This week on Women InSession, we continue our critic spotlight series as we get to know Nadine Whitney and talk about how her experience in academia and freelance has helped shaped her as a critic! She’s one of our most prolific writers and it was a pleasure to finally get her in voice form talking about her passions with cinema.
On that note, check out this week’s show and let us know what you think in the comment section. Thanks for listening and for supporting the InSession Film Podcast!
This week on Chasing the Gold, Shadan and Erica discuss The Fall Guy, The Idea of You and the best comedies of the year so far! When it comes to awards season, comedies don’t carry as much of an impact, particularly with the Oscars, however; they do play with some groups. Will The Fall Guy have a Barbie-like impact? Maybe not, but it inspired us to talk about these films and how they’ll play out later in the year.
On that note, check out this week’s show and let us know what you think in the comment section. Thanks for listening and for supporting the InSession Film Podcast!
On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss Michael Showalter’s new romantic film The Idea of You, starring the great Anne Hathaway! It’s a film that has some interesting ideas on its mind, but we spend quite a bit of time talking about how its execution leaves something to be desired.
Review: The Idea of You(4:00) Director: Michael Showalter Writers: Michael Showalter, Jennifer Westfeldt Stars: Anne Hathaway, Nicholas Galitzine, Reid Scott
Director: Mark Waters Writer: Robin Bernheim Stars: Brooke Shields, Miranda Cosgrove, Benjamin Bratt
Synopsis: Lana’s daughter Emma returns from London and announces that she’s getting married next month. Things become more complicated when Lana learns that the man who stole Emma’s heart is the son of the man who broke hers years ago.
Mother of the Bride is not precisely what you think it’s going to be. In fact, it’s so much worse. That’s because the film is like a copy of the classic romantic comedy genre. It’s like a copy—of a copy, of a copy—copied so many times that the film becomes so nakedly transparent that it’s lazy. This is purely recycled material, with dozens of tropes weakly stitched together that are like watching beautiful people scrape their nails across a chalkboard.
Every basic scene is cliche and always comes with a double dip of exposition. There is absolutely zero chemistry between the cast, including the leads, and a laughable attempt to pair Brooke Shields with a former WB/CW star. Any cute or comedic moments are forced, unnatural, and lazy. I would say this is the cinematic streaming equivalent of the Milgram experiment—testing the obedience of the audience, the cast, and mine.
The story starts with a young couple, Emma (Miranda Cosgrove) and RJ (Sean Teale), and the latter has just asked her to marry him. It’s a grand gesture, with an entire restaurant emptied and filled with thousands of roses. Emma says yes, and they hug. The first thing Emma does is talk about how she has to tell her mom about him. Yes, Emma has not told her mother that she is in a committed relationship. The scene is flat, and there is no celebration. Again, this is a disjointed attempt to move the story forward.
The script attempts to make the case that Emma and her mother, Lana (a stiff and lifeless Brooke Shields), are close. That is mainly because they formed a bond when Emma’s father and Lana’s husband were killed in a car accident when she was eight years old. However, from the start, I was surprised that this mother-daughter duo knew each other’s names. Lana has no idea that her daughter is in a relationship because she is so wrapped up in her work. The other issue is that Lana does not know what her daughter does for a living. Do they not have an unlimited phone plan or access to social media or WhatsApp? Do they lack the resources for postage, or is using carrier pigeons to deliver the mail illegal?
Of course, we soon find out this is all a way to create an awkward run-in of a romance that has been dormant for years. It turns out RJ’s father is Lana’s college boyfriend and her long-lost love, Will (Benjamin Bratt). At first, you are afraid that Will may be Emma’s father, but sadly, as the film goes on, you will wish the film took that turn to feel any emotion other than paint-by-numbers boredom. Yes, the rom-com playbook is pulled out, the dust is blown away, and the script follows the genre rules step-by-step.
Cosgrove is relegated to that role of annoying, anxious, and weak female stereotype who keeps asking inane questions after they have already been asked. For example, after it has been made clear that Will and Lana used to date, she asks Will, “How do you know my mom?” Teale has virtually nothing to do as if he was told to stand there and look like Oscar Isaac’s long-lost child. Likable comedic actors like Rachael Harris and MadTV’s Michael MacDonald are relegated to over-the-top sidekicks who spew out one-liners out of nowhere as if they were wooden dolls, where some inexplicably pulled the string.
However, I would like to commend whatever physical trainer (or VFX special effects) was used to carve out the beach bodies of 60-year-old Benjamin Bratt and 43-year-old Chad Michael Murray that made me think if stunt coordinators are under consideration for Oscars, then the Hollywood trainer surely should be as well. Now, excuse me while I work on my third love handle.
Mother of the Bride lacks the charm and stamina to be an effective crowd-pleaser. Vapid and tiresome, this Netflix streamer is strictly for diehard fans of the genre or anyone going through a bad breakup in the hopes of finding love again.
Director: Richard Linklater Writers: Richard Linklater, Glen Powell Stars: Glen Powell, Adria Arjona, Austin Amelio
Synopsis: A professor moonlighting as a hitman of sorts for his city police department descends into dangerous, dubious territory when he finds himself attracted to a woman who enlists his services.
There’s an age-old debate in the modern film sphere on the question of sex in movies, on whether or not it’s socially acceptable to showcase sex scenes in modern cinema because there’s allegedly no “point” to them. Yes, the sex scenes in Tommy Wiseau’s The Room were fairly pointless and stretched the runtime of that movie to no end, but that’s one very bad example of a very bad movie.
But when a serious movie decides to be sexy and showcase a pure liberation of the human body, either through “furious jumping” in Yorgos Lanthimos’ Poor Things or through the psychosexual relationship the protagonists have with a tennis court in Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers (two recent examples), most audiences prefer to shrug at its apparent “endless” depiction of sex instead of engaging with what it’s presenting on screen. This results in a culture that’s afraid of even talking about sex, labeling it as a taboo subject when it is indeed a natural part of life and a form of liberation for many.
But why are we so afraid, or why do we care at all? Responsible adult viewers should be able to stomach the realities of life, including sex, in motion pictures, and yet talk about how “children will be exposed to this,” when none of the movies that talk about (or showcase) sex are marketed (or rated) for them. This creates a problem for the sexiest genre of all – romantic comedies, which have grown to become more sexless and glossy even when two hot people share the screen and create a decidedly passionate (and sexy) chemistry.
This is incredibly apparent in Red, White & Royal Blue, which stars two good-looking individuals with zero chemistry and erotic tension and is shot in the vein of a Hallmark picture. It’s particularly insulting when you find out that the cinematographer, Stephen Goldblatt, shot two of the greatest gay motion pictures of all time, Batman Forever and Batman & Robin, to which he was nominated for an Oscar for his work in the former, directed by a queer cinema legend, the late Joel Schumacher.
People may be conditioned to hate those movies, but the sexually charged frames Goldblatt creates are enough to entice intense homoerotic energy through Val Kilmer/George Clooney’s Batman and Chris O’Donnell’s Robin (the “not just a friend, a partner” hand-clasp in Batman Forever remains one of the most powerfully erotic images in all of comic book cinema), stuff that is no longer produced in mainstream cinema, except for when Luca Guadagnino decided to make cannibalism and tennis sexy in Bones and All and Challengers.
But a new challenger has arrived in the ring with Hit Man from Richard Linklater, perhaps one of the most sauceless and overhyped filmmakers working today (I said what I said). I rarely vibe with his movies because his style is so rudimentary that it rarely has room to breathe, and his actors don’t have much leeway in making their performances feel natural. It’s probably why I hated Boyhood so much and have only enjoyed a limited amount of his work, which includes School of Rock, A Scanner Darkly, Bad News Bears, Dazed and Confused, and its spiritual sequel, Everybody Wants Some!!
So consider me skeptical when massive raves for Hit Man occurred when it premiered at the Venice Film Festival last year and a subsequent festival premiere at TIFF, where Netflix acquired its U.S distribution rights for $20 million, calling it one of the sexiest films of the year, and one of Linklater’s finest achievements. With such a usually flat visual aesthetic permeating most of his filmography, how could Linklater create romantic tension, even if he has two of the hottest stars leading his picture through Glen Powell and Adria Arjona?
Simply put, he lets them be hot and in charge of their tension as the story progresses. From the minute Arjona is introduced in the picture, there’s an indelible sense of a potential romance blossoming between the two, even if they may not know it yet. Madison (Arjona) shows up at a restaurant in the hopes that Gary (Powell), under the hit man alias Ron, will kill her abusive husband (Evan Holtzman), and is willing to pay a large sum for it. But she doesn’t know that “Ron” does not exist and isn’t even a hitman. Gary, a professor of philosophy, has been doing part-time undercover work for the police to set up sting jobs to arrest people who demand the services of a hitman after undercover cop Jasper (Austin Amelio) was suspended for 120 days.
It not only turns out that Gary is very good at creating façades and disguises to lure potential clients in, but he enjoys the thrill of appearing to give people the opportunity of hitman services before they are ultimately arrested. But when Madison appears, everything changes. He begins to see her more frequently, through his Ron façade, and the two build one of the sexiest on-screen romances seen in a Linklater picture, and perhaps the most interesting romantic story of his career (yes, more intriguing than Jesse and Céline in the Before trilogy).
It’s not hard for Linklater to slightly make the romance feel sexier through his lens, and he carefully calibrates his frames as their relationship evolves. Look at the way Madison is introduced as an example – a massive departure from the clinical style Linklater adopts when focusing on Gary (but in the case of this film, it makes sense because Gary is, himself, a clinical guy). Instead, he blurs the frame so that we only see her shadow until she shows up in the foreground and sits down. The tension is already palpable, but when she eats a piece of “Ron’s” pie, the energy cranks up a notch and never lets up.
The rest of the film sees Linklater play with this hypersexual energy as the two take their relationship to a more serious level, without Madison knowing that “Ron” isn’t a hitman. This creates some impeccably timed comedy as Jasper gets back into the field and learns that things aren’t what they seem between Gary and Madison, setting the plot in motion full of well-paced twists and turns that are best left to be discovered on your own.
The chemistry between Powell and Arjona is the only reason why Hit Man is so deliciously entertaining, with the two fully leaning into the characters’ façades they want to put out to one another (Linklater tries to parallel these impulses to the work of Nietzsche, but the philosophical subtext is far less interesting than the psychosexual game the two play with each other). The two expand their façades as they get to “know” more about their personality and, in turn, give the most romantic (and, at times, erotic) performances of their career.
Powell is no stranger to romantic comedies after starring in 2023’s Anyone but You, but he takes the persona he created in this film to a completely different level here, as he’s matched with an actor of equal talent and charm with Arjona, a highly skillful actor who can perfectly modulate her emotional response to Powell’s Gary, whose multiple personalities deftly showcase his versatility. You can definitely tell Arjona’s evolution as an actor in a post Six Underground, Andor, and Irma Vep environment, capturing the sexy thrills of a blossoming romance with an incredible sense of timing and rhythm. The centerpiece scene, in which Madison has to ‘act’ for Gary, confirms her as a singular talent with a breadth of dramatic and comedic range that completely obliterates whatever Sydney Sweeney was doing in Anyone but You.
If anything, Hit Man pushes the tension introduced in Anyone but You much further because it’s far more potent in its eroticism without ever showing it through sex. The implicit looks and exchanges Gary and Madison give to each other have enough powerful sexual energy to make the case for more sex in movies. In such a sexless era of romantic filmmaking, here’s a movie that reminds audiences exactly why sex in movies isn’t a bad thing and will actually make its romance between the two leads far more exciting than if it’s filmed at a Hallmark level with no emotional attachment between the potential couple.
Hit Man shows exactly how modern-day romantic comedies should be: incredibly funny (with a keen eye on society’s warped priorities, through sharp jokes on cancel culture and America’s f–ed upobsession with the Second Amendment) and impeccably sexy, with two impossibly beautiful leads giving the romantic tension needed for us to keep wanting to spend time with them. Yes, it helps that Powell and Arjona know how to act and modulate emotions, which makes their characters feel far more alive in the hands of Linklater than in some of his previous (failed) efforts. As a result, Hit Man is Linklater’s best movie since School of Rock, his greatest achievement. Here’s hoping his next project (including the upcoming Paul Mescal musical he’s currently shooting for twenty years…as if twelve wasn’t enough) will be of equal measure.
If you showed someone tennis for the first time and then asked them to explain the sport, the observational description would be very apt. At face value, it involves a ball being hit back and forth over a net. On the surface, most sports can be reduced to something rather trivial. But there’s obviously much more to be derived by fans of the sport, whatever sport it may be. As a disclaimer, this piece will not spoil any plot revelations in regard to Challengers but will discuss certain cinematic techniques and how they are used in the film to elicit audience reactions and emotions.
Luca Gudagnino’s Challengers revolves around tennis, a sport that doesn’t often get the cinematic treatment. Some recent examples are Battle of the Sexes, King Richard, and the particularly wonderful 7 Days In Hell. So, how does one get audiences enveloped in a world that keeps many at a distance? Obviously, it helps to have three of the most exciting actors working today. But Guadagnino and cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom also inject a wildly stylized energy into this film. However, it’s not utilized in a basic fashion. On the contrary, Challengers’ cinematography often elevates the film’s tone and forces the viewer to truly grapple with framing. It might seem on the surface that these are two very basic components of cinematography, but the way it is used here contains more complexity.
Obviously, we are meant to reach certain conclusions and emotions based on the imagery we see and how it appears to us in the film. But we seem to be in a time when the very fundamentals of cinema are questioned or even balked at. The mere idea of criticizing basic lighting techniques or asking for more than simple shot/reverse-shot dialogue is met with hostility. Every scene, no matter how mundane it may appear, can be beautiful—that’s an idea no longer shared by many. So it feels refreshing to see a film so daringly utilize point-of-view framing to bring the viewer directly into the characters’ minds. Dialogue scenes from films this decade have arguably never been as exciting or jumped off the screen more.
Often, at least in the case of bigger-budget films, it appears the camera is merely pointed at the subject. Pre-visualization, also known as pre-vis, is also heavily utilized. It’s a technology essentially utilized by studios and filmmakers as a more three-dimensional way of storyboarding. A team can show up to any given shoot where pre-vis has been used, and a computer can visualize where the camera should be placed and what it will roughly look like in any given space, and it can render any upcoming CGI. It’s a tool that can be utilized particularly well, but oftentimes, certain big-budget blockbusters appear to use it more lazily. So in a world where pre-vis rules and both performers and directors might not know where exactly a particular scene takes place, it doesn’t allow much room to explore a given space.
With Challengers, Mukdeeprom doesn’t have that problem. There’s no idea too visually grand for this film. Spaces are envisioned to the maximum potential and capitalized upon. It all culminates in a sequence that is marvelous and bold. But Challengers takes its time building to its visual crescendo. And that isn’t to say that the rest of the film isn’t aesthetically exciting. The ways in which Mukdeeprom slowly sets the stage for his bombastic finale is quite brilliant. It’s the perfect example of repeatedly using certain techniques, such as whacking tennis balls directly at the camera, over the course of the film. By the end, when he begins unleashing cinematic mayhem, the audience is honed into the style he’s using.
Challengers isn’t interested in merely capturing the actions of its lead trio, as much as it wants to force us into their minds. And these are messy individuals. Isn’t that where the most compelling cinema lies, though? In the boundaries between right and wrong? Justin Kuritzkes’ screenplay clearly understands that and Guadagnino and Mukdeeprom seem to feed off the palpable volleys in which each character finds themselves entangled. Every inch of Challengers simmers with tension, and the ways in which it visually approaches this tension is fascinating.
For example, a particularly steamy conversation between Patrick (Josh O’Connor) and Art (Mike Faist) takes place in a sauna. Aside from the tantalizing framing, Mukdeeprom chooses to capture both barely-clothed men. The way he captures the two individually highlights the internalized idea of their power dynamics regarding one another. Patrick makes a rather ominous statement rather than cut immediately to Art’s reaction. We witness a moment of play within Patrick’s memory before then being treated with an even greater close-up. Only then do we see Art’s reaction. This is one of the many times Mukdeeprom inadvertently tricks us into accepting a first-person point-of-view shot without any gimmick to reveal it as such. The same is then done from the reverse effect. We, as the viewer, through Mukdeeprom’s lens, begin scowling at each character from the perspective of their scene partner. It makes objectivity and impartiality impossible. Instead, it draws us into the world of Challengers— a world that is continuously collapsing in on itself— and the characters that inhabit it. And this collapse occurs not with a whimper but with a bang. Mukdeeprom’s use of this first-person POV only makes the more blatant use of it later on all the more exciting. It reveals the beauty of Challengers’ visuals. Whether subtle or screaming in your face, cinema has a place for all of it. By the end of the film, we’re immersed in the characters’ high-octane world of tennis. Under the court, in the tennis ball, directly behind their eyes. What I can only describe as a dual split-diopter catapults itself onto the screen, and any sense of standard cinematic storytelling is thrown out the window. By ways both abstract and built upon, Challengers heralds the arrival of its new form with such tenacity and vigor that you can’t help but want to applaud and shout in your seat. And that’s what the movies are all about. Or is that what tennis is all about?
On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss David Leitch’s new action comedy The Fall Guy, starring Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt! As an ode to the great stunt people in movies, there’s so much to appreciate about this film. It’s also a sizzling romantic comedy. It has some fun commentary on how movies are made. A lot to talk about!
Review: The Fall Guy(4:00) Director: David Leitch Writers: Drew Pearce Stars: Ryan Gosling, Emily Blunt, Aaron Taylor-Johnson
Directors: Bill Ross IV, Turner Ross Writers: Davey Ramsay, Bill Ross IV, Turner Ross Stars: Tony Aburto, Micah Bunch, Nichole Dukes
Synopsis: Follows 5 teenagers from small-town Oregon who, with high school in the rearview, decide to embark on one last adventure: to make it to a place they’ve never been -the Pacific coast, 500 miles away. Their plan, in full: “F**k it.”
A rapturous odyssey, Gasoline Rainbow boldly reaffirms Bill Ross IV and Turner Ross as American cinema’s most essential boundary-pushers. Their audacious vision flows like an impressionistic reverie, with fledgling teen actors blooming under the siblings’ liberated lens. Unvarnished moments of ennui and revelation unfurl across boundless landscapes, with disembodied vocals soaring in a hypnagogic interplay of sight and luminous sound. This latest provocation cements the Ross duo’s singularly fearless ingenuity, their intrepid artistry deepening with each successive, convention-shattering immersion.
In the quintessential coming-of-age tale woven into the fabric of Americana, Tony Aburto, Micah Bunch, Nichole Dukes, Nathaly Garcia, and Makai Garza stand as the intrepid protagonists poised at the precipice of adulthood. Their academic endeavors behind them, they stand at the crossroads of responsibility and adventure, yearning for one last hurrah before the weight of adulthood fully descends upon their shoulders.
In a nod to the timeless journey of self-discovery, they conceive a daring escapade: a cross-country voyage from the familiar confines of their hometown to the enigmatic shores of the Ocean for the End of the World party. Hidden in this seemingly whimsical quest lies a deeper resonance, reminiscent of timeless explorations of the human spirit. Much like those who traversed a labyrinth of trials and tribulations in their quest for homecoming, our modern-day adventurers embark on a journey where the destination may pale in comparison to the transformative journey itself.
Bound by the ties of camaraderie forged over years of shared experiences, they navigate the highways and byways of the American landscape with a sense of wonder and anticipation. Each roadside attraction, each chance encounter, becomes a chapter in their collective saga, enriching their lives with a rich weave of memories and lessons.
Yet, beneath the surface of their seemingly carefree adventure lies a poignant truth: perhaps the true essence of their journey lies not in reaching the fabled End of the World party, but in the bonds they strengthen and the selves they discover along the way. In the tradition of the great cinematic journeys, theirs is a tale of friendship, resilience, and the unyielding spirit of youth in search of meaning amidst the vast expanse of the open road.
Gasoline Rainbow is a rambling yet insightful road movie that finds soulful truth in the journey of five young Hispanic friends leaving home. Like the great road films, it understands the purpose is not the destination but the experiences along the way. Bill and Turner Ross have crafted a remarkably naturalistic portrait, capturing revelatory moments of honesty, humor and melancholy with an intimate, fly-on-the-wall shooting style that allows us to become immersed in the lives of the vagabond protagonists. An unrehearsed quality pervades each scene as they speak with disarming candor about worries, jokes, opinions and their immigrant backgrounds. Home is a nebulous concept, but their makeshift family bond represents the deeper exploration – an honest, unflinching and deeply soulful evocation of that bittersweet time when childhood’s end is in sight.
The Ross Brothers employ a masterful use of sound and music that imbues Gasoline Rainbow with an irresistible sense of intimacy. Their dynamic camerawork floats effortlessly between the quintet of friends, enveloping us in their temporary nomadic existence. Michael Hurley’s folk compositions and other timeless melodies provide an atmospheric backdrop, accompanying these wayward souls on their transcendent journey.
No matter where they roam – van, boat, train, or on foot – their surroundings take on a lived-in, homey quality. The film’s depiction of modern teenage life in America emerges not in navel-gazing downtime, but through candid conversations achieved in perpetual motion. Profound observations about identity, purpose, and the world around them pour forth with remarkable ease and honesty, softening each new landscape be it desert, forest or lonely stretch of highway. The Ross Brothers’ aesthetic sensitivity elevates the seemingly mundane into something profound and unforgettable.
The Ross Brothers weave a hypnotic tapestry in Gasoline Rainbow, their resplendent strands of dialogue floating across the boundless American canvas like wisps of cirrus clouds buoyed upon an amber-hued sky. Disembodied yet intimately crisp teen voices punctuate the journey, unfurling in gossamer ribbons that dance gracefully even as the characters recede into the distance. This diaphanous counterpoint of sound and image achieves a transcendent, anti-documentary quality that paradoxically envelops us in their cares and confessions.
Intermittent snippets of raw, unvarnished monologue extracted from interviews bloom like wildflowers amid the sun-dappled meadow, never disrupting the reverie. Rather, they arise organically as heartfelt testaments to the “creative treatment of actuality,” an ethos deeply ingrained in the documentary tradition. The filmmakers overlay these layered petals of youthful perspective atop the endless expanse, a masterful post-sync composition that elevates transient teen murmurings to an elegiac ode upon the nameless American landscape.
In this achingly gorgeous mosaic, the Ross Brothers extend a profound generosity of spirit and empathy to a generation bearing the weight of the world. Their delicate, kaleidoscopic reverie beckons – nay, insists – that these nascent souls enjoy the waning vistas of childhood while their journey remains unspent.
On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss the recent report that talked about data that exhibits the significant decline of sex and nudity in film over the last two decades. We also talk about the new teaser for Megalopolis and the first-look image of the new Superman!
Director: Ethan Hawke Writers: Shelby Gaines, Ethan Hawke Stars: Maya Hawke, Laura Linney, Rafael Casal
Synopsis: Follows the life of writer Flannery O’Connor while she was struggling to publish her first novel.
When you watch Ethan Hawke’s directorial effort, you see the sense of authenticity in the world and the characters he views through an unvarnished lens. His new film, Wildcat, is full of the Bible-thumping zealots, war-weary veterans, and dixie tricksters that formed American writer Flannery O’Connor’s work. Ethan Hawke uses the famous writer’s renowned ability to counter the supposed faith and morals with the evil they support.
Wildcat stars Hawke’s daughter, Maya Hawke (Stranger Things), examining where inspiration lies in the world around her by drawing from real life and then forming story or character arcs from genuine experiences. The people Flannery meets are patently absurd, and are brought to life by her willingness to see how the trauma of violence and pain can transform us all; real people and literally characters alike. Unsurprisingly, she, as anyone would, struggles to see this in herself.
Hawke co-wrote the film with Shelby Gaines and does a superb job folding in and interconnecting both Flannery’s present-day and her inspirations that involve famous scenes from her short stories that include “Good Country People,” “The Life You Save May Be Your Own,” “Revelation,” and others. Ethan Hawke, as a director, specializes in southern backwoods tales. His 2018 feature, Blaze, differs in time and place but is still a superb example of artists rebelling against the Southern era and setting. In Wildcat, O’Connor’s writing is inspired by the conflict of religious upbringing. For one, she lives in an environment of rigid orthodoxy and literal religious interpretation promoting traditional roles and moral standards.
This brings us back to how characters view the world and what is actually going on around them. Throw these values against poverty and racism, and then the cracks of a crisis of faith begin to show. A perfect example of this is Laura Linney’s character, Regina, who attempts to be a “white savior” by offering a penny to a small black child (immediately after becoming embarrassed because she’s wearing the same hat as the boy’s mother). Regina is almost sickened that she wears the same church crown as someone she views as beneath her. That scene is an example of how Hawke can underscore that type of hypocrisy.
Flannery can be a controversial figure for most, as her Southern Gothic fiction is littered with racial stereotypes and offensive language. In addition, according to numerous reports, she was quoted as refusing to let James Baldwin visit her southern estate. This is my main complaint and issue with Hawke’s Wildcat; this subject is largely ignored.
However, the way Hawke has Flannery laughing at some of these characters may subtly show a belief the writer is a truth teller, making no apologies and leaving honest examples of despicable behavior on the page for all to see. Yet, the issue of race is far too often left out of the film altogether. You have to ask yourself; can a work of art be truly great if there is an inherent lack of honesty, especially with negative aspects of the main subject.
That’s one of the reasons I have an issue with biographical films based on a subject’s source material: they view others without a rosy filter that they use on themselves. The writer and director choose to filter out blemishes from the main subject. Despite this, Maya Hawke gives a wonderful performance. There is a scene so tender and heartbreaking where she finds love and loses it just as quickly is spectacularly devastating as she looks on with sorrowful eyes that conveys something we haven’t seen from the young actress before. Then, to master and put her own spin on the subject’s quirks and intricacies, Maya Hawke puts her stamp on a character that is the best of her career and one of standouts of the year so far.
Yet Wildcat is about the writing process and a somewhat limited reflection of religious fervor. The structure is clever yet not original, similar to Nocturnal Animals, utilizing one world to influence and create another. So much so that, quite intentionally, it may be hard to decipher which is real and isn’t at times. Hawke’s film could have easily been wildly pretentious and gone off track, but his growth as a filmmaker over the past twenty years shows a steady hand that’s hard to ignore.
What you’ll be struck by most is Ethan Hawke’s ability to challenge the viewer narratively and connected to artistic ideology. Whatever you think of Flannery O’Connor, you cannot argue that this is a biographical film (if you can call it that) that takes real chances. It offers beautiful moments and melancholy notes of introspection and reflection that blur the lines of the question: Is life imitating art, or art imitating life?
Shadan Larki interviews composer Siddartha Khosla about creating a modern. pop-inspired score that echos the empathy and romance of the Anne Hathaway and Nicholas Galitzine-starring drama, The Idea of You.
Photo: Alden Wallace
Shadan Larki: The Idea of You is packed with songs. How was scoring for a very music-heavy film different from your typical process?
Siddhartha Khosla: It’s not that much different. Certain parts of the film are now covered musically, so I don’t have to touch them. In terms of finding a thematic thread for the film, it doesn’t change much. I’m still trying to write themes based on the script and the characters I see.
The only time the songs in the film have an impact on [the score] is if one of my themes turns into an original song, and then it’s like, ‘Oh, okay, we’ve been teasing this theme the whole time, and now it’s a song.’
In that sense, the score and songs need to work hand in hand. For this particular film, you do want the song and the score to feel that they exist in the same world. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you’d have to be super genre-specific about it, but the songs are modern pop songs, right? So, the score can be a modern-ish score. That’s the throughline between the score and the songs. If I did a classical film score, that would have just orchestra and nothing else. It felt more old-timey, and it would feel weird against the songs that August Moon was performing. My score was synth-y and pop-y, and it had a bit more of a modern edge.
SL: At what point did you enter into the process? Were the songs already written?
SK: The songs were already written when I came in. My job was to now be the film score.
The songs didn’t play into [my process] at all. It was a completely separate idea. The song and the score don’t bleed into each other. There’s maybe one point in the film where I have a piece of score that goes over an August Moon performance, and they’re performing. And I just had to make sure that they blended into each other seamlessly. The songs are written by Savan Kotecha, who did a nice job.
SL: Tell me about your instrumentations. You mentioned the synths, but then there are also times when the music is more melancholic and romantic as we move through Solène and Hayes’ relationship.
SK: Yeah, the core of the score was a very synth-forward score. This amazing singer, Kotomi, sang on the score. You hear female voices in the score that reverb out, creating an ambiance and atmosphere. There was also a live orchestra on the score. We added a live orchestra to the score just to widen it all at the end. So, it was a mix of classic but modern in that sense.
SL: How did your ideas for the score shift as your work on The Idea of You progressed?
SK: Yeah, that always is part of the process. What you write at first time for a certain scene may not be right for that scene, but it could be right for a later scene, and you go through variations.
But there was an arc to the score. As the story unfolded, there were moments when the score got super tense. There’s also a warmth to the score. The main idea [of the score] was that it felt like longing. I wanted it to feel like longing, whatever that meant.
SL: It’s so interesting that you mentioned longing because there’s also a note of hopefulness that runs through the score.
SK: Yeah, it feels hopeful, too, for sure.
SL: The Idea of You stands out amongst your work it’s music-heavy like I mentioned, and feels lighter in tone, too.
SK: Yeah. I mean, I think it just had a very specific perspective. It was more stylish. The synths make it feel a little cooler and interesting, and stylish. It was a more stylized score. The score is all about a feeling, you know.
Sometimes, the combination of those notes and the sounds you’re using creates a vibe. It’s a vibe score. It’s a feeling. I think that’s what this was. You know, this one was like, I wasn’t scoring. I was scoring to the picture, but I wasn’t scoring too tightly to the picture. I was always scoring to the underbelly of this world that they were in, the feeling of the world, the vibe of it all.
SL: Have you gone online to see the reaction? People are going crazy for this movie, and you’re getting many mentions.
SK: Oh, really? I didn’t know I was getting mentioned. I know that there are a lot of great reviews out there, and people are saying great things about the film, but I didn’t know that I was getting mentioned.
SL: Your score is being played a lot with the other songs. People are loving it.
SK: Oh, that’s awesome. Yeah, I’ll check it out. That’s good to know.
SL: Let’s talk a little bit about your TV work. Tell me about kind of coming back into Only Murders in the Building. Then you have Elsbeth—doing a spinoff is interesting because you have this pre-existing thing that you’re expanding upon. How do you do it all?
SK: I’m constantly working. I’m busy like hell.
But I also have a great team of people who help me, composers who will work with me sometimes, and great musicians. So, it’s a team effort all around to make all of it happen from a logistical standpoint.
But I feel like the thing that I have a good sense of is the tone for things. That’s, maybe, the thing I do best, I think, is find the tone of something.
Elsbeth had this quirky, fish-out-of-water tone. Only Murders, as you know, is somewhere between comedy and murder and melancholy. It’s all those things. I like to play in that world of not knowing if something is supposed to be funny.
You know, The Idea of You is not a rom-com. It’s not at all. It’s a character study. It’s a drama. It’s an emotional drama. It’s a sexy, emotional drama is what The Idea of You is.
SL: It’s so interesting you mentioned that because as I was listening to your answer, I was thinking about how all of your projects have an emotional core. Your scores always match and elevate that. I’m assuming that’s something you are actively looking for, but how do you tap into that?
SK: I think that’s what I’m always mindful of, “What is the emotional center of these characters, what is that, and what does that sound like.’
Once I find that, I will find Solène’s theme. Her theme is what you see permeating through the whole thing. It’s pretty clear that a lot of it is coming from her perspective. This woman who’s in a position she never imagined she’d find herself in. We also want to respect her position. We don’t want to judge it because she’s not doing anything wrong. We live in this world where if the roles were reversed, men would be high-fiving men who are having affairs with younger women, but the second it gets reversed, and it’s the woman having the affairs, the older woman having an affair with the younger man, our society judges that differently, unfortunately.
So, I thought it was very important for me to acknowledge her sensitivity, emotion, trauma, and the sort of numbness she begins to feel when she’s doing what she’s doing. It was important for the score to acknowledge that her emotions are real and that she should be able to feel them. And try to create a score that also helps sell the fact that the lesson in this is that we should not be judging her for any of this. And I think that’s important. When I found that emotional center, that cue, these themes that you’ll hear for her, it’s almost like it’s giving her the freedom to be who she wants to be in these moments.
And I think the score also helps sell that. It helps push her into the sexual euphoria she feels when she’s with him. There’s the tension she feels. She feels something euphoric and emotional. And the score is doing all those things.
SL: How does the score represent Hayes and his musical journey?
SK: Well, in his case, creating Solène’s theme sort of became their theme throughout the film. It’s sort of like. To me, it almost made it feel like he could feel things, too. You can look at it from his perspective; people of his celebrity are made to feel like their emotions and relationships aren’t real sometimes. They’re like, ‘Oh because you’re a celebrity, you feel like you can go hook up with an older woman.’ It’s not real, ‘you’re still a kid in a band. You don’t know what you’re doing.’ That sort of thing. But he’s like, ‘No, but I do.’ And that’s his struggle too of being like, ‘No, I feel something for this woman.’ He’s teased because he played ‘Closer’ for her at the concert.
He’s not doing what he’s doing with Solène’s for any other reason besides that he deeply cares for her. And I think bringing that thematic score gave credence to her emotions if he was also was colored with that same score, it meant we were also acknowledging that he has real emotions and shouldn’t be judged for having those feelings either.
SL: Earlier we were discussing vibes, what do you think a score set to your life and work would sound like?
SK: What would it sound like? Quirky, probably.
SL: And what about the whole creative genius thing you’ve got going on? [Laughs].
SK: I don’t know; some sort of signature melody running through it. I’m always thinking in terms of melody, so something that was hummable.
SL: And what are you working on right now?
SK: Well. The Idea of You just came out, which is exciting. I have a new Nicole Kidman film called A Family Affair. We’re still early days, but I’m going to be working on Michael Showalter’s next film as well, which he’s shooting now.
With TV, I have a new Dan Fogelman series, Paradise City, with Sterling K. Brown that I’m excited about. Along with Only Murders in the Building, of course.
Director: Wes Ball Writers: Josh Friedman, Rick Jaffa, Amanda Silver Stars: Freya Allan, Kevin Durand, Dichen Lachman
Synopsis: Many years after the reign of Caesar, a young ape goes on a journey that will lead him to question everything he’s been taught about the past and make choices that will define a future for apes and humans alike.
When 20th Century Fox announced a reboot of the Planet of the Apes franchise, it was met with little fanfare. And with James Franco attached, expectations were even lower. However, Rupert Wyatt’s original was a pleasant surprise. Stylish, evocative, and thrilling, Rise of the Planet of the Apes became the unlikeliest franchise success. Then, when Matt Reeves signed onto the following sequels, the bar on what the Planet of the Apes world could be was raised. Dark and ominous, Reeves’s smart and emotionally resonant follow-ups were different from Wyatt’s because, simply, the world had changed, the way it can when you go to war with a bunch of dirty but beautiful apes.
After rewatching the trilogy before my screening of Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, I was struck by one of the great characters in film history, Caesar (Andy Serkis). His gravitas and influence could still be felt in the stand-alone sequel. That’s because the story picks up 300 years and a half later, following Noa (You Hurt My Feeling’s Owen Teague), a likely descendant of Caesar. This is not only because Noa has extraordinary empathy and wisdom beyond his years, along with hints, nods, and some Easter eggs; but, frankly, he looks just like him. I was struck by Teague’s turn, similar to Serkis, which can evoke such impassioned performance and depth considering the high bar the original motion capture master perfected.
Josh Friedman wrote the script, and Noa became a hero of the story when it was thrust upon him. After running across a human they call Nova (Gunpowder Milkshake’s Freya Allen), Noa breaks an egg he was supposed to care for from an eagle’s nest (they are known as the Eagle clan, after all) and sneaks out at night to locate another one. However, he runs across a group of coastal clans, full of bloodthirsty apes who use human technology, the ape version of a stun gun attached to spears, to attack the Eagles Clan in the name of the order of Caesar. After Noa’s family, best friends, and community are put into slavery under Proximus Caesar (Abigail’s Kevin Durand), he goes on a journey to locate them, learning about the ape’s history and beginning to question the past and where he came from.
Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes is now under the direction of Wes Bell, perhaps best known for helming the Maze Runner trilogy. This is his first film outside of that franchise, but it was a solid choice because of his history with special effects-driven action films and his ability to build worlds within an established story. The theme of race is still very prevalent, with Noa and his Eagle clan representing Caesar’s almost pacifist stance in working with those trying to eradicate them. At the same time, another group uses violence to accomplish their goals. In this case, Proximus wants to harness human technology to enslave others, including any straggling humans left to fend for themselves.
That’s an interesting concept. Bell and Friedman toy with something called the allegory of oppression as humans regress to animal-like states. There is an amusing scene where humans, slimed with grime and dirt and wearing simple loin cloths, flock to the river where zebras gather. The visuals make their intentions obvious. If you’ve ever seen a nature video where a lion chases down a gazelle, and Proximus’ thugs roam the terrain, you know what will happen next. Teague’s Noa has preconceived notions about humans, whom he calls “echoes,” mirroring the racist thoughts of the ones in power over the oppressed. Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes flips that script a bit, asking the viewer to consider those with a history of influence as now on the wrong end of power dynamics.
The VFX special effects are breathtaking. I saw the film in IMAX, and I recommend seeing it on the biggest screen possible because of the size and scale of the world Bell is building upon. Motion capture technology has only improved with age. And while no one will ever be able to move you as Serkis did with that single tear before his demise in War for the Planet of the Apes, you would be hard-pressed to find a more talented young actor than Teague. He can superbly use body language and physicality to communicate his character to the audience.
While I did find Friedman’s script exciting, even poignant, and with the right amount of comic relief, the story and payoff rely on the character of Mae (Freya Allan) fostering a connection with Noa. This was never as well established and completed as I’m sure Friedman and Bell intended, and I’m sure it has been lost in its VFX-soaked and indulgent film experience. The story leads to a big payoff at the end, and while I do appreciate the outright duplicity of Mae’s character, the story acts as if they earned that face-off when they hadn’t.
If anything, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes is the first and necessary step to a reboot of a reboot and one that is never slow and always entertaining. Bell’s film is a setup for bigger showdowns, conflicts, and impending battles that will surely set up the franchise for future success.
This week on the InSession Film Podcast, we continue our Best Picture Movie Series with the John Ford 1941 film How Green Was My Valley! We also talk about the box office to The Fall Guy and the dumb CODA discourse from last week.
Check out this week’s show and let us know what you think in the comment section. Thanks for listening and for supporting the InSession Film Podcast!
– Spider-Man 2 / Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes (0:40) It wasn’t the original plan, but we open the show with a segment where we (once again) discuss Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 2. There are some things about the film that JD didn’t get a chance to talk about last week in regards to his “religious experience” from last week. With Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes coming out this weekend, we also talk about the first reactions to the film from critics and how surprising they were compared to our expectations.
– The Fall Guy / CODA / Bernard Hill (26:42) To begin the actual show, we talk about the box office disappointment to The Fall Guy and the polarized discourse that followed. Some see it as the end of Hollywood while others simply see as a victim of rolling the dice. Speaking of disappointment, we also talk about the (really dumb) CODA discourse that sparked over the weekend and how once again “turning art into sports” is rearing its ugly head. We end the segment by briefly talking about Bernard Hill, who sadly passed away over the weekend.
– Best Picture Movie Series: How Green Was My Valley (1:16:00) We continue our Best Picture Movie Series in the 1940s with John Ford’s Oscar-winning film How Green Was My Valley. There’s some fun irony here given the film’s reputation as a winner who beat the likes of Citizen Kane and The Maltese Falcon, two films that have a more revered reputation. How Green Was My Valley could easily be looked upon as another CODA, however we do our best to distinguish how they’re not exactly the same. The trap is there, but we actively avoid disparaging How Green Was My Valley because of awards.
If you want to help support us, there are several ways you can help us and we’d absolutely appreciate it. Every penny goes directly back into supporting the show and we are truly honored and grateful. Thanks for your support and for listening to the InSession Film Podcast!
Directors: Grant Garry Writers: Grant Garry Stars: Anthony Rapp, John Farley, Cynthia O’Neal
Synopsis: Meet Me Where I Am explores the topic of grief through individual stories of loss, love, and hope. The film aims to normalize grief in our culture and explores how we can actively participate in helping others through grief.
Grief is, perhaps, the most important topic that almost nobody talks about. It is a fact of life that we will all go through it and, eventually, be the source of it for people we love. And yet, it feels impossible to grasp. It is an important topic to not only broach, but to delve into deeply. Grief is difficult to talk about for many reasons, and maybe the most important is that it is more cyclical than it is linear. Many intelligent people have spoken about this in a clinical, scholarly way but precious few have made it truly personal. The new documentary, Meet Me Where I Am, attempts to make things a little easier on all of us in our most difficult moments.
This is a documentary for those who are terrified to talk about their grief and pain. And let’s be honest, that is a big audience. In western culture especially, we are taught that there is a right way to process loss. The film points this out in the discussion of The Stages of Grief from Elizabeth Kübler-Ross. Many of us, either through education or internet research, are aware of this, but not of the actual path. The movie makes it clear that these stages are not distinct, or even necessarily in order. Rather, they are experiences that many people who grieve tend to go through.
Luckily, the film is not entirely scholastic. It also focuses on real details of intense loss that range across the life course and type of death. It also features at least a few people who are very used to talking in front of a camera. Anthony Rapp, star of the Broadway musical and feature film, Rent, details the loss of both Jonathan Larson (creator of Rent) and his mother. The most moving moments of the entire documentary are between Rapp and Cynthia O’Neal, who met through their grief. While Rapp was dealing with his mother’s illness, Larson recommended he attend a support group called “Friend in Deed.” This group was founded by O’Neal, as she dealt with her husband’s death from cancer. The two have formed a lifelong friendship, and their care and consideration for one another is gentle, aware, and apparent.
But there are many other stories to be told throughout the documentary. The hardest to watch is a pair of older parents, whose daughter was murdered. Watching the two look at old photographs and talk about their loss is difficult to process. It feels almost too intimate, but there is a sense of honor in watching their brutal honesty about this unfathomable loss. It also feels important to meet them now, where they are, and not immediately following the incident. There is a grace inherent in their experience, along with honesty about their appropriate level of anger.
The documentary, written and directed by Grant Garry, is remarkably well balanced. A discussion about grief from both the scholarly and persona angles is tremendously difficult. He manages this by not only involving experts, but asking them to tell their stories of personal grief. This allows us not only a view into what grief is, but also the myriad of ways that it can be experienced and expressed. What happens when a grief researcher loses a child? How does it impact a future expert in the field when they endure the loss of a sibling? If grief is different for everyone, how do we help others? Importantly, the film also focuses on what not to do. As people supporting loved ones, what we say is more important than we imagine. So, it can be helpful to not simply offer platitudes, which involves undoing decades of cultural training.
Meet Me Where I Am is an important starting point for dealing with an issue that is truly unavoidable. It starts the conversation in an empathetic, giving, kind way. If you are searching for depth about the science or emotion of grief, you will likely be disappointed. But if you have a lack of scholarly or real world knowledge about grief, it is a lovely, open way to begin the process.
Directors: Spenser Cohen and Anna Halberg Writers: Spenser Cohen and Anna Halberg Stars: Harriet Slater, Avantika, Jacob Batalon
Synopsis: When a group of friends recklessly violates the sacred rule of Tarot readings, they unknowingly unleash an unspeakable evil trapped within the cursed cards. One by one, they come face to face with fate and end up in a race against death.
Is the horror movie genre washed? Beyond the fun but exhausting Abigail, mainstream horror movies have made nothing other than drawn-out jumpscare festivals this year. Even I couldn’t vibe with The First Omen, which played as a ripoff of far better movies (Zulawski’s Possession, in particular) while filling the screen with endless jumpscares in the process. And as I’ve said repeatedly, nothing is interesting or cinematically exciting about loud noises and a slightly creepy face popping on the screen for two seconds. Sure, it raises the heartbeat, but once you see it coming, it’s hard to elicit any emotional connection with what’s on screen.
And whaddaya know? There’s another jumpscare festival in theaters right now to begin the summer movie season, alongside David Leitch’s The Fall Guy, in Spenser Cohen and Anna Halberg’s Tarot. The fact that the film didn’t screen for the press may be very telling of its quality, but some high-profile movies that ultimately received good reviews also did not screen for the press (in my area), so you never know if it just skipped the market or if it’s truly the disaster the studio think it is. While it may not be the worst movie in the world, it’s also one of the most pointless studio pictures you’ll waste your time on all year.
Who is this movie for? Who will actually find enjoyment in this? Funnily enough, a deadly tarot deck sounds like a potential for something great, especially considering that each main character gets stalked by the astrologer, one by one, Final Destination-style. That’s a recipe for something at least enjoyable, especially in the horror landscape. But the film makes two cardinal mistakes right from the get-go, which ensures it’ll never recover as it progresses toward its finish line.
Mistake #1: The film is rated PG-13. While there are movies where this rating is acceptable, a Tarot card of doom, killing off protagonists through one gratuitous setpiece after another warrants a full-fledged, hard-R rating. Filmmakers Cohen and Halberg continuously cut away from the violence every time something interesting happens, such as a scene set inside a ‘Magician’s Box.’ Paige (Avantika) is kidnapped by a demonic magician and stuck inside a box as the magician prepares his “trick” of sawing her in half. Of course, this is extremely violent, but just as his saw enters the box, the movie cuts away from the scene completely, moving on to another scene and alluding to the audience that something bad has happened.
This completely hinders the film’s pacing and visual style, which is surprisingly more evocative than I would’ve thought. There are some legitimately good compositions here, particularly during a bravura setpiece inside a commuter train – the closest we’ll get to an R-rated kill – where the use of shadows is particularly effective, as Lucas (Wolfgang Novogratz) sees a vision of the astrologer closing in. But it’s not enough to make every major moment pop off the screen because none of the scenes go deep enough in their images, whether from the undercooked creatures the filmmakers introduce or in the gore.
Mistake #2: The protagonists the audience spends time with are pitifully underdeveloped and make inane decisions that no sane human being ever would, even if stuck in their situation. Literally. Everyone who has seen a horror movie knows how shortsighted most protagonists are, but Tarot takes it to another level. For example, Haley (Harriet Slater), the one who has the ability to read Tarot cards, tells Madeline (Humberly González) that she will want to run away from her troubles but should resist when the opportunity arises. When she’s stalked by the astrologer, a stick figure image of her being hanged is drawn on a foggy car window, with the words RUN at the bottom.
Of course, smart audience members know that’s the moment where she resists and does not run. Oh, wait, no, this is a horror movie. She gets out of the car and (predictably) runs to somewhere she probably didn’t want to go. The film is rife with character decisions that completely disregard rationality and logic so they can lead in setpieces filled with cheap jumpscares and gotcha! moments, instead of developing its characters and going beyond the faux-thrills that plague seemingly every mainstream horror movie made these days, devoid of any creativity and soul.
Yes, low-budget horror movies usually make a quick buck in cinemas, and that’s why we get plenty of stuff like Tarot. But we, as a society, deserve far better than this. There wasn’t a single person who reacted strongly to any of the film’s scenes in my audience (other than a joke involving Jacob Batalon’s character that was the only time its audience was vibing with the film), and the muted reactions after the credits roll spoke volumes. Audiences want original horror. They want to be scared and enthralled with images that stick with you so long after the credits have rolled that you can’t sleep at night.
While Tarot is an adaptation of Nicholas Adams’ Horrorscope, its onscreen treatment may definitely feel unique. However, the direction both Cohen and Halberg take from the get-go is so unimaginatively inept that no actor, no matter how talented and skillful they may be (Olwen Fouéré is particularly wasted here), can save it. As an audience member, you can play with the deck and perpetuate more listless, unfulfilling films like these, or choose not to touch it and ensure horror movies have something of value to bring to society again. I’d choose the latter, but since most characters in this film make shortsighted decisions, a sequel will probably be announced in a few days from now. *sigh*
Director: Jerry Seinfeld Writers: Jerry Seinfeld, Spike Feresten, Andy Robin Stars: Isaac Bae, Jerry Seinfeld, Chris Rickett
Synopsis: In 1963 Michigan, business rivals Kellogg’s and Post compete to create a cake that could change breakfast forever.
I remember hearing about Unfrosted for the first time last year when Jerry Seinfeld finished his set at Caesar’s Palace. Seinfeld’s material ran short, so he talked about how Netflix bought his new Pop Tart movie script, Unfrosted, about the birth of the toaster pastry. Then, he stopped in the middle of the question about the film from someone in the audience and walked out. I guess the uber-rich and famous comedian thought less was more.
If only he felt the same way about Unfrosted’s cluttered script.
Unfrosted’s story follows a rivalry as old as time—the breakfast cereal wars between Kellogg and Post. Both companies are located in the aptly named Battle Creek, Michigan, trying to, uh, pop the secret formula for a new compact cereal product that will set the breakfast market ablaze. Helming that product for Kellogg’s is executive Bob Cabana (Seinfeld), who discovers Post has stolen their research when he finds two children eating the pastry goods from the Post dumpsters.
Cabana alerts his boss, Edsel Kellogg III (Jim Gaffigan), who is furious that his rival, Marjorie Post (Amy Schumer), will not fight fair, not to mention their sexual attraction to each other, which keeps things at a simmering boil. In order to beat Post to the finish line, think of it as the great toaster pastry race, replacing the period’s mission to reach space. Cabana brings back Stan (two-time Academy Award nominee Melissa McCarthy), an innovative genius when it comes to the breakfast space.
The only question left is: Should they put their flag on “Breakfast Cereal Hill” first, and which one will the public embrace?
Unfrosted was directed by Jerry Seinfeld, who, at 70, is making his directorial feature film debut. Seinfeld wrote the script with long-time Seinfeld writer Spike Feresten, along with the help of Bee Movie and Saturday Night Live scribes Andy Robin and Barry Marder. After watching Unfrosted, you will immediately think there are too many cooks in the kitchen, as the script is cluttered, albeit with clever gags about breakfast cereal and the mascots they represent. Nevertheless, the movie is overwrought with these references to the point that it becomes a gimmick and quickly loses some of the smart “jerk store” humor.
Two bits in the film are funny and enjoyable. The one that will make you laugh the most is an inspired gag by Kyle Dunnigan, who plays a boozy and passive-aggressive Walter Cronkite who is going through some things at home. Then, an inspired cameo from two classic characters that pair well with the era and the story, which I will not ruin here. Otherwise, the film is filled with guest stars, including the likes of Hugh Grant, Christian Slater, Bill Burr, and James Marsden, over bloating the nonsensical script to the point of bursting.
Another issue is that Seinfeld and Jim Gaffigan are the leads, and they cannot act, with the creator of Unfrosted even more awkward in the role than usual. I admire the attempt to oversaturate the story with a barrage of cartoonery, kind of like Kramer overshadowing everyone in Jerry’s ‘90s sitcom, but it’s evident here. The one real actor, McCarthy, does what she can with the paper-thin character, but the film desperately needed to add her for more screen time to help move the film along to its conclusion.
The point is that this is all a distraction from the fact that Unfrosted isn’t funny enough and cannot build on its creative and original premise. This is disappointing because there is so much unoriginal material in Hollywood today. The comedy is too cluttered with gags and ideas that try too hard as if they need a standing ovation at how smart the script is but forget the funny instead.
My colleague, InSession Film critic Andy Punter, may have said it best. The film starts wanting to be Seinfeld + Madmen, + 30 Rock before evolving into adding additional comedy ideas from Veep and Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, trying to capitalize on the trend of movies obsessed with tangible mass market inventions instead of acts of genius.
Seinfeld should have known that Unfrosted would have been more with less.
This week on Women InSession, we discuss some of our favorite underrated Guy Pearce movies! While we’ve talked about Guy Pearce before, it’s been awhile and this time around we specifically wanted to talk about the films that fly under the radar. Say what you will about their overall quality, but we find them fascinating.
Panel: Kristin Battestella, Jaylan Salah
On that note, check out this week’s show and let us know what you think in the comment section. Thanks for listening and for supporting the InSession Film Podcast!
This week on Chasing the Gold, Shadan and Erica discuss Zendaya’s big year so far with Dune: Part Two and Challengers, and how they see those films shaping up later on in the year during awards season!
On that note, check out this week’s show and let us know what you think in the comment section. Thanks for listening and for supporting the InSession Film Podcast!
Director: Moritz Mohr Writers: Tyler Burton Smith, Arend Remmers, Moritz Mohr Stars: Bill Skarsgård, Jessica Rothe, Michelle Dockery
Synopsis: A fever dream action film that follows Boy, a deaf person with a vibrant imagination. When his family is murdered, he is trained by a mysterious shaman to repress his childish imagination and become an instrument of death.
Boy Kills World is a film that might have benefited immensely from multiple factors, including its impressive actors and a rising movie star like Bill Skarsgård at the center of its action. Instead, it falls into the fact that it’s too brutal to be lighthearted action, and too silly to be a bloody, action-packed feature. This film was supposed to be Skarsgård’s introduction to movie stardom, but it falls short of its ambition. It tries to incorporate multiple elements from the gaming world but also from hyperviolent, silly ‘90s action flicks. The difficulty of becoming a bridge between two worlds works against it rather than in its favor.
Proper introductions first. This film is the story of an unnamed boy (Skarsgård’), rendered deaf and mute -ouch, too much honestly- by the totalitarian regime head that also killed his mother and little sister, cut his tongue, and rendered him deaf. A shaman saves him and turns him into a killing machine with only one target in sight: Kill Hilda Van Der Koy.
My first issue with Boy Kills World started with the rendering mute and deaf part. It was tough to watch because they never fully explained why they did that to Boy. Why not just kill him like his mother and sister? As the events progress, things get even more complicated to swallow. And as the conclusion is revealed, it makes it even more of an “oh boy” moment than an “Aha” moment.
If not for Skarsgård’s performance, the film would have fallen way behind and lagged in the forgotten recesses of the brain. With his stunning features and sensitive facial expressions, he takes Boy’s inner turmoil to the tautest rope, without losing sight of his action prowess. However, even Jessica Rothe –a delight since her impressive turn as horror movie queen in the Happy Death Day franchise- cannot save shabby storytelling and poor worldbuilding. The world building is one of the key missing elements in this feature. While a film like Monkey Man has benefited extensively from the blend of the myth and the present and the idea of a dystopian, semi-modern society and a tale of revenge, Boy Kills World loses its integrity and structural cohesiveness.
The story seems rushed at times, then painfully slowed down at others. It may be attributed to the fact that Boy’s view of the world is distorted and chopped due to his inability to read lips at all times, but Tyler Burton Smith’s and Arend Remmers’ script fails to convey that through a clean narrative. Instead of outlining that for the viewer, the viewer becomes as confused as Boy; not in an interesting, immersive storytelling experience way, but as in the film itself becomes a quilt made of mismatched fabric.
One of the elements that is underdeveloped in this film is the narration. Bringing in comedian H. Jon Benjamin –most famous for Archer– as Boy’s inner voice and his clever, twisted monologue could have taken the film to another realm. Instead, they use a comedic voice, which is an entirely different beast than the average writer’s voice. It’s what makes low-key films and series go through the roof because their writers are totally in command of their inner cynicism. Unfortunately with this film, the writers needed a funnier, comedic virtuoso.
It will take more than a fascination with kung-fu movies and video games to make Boy Kills World the ambitious action film it aimed to be; a clear, decisive roadmap, solid world-building, and distinctive character design. It serves as Skarsgård’s introduction into becoming one of the next action heroes but still lacks the proper movie star polishing for his full capabilities to shine.
On this episode, Brendan and JD discuss the Colin and Cameron Cairnes horror film Late Night with the Devil! Premiering at SXSW earlier this year, it was initially received with great praise for its performances and interesting premise, however it’s since been maligned for its use of AI in a few places. We, of course, spend some good time talking about the film on its own terms, but also why the use of AI is problematic.
Review: Late Night with the Devil(4:00) Director: Colin Cairnes, Cameron Cairnes Writers: Colin Cairnes, Cameron Cairnes Stars: David Dastmalchian, Laura Gordon, Ian Bliss, Fayssal Bazzi
