadblock never really builds on its compelling deconstruction of American capitalism. The mechanics of the plot eat up much of the film’s brisk 73-minute runtime, leaving little space to explore the film’s interesting themes. The transformation of Diane from status-obsessed to a voice of reason within Peters’ life is handled far too haphazardly to be believable.

McGraw is a serviceable lead, but most of Roadblock’s best scenes feature Peters acting as a foil to the supporting cast. Dixon and Gilmore put forth performances that far exceed the stock nature of their characters. Haydt in particular is easily the most underutilized, bringing an edge to Miller that is never adequately explored. Too much of Daniels works feels paint-by-numbers, an unfortunate state of affairs for the substantive core of the narrative.

The film features an interesting chase scene along the LA River toward the end, perhaps the best encapsulation of the narrative’s wasted potential. B-movies don’t necessarily need to shoot for the moon, but it’s hard to forgive Roadblock’s many shortcomings when a talented cast and compelling themes are so terribly wasted in service to nothing at all.

Wednesday

13

December 2023

0

COMMENTS

Godzilla Minus One is one of the best films of the year

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There’s a certain formula to most genre films, especially monster movies like those belonging to the Godzilla franchise where the kaiju is the real star of the film. Human characters are essentially along for the ride, able to soak up large chunks of the runtime while serving as useful cannon fodder for the carnage the audience is there to witness. Few filmmakers working in the space dare to treat their human characters as people, cutting corners toward an inevitable destination amongst an ocean of forgettable, watchable B-movies.

Godzilla Minus One, the 37th live-action release in the franchise and 33rd produced by Toho Studios in Japan, a company that owes practically its entire success to the titular sea monster, understands its place as the titan of the kaiju genre. The original 1954 Godzilla still holds tremendous power for its social commentary on a country still reeling from the fallout of nuclear war. There will always be a certain novelty in watching a stunt double in a rubber suit kicking down prop buildings, but the underpinning of this franchise’s success is how bleakly raw its messaging can be when the series takes itself seriously.

Minus One takes the series back to its World War II roots, centering its narrative on Kōichi Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki), a kamikaze pilot who abandoned his duties, instead faking plane difficulties to land on Odo Island in the Pacific toward the end of the war. Shikishima bears witness to Godzilla ravaging the island, horrors only matched by the carnage left on the mainland after the atomic bomb was dropped. Returning home bearing the mark of a coward, Shikishima starts to rebuild his life by taking in a woman Noriko (Minami Hamabe) into his home, along with a small baby she found abandoned in a landscape with few survivors.

Shikishima finds work as a minesweeper, bonding with his crewmates while learning to live with his guilt. A few years later, the military starts to prepare for Godzilla’s inevitable return, keeping the broader public in the dark even under the bleak outlook. Director Takashi Yamazaki peppers the narrative with vital social commentary about the failures of the Japanese government to adequately relay information in the tumultuous 1940s, largely leaving citizens on their own to survive in an environment still reeling from some of the worst cruelties mankind has ever wrought upon itself.

Minus One succeeds through its courage to earnestly invest in exploring the rich complexities of humanity, a gamble few blockbusters dare to make. If that wasn’t enough, Yamazaki also delivers elite practical effects. This is a film that deeply respects the people who came to spend time in its playground. It seems almost foolish to sing such high praises for attributes such as a good script, superb acting, and top-tier visuals, but such elements are often missing from cinema in the year 2023.

Beyond just the sheer caliber of the bread and butter filmmaking, Minus One is a richly optimistic narrative. Too many modern blockbusters rest their laurels on larger-than-life heroes with no grounding in human struggles. Yamazaki puts his film’s entire stock in people, everyday humans with flaws who ultimately stare unimaginable odds dead in the face and fight on anyway. 2023 has been a bleak year amidst a broader sea of hopelessness across our modern landscape.

It really does often feel like it sucks to be alive in this modern era. Cinema isn’t just supposed to provide mindless escapism. The beauty of the big screen lies in its power to transform the mindsets of the people who paid a bit of money to take a seat for a journey to a world with fresh perspectives and new ideas. The beauty of art is to remind us that even if the shining city on a hill is going to be an uphill climb, it is our narrative arc as humanity to break our baser instincts and fight on for a world worth living in.

Though its 125-minute runtime could have used a scene or two shaved off its somewhat bloated third act, Yamazaki has produced one of the best films of the year. We’re living in a precarious time for the industry as so many other mediums vie for consumer’s attention. Godzilla Minus One is a breathtaking tour-de-force for the power of cinema itself, a much-needed reminder of how good it feels to sit in a movie theater when studios actually invest in work that respects the humanity of its audience.

Friday

10

November 2023

1

COMMENTS

The Marvels is a charming trainwreck

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Many think pieces are written about the floundering state of the Marvel Cinematic Universe over the past few years. For a company with decades of material and thousands of characters at its disposal, there is really no fundamental reason why one of media’s biggest franchises couldn’t weather the loss of a few of its top stars. People like Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, and Scarlett Johansson may be A-list celebrities, but Disney has all the money in the world to pay top tier talent to come play in its sandbox. The only problem is the whole company doesn’t seem to know what to do with its toys.

The Marvels is a movie without a soul. There is no plot here. Fans can sit and grumble about the idea that MCU Disney+ series such as Wandavision and Ms. Marvel are essentially homework to understand the principal leads of this film, but even the most dedicated Marvel comics readers would be confused by the narrative, anchored by a gender-swapped niche villain Da-Benn (Zawe Ashton) from the 1990s.

As a character, Carol Danvers (Brie Larson) has only held the title of Captain Marvel since 2011, previously assuming the Ms. Marvel moniker now held by Kamala Khan (Iman Vellani). Without a steady solo book of her own, Danvers mostly served as a backbencher on Avengers books. Fittingly, her most noteworthy comic arc prior to assuming the Captain moniker came when Rogue, a member of the X-Men, permanently absorbed her powers, the latter reaching levels of popularity that far exceeded the former. Captain Marvel occupies a sliver of the Marvel cosmic realm that’s been far more thoroughly explored by other heroes such as Thor, the Silver Surfer, The Guardians of the Galaxy, and her own namesake Mar-Vell. Marvels co-lead Monica Rambeau (Teyonah Paris) actually became the first female comic book character to wear the mantle of Captain Marvel back in 1982, a layer of lore that the film at least attempts to honor.

All of those facts may sound overly complicated, but not more so than anything found in the most beloved Thor or Guardians films. Danvers, Khan, and Rambeau are all fun characters with exceptional chemistry. Vellani in particular is perhaps the greatest performer of the post-Endgame era, bringing the bubbly infectious energy to Kamala that made her Ms. Marvel book such a treat throughout creator G. Willow Wilson’s run. Khan’s Jersey City is such a living, breathing character, highly reminiscence of the early days of The Amazing Spider-Man back in the 1960s.

Director Nia DeCosta does a lackluster job with a loaded deck. You can’t really blame her for how cheap The Marvels looks, paling in comparison to the two, ostensibly smaller-scale television shows that set up Rambeau and Khan. The film relies solely on a few practical sets, some that look like they literally dragged over from The Mandalorian with little more than a paint job, and the same bland StageCraft that’s sunk the last few Marvel releases and much of its Star Wars output. The camera shots in the action sequences are exceedingly frantic, wrecking most of the scenes designed to carry this wreck. Somehow, against all odds, the film’s lean 105-minute runtime feels bloated and overwrought, a paint-by-numbers embarrassment from a company that cannot seriously claim to care about art. Its penchant for humor aside, the MCU is now thoroughly a joke.

The original sin of 2019’s Captain Marvel was its relative apathy toward exploring Danvers as a person. Rambeau’s presence allows for the modest exploration of found family, a theme that feels a little hollow with everything else going on. Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) and Khan’s family (Zenobia Shroff, Mohan Kapur, and Saagar Shaikh) provide ample comic relief that makes you wish all of them could have been deployed in service to something more grounded in Kamala’s world. Thankfully, Fury’s last appearance in the meandering slog that was Secret Invasion is largely irrelevant here, though that exposes a deeper issue. The Marvels sort of briefly tries to pretend like it cares about the Kree and the Skrulls, adding more confusion to an audience already bound to struggle with the large, empty scope of this disaster.

There are times when the pacing relaxes and the audience can have a bit of fun with the characters, but the narrative never loses the sense that something is fundamentally missing. The film never stops to establish its stakes at any point, streamlining an experience that’s hard to enjoy when you can’t stop wondering why any of this matters. The truth is, it doesn’t.

This movie has no use for its villain besides sheer obligation. It’s unclear how many members of the audience would be able to name Da-Benn five minutes after leaving the theater. This is hardly a movie, but rather content to be digested and forgotten. Everyone involved deserves better.

Many recent Marvel movies have struggled with the size of their casts, each release hellbent on throwing out tons of new characters at the expense of the existing ones. Carol may have been pegged to lead The Avengers someday, but more than a half-decade after her debut, we still know next to nothing about her. Ironically, The Marvels has a more intimate cast than many of the newer films, giving its three leads, the Khan family, and Fury plenty of time to shine. The movie’s fundamental issue is far simpler than any existential crisis facing this franchise. Charisma cannot cover up a nonexistent narrative and shoddy filmmaking.

Wednesday

8

November 2023

0

COMMENTS

Priscilla showcases Sofia Coppola’s uniquely suited talents for its subject matter

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There is no other figure in our country’s culture who embodies the full picture of Americana, all its beauty and its excess, quite like Elvis Presley. The towering heights achieved by the King of Rock and Roll are matched only by his conflicted humanity. Elvis managed to be larger than life and all too human simultaneously, a reality manifested in his courtship of his wife Priscilla from an unprecedented position of power as one of the most sought-after individuals on the face of the earth.

It is quite odd that Elvis, serving in the Army at age twenty-four, took a special interest in a fourteen year old girl barely starting her freshman year of high school. The film Priscilla explores the makings of Priscilla Wagner well outside the typical male gaze through which a woman like her would have been perceived back then. As the daughter of one of the most accomplished directors in the history of cinema, Sofia Coppola knows better than most how the world enjoys projecting its fantasies and shortcomings on any woman bold enough to throw herself out there.

There is a natural proclivity to assign a sort of mystique to Priscilla (played by Cailee Spaeny). Coppola and Spaeny work in tandem to never lose sight of the basic reality of the power unbalance between a young child and one of the biggest celebrities the world has ever seen. One can accept the intentions of Elvis (Jacob Elordi) as genuine and honorable, but there’s no getting around the fact that it is an extremely strange dynamic only made less weird through Presley’s ability to bend any environment to his whim, setting up Priscilla in Memphis with his father and grandmother to watch over her as she finished her studies at a local Catholic school. Trying to do things above board does not make any of this normal.

Coppola delivers a sleek narrative well-suited for her skills, a surface-level reading of a drug-addicted superstar who owes most of his success to the phalanx coddling his every move while safeguarding the means of production. Elordi and Spaeny are mesmerizing together, the former capturing all of Elvis’ charisma while never downplaying his darker tendencies. Spaeny confidently navigates that awkward space between spouse and plaything, forever at the whims of the entire orbit around her. Rarely known for subtlety, Coppola does rather cleverly deploy the Memphis Mafia as a perpetual panopticon that Priscilla is forced to grapple with as she struggles to find her place in Elvis’ life. For a film with practically zero fleshed-out supporting characters, the peanut gallery paints a vivid picture in the absence of any voice of its own.

At 112 minutes, Priscilla is among the longer entries in Coppola’s portfolio, surpassed only by Marie Antoinette, her only other attempt at hovering in the atmosphere of a biopic. It’s hard to argue that she uses the time well, meandering on the same points for most of the narrative while skipping out on the points that would have given her protagonist some agency amidst her broader objective to browbeat the audience into submission regarding the monotonies of Graceland. The third act leaves a lot to be desired, though Coppola does align her film with a broader truth about Elvis that people often forget.

For all the mystique surrounding Elvis, the man himself is not terribly complicated. Elvis possessed unparalleled charisma, but the presence of Colonel Tom Parker, who never appears in the film, took raw talent and transformed it into an industry. The man was a drug addict who spent much of his career coasting off the fame acquired in his youth, already on the downturn by the time a fourteen-year-old Priscilla came into his life. Elvis is every bit the commodity that Graceland itself became after his death. He undoubtedly loved Priscilla, while gradually using his star power to control and abuse any sense of agency she might have felt. Love is complicated. Elvis Presley is not. For all its flaws, Priscilla understood that innate truth better than most.

Wednesday

8

November 2023

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Remy & Arletta is a powerful indie portrait of young queer affection

Written by , Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

High school narratives are in many ways better suited for adults who have been through the hellish ordeal that is the American education system than the children who may be inclined to see their own present as the most pivotal point in their lives. For many, especially members of the LGBTQ community, high school is something to be survived. Any notion of thriving should come with the requisite understanding that life is not defined by anything that happens during those chaotic four years.

The film Remy & Arletta centers its narrative on a young woman juggling a particularly challenging set of circumstances. Remy (Micaela Wittman, who also penned the screenplay) is trying to make it through high school while sharing a motel room with her controlling alcoholic mother Eilene (Amy Benedict). Remy’s best friend Arletta (Riley Quinn Scott) tries to offer her some sanctuary amidst her unstable family life, but something deeper is at play. With an easy, natural chemistry between the two, Arletta develops feelings for Remy in that shaky grey territory between puppy love and codependency, two teenagers in way over their heads with little else going well in their lives but their relationship with each other.

Shot on a nano-budget, director Arthur de Larroche crafts a first-rate production that stands far above any limitations presented by the realities of filmmaking through a brisk seventy-one minute runtime. The film mostly belongs to Wittman, whose Remy is relatable and genuine, earning both the sympathies and frustrations of the audience through a few of her decisions. High schoolers often feel like they’re carrying the weight of the world under normal circumstances. Remy’s life is a mess, and yet she still perseveres, chasing her dreams while lugging around more emotional baggage than anyone that age should ever have to carry.

Remy & Arletta presents an authentic take on the unique challenges of queer high school romance while never caving to the fantasies that young people often project onto their worldviews. There’s a reason most of us look back on our high school tenures and cringe. High school is in many ways a great canvas to fling as much stuff on as possible before college and the real world whisk you away to less hormonal pastures, a privileged perspective that sadly not afforded to people in Remy’s situation.

The real triumph of the film is Wittman’s ability to remind her audience of the whimsical feelings that young queer love can bring to any of us blessed, or cursed, enough to have experienced it for ourselves. Remy & Arletta stands out for its grounded and earnest take on a highly chaotic time in American teenage life. High school shouldn’t be the defining chapter in anyone’s life, but the film makes a wonderful case for the beauty of those fleeting moments we once clung to, when we were young.

Thursday

14

September 2023

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Bottoms captures the zeitgeist of the queer high school experience

Written by , Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

There’s a beauty to the ugly chaos of high school that few are masochistic enough to appreciate. The coming of age genre often possesses a messy relationship with the high school setting, reasonable adults possessing enough sense to recognize that the rabid hormonal snake pit is not a very good place to come into one’s own skin. Some of the best high school comedies are the ones that don’t try for morals or learning or anything positive of the sort, except perhaps for the idea that hedonism is a virtue worth celebrating every once in a while.

Society has been slow to accept the notion that women deserve to live for pleasure too. The film Bottoms structures its narrative around a very simple premise. Two lesbians start a school fight club to impress their crushes and get laid, a timeless, beautiful tale that transcends gender and sexuality. Like most hormonal teenagers, PJ (Rachel Sennott) and Josie (Ayo Edebiri) are not capable of thinking through the ramifications of any of their batshit crazy ideas, instead letting their freak flags fly and rolling with the punches, quite often literally.

Director Emma Seligman, who co-wrote the screenplay with Sennott, quickly establishes a singular rhythm for her narrative. Rockbridge Falls High School is in many ways just like any other school. The principal is vapid and tyrannical, the teachers are aloof, and most of the students talk at each other without caring what anyone else has to say. PJ and Josie quickly draw the ire of the school football team, the latter at odds with star quarterback Jeff (Nicholas Galitzine) over the affections of Isabel (Havana Rose Liu). The natural clash between jocks and outcast lesbians is a beautiful dynamic rarely explored in film, something that Seligman and Sennott mine for comedy gold.

The script is laugh-out-loud hilarious, paired marvelously with the comedic timing of the cast. Everyone commits to the bit in this absurd, although not unrealistic, depiction of high school life. Sennott and Edebiri have a natural, often unspoken chemistry between the two. Veteran NFL star Marshawn Lynch puts in a masterful supporting effort as Mr. G, the faculty advisor for the fight club.

Perhaps the most impressive achievement of Bottoms is the narrative’s full immersion in the LGBTQ experience without ever pandering to the vapid idea of “visibility” or wasting its lean 88-minute runtime on lame gay-101 explainers that have bogged down the genre. Seligman’s work is the rare queer comedy that’s solely focused on being funny. The hero’s journey of PJ and Josie is eminently relatable to anyone who’s spent more than ten minutes in high school. This film deserves a lot of credit for being able to recognize that without trying to hold its audience’s hand.

Bottoms is one of the greatest high school narratives of the twenty-first century, a triumph of queer cinema. The discourse surrounding LGBTQ representation in film often paints the American public as needing to wade into the pool slowly, a promise of a more inclusive future that rarely seems concerned with ever living in the present. Seligman paints her portrait of high school as an artist who understands that we’ve always been there. Modern cinema desperately needs more filmmakers with her abounding sense of confidence. Bottoms is, quite simply, a masterpiece.