Director: Luca Guadagnino
Writers: James Ivory, André Aciman (novel)
Stars: Timothée Chalamet, Armie Hammer, Michael Stuhlbarg

Synopsis: In 1983, the son of an American professor is enamored by the graduate student who comes to study and live with his family in their northern Italian home. Together, they share an unforgettable summer full of music, food, and romance that will forever change them.

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Luca Guadagnino’s timeless evocation of a sun-drenched 80s summer filled to the brim with temptational escapades, and a burning desire of longevity through love and romance, is stunningly, Call Me by Your Name. Guadagnino takes viewers back to the past, in a time much simpler only with the tangibility of lust being more attainable than ever. This making for an equally palpable air and atmosphere that our main characters breath in. Not only is this a major step towards LGBTQ filmmaking, but mutually for modern cinema in the coming years.

As of recent memory, Guadagnino’s established a delicate trademark style with his two previous films, I Am Love and A Bigger Splash. Both of which detail the jealousy and envious ridden environment of forbidden love, and are virtually identical narratively and structurally. Evidently, this is his magnum opus of the trio. Breaking free from his restrained genre choices, he manifests a transcendent sensation of first love in a spiritual, never-ending summer effortlessly. Allowing us to take part in psychedelic disco parties and passionate days spent with the ones you love. He purposefully builds the off-screen chemistry of Chalamet and Hammer—which is in fact so charismatic, that when come time for on-screen scenes to be acted out, the fierce energy stemming from their existential bond becomes genuine. Guadagnino has to be in consideration for director of year honors, as his artistry bleeds through every shot.

This has a strong chance at being crowned one of the most superior ensemble casts of 2017. Albeit their overlooked, this cast incorporates actors in the youth of their career and experienced veterans, making for a solution of everything here. Timothée Chalamet is this year’s truly *big* breakout star. One can’t demonstrate how exceptional he is at such a young age. Demonstrating how vital he is to the development of his character Elio, and indeed for the film too. Simply electrifying but that finale fully displays the range he’s willing to reach out to. Armie Hammer and the extraordinary Michael Stuhlbarg round out the premier bill, hopefully allotting all three of them with Oscar noms (or wins) from The Academy would be the cherry on top of this journey.

Within the first opening seconds John Adams’ contemporary piano piece, “Hallelujah Junction” rings through the auditorium as we pan across a plethora of ancient European statues, so “nonchalant” as Elio’s father (played by Michael Stuhlbarg) refers to them as in the latter part of the movie. This soundtrack, oddly enough doesn’t feel like a soundtrack. Being more of a compilation of songs and symphonies, it flawlessly exudes the free-willed attitude that occupied the 1980s era in which the film takes place. Sufjan Stevens contributes his own sentimentally sound songs in such ways that feel emotionally connected to him. Further proving his uncanny ability as a lyricist by helming the two earth-shattering melodies, “Mystery of Love” and “Visions of Gideon”, both of which echo throughout every lasting frame from the tear-inducing cinematography, taking immediate effect from the opening montage and eventual resolution.

Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, the director of photography, commits on not making any shot too dense. We’ve seen films rely on mid-shots and close ups in an attempt to expose the emotion in a character’s face for the given sense of realism that the character isn’t completely capable of giving. Here, he throws all of that out of the window. Every second consists of a loose shot. There’s hardly any tightly-knit close-ups but whenever there is, it’s composed and serene. Due to the marvelous blocking from Guadagnino and the gorgeous camerawork from Mukdeeprom, their material is the most ingenious when utilizing wide-shots, as they show how people tend to be the most coy when exhibiting their feelings. This is true throughout the entirety of the film and it’s never used as some blatant trope. Especially whenever the ending approaches because that’s when we see it fully grow to its potential. I won’t say much of anything, but the finale is absolute perfection. Immaculately mixing the warming and grieving vibes of the situation.

Call Me by Your Name is as uplifting as it is heartbreaking. It questions our aspirations of endearment but maintains the sensual romance between the two young men at its core. It’s not of effort to classify it as a conventional coming-of-age film, nor a depiction of post-pubescent discovery. It’s at the near end of childhood and the peak of adulthood, settling on that uncertainty of being unsure about what you’re feeling and what’s going on internally and externally. It’s one for now, one for the decade, and one for the long-term future. Hopefully people identify with the exquisite themes of exploration and see a part of themselves in Elio because as this movie showed us, nobody forgets the first time they fell in love.

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Director: Lee Unkrich, Adrian Molina (co-director)
Writers: Lee Unkrich, Jason Katz, Matthew Aldrich, Adrian Molina
Stars: Anthony Gonzalez, Gael García Bernal, Benjamin Bratt

Synopsis: Aspiring musician Miguel, confronted with his family’s ancestral ban on music, enters the Land of the Dead to work out the mystery.

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Spectre said “The dead are alive,” and that’s certainly true when the audacious (and imagined) Dia de los Muertos parade is on screen. Afterward it’s only steady givings for a living viewer to spirit away since those who were supposed to have  – and have gone  – from James Bond’s past, while referencing the provocative phrase, spook the spy with a wheezing boo. There should be a petition for a cut where everyone is in their calavera costumes? That would have been worth the while.

With Coco, this little dream can be considered as realized although Pixar-ized. Here, the dead are more than just alive; they are festive, hyperkinetic, masters of crooning, sensitive, educative and – as it happened at this writer’s screening in Houston – able to get the whole house roaring.

In the film, joyful 12-year-old Miguel (Anthony Gonzalez) is framed as a musician-in-bloom in a clan who considers music a curse, whose every rebellious act denotes an admiration for, and later on a need to prove his kinship to, Ernesto de la Cruz (Benjamin Bratt), a singing phenomenon who was not saved by the bell. Expectedly, the struggle reaches a tipping point, and afterward Miguel is vaulted into the Land of the Dead. Departed relatives are there to greet him, so that’s nice, but staying with them any longer and Miguel will become a skellington. As told by Miguel’s roguish friend and regular Frida Kahlo impersonator Héctor (Gael García Bernal), if his living relatives are to forget him, he will move on to a realm unknown as marigold-colored dust. No need to declare anything. No need to cross any Flower Bridge.

“This looks like 2014’s The Book of Life,” said the elephant in the room. True, again the Mexican holiday is the setting, the protagonist has suppressed dreams, and the footage has a propensity to be melodic, but Coco doesn’t rip off what Fox did here. Don’t let the irrational outrage diminishes the facts that Pixar’s work is again proving that Dia de los Muertos is more than production value, and the kind of love being explored here is more transcendent, more introspective, and more familial. As a result, the script from Adrian Molina and Matthew Aldrich (from a story by them and Jason Katz and Lee Unkrich, who also directs) does a wondrous thing: letting the ebullience of a single culture to tell, and coexist, with the universal ideas of mortality and memory. Oceans, superheroes, ants, toys, a Parisian kitchen, a brain and now all the way to the Mexican afterlife, it seems like no universe is too daunting for the Luxo Jr.-branded animators to perform a thorough and superlative exploration.

Well, maybe not mythical Scotland. Or that second visit to autopia.

But even Pixar’s rainiest of days still offer frames of sunlight with notable evolution in animation, lighting and attempts to replicate the behaviors of an actual camera. Coco is the studio’s most cinematic film to date – at least prior to Brad Bird’s The Incredibles 2, maybe – with tangible textures (those bones!), soft-focusing, and goosebumps-inducing angles that rival a tentpole production (from a competent director). And even more incredible still is having this attribute match up with the film’s mainly samba-like pace, rapid in the doling-outs of story beats, gags from Dante (Miguel’s loose-lingua canine), and new delightful sights. It’s as if every aspect is catered to the heart-thrumming and swoon-worthy scoring from Michael Giacchino.

Don’t worry – beneath the maracas and trills Coco doesn’t forget its characters. Placing Gonzalez, Bernal, Bratt, Renée Victor (as Miguel’s stringent, flip-flop twirling Abuelita) and Alanna Ubach (as the fiery, fiercely independent Mamá Imelda) in more of those entrancing, well-staged moments would have been nice, but for those snappier times everyone remains on beat. Earned tears will be drawn, both of joy and of the more common variant.

Due to its release date, Coco is a Thanksgiving film in the U.S., but that isn’t as awkward as it sounds. If reunion, connection and appreciation isn’t happening over turkey, perhaps go see this. While the youngsters can enjoy the great animation, adults should take home the idea that emotion is the only graspable and usable item in the subsequent plane.  And so, there should be something to remember here – if not what you have just seen then it is a look at those whose living form is now a mind-bound specter.

Overall Grade: A

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Director: Greta Gerwig
Writers: Greta Gerwig
Stars: Saoirse Ronan, Laurie Metcalf, Tracy Letts, Lucas Hedges

Synopsis: The adventures of a young woman living in Northern California for a year.

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Life’s funny, authoring this “take it easy” doctrine while implying that to “sprout wings” is the only method to earn all the goodness. It’s a struggle that coming-of-age films tend to capture best, seeing that its protagonists can, no matter how illogical, always uncover a reason to reject jadedness and its grownup-approved virtues. Being in this category, Lady Bird tells a familiar narrative, but its lead has, rather brilliantly, managed to package it with freshness that entertains and prompts reflection.

Lady Bird follows Christine (Saoirse Ronan), who is often seen grilling her mother, Marion (Laurie Metcalf), for not letting her – someone with an avian nickname – to realize East Coast-uni dreams and fantasies of settling in culture-rich places. Anywhere but Sacramento, to sum things up. California’s capital city isn’t a backwater place though it is amusingly depicted as so here, a move that effectively captures the character’s mindset. And so, to further avoid being engulfed by the ordinary, Christine decides to adopt “Lady Bird” – in quotes in writing – as her actual name. What is weirdness to others is a life philosophy for her, asserting that circumstances can cage Lady Bird’s body but never her dreams.

“Greta Gerwig isn’t in Lady Bird, and yet is,” is a thought that makes itself known often while watching the film. It isn’t distracting as it sounds (promise) and isn’t that much of a brain-twister, really, considering the actress’ name is after “directed by” credit (this is her first time in the seat solo) and the title character shares Frances Ha’s angst and sharpness (the screenplay is also Greta’s). Gathered are the usual suspects of this genre – school plays, proms, age-influenced clashes, popularity contest, the crowd cooler than your best friend, and love’s varying brushes – but sharp scripting and punchy performances across the board still make their presence welcoming. Dynamics between Lady Bird and the surrounding souls of her age are a trove of glee, with highlights among them are those with her two classmates Julie (Beanie Feldstein, effortlessly handing out the laughs) and Danny (a lively Lucas Hedges).

Equally golden are Lady Bird “matches” with the adults, especially the ones with her foil Marion, which are – naturally – designed to earn the most spotlight. Lady Bird, for the most part, can’t be more different than Marion, but Ronan can always match the level of intensity or gravitas that Metcalf has brought along. The result is every mother-and-daughter spar is a joyous verbal even when the contents – money, college, and future – are hard-hitting material, not to mention besieged by a discrepancy in how the different generations perceive the times differently. Lady Bird is set in a post-9/11 world – not too long after the tragedy as the background TV and radio broadcasts prove – and so the stressful atmosphere is always half-a-breath away. It’s a meaningfully woven detail that adds layers to the characters who, like the country then (and regrettably still is), unclear about the future and unstable regarding well-being.

But whether the stage is set for another familial conflict or a burst of organic laugh (best use of Justin Timberlake’s Cry Me a River yet), Ronan is a gale-force. The footage, which is already radiating, receives even more lumens when she is around reversing her modest, shy, and God-aware persona in last seen in Brooklyn or grudgingly letting go of a possible future. In every swing between the emotional polars, Ronan subtly shows that her character is evolving, adding more (proverbial) magenta-colored feathers to better understand, see, and roll with the world’s unfathomable workings. A winning performance, undoubtedly so, as it alone enables the film to be a universal portrait despite focusing on just one person, a message that life’s experienced can relate even though doing the imparting is a still-learning lass.

Now that’s funny.

Overall Grade: A

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Director: Joe Wright
Writers: Anthony McCarten
Stars: Gary Oldman, Lily James, Ben Mendelsohn

Synopsis: During the early days of World War II, the fate of Western Europe hangs on the newly-appointed British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, who must decide whether to negotiate with Hitler, or fight on against incredible odds.

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Joe Wright is certainly no stranger to The Academy, as two of previous films from the mid 2000s received immense acclaim from critics and audiences around. So does it really come as a massive jolt that a Winston Churchill biopic, starring Gary Oldman, directed by said director has Oscar contentions written all over it. Most notably however, Darkest Hour isn’t afraid to break free from traditional biopic mastery. Reinforcing a more light-hearted sense of sheathing mature subject matter all the while achieving the evident, threat-filled feeling that was present in the midst of World War II. Alas, it fails in seeking an escape from the grips of its tainted Oscar-baitish ways.

Quite easily the talk of the town regarding Darkest Hour was the hype surrounding Gary Oldman’s portrayal as the iconic political figure of past England’s Prime Minister, Winston Churchill. Not to sound over dramatic, but Gary Oldman IS Winston Churchill. It’s as if we’re witnessing a second incarnation of Churchill throughout the entirety of the 125 minute runtime, credited to Oldman’s mesmerizing encapsulation of him. He nails all of Churchill’s mannerisms, down to something as simple as his trademark peace sign. Definitely the clear-cut frontrunner to take home the Oscar for Best Actor this year, as deserved. Despite his overwhelming presence, Lily James and Ben Mendelsohn, although nothing substantial, manage to squeeze in their share of acting chops when Oldman isn’t completely stealing a scene.

Joe Wright brings something so unorthodox to this genre of biopics. He maintains the insurmountable ultimatum brewing between Churchill and the nation of England but it’s with the traverse levels of comedy that gives it an upbeat edge over most true story films that are being thrown out into mainstream media. Immediately taking effect within one of the first scenes of the film, we get a glimpse of Churchill’s comical ways as he heckles his personal secretary Ms. Layton (played by Lily James). It makes for an entertaining hook for the viewer inside of us but keeps our eyes glued to the screen asking for more of him. The tone remains like that throughout the entire film. Establishing it fairly early how Wright did is somewhat unprecedented, but truly remarkable. Certainly no issues here with the screenplay and direction.

Darkest Hour doesn’t carry a whole lot of baggage with it. But the types it does, are relatively crucial. Even with its magnificent writing and direction, there’s a couple of useless scenes and transitions that are just makeshift for the films development. It doesn’t necessarily cause the film to stop progressing nor tampering the story, but it slows it down to the point where it begins to become an issue. Additionally, that Oscar-bait feeling that it’s so desperately being attached with kills everything it’s attempting to include. It stains everything that Darkest Hour is thriving off of which is a huge disappointment to myself and audiences alike.

Despite the unsavory feeling that the film’s sole purpose was to position itself in a category more appealing to The Academy, there’s no denying the invigorating depiction of not backing down when hope is lost, and how someone is willing to step forth as a leader. Gary Oldman is a surefire to win, and Joe Wright has never been better. The real question is, what film will voters adore more? Darkest Hour or Dunkirk? Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.

Overall Grade: B

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Director: Zack Snyder
Writers: Zack Snyder, Joss Whedon, Chris Terrio,
Stars: Ben Affleck, Gal Gadot, Jason Momoa, Ezra Miller, Ray Fisher

Synopsis: Fueled by his restored faith in humanity and inspired by Superman’s selfless act, Bruce Wayne enlists the help of his newfound ally, Diana Prince, to face an even greater enemy.

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So grey has been DCEU’s run that a particular fictional billionaire could go into crisis. The sentiment thickens when Justice League is considered, a film that has encountered hurdle after hurdle from 2007 toward the brink of release. With one heartbreaking shutdown at the 90-percent mark (when Mad Max’s George Miller was on board), 10th-ish-hour director switch, costly tone-lightening/color-adjusting/mustache-removing reshoots, fans and anti-fans needlessly baring fangs (aiming for jugulars over the runtime, sigh), allegedly sexualized costumes, a rotten rat of a producer, and that Rotten Tomatoes’ score fracas, mustering just 0.5 more layer of anticipation for the film is a legitimate struggle.

But “Holy Optics, Batman!” as the final cut is an entertaining romp even with apparent blemishes.

As indicated through director Zack Snyder’s trademark emphatic slo-mo and Sigrid’s dreamy take on Leonard Cohen’s Everybody Knows, the world of Justice League is a devolved one: aimless, at times rainy, hostile to thy foreign neighbor, no Superman (Henry Cavill) and some bug-esque monsters. These are Parademons, minions of one axe-wielding Steppenwolf (Ciarán Hinds) who wants to use three “mother boxes” to burn and turn our world into theirs. And so, “find support” replaces “arrest goons” as the first item on Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) and Batman (Ben Affleck)’s to-dos.

Although the faces to search for are known – identified in Batman v Superman as Aquaman (Jason Momoa), The Flash (Ezra Miller) and Cyborg (Ray Fisher) – there’s still excitement when meeting them up close. Momoa, with a head-swimmingly delightful show of cocksurety, is easily the best of the three and a fan-favorite, not to mention the finest host for visual treats that are readily supplied by d.o.p. Fabian Wagner (whose 1.85:1 ratio choice breaks with previous films, a move similar to what Seamus McGarvey did with The Avengers). Aquaman also marks the debut of a potential new leaf that DCEU should assume from here on: when appropriate, let’s have laughs, and if possible do so at the world’s end.

There are clear traces though in which writers Chris Terrio and Joss Whedon find crafting the downright gleeful banter, which unlocks characters’ previously missing abilities (Cavill and his Superman do court laughs! Amy Adams’ Lois Lane now has chemistry! Miller shouldn’t be typecasted as a psycho, folks!), a too-enjoyable activity that they forget to address pacing issues. Here we go again, the second coming of BvS’ central issue where the main plot is halted to unfurl the reasons one should care for the new trio and care more for the old guards. Thanks to affecting performances, especially between Miller and Billy Crudup (as Flash’s wrongly incarcerated dad), the drag in these character beats is more tolerable, save for a late-game farmhouse reunion with a soapiness that test limits.

Conventional wisdom advises against mentioning Marvel in a DC venture, but something has to be said about the paltry villainy on display here. Universes thought to be uncrossable become precisely so through this department, considering Steppenwolf has copied Thor: Ragnarok’s Hela (or all of MCU’s villains, really)’s “Menacing, In Fashion Only” page. Not even all the honey inherent in Hinds’ voice can save the character, who has been brought to life with underwhelming digital wizardry. Well, at least he blends well into the yet-again pixel-packed third act now dunked in red instead of blue. That’s a shame, as an all-out spectacular “protect the mother box” sequence on Themyscira sees Steppenwolf appropriately oozing apocalypse, a trait akin to Days of Future Past‘s murderous Sentinels that would have let the fear of those who oppose him breaches the fourth wall.

“You can’t save the world alone,” the poster suggests, and luckily a consistent thread of unity behind the camera and sparkling camaraderie in front prevent Justice League from embracing a darker fate. It’s not all spotless due to the CGI and clear occasions where the Whedon touch trounces Snyder’s, but in the end the gears do come together.

Overall Grade: B

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Director: Dee Rees
Writers: Dee Rees, Virgil Williams, Hillary Jordan(novel)
Stars: Garrett Hedlund, Jason Mitchell, Jason Clarke, Mary J. Blige, Rob Morgan, Carey Mulligan

Synopsis: Two Mississippi families—one black, one white—must confront a brutal reality in a divided World War II era.

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There’s been a recent trend among films in Hollywood that all wish to cover the substantial weight of racism. We’ve seen these films on numerous accounts and for the majority of the time they all adopt the exact same formula. Above all, they end up being more successful than not in putting on display the prejudice and inhumanity that occurred with this past discrimination. But what makes Mudbound the outlier from this formula? Everyone knows there’s a fine line amidst the thick identities that are love and hatred. Where does one draw the line when those paths intersect? All of these are questions that Mudbound takes initiative of. And rather have the film answer them, it permits the audience to make a choice.

Dee Rees’ proficiency in devising this fertile landscape provides a rather callous ode to classic World War II-esque settings. Feeling almost reminiscent (in terms of stylistic features) to iconic pieces of literature such as Of Mice and Men and The Grapes of Wrath. It’s built and represented in such a way that I can’t put to words. Our characters are so reliantly dependent on the world around them that it only avails to the experience even more outstandingly than anyone could’ve ever seen it being like. Virgil Williams does a plausible job with helping establish this world with Dee Rees by co-writing the script. Rather than conducting an inconclusive resolution, he dignifies the basis how through all of this contempt and disgust, figuratively, this so-called mud just continues to build and build upon our protagonists. And the only way to escape this metaphorical “mud”, is through love. Mudbound essentially, breaks boundaries. In the aforementioned, I stated this film is like none other in its genre. Needless to say, this is why. Rees and Williams don’t shy away from provoking the audience. Perplexing them with what our values of love and hope really mean and it’s unforgettable.

There’s an unnoticed level of fear present to this films atmosphere that becomes interwoven into each grueling performance. The task of portraying citizens in a time where racism and hostility like this was common carries its own extensive weight and pressure on one’s shoulders. Not trying to take anything away from the rest of the supporting cast, but Garrett Hedlund, Jason Mitchell and Mary J. Blige are just a few of the overwhelming standouts. Hedlund continues to build a reputation for himself in his burgeoning career whereas Jason Mitchell proves that his performance in 2015’s Straight Outta Compton was indeed no fluke. As he delivers one of the most gut-wrenching supporting roles thus far in 2017. Mary J. Blige additionally provides more scene-stealing material to the astonishing cast across the board. No lack of depth here, and not much else to express.

Unless you’re desperately unboxing and dissecting this film, it’s tough to find any faults that tremendously hinder the already sublime aspects of the three major components of acting, writing and directing. I suppose the progression of the film isn’t as smooth as people might hope for. It might be perceived as something that starts to become a bit sidetracked before it finds its necessary footing. This could be a big turn-off for audiences but if given the correct chances and context, it shouldn’t matter. Excluding that minuscule flaw, everything we’re given is incomparable.

It’s refreshing to see a film among this genre inflicting such a strong emotional bond between our two main protagonists(Garrett Hedlund and Jason Mitchell). Obviously their companionship is somewhat forbidden in a way due to the era in which the film takes place in, but it’s that sense of real friendship and appreciation that gives some sort of satisfaction to the viewer. That is until we’re exposed to the climax. All that needs to be said is that, there’s never been something so daunting and so emotionally oppressive for a film tackling this subject. The already fatalistic tone takes an unexpected turn for the worst. This is uncomfortable, sweat filled, anxiety inducing filmmaking at its most lethal.

Mudbound consists of such precise filmmaking. It’s inner workings might be difficult to achieve under provision for some but once under the proper direction and they’re thriving on all cylinders, there’s no stopping them. The performances, the tone, the theme, the setting, the cinematography, the script, the story—I could go on for ages, but you get the point. It’s an unpolished, influential message to modern society, but more than anything, it’s an admirable period piece from Dee Rees.

Overall Grade: A

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Director: Martin McDonagh
Writers: Martin McDonagh
Stars: Frances McDormand, Woody Harrelson, Sam Rockwell, Lucas Hedges, John Hawkes

Synopsis: In this darkly comic drama, a mother personally challenges the local authorities to solve her daughter’s murder, when they fail to catch the culprit.

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Martin McDonagh continues to prove his versatility in the sub genre of dark comedy by producing some of the most unhinged dialogue of the year in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. However, it couldn’t possibly be a McDonagh film without the severely bleak undertones he presents within the films final act. Quite frankly, I don’t know how he’s been able to pull it all off. All three of the films he’s written and directed have such pessimistic progression which almost every time results in such a horrid, dismal climax. It leaves me and what I’d hope audiences alike perplexed as to where he gets all of the comedic elements from with such dark subject matter. With that said however, Three Billboards is easily McDonagh’s most superior film yet, and is a HUGE contender for this years award season.

There’s a certain level of humanity that’s brought upon each feature film McDonagh has been able to craft. He introduces such absurdist components to his characters and storyline but has this ability to ground everything towards the finale—building such engaging films as he does so. Alternatively, I find it unpleasant that before Three Billboards both of his two projects leave you with some sort of an unresolved denouement between the protagonists and audience that’s enervated from the ambiguity of the climax. If you’ve seen In Bruges or Seven Psychopaths then you know what I’m talking about. Think of it as eating a full course meal but you’re still continuing to be hungry after the situation. It’s that feeling of desiring more than what’s on the surface. And although I was really hoping that wouldn’t be the case here, it takes the same missteps. A handful of movies this year have been suffering from this same problem. Three Billboards does a fantastic job of establishing its protagonists and antagonists while periodically incorporating its erratic tone, but it’s in demand of a more suitable resolution. By suitable, I don’t mean satisfying. I mean something that would persevere with audiences more than ever because of the related topics they’re attempting to tackle.

The film definitely has one of the most superb casts of the year. It’s not just from the pure talent each actor retains (that McDonagh uses to his advantage) but the experience the titular cast features is what authenticates the film and the experience. Frances McDormand puts on display her most earnest performance yet. Showing the regrets she possesses about her daughter’s death but having the audacity to challenge society. She’s absolutely electrifying. She’ll be in the top-tier of an Oscar race for Best Actress with Sally Hawkins. Sam Rockwell continues his streak of playing an amok/dim-witted character. Indeed another hilarious performance from him as the volatile and moronic Dixon. He’s the character with the most prevailing depth and easily has the heaviest arc out of everyone on screen. Woody Harrelson, who despite having limited screen time is worth noting. Depicting a sort of rugged, small-town cop/civilian is what he should pride himself on more. He’s a lot more dominant with these types of roles rather than characters of high figure or power.

The pillars this film rests upon are made up of the already addressed unparalleled screenplay and performances, but another category just as lethal as the other two is the approach taken to how law enforcement handles crimes and incidents. Such as the one given to us in the movie. It’s connection to reality right now for a film like this is as vital as it’s ever going to be. It certainly raises questions of events that are transpiring in modern life today but it doesn’t try to politicize anything by over-saturating that element. It stays applicable to the narrative throughout the exposition and eventually to the last act. McDonagh is in a sense challenging the viewer with everything he’s doing and the way it’s being executed is bloody brilliant.

Even with its lack of a more appropriate conclusion, most of, if not all of Three Billboards is thoroughly enjoyable. The cast is stacked and the script is loaded with McDonagh’s haughty British wit. There’s not much else to be said here besides to look out for it to take home some gold come January and February.

Overall Grade: A-

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