Director: Lorcan Finnegan
Writer: Lorcan Finnegan, Garret Shanley
Stars: Imogen Poots, Danielle Ryan, Molly McCann, Jesse Eisenberg

Synopsis: A young couple looking for the perfect home find themselves trapped in a mysterious labyrinth-like neighborhood of identical houses.

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For a film with such an excitingly simple pitch, Vivarium is a perfect example of squandering a great idea when you don’t have anywhere to go with it. It’s a prime illustration of being unique while still not being good, as writer Garret Shanley creates an interesting meditation on domesticity which eventually sours into a blunt and empty experience. Despite the film’s unique set design, solid acting, and an inspired first act that promises something way sharper, the Imagine Poots and Jesse Eisenberg vehicle spins its wheels until they fall off.

Still, that initial setup is more promising than your standard indie. Tom (Eisenberg) and Gemma (Poots) are a happy young couple who have been house hunting but haven’t found many appealing options. One day after leaving the school where Tom is a handyman and Gemma is a teacher, they go visit an office for a new development titled Yonder. The agent for the development is Martin (Jonathan Aris), and while they’re something off about him, they follow him to visit Yonder. Soon after entering the home, Martin is gone, and they can’t find a way out. Soon after that, a baby arrives in a box on the doorstep. A note follows which tells them to raise the kid.

With this setup, director Lorcan Finnegan creates a series of admittedly hellish scenarios and creepy images. The problem with some of the admittedly cool iconography is how thuddingly obvious the metaphors can be. After being trapped and forced to raise the baby in this plastic embodiment of happiness, the film reveals itself to be about how a family life can be a painful and soul-sucking experience. It seems like Finnegan was in a confining relationship before writing this, as if he wanted to translate how relationships are inherently bad and limiting. The fundamental thesis here is difficult when it feels a deficient view of how things can be. Although there is an inherent creepiness to the setting of Yonder, the flimsy text doesn’t do this potentially interesting concept justice.

While the material is working against them, Eisneberg and Poots try their hardest. Eisenberg, in particular, feels a bit odd for this role. As one of the most nebby and frail actors of a generation, he feels odd in a role where he’s supposed to represent middle class angst and impatience. His character introduction feels almost jarring when he jokes around with Poot’s Gemma while playing that handyman. He still tries his hardest, and in the scenes where his resentment towards the child is the clearest, his character feels like the ideal combination of cutting and aggravated. Poots does good work as well as a naturally compassionate person who is forced to be compassionate to a giant annoyance. While both actors veer towards over acting from time to time, the two talents make this potential slog a watchable film. Even though the two tried, they couldn’t overcome a script that feels both apparent and undercooked. A good idea or two can only get you so far it seems.

Overall Grade: C

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Director: Eliza Hittman
Writer: Eliza Hittman
Stars: Eliazar Jimenez, David Buneta, Christian Clements

Synopsis: A pair of teenage girls in rural Pennsylvania travel to New York City to seek out medical help after an unintended pregnancy.

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All of our lives are filled with difficult choices, but most of them pale in comparison to those few life-changing moments that the unlucky few have thrust upon them. This is especially when those decisions don’t necessarily have a black and white, correct answer. There is nothing so intensely alienating as knowing you have to make that difficult choice on your own. Yet, in many cases, even if you have support, you feel that you are walking into that moment by yourself.  Although this is not the first-time director Eliza Hittman has examined this feeling in her early career as a director, this particular emotion is palpable throughout the runtime of Never Rarely Sometimes Always.

Never Rarely Sometimes Always, ostensibly a movie about one young woman’s choice to have an abortion, is truly about many things, including female friendship, the predatory nature of men, loneliness, and the importance of the smallest gestures. Sidney Flanagan, in amazingly her first film role delivers one of the most genuine performances imaginable as the lead, Autumn. No single scene exists without her in frame, and the film is better for it. Much like Harris Dickinson in Hittman’s last film, Beach Rats, that lack of film experience aids the audience in feeling an immediate affinity for our lead. Autumn is, of course, not a perfect human being, but a person going through a horrific moment, and there are moments in which her interactions betray the stress that she is under.

Those interactions, specifically with her cousin Skylar (Talia Ryder) are honest, and never tip over into high drama. The two young women snap at each other on occasion, but also depend on and care for one another. In one specific scene, a simple, elegant shot of the two women’s intertwining fingers details more about this relationship (and the power of women bonded) than pages of exposition could possibly hope to define. This moment efficiently shows not only a connection between the two, but is also poignant dissection of both men and women. Some may refer to the gender inequity in this film as preachy, but I found it particularly truthful and raw. As women, especially young women, are preyed upon daily and shown repeatedly that their bodies and sexuality are traded upon by men, the scenes between Skylar and Jasper (Théodore Pellerin) ring completely true. Although Jasper is never vicious, he is nevertheless a man taking advantage of a situation, and thus, not blameless.

Without a doubt, the most powerful scene in the film, and likely one of the most moving you will experience all year, involves Autumn and a female social worker discussing her upcoming procedure. As the scene begins, both women are equally in the shot, but as it progresses, cinematographer Hélène Louvart expertly, and subtly, switches focus to solely hold Autumn in a close-up. This decision offers two distinct advantages. First, we understand the isolation of making this choice, especially at this young age. Secondly, it enables us to narrow our focus purely on Flanagan’s performance.  Although she delivers a staggering range throughout, this is the moment she truly shines. Every choice, both behind the camera and in front of it, is utterly perfect for this stretch. This scene works both in a vacuum and in the arc of the story. The social worker (Kelly Chapman) is played by an actual counselor, and it shows. Her slow repetition of the questions for which the film is named, and her genuine empathy for Autumn are just what is needed as the camera rests on Autumn.

Most importantly, even at the moment of truth, just before her procedure, Never Rarely Sometimes Always holds back and refuses to give us any simple answers. Many films about abortion take a definitive stand one way or the other. In many ways, it is not actually a film about abortion as an issue, but instead, it details one woman’s choice. Because of this, after that choice, the film in neither celebratory nor sorrowful. Impactful, terrifying choices such as Autumn’s do not end when the credits roll. This will have an impact, whether positive or negative (or both), moving forward for many years.  And sometimes, no matter how much people try to be there for us, we must make that choice, and live with it, alone. Hittman manages this intensely human story without pomp and circumstance, and without ever devolving into after school special territory. Never Rarely Sometimes Always is truly an achievement worthy of a large audience’s attention.

Overall Grade: A

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Director: James Lebrecht, Nicole Newnham
Writer: James Lebrecht, Nicole Newnham
Stars: Larry Allison, Dennis Billups, HolLynn D’Lil

Synopsis: Down the road from Woodstock, a revolution blossomed at a ramshackle summer camp for teenagers with disabilities, transforming their lives and igniting a landmark movement.

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One of the few things that Netflix has entirely succeeded in is making documentaries an important focus of their original content platform. If you hear about a buzzed non-fiction film that made a debut at Sundance or TIFF, it’s very possible that Netflix acquired it quickly. And for the most part, the documentaries they’ve made are pretty solid. Starting with their 2017 Oscar winner Icarus, you’re likely to see Netflix somewhere in the Best Documentary Feature category at the Oscars. It’s possible that they’ll continue that luck with their latest doc, the Sundance Film Festival premiere Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution, a solid but flawed advocacy/community portrait hybrid.

Directors Nicole Newnham and James Lebrecht start to achieve something unique with the first half of Crip Camp, starting with a warm portrait of a camp run by and for kids with disabilities. Camp Jened was only a few miles from Woodstock, NY, but the ramshackle spirit was felt down the road. Jened was founded in 1951, but blossomed throughout the 1960s, carrying the spirit of 60s culture with it. Like the wonderful archival footage in the documentary shows, Jened was a ramshackle endeavor, filled with community and caring staffers to make up for the loose ends. The camp is repeatedly described as a utopia by campers in the film, and it’s easy to see why.

Newnham and Lebrecht use a fair combination of talking head footage and archival shots to create a holistic portrait of the era, the camp, and the people, but sometimes the interviews can take away from the joy that radiates from the older images. Each interview with an old staff member or camper somewhat takes away from the excitement of the community that’s being captured. The grainy black and white that punctuates the first act of this documentary can be so powerful until it’s interrupted by present day perspectives who don’t really have much to add. You can tell the camp is special, but it’s with moments like this that you wish the directors would let the audience experience the camp and what was so magical about it without a voice over dictating how you’re supposed to feel about it.

Aside from a few obvious needledrops, the transition to 1960s disability rights advocacy film is a seamless one. As the film gets refocused on how this camp influenced a moment, the more standard and less invigorating the doc can seem. It isn’t a big issue, but there was something miraculous about the titular camp, and there’s something average (although important) about the way the doc wraps up. The use of modern day interviews start to make more sense as Newnham and Lebrecht pull off an obvious but sweet ending, but it can still be hard to move past the standardness of certain aspects of this film. Every great moment is offset by standard doc movements. Still, it’s not hard to see why the Obama’s picked this to be a part of the Higher Ground production company, and it’s surely an important one. It just feels like Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution would have been oddly better off if it had focused on the camp and less on the revolution.

Overall Grade: B-

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Director: Gavin Michael Booth
Writer: Gavin Michael Booth & Daved Wilkins
Stars: Daved Wilkins, Sarah Booth

Synopsis: One night a bitterly alone man, Scott, played by Daved Wilkins who calls the Suicide prevention hotline, but accidentally calls Beth, a janitor played by Sarah Booth.

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The one-shot film is a challenge that very few film directors take on; in the past we have seen the likes of Alfred Hitchcock and Sam Mendes being brave (or maybe that should be mad) enough to take on this challenge. Gavin Michael Booth takes on another challenge with his impactful and moving drama Last Call: he also uses split-screen and shoots two films in real time, without a single cut. It sounds like a gimmick, however there’s nothing about Last Call which is ‘gimmicky’. Not only is this film a technical marvel to behold, but it’s also an incredibly compelling story that features two powerful performances. Last Call is one of those rare films that leaves you in absolute awe, wondering just how the filmmakers managed to pull off such a magic trick.

Written by the film’s main male lead, Daved Wilkins (known for his work on The Mindy Project), the film follows his character Scott, a lonely and resentful man who is having a bad night. Frustrated and depressed, he makes the decision to call a Suicide prevention hotline, but accidentally calls Beth, a janitor played by the wonderful Sarah Booth. Beth is experiencing her own woes; she is a single mother with a rebellious son, and is also working two part-time jobs as well as being a student.

She answers the call not realizing who is on the other end of the line. Scott opens up to Beth and at first she seems reluctant to help (this is way outside her pay grade and she’s not trained). Scott can also come across as arrogant and sarcastic, but he’s trying to mask his pain and the loss of his son (this night just happens to be the anniversary of his death). Last Call unfolds like a classic Noir/Detective film, with Beth (and the viewer) carefully trying to piece together the reason for Scott’s call. Unfolding in real time Beth is essentially working against the clock in order to help save Scott’s life.

Last Call shouldn’t work but it does, on paper it all sounds rather too familiar but combined with the stunning performances from both Booth and Wilkins, the narrative feels fresh and original. The story hits all the right beats, smoothly running without a hitch for its 77 minutes runtime. There are some familiar character traits but the performances manage to excel the material to a whole new level. Any other actors just wouldn’t be able to pull these characters and the dialogue off, you can tell from their performances that both these actors have a history in the theater. It’s clear that these actors have the experience, the enthusiasm and the passion for acting as they both manage to dominate the screen for the entirety of the runtime. Even though the characters never meet on-screen we still feel their emotional connection such is the power of the actors’ performances.

Sarah Booth’s Beth is the clear standout of the film. Her character goes on a dramatic journey as she goes from being this apathetic individual at the start of the film who manages to transform into this person full of empathy and concern for a man she has never met. The film’s last few minutes manage to showcase just how much talent Booth contains with her. If you are not moved to tears by her struggle to contain her emotions, then you are made of very stern stuff indeed. Wilkins is known for his comedic work but he manages to show us all just what he is made of. It’s not always an easy transition from comedy to drama, but Wilkins makes it look like a breeze.

Honestly, at first the split-screen does take time to adjust to; it can be slightly confusing to follow, but Booth makes the decision to play around with the sound for each character, lowering the levels for one screen so we can hear the dialogue in the other. The film is beautifully shot by Booth and fellow cinematographer Seth Wessel-Estes, the hand-held camera helps to add a layer of realism to the film. The movement of the camera keeps the pace and maintains the tension so it almost feels as if we are there with Scott and Beth. We are a part of this shared experience with them even though we also have the privilege of being outside of the action, witnessing both perspectives unfold at the same time.

Booth is no stranger to taking on ambitious projects; in the past he has teamed up with producer Jason Blum (Paranormal Activity series, The Purge, and Oscar winning Whiplash) to create the world’s first movie broadcast live using Twitter’s Periscope App, but with Last Call he has outdone himself. Another key player is the film’s composer Adrian Ellis who also took on the task of composing the music in real time which is a beautiful companion to the film. Last Call is a film which pulls on all of our heart strings but never feels manipulative or melodramatic. It’s a very human tale which connects with many of us and it’s a film that has to be seen to be believed.

Overall Grade: A

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Directors: Tony Bancroft, Barry Cook
Writers: Robert D. San Souci, Rita Hsiao
Stars: Ming-Na Wen, Eddie Murphy, BD Wong

Synopsis: To save her father from death in the army, a young maiden secretly goes in his place and becomes one of China’s greatest heroines in the process.

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Disney Princesses have been a staple in the Disney genre since 1948 when Walt Disney released his first animated feature film, Snow White. For 50 years most of the female characters in these animated films fit the “damsel in distress” stereotype. They were all pretty, a majority caucasian, teenage girls who yearned for true love and a charming prince to whisk them off into the sunset. There were a few exceptions, but none truly broke the mold until Mulan in 1998. We saw glimpses of what a strong female lead would look like with Belle in Beauty and the Beast (1991), Jasmine in Aladdin (1992), and Pocahontas (1995).

Mulan is based on the story of Chinese legendary warrior Hua Mulan. The basic premise is the same, but some details are different. A young girl secretly joins the imperial army in her father’s place to spare him from going to war again. She excels as a warrior, is rewarded for her achievements, and earns the respect of the men. Where the original legend and movie differ is when everyone finds out Mulan is a woman. It’s an epic and inspiring story, proving that Disney movies not centered around fairy tale romance can be successful too.

The film has a stellar cast; Mulan is voiced by the amazing Ming-Na Wen and her singing voice is done by Broadway legend Lea Salonga (who was also the singing voice for Princess Jasmine). Commander Shang is BD Wong, who most people will recognize from Law & Order SVU or the Jurassic Park franchise. The most recognizable voice in the cast belongs to Eddie Murphy who plays the travel sized (for your convenience) dragon, Mushu. That’s just the main cast –  if you listen to the minor characters you’ll hear Harvey Fierstein (Yao), James Hong (Chi Fu), Donny Osmond (Shang’s singing voice), Pat Morita (the Emperor), and George Takei (First Ancestor).

Mulan is often listed as a favorite or “top tier” Disney. I believe that is due to the compelling story (it’s something different than its predecessors), a new animation style that includes traditional Chinese themes, and the amazing score and soundtrack. The story focuses on Mulan’s bravery and desire to protect her father. She’s introduced as a girl who doesn’t quite fit into the societal role assigned to her. She wants to bring honor to her family but she also wants to be true to herself. The viewer gets to see her grow in confidence as the story progresses. She isn’t looking for true love like many of her Disney predecessors, and while she does find it in a nonconventional way,  it wasn’t the focus of the film. Mulan is one of my favorite Disney movies because it was one of the first kid’s movies that showed a woman overcome real adversity. You hear from other characters throughout the film that women are inferior, they can’t talk in front of men, they’ll be killed for breaking the rules, etc. Mulan does what she feels is necessary in spite of that. She is eventually recognized as a heroine who saved all of China. Even the main villain, Shan-Yu, a ruthless foreign invader recognizes Mulan as the soldier who defeated him and a threat. Her being a woman didn’t even matter to him. Including that short scene, where Mulan confronts Shan-Yu, helped solidify that Mulan has become a true warrior, despite the limitations placed on her gender. Disney wouldn’t give us another strong, independent female lead like Mulan again until Tiana in the Princess and the Frog (2009) eleven years later.

The way the movie is animated is also something that I find unique and interesting. They open the film with watercolor brushstrokes and traditional Chinese art. That style continues to flow into the rest of the film, especially noticeable in the background in things like smoke and water and in some of the character design (like Khan, Mulan’s horse).

Jerry Goldsmith’s score is one of the best ever featured in a Disney movie, and he was deservedly nominated for an Oscar (but somehow lost to Shakespere In Love). In addition to the score, Mulan has great songs and musical sequences. Honestly, how many people can resist adding “To Defeat the Huns” when someone says “Let’s get down to business”? Not many… The film is also credited for launching pop icon Christina Aguilera’s career. Until she recorded the pop version of “Reflection”, Aguilera hadn’t yet recorded a US single or album. She has recorded a new song, “Loyal Brave True” for the live-action remake of Mulan set to release sometime later this year.

Mulan is a groundbreaking film in many ways. This was Disney’s first DVD release and their last animated musical released on VHS. It was the first Disney film to feature an Asian heroine and she remains the only Disney princess of East Asian descent. Mulan also specifically mentions cross-dressing and shows multiple characters doing so. This doesn’t seem like much now, but almost got the film a PG rating in 1998. Mulan also has the highest body count of any Disney character, ever. Mulan managed to give us a musical, with goofy Eddie Murphy humor, while also showing us the horrors of war and resisting archaic (but unfortunately still relevant) assigned gender roles and their imposed limitations. Mulan (1998) will forever be considered one of the best Disney movies ever made. Even though that high bar is set, I am still excited to see the live-action remake when it eventually comes to theaters. Until then, I will rewatch the trailers, listen to the soundtracks, and continue to revisit the endlessly rewatchable, near perfect, animated classic.

Overall Grade: A+

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Hear our podcast review on Episode 371:

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Director: Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia
Writers: Pedro Rivero and David Desola
Stars: Iván Massagué, Antonia San Juan, Zorion Eguileor, Emilio Buale Coka, Alexandra Masangkay.

Synopsis: A vertical prison with one cell per level. Two people per cell. One only food platform and two minutes per day to feed from up to down. An endless nightmare trapped in The Hole.

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It’s hard to write about Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia’s film The Platform without giving away any spoilers but I shall do my best. Perhaps the biggest challenge any film critic faces when writing a film review is trying to restrain themselves from delving too deeply into the film’s narrative and giving a detailed analysis which doesn’t spoil the film for the reader. The Platform is one of those films that once you have finished watching it then you instantly feel the need to discuss in great detail with others. It’s very rare nowadays that we have films which are so rich and dense in detail that you feel compelled to hunt someone who has also seen it in order to deconstruct it together and bounce theories off each other. If you are self-isolating right now (which you should be) then theorizing about The Platform will keep you very busy indeed.

The film is set in the world of a futuristic prison made up of hundreds of floors, there are two prisoners to each floor. Every day, a platform descends through a large hole in the middle of the building, and it’s the only chance for food for the entire day. On the upper levels, the prisoners have access to a feast of gourmet dishes, but people don’t ration for those on the levels below. As the platform gradually makes its way down each level the food quickly disappears. It’s completely random who your fellow inmate is and which level you land on. Every month the prisoners are moved to a new level which could see them end up on level 6, or level 36 or even level 176.

The film follows Goreng (Ivan Massagué), who wakes up on level 47 which means there’s still food on the platform when it makes its way down to him. Believe or not, he’s volunteered to enter the prison in order to quit smoking and gain a diploma. Georen thinks it will be a breeze, and brings a book (each inmate is allowed to bring one item with them). It’s clear that Georeng is out of his depth, and his first cellmate Trimagasi (Zorion Eguileor) shows him the ropes. Can Goreng survive ‘The Hole’ and can he rely on the kindness from other prisoners like Trimagasi, Imoguiri (Antonia San Juan), and Miharu (Alexandra Masangkay)? And, more importantly does Georeng have the stomach to survive on the lower levels?

The Platform has just dropped on Netflix, and it’s hard not to see the disturbing comparisons with the COVID-19 pandemic that is currently sweeping across the globe. Those who find themselves on the upper levels only care about themselves, and people tend to ignore anyone below them. It’s a dog eat dog world in the hole. It’s a very timely film, and in a lot of ways it’s a wake-up call that we need. Increasingly it feels that humanity, compassion and empathy for others is barely holding on a thread, and coupled with the COVID-19 outbreak, The Platform really puts a lot in perspective for you. Gaztelu-Urrutia, writers David Desola and Pedro Rivero, and cinematographer Jon D. Domínguez have created such an immersive world which has the look and atmosphere of our nightmares; this is the true embodiment of pure horror.

As you can imagine, The Platform is brutally and unflinchingly violent, especially when we reach the film’s climax which becomes a race to the bottom of the hole (don’t worry, I won’t spoil anything, but let’s just say things get very bloody and messy). Those who have a weak stomach may reach the midway point and find it all a little too much. However, if you stick with the gore then you will be fully satisfied with a wonderfully surreal ending which is left open to interpretation. Every actor gives their all here, however the best stand out performance by far is the hilarious Zorion Eguileor who steals each scene he is in. The film’s tone shifts dramatically towards the end, and it becomes a little too serious however, Eguileor keeps popping up in places to help ease the tension.

Overall, The Platform is a sophisticated horror sci-fi which will delight fans of Snowpiercer and the Saw franchise, but will probably be a hard watch for anyone who isn’t a fan of Dystopian horror films. The film premiered at the 2019 Toronto International Film Festival, where it won the People’s Choice Award for Midnight Madness, and it isn’t hard to see why it won. Visually appealing, with some excellent claustrophobia inducing camerawork, this well written film comes in at a lean 94 minutes in length. It’s a shame that the film isn’t just a little bit longer because The Platform leaves you craving more. A word of a warning: it’s probably best to go into this film on an empty stomach.

Overall Grade: A-

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Director: J.D. Dillard
Writer: J.D. Dillard, Alex Hyner
Stars: Kiersey Clemons, Emory Cohen, Hanna Mangan Lawrence

Synopsis: Jenn has washed ashore a small tropical island and it doesn’t take her long to realize she’s completely alone. She must spend her days not only surviving the elements, but must also fend off the malevolent force that comes out each night.

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Kiersey Clemons starred in one of the best films of 2018. In Hearts Beat Loud, she gave one of the most overlooked performances of that year—and put her impressive vocal chops on full display. In that film, Clemons had the benefit of sharing most of her scenes with another actor, primarily Nick Offerman or Sasha Lane. Here in Sweetheart, however, Clemons is tasked with carrying almost the entire film on her own.

Her character Jenn washes up on the shore of a tropical island, shipwrecked, in the movie’s opening moments. Of course, being stranded on a desolate island comes with certain tribulations. Scavenging for drinkable water, hunting for food, constructing a shelter, building a fire, etc. Tom Hanks, Harrison Ford, Anne Heche, Brooke Shields, and even Madonna could tell you all about it. But none of them ever had to deal with a monster (unless you count Guy Ritchie).

Because—as if fighting off dehydration, starvation, and the elements weren’t enough—Jenn soon learns that an aquatic bipedal sea creature prowls the island for nourishment once night falls…

Director J.D. Dillard puts his faith in a solo Clemons to hold the narrative together, without the privilege of dialogue, for long spans of the picture. A truly versatile actor, she manages to convey so much of the story—and Jenn’s plight—tacitly with her body and face. Dillard’s direction is action-based and unassuming, allowing Clemons to stand out and repeatedly show that she is an absolute warrior whose range grows with each performance.

As a director, Dillard confidently drops his moviegoers right into the story—and provides zero flashbacks. He prefers to make Sweetheart all about his main character, and that’s where Clemons’ talent comes in. Thanks to her physical acting prowess, Dillard doesn’t need to include otherwise necessary exposition; this wouldn’t work with a lesser actor. In that way, Clemons is doing more audience-work than Dillard, whose presence behind the camera feels somewhat hands-off on occasion. Hints about Jenn’s pre-island life are sprinkled throughout, but for the most part Dillard instead trusts that the viewers will watch Clemons and instinctively go with her.

But then we witness our hero’s personal credibility—if what she’s seeing is true—unduly called into question, even though we and she have every empirical reason to know that the monster is entirely real. The subtext here is not exactly subtle, but maybe it shouldn’t be, for the folks who choose to reside in a bubble… In real life, the trustworthiness of women of color is frequently overshadowed by doubt. Firsthand accounts of sexual trauma, domestic abuse, police violence, workplace harassment, healthcare discrimination, micro-aggressions, and systematic prejudice regularly go unbelieved or brushed off as hyperbolic. The message lands in this horrific context, once again proving that horror is a perfect landscape for expressing social unrest.

Jenn is a survivor, utterly determined to live, despite the obstacles put in her path. She’s a young woman who has endured more hardship in two decades than many will experience in a lifetime. Her resilience matches her strength. She believes in her own skills and smarts—perhaps better than anyone she knows—because combatting this vicious humanoid ocean dweller is definitely not the first time Jenn’s vigor has been tested… but it just might be the last…

To be honest, Kiersey Clemons is the reason to watch Sweetheart. While there’s nothing blatantly bad about the filmmaking, it leaves a lot to be desired. J.D. Dillard handles this modest creature feature decently, sure. He gets the job done, and sells the important message adequately enough. But aside from two pretty killer revealing shots—keep your eyes peeled—the movie is not all that bold, directorially. It’s lean, like its amphibious predator, and resourceful, like its hero—a disadvantaged woman struggling to persevere in a place ruled by a beast whose dominance runs deep, if you catch my drift—but the film itself could’ve used more of an edge. Because once you carve out the lead performance and the central theme, Sweetheart is just your run-of-the-mill-sole-survivor-stranded-on-a-deserted-island-fending-off-a-carnivorous-aquatic-monster movie.

Overall Grade: B-

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Director: Dee Rees
Writer: Marco Villalobos, Dee Rees
Stars: Anne Hathaway, Ben Affleck, Rosie Perez, Willem Dafoe

Synopsis: A veteran D.C. journalist loses the thread of her own narrative when a guilt-propelled errand for her father thrusts her from byline to unwitting subject in the very story she’s trying to break. Adapted from Joan Didion’s namesake novel.

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The Last Thing He Wanted, by Dee Rees, is so disconnected from itself that it feels like a cluttering of scenes and sequences held together by little more than adequate performances and missed opportunities.  The Last Thing He Wanted never really comes together, so throughout the course of the film the tenuous threads of narrative are held together so loosely that oftentimes one is bewildered and irritated by the lack of cohesion.

in The Last Thing He Wanted, based on Joan Didion’s novel, Anne Hathaway plays Elena McMahon, an investigative journalist following hot scoops regarding arms deals while covering Reagan’s presidential campaign in 1984.  Soon, her estranged father (Willem Dafoe) appears, speaking riddles about army surplus guns and a big new deal in which he is involved. Elena quickly finds herself embroiled in an arms sale as both a participant and a journalist.  During her investigations, she comes into contact with CIA operative Treat Morrison (Ben Affleck) and finds herself deeper and deeper in the very story that has consumed her.

From the start, The Last Thing He Wanted fails to build any sort of narrative foundation.  The audience is keyed into guerrilla fighters and covert government bureaucrats, but nothing is ever shown or explained.  The entire first third of the film is filled with hints and glimpses but there is no solid exposition. Once the plot supposedly thickens, one is left wondering who the players are and why on earth we should be intrigued by this story.  Elena’s jet-setting and clandestine meetings do little to progress the story. With each new face we meet, more questions arise. With every character that is introduced, there is no explanation as to who they are, where they are, or what their role in the story happens to be.  The confusion just mounts as Elena gets deeper and deeper into the plot.

As the film progresses, Elena’s character begins to lose focus.  It is not that she is making different decisions and upending audience expectations, which would be welcomed and thought-provoking.  The focus is lost in that the filmmakers seem to forget what her storyline entails. They haphazardly insert phone calls with her colleague (Rosie Perez) and her daughter (Onata Aprile) as to only remind the audience that she has a job and a family.  None of it fits the narrative, as one finds themselves just plain wondering what the heck is going on.

The actors themselves seem to have put their performances on auto-pilot.  Dafoe plays unstable well and that’s all he does. Hathaway hits her marks, weeps in close-up, and talks on the phone…a lot.  Affleck broods and delivers lines like he is waiting for the check to clear. If their characters were better written and more well-rounded, perhaps their performances would have resonated more, lifting this film into something more narratively cohesive.  However, the lack of a firm story and poor character development leaves them out on a limb, hoping the branch won’t snap below them.

All in all, The Last Thing He Wanted lacks enough substance to become enjoyable.  Tensions are never properly set up and characters don’t even seem to be living in the world that is created.  This disconnect between every aspect of the film works against itself right from the opening sequence. The locations are beautiful and some of the smaller parts are well acted (Edi Gathegi & Mel Rodriguez); however, nothing comes together and a lot of talent seems to be wasted.

Overall Grade: D

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