On this episode of Chasing the Gold, Shadan is joined by Amanda Spears as we discuss our final predictions for the 97th Academy Awards! The 2025 Oscars are almost here and it’s time to put our stamp on who wins the big awards this year. It’s been a very chaotic season and we’re deeply excited to see how it all plays out this weekend.
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!
Will Bjarnar, after reviewing The Perfect Tomato, interviewed the director, Cristobal Abugaber.
Will Bjarnar: You’ve said that you were inspired by a visit to a fruit cart in New York after seeing that the cherry tomatoes they sold were harvested in your hometown in Mexico, and that you then visited a Mexican tomato farm and spoke with the farmers about their aspirations. What did they share with you that then led you to making The Perfect Tomato?
Cristobal Abugaber: What really struck me when talking to the farmers was that most of them had no interest in promotions, even if it meant earning more money. They were genuinely content with their routines- waking up early, working on the farm, coming home to their families, enjoying a glass of milk before bed, and sleeping around 8pm to start all over again the next day. For them, more money wouldn’t significantly change their daily lives. “I have everything I need” many of them would say, and that perspective challenged my own ideas of success and led me to write this short film.
WB: Did the idea for the film then come as a surprise to you? Or were you searching for a story of this nature, and this just happened to be the catalyst?
CA: It wasn’t exactly a surprise- I was already looking for a story that explored the meaning of success. Initially, I was developing a film about a highly successful but lonely orchestra violinist in his 60s who was grappling with Parkinson’s and could no longer play. But after my experience at the tomato farm, I decided to go with Nacho.
WB: I’m particularly fascinated with script writing, especially for young up-and-coming filmmakers. When it comes to writing, do you find that you are constantly toying with ideas that you hope will eventually become scripts? Do you keep a running list of loglines, if you will, that you’re itching to expand one day? Is your approach more of the one-by-one variety? Maybe it’s none of the above; I’m just curious how you tackle that part of the process.
CA: I keep a journal on my phone where I write down ideas, things I see on the street, interesting people I meet- anything that catches my attention. Sometimes, these notes spark a story, a scene, a character, or even just a piece of dialogue. I also keep a running list of ideas, concepts, or loglines that I think could eventually become films. I like developing multiple stories at the same time- not necessarily at the same stage, but jumping between them helps me clear my mind and come back with fresh eyes.
WB: Let’s get back to the specifics of The Perfect Tomato: Its three characters are easy enough to understand, with Nacho being the aging farmer whose motivation is stability, Elena is the middle-aged mother with a dream, and Maria is the kind hearted granddaughter who wants to be there for both of her loved ones. How did you go about building the emotional framework for each character? What were important characteristics to include?
CA: It all started with Nacho. I knew he had to be a wise, loving man who values family and farming above all else and is completely content with his simple life. From there, Elena emerged as his opposite- the dreamer, the ambitious one- and then Maria, the granddaughter, became the bridge between them, Nacho’s soft spot. Once I had this triangle in place, it was all about adding the necessary layers and backstory to make them feel real and relatable. That was especially challenging because as you know, in short films, you have to be very specific and avoid diving too deep into details that might pull the audience away from the core story.
WB: Related to that: Is it a challenge to pack so much emotional baggage, if you will, into a film that runs under 20 minutes? Or did you always imagine The Perfect Tomato as a short that gives us just enough to latch on to these characters and their motivations?
CA: Yes, it was definitely a challenge. There were earlier versions of the script where I went much deeper into their backstories, explored more characters on the farm, and added external conflicts. But then suddenly, I’d be on page 20 and realize I had to stop, go back, and rethink the core of the story- which is not always easy to see.
WB: What drew you to the three actors – Eligio Meléndez as Nacho, María Meléndez as Elena, and María Fernanda Ayala as Maria? All three have very individual roles, but it’s imperative that they work in concert with one another. What are you looking for when casting parts like these, and how did they fit the bill?
CA: I was extremely lucky with casting. From the moment I started writing Nacho, I had Eligio Meléndez in mind. A director friend put me in touch with him, and we ended up talking on the phone for hours. Right away, he was very open to collaborating, so I sent him the script. After reading it, he called me and said, “You know, I have a daughter (María Meléndez) who’s a producer and wants to get into acting- she’s the same age as Elena. And I also have a niece (María Fernanda Ayala) who’s almost like a granddaughter to me, loves acting, and is the same age as María.” I couldn’t believe it. It felt too good to be true. So, I reached out to them, and- well- the rest is history.
WB: How closely are you and your cinematographer, Brendan Sweeney, working in crafting the film’s appearance? You pack in a lot of scenery and a few different locations in a short amount of time. How much of finding the film’s look, if you will, is happening ahead of time versus in real time as you’re filming?
CA: Brendan and I worked very closely on how we wanted the film to look and feel, and we did a lot of planning beforehand. However, we knew that locations would play a major role in shaping the visual style. So a big part of the process was finding the right locations first. Then, we did a tech scout with the art team to determine the best areas of the house for key scenes, the ideal time of day for shooting, etc. And finally, as always happens, once we were filming, Brendan’s incredible eye led to new visual opportunities and ideas that added even more depth to the film’s look.
WB: In terms of what’s next for you: I know you’re pursuing your MFA in Directing and Screenwriting at Columbia, and that your thesis short for that program revolves around a future where AI dictates mental health, and that your debut feature, The Way Home, is in the early stages of development. Where are you in those processes, and what is it like for you to transition from something like The Perfect Tomato to those projects?
CA: I’m really excited about these upcoming projects because they each come with their own unique challenges. Faint Memories, my thesis short, which I’ll be shooting this fall, is an ambitious sci-fi drama unlike anything I’ve written or directed before- which makes it very exciting. Right now, I’m finalizing the script revisions.
Meanwhile, The Way Home, my feature film, is a dramedy about a priest who gets a chance to reconnect with his estranged and carefree younger brother after 40 years apart since joining the seminary. I’m currently revising the latest draft and working on a new one. Even though these stories might seem very different from The Perfect Tomato, at their core, they explore the same themes- people searching for meaning while navigating complex family dynamics.
On Sunday, March 2, one of Yura Borisov, Kieran Culkin, Edward Norton, Guy Pearce, or Jeremy Strong will be able to call themselves an Oscar winner. It’s an excellent crop of nominees, and any of them winning this award would be deserved; however, the race is pretty much over with Kieran Culkin sweeping the season. Culkin’s performance in A Real Pain has won the actor over 35 awards between critics and industry to this point, including major precursors such as the Golden Globe, Critics Choice Award, British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA), Screen Actors Guild (SAG), as well as the Indie Spirit and National Board of Review Award. He’s more than likely won where he’s been nominated, and I don’t think that will stop regarding the Oscar. His recent win at SAG practically closed up any possibility for an upset, which was still an option for Edward Norton and Yura Borisov until the pre-cursor sweep was finalized. If anyone were to pull a massive upset, it would likely be Borisov since Anora is a top-three competitor for Best Picture. There is also a case for Norton since he is a well-known actor who has yet to win, but truthfully, it would take a miracle for Culkin to lose the award.
While this means the win might not be as exhilarating as other categories, with multiple contenders battling it out, it is still an exciting achievement for Kieran Culkin. An actor who was thrown into the spotlight at 7 years old, playing the younger brother to his actual older brother Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone (1990). From the beginning of his career, he was relegated to side/character actor roles. For most of his career, that’s about all the work he could get, with his most significant role coming as Scott Pilgrim’s (Michael Cera) roommate in Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010). It wasn’t until 2018, when Succession first aired on HBO, that Culkin was given a chance to shine as a performer, which he did from the first episode, stealing scenes throughout. Even so, he was overlooked for years until Season 4, when he won a Golden Globe and an Emmy for his performance as Roman Roy.
He is now getting the recognition he deserves, and his performance in A Real Pain is terrific and worthy of a win in this category. His character, Benji, is a firecracker full of emotions and not afraid to share his feelings. If his acceptance speeches are any indicator, he may also be this way himself. Being thrust into such a breakneck industry at a young age can be difficult for any person; it’s one of the reasons why most child actors don’t pan out in the industry later in life. However, in Culkin’s case, the slow grind has been met with confidence that has helped him in his career and A Real Pain. Benji is sometimes the best and worst person to be around, not because he is malicious in any way but because that confidence spills over into the character. He is not afraid to say how he feels, but he also seems grateful for the opportunities he is given. I am not sure how his Oscar speech will go, but I know it will be memorable for more reasons than one.
However, he is still just my second favorite of the nominees. I have been vocal about Yura Borisov’s performance in Anora because I think it is one of the more difficult ones I have seen recently. This isn’t because he is overly eccentric or gives physical performance; quite the opposite, he displays a level of subtlety that isn’t as common in film today (and is needed for a film that is as “loud” as Anora). You learn the character through small throwaway lines, and you feel for him because his actions and body language clearly show his care for Ani (Mikey Madison). It’s the kind of performance that I cling to immensely, and he would be my vote if I had one in this category.
We’ve come to the end of the road. We are less than one week away from the 97th Academy Awards, and some tight races became even tighter after some chaos ensued at Sunday’s SAG Awards. The race for Best Sound has been quiet for the most part this year, with one film being the frontrunner solely due to there not being a major opponent.
Since its release, Dune: Part Two has been my prediction, and there hasn’t been much reason to switch from that. This win should have been solidified by its victory at the Sound Editors’ Golden Reel Awards Sunday night. It took home the prize in the Feature Effects/Foley category, which most closely aligns with the Best Sound category at the Oscars.
Despite this win, Dune’s frontrunner status in the category, andPart One’s dominance of technical categories a few years ago, I feel uneasy predicting it to win. It should be a shoo-in, but the overall chaos of this awards season is getting to me. Will there be chaos in this category as well? Perhaps I’m overthinking this, but we must look at Dune’s overall performance compared to its predecessor.
Dune: Part Two maintained its level of craft, if not elevating things across the board, but only received four below-the-line nominations, compared to Part One’s nine nominations with six wins. Dune: Part Two flat-out underperformed at the Oscars this year, and it’s hard to imagine it having much support with only five total nominations. It’s time to consider alternatives to the thought that Dune will run away with this category.
The two serious contenders vying for the prize have one commonality: mixing and editing in singing done on set. Wicked and A Complete Unknown contains four of the best vocal performances of the year, with their main stars all getting nominated in their respective acting categories. Ten total nominations for Wicked and eight for A Complete Unknown clearly indicate massive support for both films, with many considering the former to have overperformed on nomination morning.
Between these two films, I found Wicked to be the more compelling challenger to Dune: Part Two. Not only was a lot of the singing we heard in the film recorded live on set but it was also mixed with extravagant instrumentation and score, not to mention the sounds of the fantasy elements found throughout the movie. A Complete Unknown’s sound work outside of the singing and more plain instrumentation is simply plainer than Wicked’s. The film also took home its respective award for music editing at the Golden Reel Awards, which showed support from the industry.
Final Prediction
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m going with Wicked. Dune: Part Two has underperformed in a lot of facets this season, and the support for Wicked indicates it is going to win a couple of awards that were thought unachievable two months ago.
On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss the latest from Neon with Osgood Perkins’ The Monkey! While we were not terribly high on Longlegs last year, we were still excited/curious for The Monkey as we thought a comedy-horror would tailor more to Perkins’ sensibilities. Boy, were we wrong.
Review: The Monkey (4:00) Director: Osgood Perkins Writers: Osgood Perkins Stars: Theo James, Tatiana Maslany, Christian Convery
The supporting acting categories feel far more locked in than the lead categories ever do. Even in a year with many strong contenders, there is always one that takes the lead and stays there. This year, there’s no one coming close to the success that Zoë Saldaña is having in this category. Though, she still has some stiff competition.
The weakest performance in this category is Felicity Jones in The Brutalist. She has about two scenes where she commands our attention. One is the strange, unappealing, and discomfiting scene where she attempts to give a bit of sexual gratification to her beleaguered husband. The other is when she attempts to shame and humiliate her husband’s benefactor and is dragged away. That’s it. Otherwise, she’s very forgettable, and that’s a very bad thing in a three-and-a-half-hour movie.
The next weakest contender still poses a significant threat. Isabella Rossellini is Hollywood royalty who has finally earned her first Oscar nomination. She is the performance that is the truest essence of this category. Her character is seen but not heard for most of the film until her grand climax. The scene is the one in which her character stands up for all women who serve the Catholic Church. It’s powerful, commanding, and over very quickly, but it has large ramifications for the rest of the plot. Conclave hinges on the machinations and backroom political dealings, and this nomination feels like it’s the Academy’s way of saying, “Sorry we overlooked you for decades.”
Monica Barbaro is one of three actresses in this category who did her own singing. She was the only one who had to match the iconic voice and pitch of beloved folk singer Joan Baez, though. In A Complete Unknown, Barbaro is very good at reacting to the unpleasantness of Bob Dylan’s (Timothée Chalamet) misanthropy. She never gets a grand scene like the others, but she does consistently exude a heartbreaking beauty in her performance pieces and in those reaction shots.
It’s tough to see a co-lead be reduced to a supporting status, but here Ariana Grande is. She is a fiery, funny, and ferocious performer in Wicked. She steals scenes with a look, a gesture, and a perfectly placed note. Her character’s signature song, “Popular,” is so well executed by Grande that it will likely go down next to the original cast as a repeat listen for fans of the show. Yet, that scene-stealing, megaphone-wielding power overpowers rather than supports, and it is a tragedy that this performance couldn’t compete where it really belongs.
The same could be said of Zoë Saldaña’s part in Emilia Pérez. Her character is the fulcrum on which the action hinges. Yet, her character also supports the titular character’s transformational journey, so it’s a give-and-take with this type of category fraud.
What’s not in doubt is that in spite of the unevenness of the film around her, Saldaña’s performance is great. She is engaging and has an incredible physical presence in the dreamlike dance sequences. Her movements have been honed by years of action and sci-fi movie choreography to give her dance style a combative but elegant form. She’s won every precursor award that matters, and it’s almost assured that Zoë Saldaña’s name will be read on Oscar night.
Director: Osgood Perkins Writer:Osgood Perkins, Stephen King Stars: Theo James, Tatiana Maslany, Christian Convery
Synopsis: When twin brothers Bill and Hal find their father’s old monkey toy in the attic, a series of gruesome deaths start. The siblings decide to throw the toy away and move on with their lives, growing apart over the years.
2024’s Longlegs was a breakout film for writer/director Osgood (Oz) Perkins, who followed 2020’s Gretel & Hansel, a film praised for its visuals but lacking in storytelling, with one that built fear through the storytelling, crafting one of the most eerie and sinister films of last year. Quickly, the son of Anthony Perkins (Norman Bates in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho) was thrust into the horror spotlight and immediately followed the success of Longlegs with two horror films releasing this year. Keeper will come out later in the calendar, but not until after The Monkey, a movie based on a (approximately) 30-page short story from horror icon Stephen King.
The Monkey begins with Petey Shelburn (Adam Scott) attempting to return a sinister toy monkey to an antique shop. He informs the shop owner that the monkey is evil and that someone will die when his mechanical arm strikes the drum. Soon after, the drum hits, and the shop owner dies. Petey then attempts to destroy the monkey, but when that fails, he leaves his family, leaving behind the killer monkey for his sons Hal and Bill (Christian Convery in double roles). Once they discover the monkey, they turn the key, watching as he begins to drum away, and later that night, their babysitter (Dinica Dreyer) is killed in a freak accident at a hibachi grill. Even though Hal and Bill are twins, they have never been close, and after Hal turns the key, trying to kill Bill only for his mom to die instead, the boys are sent off to live with their Aunt Ida (Sarah Levy) and Uncle Chip (Osgood Perkins) in Maine.
From the opening scene, it is evident that The Monkey has a vastly different vibe than Longlegs. The latter is more sinister and works by providing a growing sense of dread rather than opting for cheap scares—which is one of the reasons it was so effective in creating horror. However, the former aligns more with films like Cabin in the Woods, a horror comedy that evokes just as many laughs as screams. The deaths are ridiculous, opting for shock over realism and, in doing so, brings excitement to the film that allows the viewer to remain engaged. The filmmaking is more playful, and while some of Stephen King’s works need a darker tone, Perkins captures the correct feeling this movie needs. From the first death, he shows the audience that anything is possible, and the film’s first half does an excellent job of setting up exactly what kind of movie this is.
Transitioning into the second half, twenty-five years after Hal and Bill throw the monkey down a well in hopes that no one will find it or turn its key, Hal (now Theo James) follows in his father’s footsteps. He has distanced himself from everyone he knew and loved, including his teenage son Petey (Colin O’Brien), who lives with his mom (Laura Mennell) and step-father and leading expert in all things dad, Ted (Elijah Wood). He works at a grocery store and doesn’t talk to Bill (now also Theo James) or his Aunt Ida. He only gets to see Petey one day a year (a decision he made), but when his wife informs him that Ted will be adopting Petey, she gives him one last week to see his son. When another “freak accident” death occurs, a week where they were supposed to go to a Halloween theme park turns into Hal and his son having to visit the home he grew up in and reconnect with his brother Bill to make sure that the monkey that likes killing his family hasn’t returned.
The second half begins with a death that is easily the most brutal of the film and shows Perkins ramping up the visual spectacle to an eleven. The deaths progressively become more outlandish and humorous as Perkins leans heavily into camp aesthetics, prioritizing style over substance. As funny as The Monkey is, that doesn’t mean it lacks the scares. Perkins evokes intense feelings of dread and panic alongside the goofiness, creating a visual language that speaks for itself efficiently. The end of this film does a decent job of tying some of the integral themes together while also provoking some questions that will take multiple watches to answer. Still, this movie is fun entertainment at the end of the day; Perkins’ ability to transition from Longlegs sinister tone to The Monkey’s campy one highlights his strength as a modern horror director.
Having only around 30 pages to go off of, Osgood Perkins had to do quite a bit of heavy lifting regarding the story of this film; while the batsh*t deaths are more than worth the price of admission, it can’t help but seem like there was a whole other film left on the chopping block. Perkins’ script approaches ideas such as generational trauma and the acceptance of death as a part of life seamlessly, even including a line that states the titular monkey kills people randomly and without remorse, like life (a phrase that is put front and center on the box the monkey arrives in). At the very least, there could have been more exploration of the inevitability and randomness of death. Still, instead of making the film a little longer and delving into one or more of these topics in any real sense, he opted for campy kills and gore to carry the movie. It’s not my place to say if this was the right or wrong move, but it caused The Monkey to feel, at times, more like a Halloween theme park ride than a film with any real depth.
I don’t mean this as a knock against The Monkey, either; Osgood Perkins would likely say the same thing. Even a bulk of the marketing focused on the severity of these outlandish deaths. Instead, I tell you what you’re getting into: a 98-minute Final Destination-style movie with far more humor. Theo James commits to his double role, and the deaths are increasingly campy, but there isn’t much more to it; however, Perkins displays a trait few directors seem to know or at least will engage with: remembering that making movies is fun and sometimes movies should be fun – they are still entertainment. Even if The Monkey won’t be one of the scariest films of the year, it definitely will make a case for being one of the more entertaining ones; a film I could see being a Halloween watch-party staple.
On this episode of Chasing the Gold, Shadan is joined by Joey Moser to discuss the short films nominated at the 2025 Oscars! The shorts categories can sometimes be really tricky since they’re not given the same attention as their feature counterparts. But there are some great short films recognized this year and we had fun sifting through them.
Please note, this episode was recorded a few weeks ago, so please keep that in mind for context.
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!
The art of editing is what makes movies, movies. An editor’s visual prowess is what holds the narrative together and creates a tapestry so our minds understand what’s happening before us. You shouldn’t see great editing until after the film is over. When you fully process all you’ve seen, you appreciate the craft and how each piece adds to the experience of the whole.
When there were only five Best Picture nominees, if a film wasn’t nominated in Film Editing, it was unlikely to win Best Picture. With the expanded field, if that axiom holds true, these editing nominees are also nominated for Best Picture and have the best chance at winning the award. As much as that thought makes fans of the other five Best Picture nominees squirm, a Film Editing nomination is a real indication of a film’s overall Oscar potential. Without the recognition of good editing, the film is not respected as a well-rounded movie. So, what will a potential voter be looking for in each of these films?
If it is technical prowess, then either Juliette Welfling for Emilia Pérez or Myron Kerstein for Wicked would get the most due consideration. Nothing challenges an editor like a movie musical. There are many takes of each sequence, and matching a certain cut with the voice on the soundtrack is complicated and unwieldy. Not to mention, the dance must be choreographed perfectly for the second time so that the dancers aren’t ahead or behind the song. It’s a tricky feat of alchemy.
If it is supporting a grand vision, then David Jansco for The Brutalist has the best shot. Jansco is editing in a way that shows the scale of his director’s epic vision. The cuts are sparse at times and quick in others, but never faster or slower, always just right. It’s a precise game, as The Brutalist is much longer than many of its competitors, but it has a rich story that demands length. Every cut Jansco makes is a story in and of itself.
If it is maintaining the delicate balance of humor and drama, then Sean Baker for Anora pulls off a perfectly balanced film. Baker is able to pivot so delicately that we laugh just as the tears begin to form, or we gasp just as a chuckle leaves our throats. Being the writer and director as well as the editor means he’s been able to guide his whole vision from start to finish. It shows in the editing that there is coherence to the entirety of the film, and even with rewrites, adlibs, and reshoots, he created something whole and cohesive in a way that stays with you.
If it is on pure visual storytelling, Nick Emerson for Conclave is the clear winner. There is something great about a perfectly placed insert, and Emerson crafts these small scenes with aplomb. Emerson drops clues and shows revelations better than anyone else on this list. Conclave is a mystery thriller that relies on dramatic tension to sell its plot. The cuts are quick yet calm. They create sequences that logically move the plot forward in order to keep us on our toes and keep our breath held until the next shocking reveal.
Any of these editors is worthy of the Oscar for their tremendous work. It’s any film’s game when the entire Academy, some of whom have likely never stepped foot inside an editing suite, gets to pick from the list. Though, Nick Emerson’s work on Conclave just happens to be the best of the bunch and it’s hard not to see his name being read on Oscar night.
Last summer, following the release of The Wild Robot, the Best Animated Feature category seemed locked up, but it quickly became a three-horse race between a Wild Robot, Wallace & Gromit, and a cat. It is not what I expected going into the season, but it has given some weight to a category that traditionally has been easy to predict. Over the past few weeks and months, it has become more convincing that we’re down to The Wild Robot, Flow, and Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl, all of whom can take home the award on March 2nd.
However, this leaves Inside Out 2 and Memoirof a Snail on the outside, and there isn’t much of a path for them now. Neither film has made a real splash regarding the precursor nominations or wins. For Inside Out 2, it felt like a nomination was inevitable given Inside Out’s status as an Oscar winner and the fact it was the only Pixar film released last year; the studio is on an eight-year streak of earning a nomination in this category. Still, a win never seemed possible, especially after more animated films were released. Memoir of a Snail, on the other hand, should just be happy that they’re at the party and has to thank Moana 2 for being such a letdown that it opened a spot for them to get in. Even though director Adam Elliot is a former Oscar winner and Memoir of a Snail was beloved among critics, it seemed like it was fighting an uphill battle; one after one, films in front fell, and it could slot itself into the five. Still, it’s clear that even though they have made the list, there isn’t an actual path to it winning this award, which isn’t a discredit to the film in any way; there are just stronger contenders.
These stronger contenders are, as mentioned, The Wild Robot, Flow, and Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl. Starting with Vengeance Most Fowl, this film seemed like another “happy to be there” contender until the BAFTAs. The British went with one of their own in their Animated Feature and Children & Family Film categories, which wasn’t as surprising as some may think. It doesn’t help much to distinguish whether Flow or The Wild Robot will take home the Oscar, and while it still seems unlikely, a path has been opened for Vengeance Most Fowl to swoop in and steal the Oscar away from them both. It would be an unprecedented win, but the inventor and dog duo have been here before, as the previous Wallace & Gromit film in 2005 also won the Oscar for Best Animated Feature. I’m not predicting a repeat, but winning the BAFTA keeps them in the conversation.
This leaves The Wild Robot and Flow, both of whom I can see winning this award for various reasons. Regarding Flow, the Golden Globe, National Board of Review, and Annie Award (Independent) winner leads a campaign that consists of being “the small film that could,” which might be the exact reason it wins. This independent Latvian film has taken the country by storm as lines of up to 200 people waited to get a look at the Golden Globe that was on display. Its budget was almost $70 million less than that of The Wild Robot, and Latvia, as well as the world, has engaged with this movie, earning it over $20 million at the box office and making it the #1 movie on Max only a few days after its streaming release. The marketing is also doing a tremendous job at highlighting the A-List support for Flow. There have been trailers and posters highlighting reactions from well-known auteurs such as Benny Safdie, Wes Anderson, Barry Jenkins, and Guillermo del Toro, a previous Best Animated Feature Oscar winner.
However, what The Wild Robot has going for it is precisely what Flow is hanging its hat on: the fact that it’s not an indie film. No independent animated film has ever won the Oscar for Best Animated Feature. Flow’s budget of around $3 million is almost $30 million less than Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit and around $16 million less than Spirited Away, whose $19 million budget is the current lowest Oscar winner in this category. The Wild Robot is not only a DreamWorks film, a studio that won the very first Animated Feature Oscar with Shrek in 2002, but it’s the last entirely in-house DreamWorks film. Regarding resumes, there isn’t a stronger one in this category as this film won Animated Feature at the Producers Guild of America, the Critics Choice Awards, and the Annie for Feature (Flow was nominated in Independent instead of Feature). Filmmaker Chris Sanders is also on his fourth nomination and is a well-known name in the industry, and the fact of the matter is that people voting might believe it’s “his time” to win an Oscar. While Flow managed a surprise International Feature nomination, likely edging out BAFTA favorite Kneecap, The Wild Robot was able to secure an Original Score nomination for Kris Bowers and a surprise Best Sound nomination as well.
Everything is leaning The Wild Robot’s way and predicting it would be the safe and maybe correct opinion. However, the international branch of the Academy does have a prominent voice in deciding who wins, and Flow picking up a nomination in International Feature shows me that not only did this branch watch the movie, but they loved it enough to nominate it over other strong non-American films. The Wild Robot is a spectacle of visual animation, but the artistry and the storytelling of Flow has a chance to be just as, or even more, effective than that of The Wild Robot. A year after Hayao Miyazaki’s The Boy and the Heron upset favorite Across the Spider-Verse, I think a similar thing will happen with Flow’s more subdued and introspective approach ultimately taking home the Oscar. It’s an extremely tight race, and if The Wild Robot wins, it will be because the people behind the film earned it—it is still one of the best movies of 2024, period. However, the campaign team behind Flow has done an excellent job of highlighting the independent and international nature of the film. I think that will be enough to overtake The Wild Robot. If Flow does happen to win, which I think it should, it will hopefully open a pathway for more animation filmmakers across the globe to see they don’t have to have buckets of money and fancy gear to make something meaningful.
Synopsis:Under Genghis Khan, the Mongolian army pushes west to destroy the Jin Dynasty, setting its sights on the Song Dynasty next. Amid internal conflicts among martial arts schools, Guo Jing unites the Central Plains’ warriors to defend Xiangyang, embodying courage and loyalty in the fight for the nation.
After co-directing the two-part propaganda piece The Battle of Lake Changjin with Chen Kaige and Dante Lam, Tsui Hark finally returns to his martial arts roots by adapting chapters 35 to 40 of Jin Yong’s The Legend of the Condor Heroes. With the subtitle The Gallants, the wuxia epic tracks the confrontation between the Mongolian army and the Song Dynasty. It follows martial artist Guo Jing (Xiao Zhang), who is caught in the middle of the conflict. For the bulk of its hefty 147-minute runtime, Hark focuses on a love triangle between Guo Jing, Huang Rong (Zhuang Dafei), and Hua Zheng (Zhang Whenxin); the latter being the daughter of Mongolian emperor Genghis Khan (Baya’ertu).
Moving at a rapid pace, Legends of the Condor Heroes: The Gallants wastes no time throwing the audience into the throes of war and introducing us to its hero, who has mastered martial arts techniques from several masters. As digitally stitched as some of the fights may be, Hark hasn’t lost his touch from the moment he came on the scene during the Golden Age of Hong Kong cinema with Zu Warriors from the Magic Mountain, A Better Tomorrow III: Love & Death in Saigon, and the Once Upon a Time in China series, which put Jet Li on the map as a worldwide sensation through his turn as Wong Fei-hung.
Working in Hollywood with Jean-Claude Van Damme for Double Team and Knock Off sharpened his action filmmaking skills to new horizons, making him a recognizable figure for genre aficionados. As he returned to China, Hark continued to make movies, though with varying degrees of quality: chintzy visuals, unimpressive screenplays, and (seemingly well-mounted) action sequences that sadly lacked the anarchism he was most known for were highly prevalent. Watching Legends of the Condor Heroes: The Gallants, it feels like Hark has combined his best and worst post-digital qualities. When shooting on film, Hark crafted images of impeccable, often poetic beauty that transcended the mere “epicness” of a large-scale action set piece and turned it into a work of magnifying art.
The thunderstorm confrontation between Wong Fei-hung and Iron Shirt Yim in the first Once Upon a Time in China is forever etched in my memory for precisely that reason. It was as if the doors of cinema had opened to me in ways I never imagined were possible before fully delving into Hark’s filmography, which, to be honest, has enthralled me more than it has disappointed. That’s why I was compelled by the film’s digitized style, which never tries to hide its technical shortcomings. Hark, who has also designed its action scenes, makes each punch or movement feel like the grandest possible act when characters are pitted against one another. An early fight sequence meant to inform the audience of Guo Jing’s powers is hampered by some of the worst CGI of Hark’s career: green screens so fake it feels like we’ve been transported to the Megalopolis, or noticeable digital stitches to move a character from one place to the next (as seen in Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga) making it look like a video game cutscene.
Yet, compared to the aforementioned blockbusters, there’s a sincere earnestness in Hark’s image-making that one can’t look away from despite the severe dip in quality we’ve seen from the filmmaker. Once Upon a Time in China (or Green Snake, his most artful motion picture), this is not. Many will unfairly compare apples to oranges, which is understandable given the streak of masterpieces this man has released in his lifetime. But I’ve always been fascinated by filmmaking traditionalists now being confronted with new technologies – how do they respond with ever-changing aesthetics, cameras, and viewing habits? For Hark, the first step was to shoot Flying Swords of the Dragon Gate in 3D, which he then used in two installments of the Detective Dee franchise.
However, those films had many practical qualities that were completely absent in Legends of the Condor Heroes, his most “digitized” film yet. Each computer-generated pixel renders some of the visual poetry he wants to give to his superimpositions, or the use of contrasting colors when staging a set piece near peach blossoms seem completely artificial. A few scenes later, he’ll stage a fight scene so meticulously constructed, both in how he operates the digital environment he’s working in and his ever-intricate choreographies, that any half-baked sequence feels like a fluke, especially when it comes to the movie’s final confrontation.
Maybe that’s where the entire budget went because the duel between Guo Jing and the primary antagonist, Ouyang (Tony Leung Ka-fai), is Hark in his element – blending his conception of wuxia with the latest and greatest in modern filmmaking sensibilities. To reveal more would mean spoiling the fun, but it made the (few) people in the auditorium lean forward to the screen in total excitement, proving that, despite some of his late-stage missteps, he still has the touch that made him such an iconic figure in Martial Arts filmmaking. One has to remember that Hark was once the envy of Hong Kong cinema, and, with John Woo, Ringo Lam, Sammo Hung, Ching Siu-tung (and many others), was singlehandedly responsible for ushering in a new age of technical sophistication and artistry in their motion pictures.
It’s a shame that, despite his constant experimentation with form, the story in Legends of the Condor Heroes leaves a lot to be desired. Both Zhan and Dafei give fine performances but have little sense of chemistry together, despite frequent attempts at infusing expressivity within the romantic triangle, both visually and in how Hark films both bodies connecting with each other. It also doesn’t help that most of the conflict seems too scattershot, with endless bursts of exposition that feel like neverending plotting instead of moving the narrative forward. It ultimately leads to a bloated and punishingly talky second half to set up all moving pieces for the climax, which doesn’t neatly wrap up its story. It prefers to abruptly end to showcase an elongated post-credits scene with even more elaborate martial arts choreographies than what the film itself demonstrated.
Hey, I’ll take more Hark-choreographed martial arts sequences any day, but I long for the times when his scripts had more substance than haphazardly constructed plotting to set up for the (potential) next chapter in the franchise. Still, one can’t argue that he has forever changed the landscape of modern action cinema and has redefined the artistic qualities of a genre that, before he showed the world what he was capable of, was labeled as nothing more than “popcorn entertainment.” Action is the only form of emotional catharsis worthy of being experienced on a larger-than-life screen. Tsui Hark fundamentally understands this. That’s why he’ll always be in a league ahead of his contemporaries, even if Legends of the Condor Heroes: The Gallants will end up as one of his weakest efforts from his staggering filmography.
Director: Louis Leterrier Writer:Zak Penn Stars: Edward Norton, Liv Tyler, Tim Roth
Synopsis: Bruce Banner, a scientist on the run from the U.S. Government, must find a cure for the monster he turns into whenever he loses his temper.
With the release of Captain America: Brave New World, Marvel Studios has seemingly doubled (tripled, quadrupled?) down on their mechanical, sterilized output of content. The only difference between this one and the lazy dozen is that critics have stopped cutting the studio slack. No longer can the MCU get a pass on name alone, and Brave New World’s lukewarm reception, and subsequent box office drop-off, is the steely proof in the adamantium pudding.
What does it look like when Marvel has to earn it — positive reception, numbers, performance? While we may find out how that looks nowadays this summer, given the release of Thunderbolts and TheFantastic Four: First Steps, we already know how it looked in the universe’s infancy.
Enter: The Incredible Hulk. Released just months after the smash-hit that was Iron Man in 2008, Louis Leterrier’s Bruce Banner blockbuster was poised to be Marvel’s second score of that year… until it wasn’t. Critics and audiences alike shrugged at the arrival of the new Hulk. Edward Norton’s lead performance was criticized, the film was lambasted for its loose adaptation of the source material, and, in the end, many folks left the theater with the lone highlight of Tony Stark’s post-credits appearance held close to their chests.
After that? Well, you know the rest. No more dedicated Hulk movies, Norton is recast, and the film is basically forgotten about. That is, until the new Captain America movie operates as a one-to-one, direct sequel. Brave New World is, without exaggeration, The Incredible Hulk 2… only, minus the Hulk himself.
That movie and the many head-scratching questions that come with it aside, what made The Incredible Hulk worth resurrecting? To me, it seems, critics aren’t the only ones growing tired of Marvel’s modern irrelevancy. The studio themselves are digging up the past in as many manners as are possible, including touching base with the least successful film in their franchise. Because, after all, it seems, that movie is more than what meets the eye.
For starters, there’s something to be said about a movie like this one that commits itself to the aesthetic of its mascot; everything is green. Green soda, green chemicals, green scopes, green vehicles, and, of course, green monsters. The rest of the film’s palette is sharp and saturated; shadows possess characters on more than one occasion, their movements defined by motivations. It’s been said that the eyes are a window to the soul, but you’d be surprised what splaying a soul out in one hazy color does for a character.
On a broader note, the cinematography and cosmetics are perhaps The Incredible Hulk’s greatest strength, and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s a movie with stylistic identity, the likes of which hasn’t been seen in the MCU in a long time, outside of Gunn’s Guardians entries.
My mind goes specifically to the final fight between Hulk and Abomination, which is ironically often cited as a problem for the film. But to play the comparison game once more, watching Abomination tear through a busy street, trying to get to the Hulk, while droves of citizens run for their lives from flying cars and giant pieces of makeshift shrapnel… it simply hits with abundant impact.
Not to mention the fact that the also often criticized special effects in this sequence are actually quite impressive. For as much mayhem is being depicted on screen, it all comes together with surprising ease. Leterrier has a penchant for grounded, gritty, sweaty aesthetics, and his treatment of the hulking monsters fits right into that. You can hardly see Hulk’s expression through his matted hair, and Abomination is difficult to look at, point blank period, due to his grotesque mutations and admitted fear-factor.
The Incredible Hulk looks excellent on multiple levels, and it looks singular — a value the cinematic universe in which it takes place has since abandoned.
Where the film does falter, unfortunately, is where it was always bound to: the story. It’s no secret that the higher-ups at Marvel had their way with this cut, given the extensive deleted scenes that were chopped off both ends of Leterrier’s original vision (many of which you can find online.) So, not only does the plot end up hackneyed, but the edit does, too. There’s an odd, discombobulating pace to it all; chunks of background and development, though once clearly present, are now only specters. Translucent images left behind by something that was supposed to be, should’ve been, here.
It’s both blunt and overcrowded. Despite a sub-two hour runtime, you’ve got two, arguably three villains and operating protagonists across the board. The Leader, Samuel Sterns (Tim Blake Nelson) gets especially stiffed in being both wholly unlike his comic book counterpart and also only physically present in the final act. The note on which he goes out is a perfect summation of this story’s struggles: confusing, and laughably sudden.
Story beats sound off in sporadic fashion, especially in regards to the aforementioned evildoers and their motivations. Bruce’s narrative momentum is thankfully a bit clearer, if not a tad sparse. Funnily enough, he’s carried by a performance from Norton that is vastly underrated. He brings a calculated unease to the character that was, I believe, lost in subsequent renditions. And it goes without saying that Liv Tyler’s Betty Ross is brilliant as well. The two combine for one of the better lead pairs in the MCU, insofar as they present a believable, flawed relationship with jagged edges and cut corners.
That rings true of the entire movie. Jagged edges, cut corners, missed opportunities, yet somehow still charming and, in the end, workable. Much can be said back and forth about The Incredible Hulk, but given the current state of Marvel’s infamous cinematic universe, I find value in accepting it as a flawed piece of blockbuster cinema that represents the past.
A past that we took for granted, at that. If it’s been a while since you’ve thrown this one on, it may be worth spinning once more. If you plan to see Brave New World you’ll have to anyway, although be warned: as messy as both movies are, watching them back to back may leave you with an insatiable nostalgia for a sort of superhero filmmaking gone by. As for me, I’ll take this impassioned plight any day.
Director:Christopher Andrews Writer:Christopher Andrews, Jonathan Hournigan Stars: Christopher Abbott, Barry Keoghan, Nora-Jane Noone
Synopsis:An Irish shepherding family thrust into battle on several fronts: internal strife, hostility within the family, rivalry with another farmer.
Christopher Andrews’ furious, gripping directorial debut Bring Them Down is far from being a car crash in execution and quality, but it’s certainly fitting that it begins with one. Before the film’s opening titles appear against a foreboding, stormy landscape that feels entwined with the tone that persists over the course of the next 106 minutes, we see a car careening down a dusty back road somewhere in western Ireland. Based on how cinematographer Nick Cooke’s camera cuts between the vehicle’s passengers addressing someone who is behind the wheel, we understand that Michael (Christopher Abbott) is driving, and doing so in a steadily increasing fit of rage. That’s because his mother (Susan Lynch) has informed him that she intends to leave his father, and thus Michael, as she can no longer take the darkness buried within the former. Despite her best efforts to calm him from the backseat, Michael’s girlfriend Caroline (Grace Daly) can’t extinguish his own internal fire, one that is automatically doused in kerosene the second it’s lit. Unable to control his anger, Michael resorts to pressing his foot until the gas pedal reaches the floor. It’s a far more dangerous iteration of a man’s tendency to punch his pillow in an effort to release their inner wrath, and its outcome carries consequences that can’t possibly compare to the mutable dents briefly left in a beaten cushion.
Michael’s careless conduct on the road results in one death and two serious injuries, which isn’t a spoiler so much as it is an important footnote that the story returns to, a pivotal prologue that fuels much of the ire donned by the film like a proudly-earned scar. Bring Them Down’s early tragedy – its first and least bloody of the many that follow – has the qualities of a gravitational pull, one that holds Michael over life’s burning coals, but perhaps it only seems that way because of everything else it caused. Caroline (played by Nora-Jane Noone once the film jumps forward in time to the present day) has left Michael for his neighbor and sheep-farming rival Gary (Paul Ready), with whom she shares a son named Jack (Barry Keoghan). While she has seemingly moved on, Michael still lives in his childhood home with his father, Ray (Colm Meaney), an incapacitated old man who wasn’t in the accident that killed his wife and Michael’s mother, but still carries the pain from its outcome along with a litany of ailments that keep him confined to a chair. He can no longer work on the farm, leaving Michael to deal with duties meant for two able-bodied people. When Ray does feel the need to get involved, Michael must literally carry his father on his back from one point to another.
These circumstances tend to leave Michael, and Michael alone, to deal with any conflicts that arise, and the one that spurs the events of Bring Them Down is merely the beginning. While it might sound trite, the act of stealing a few prized sheep from another farmer’s flock is no small snipe in a modest community, and when Jack does exactly that, Michael’s immediate response, as is natural in his circumstances, is one of hostility. He gets in Jack’s face, which leads to Gary getting in Michael’s, and so on, though these men aren’t known solely for their barks. Their bites, in fact, are more reminiscent of snarling chomps, those that create gashes in the hands of the recipient, and each party here ends up on the receiving end of Andrews’ plethora of pain at least once during the remainder of his debut’s runtime. Make no mistake: This is a frigid film, one that is followed by a storm cloud as it unfolds, and while it isn’t always pouring rain on its characters, the threat remains.
Thankfully, Andrews possesses the wherewithal as a filmmaker to commit to his film’s dark tone in a calculated manner that doesn’t make it come off as trauma porn, never affording it the opportunity to revel in its inherent anguish. Instead, Bring Them Down is a heartbreakingly grim piece of work that examines – buzzword alert – toxic masculinity without taking a side in the debate, insofar as there is much of an argument regarding how productive any semblance of toxicity can be in the undying conflict between competitors. It wields a bloodsoaked blade, not as a toy, but as a reminder of what can come of your actions when they go unchecked. “Unfiltered” may be an even more applicable term, as most of the horrifying acts each of Andrews’ characters commit seem meant to be accompanied by gasps and groans from the film’s audience, a verbal acknowledgement that these broken men should really think before they act.
But that wouldn’t leave much room neither for the dizzyingly dour proceedings to carry the weight that they ultimately do, nor for the squabble at the film’s center to feel like its circumstances are of the life-or-death variety. What helps is Andrews’ attention to his locale and its specificities, from the look of the landscapes to the Gaelic tongue that Michael and Ray tend to communicate through. (While Abbott was born in Connecticut, he manages to convincingly inhabit the tortured soul of an Irish lad; the native Keoghan naturally fits right in.) While a lesser work operating in a similar tonal register might reek of desperation as it attempts to remain ruthless for nearly two hours, Andrews and his cast use their surroundings to their benefit, the muddy fields and small homes representing the confines of an inescapable wartime reality. While war can end in one side’s surrender and limited bloodshed, that’s rare in comparison to the many bouts that come to blows with only one emerging victorious from the crumpled pile of bodies victorious. It’s a kill or be killed world, Bring Them Down argues. Mercifully, it never picks a side, and doesn’t ask us to, either.
It’s hard to imagine a better year for original films. Because of the writer’s and actor’s strikes in 2023, many tentpoles, blockbusters, and IP extravaganzas had to be put on hold. This shift in the slate for 2024 created a void that many great original films filled and succeeded in. Many original films also became frontrunners for various Oscar categories. Some of these would have been lost in the cacophony only to have emerged as unique nominees in this Oscar race. What other year could a sprawling epic about a fictional architect, a tightly sequenced timeline of a terrorist attack caught on film, a fairy tale of sex work and oligarchs, a buddy comedy about grief, and a body horror about the plight of an aging starlet coexist within the same category?
Best Original Screenplay is the category that gets to be more unconventional than the rest. The category gets to be far-reaching even when it sticks close to the Best Picture category. Three of this year’s five nominees are also Best Picture nominees. It shows the support that original films have been enjoying in this era of ten Best Picture nominees. Each one of them is worthy in its own way, but only one can win.
It’s hard to keep a film where the main characters exist mainly inside a control booth intriguing. The writing team of Moritz Binder, Tim Fehlbaum, and Alex David pulled off that feat with September 5. As producers and technical directors argue the ethics of filming a terrorist operation, there is a tremendous amount of tension. These characters may not be in the action, but we’re pulled into the anxiety, fear, triumph, and grief of every moment.
Many have said that they won’t see The Substance because of the horror and gore elements, but they have to know they’re missing out on a layered and complex portrait. Writer Coralie Fargeat has built an exceptional treatise on identity, aging, addiction, and sexism that, yes, is tremendously graphic but with a purpose. The Substance joins other fabulous women-centered horror films of the last ten years that bring feminist topics to the forefront of a historically exploitative genre.
Epic is a descriptor that barely scratches the surface of The Brutalist, written by Brady Corbet and Mona Fastvold. Their script builds layers of history into a tale of the debilitating capitalist system on those who pursue a vision of creativity. Their male characters are so vivid and three-dimensional that they feel like they could have lengthy Wikipedia pages. The Brutalist is a fabulous character study that is also a realistic take on the concept of the American Dream.
Anora feels so much tighter than Sean Baker’s other films because its script is far more of an entity. Baker is a filmmaker who favors spontaneity, but his script for Anora is very well-plotted and expertly woven. Sure, his actors were allowed to play with it, but the structure was far more sound than his previous outings. While it masquerades as a love story, Anora also hits the nail on the head of the transactional nature of love, and that one person always has the upper hand.
Truly, the best script of the year is Jesse Eisenberg’s A Real Pain. In spite of the marketing and the fact that Kieran Culkin is getting every award under the sun for his performance, the film is about a duo. It’s a buddy comedy that takes a detour toward necessary darkness. The script is witty and charming, yes, but Eisenberg also lets it breathe. There are stretches of silence and contemplation that are beautifully timed and expertly paired with the terrific character work.
Many scripts have been mentioned in terms of this category since the beginning of the season, and many have been nominated and won precursor awards. It’s true that Sean Baker triumphed at the Writers Guild Awards, but I predict Jesse Eisenberg will prevail on Oscar night. A Real Pain is a superbly mature outing on par with the adult comedies of James L. Brooks and Nora Ephron.
This week on the InSession Film Podcast, we discuss the very depressing James Bond news with Amazon taking over and we begin the next phase of our Best Picture Movie Series as we review Billy Wilder’s The Apartment!
– More Hockey Excitement (0:42) Last week on the show, we opened with JD losing his mind over the Four-Nations Faceoff tournament. We begin this week’s episode with JD continuing to so after an incredible finish in the championship game between the United States and Canada.
– James Bond (10:20) It was announced recently that the Broccoli family was stepping away from the Bond franchise and letting Amazon take creative control over the character. This is really, really bad news. Amazon has its fair share of successes, but generally speaking they are known for milking their cows to death. The James Bond that we knew and loved is no longer, and that makes us disheartened.
– Best Picture Movie Series: The Apartment (56:34) We began this series last year by covering the Oscars Best Picture winners of the 1940s. It was a ton of fun, and we are excited to dig into the next phase as we cover the winners of the 1960s. Leading the way in 1960 was Billy Wilder’s classic masterpiece The Apartment. There’s a good argument to be made that this is Wilder’s best film. Which is saying something when he has at least five or six all-time classics in his filmography. The Apartment has one of the best screenplays ever written, and a cast that is extremely memorable. One hell of a way to restart this series.
Best Picture Movie Series – 1960s: West Side Story
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Oscar nominations are here, and now we wait until the March 2nd ceremony to see who will take home the awards. For Best Animated Feature, the race has come down to Flow, Inside Out 2, Memoir of a Snail, Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl, and The Wild Robot. Of the five nominees, I don’t think there was a lousy pick among the group, as these films target all demographics and do exceptionally well, telling stories as emotionally potent as they are visually engrossing.
A film that maybe should have been nominated but wasn’t was Transformers One, a movie that wasn’t just one of the most surprising animated films of the year but also one of the best. Like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem of 2023, Transformers One took a worn-out property and invoked new life stylistically and told a story with genuine heart and depth dealing with issues like fake leaders who pose as god-like figures, body autonomy, and governments restricting one’s freedoms to claim control over the masses – all of which are pretty relevant today. It’s a blessing this film was made, but I wish it would have been given more love than it got on the awards circuit.
Here are my rankings of this year’s Best Animated Feature nominees!
5. Inside Out 2
I caught up to Inside Out 2, and while the animation and voice work are just as great as the original, the story itself was lackluster. Inside Out evoked a significant bit of emotion and pathos for childhood difficulties, and Inside Out 2 attempted to hit the same notes for puberty but, truthfully, barely scratched the surface. It was an oversimplification of one of the most difficult times in anyone’s life – a transition no one can see coming and one that people spend their lives figuring out – and the film allowed Riley to find self-acceptance in the fact that she isn’t just a good person and instead a flawed one, all in a matter of three days. Maybe I’m being too harsh on this film; the message is genuinely good, but you must be judged tough when you’re a sequel to such a beloved film as the original is. It’s not bad and nowhere near Pixar or even 2024’s worst, as there are some great moments; it just lacked the earned emotion captured in the original.
4. Memoir of a Snail
Having never seen Mary and Max or Oscar-winning Harvey Krumpet, this is my first time watching an Adam Elliot film; I was genuinely engrossed by the animation and the story he told. His script is the most substantial aspect of this film, as the characters, especially Sarah Snook’s Grace Pudel and Jackie Weaver’s Pinky, deliver heartbreaking monologue after monologue. Its structure reminded me a lot of 2007 Oscar nominee Persepolis in how the story was articulated to the audience, and the central theme of constantly moving forward like a snail was told in a difficult but beautifully poignant way. It’s not my favorite film of the nominees, but it’s one that I am happy received a nomination.
3. Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl
It’s baffling to think Vengeance Most Fowl is only the second Wallace & Gromit movie and the first in almost 20 years after 2005’s The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. However, its prominent creator and director, Nick Park, hasn’t lost a step as Vengeance Most Fowl is just as fun, energetic, whacky, and simple as ever. Wallace & Gromit, alongside spin-off Shaun the Sheep, excel in crafting a simple story that shines in entertainment. There is an element to the film that touches on the dangers of Artificial Intelligence, but, for the most part, Vengeance Most Fowl is about Wallace bumbling through life, Gromit cleaning up after him, and both coming together to stop the nefarious penguin Feathers McGraw. If you’re looking for something with more emotional depth, you’ll be disappointed, but if you’re looking for a fun time, which I was, you will enjoy this film.
2. The Wild Robot
There were few, if any, movies that made me cry more than The Wild Robot. DreamWorks needed a win on their plate, and with The Wild Robot, they picked up a massive one, telling a heartwarming tale of community and motherhood that can get surprisingly dark. The breathtaking animation seamlessly blends 3D and 2D scenes in colorful and emotional ways, and the story does enough to make you feel all these emotions without seeming like you were being manipulated or tricked into feeling such a way. The Oscar-nominated score from Kris Bowers helps build on the screen pageantry; even though this is not my favorite animated film of the year, it is the most complete regarding the visual beauty from start to finish. The voice work is also astounding, with the highlights coming from Lupita Nyong’o and Pedro Pascal. After first watching the movie, I was convinced it would be my favorite animated film of the year; in most years, it would be my favorite animated film of the year; however, my number one has slowly started to become one of my favorite films of all time.
1. Flow
This film is Flow, a masterpiece and my second favorite film of 2024 behind Anora (but the margin is thin). Flow’s beautiful score (by writer/director/producer/animator/composer Gints Zilbalodis) and breathtaking animation are some of the best I have seen from an animated film in years, but this film is magical because it’s one of a kind. Wordless with animation that looks similar to a video game cutscene, this film simply should not work to the extent it has; however, the exploration of survival, friendship, family, and loss, added in with Zilbalodis creating a visual spectacle to convey emotion through action rather than through dialogue leaves us with a movie that audiences resonate with because it is sure of itself every step of the way. Zilbalodis never panders to the audience; nothing in the film makes it easier to understand, providing an ambiguity that allows audiences to believe and feel what they want. It is a movie that is an experience and is so easy to watch; I have multiple times since its release on Max.
This week on Women InSession, Clayton Jones of Men Who Like Men Who Like Movies! joins us as we debate Challengers and Match Point! With a full house this week, we had a divided family over these two films and which one we thought was the better sexy tennis rendezvous. This was a really fun one.
Panel: Kristin Battestella, Jaylan Salah, Amy Thomasson, Zita Short
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!
Brazil is turning 40 this year! Can you believe it? It seemed it only came out yesterday – kooky kid.
Brazil, where hearts were entertaining June
We stood beneath an amber moon
And softly murmured
“Someday soon” (someday)
Few movies operate entirely in a league of their own; Brazil is one of those movies. To describe it would be an injustice to the film itself. Even 40 years after release, the nightmarish and claustrophobic picture strikes a chord with me and most individuals who watch it now. I first watched it a couple years ago, and while rewatching it in preparation of this piece I had a sickness overcome me. I originally chalked up the ideas of fascist directives to some silly fantasy because “how can something so totally incompetent and ridiculous become this evil force?”
I digress – I mean if we got pushed into fascism, I’m glad it was this stupid version and not the Salo version of it. ANYWAYS anyways (anyways) back to the main point. In the time since Brazil’s release, the line between film and reality has begun to blur. Terry Gilliam created a world that is equally as inventive as it is horrifying. In doing so, he has accurately predicted the state of our world and also the treatment of his own film. Bureaucracy is a fickle thing, and to put it simply – it’s bullshit.
We kissed (we kissed)
And clung together
Then, tomorrow was another day
Ironically, the original release of Brazil was riddled with obnoxious and unnecessary hurdles – like the ones depicted in the film. The ending to the film is bleak, to the point where the air is sucked out of you. When the US release strategy was being determined, the distributor, Universal, fought director Terry Gilliam due to poor test screening reception of the ending. Universal dragged their feet and nearly stonewalled the film from being released. Eventually, in an act of Archibald Tuttle-esque of defiance, Gilliam took out a page in Variety saying –
“Dear Sid Sheinberg
When are you going to release my film, ‘BRAZIL’?”
At this point Brazil had already released in both France and the United Kingdom – original ending and all. However, stubbornness from American executives and unfounded metrics nearly caused the film to take on a new form entirely. Sure, you shouldn’t walk away from Brazil feeling like you can take on the world; you’re supposed to sit there and sulk for a few moments after the credits roll. But what kind of message is it sending if there’s a happy-go-lucky ending? A broken bone isn’t fixed with a band-aid, and a broken system isn’t fixed with a simple slap on the wrist.
The morning found me miles away
With still a million things to say
What exactly is ‘Brazil’? Sure, the movie, and the song that it’s so aptly named after, but what does it mean? Stay with me here, have you ever looked outside your office window thinking about what you’d rather be doing? Maybe you see yourself riding the waves with your wife or husband, or maybe you see yourself sculpting pots out of clay. That’s Brazil in the essence of this movie. An escape from the strenuous and obnoxious bureaucracy in which we’re forced to participate.
Disclaimer: Could I have simply said ‘escapism’? Yes, absolutely, but did you see those waves or clay pots when I asked you to envision them? The power of your imagination is escapism, in its own right. Okay, back to the show!
Now, when twilight dims the sky above
Recalling (thrills) of our love
There’s an intoxicating aroma to Brazil. 40 years since release and the love for the film has only grown by each passing year. Without Brazil we wouldn’t have Tim Burton’s Batman, and without Tim Burton’s Batman there would be no modern superhero film (for better or worse). The singular style and look to the film is inimitable and has aged like wine. Its humor, albeit a little sadistic at times (complimentary), has only become funnier. Lastly, its messaging has only become more relevant. An unfortunate reality that only steeps as each day passes until morality becomes as opaque as the individuals running this country of ours.
While films that tackle totalitarianism and capitalism aren’t uncommon, rarely do they marry the two together – almost joined at the hip. In combining the two Terry Gilliam and the rest of the crew create something that is as relevant in 1985 as it is today. The president of the United States in 1985 was Ronald Reagan and the president of the United States today is….yknow, this guy! To sum up, in a swift 40 years we have gained nothing and only lost more – a feeling that’s easy to sink into but hard to dig out of. Hell, Brazil’s idea of society is only removed from our own by its irreverent production design and peppy demeanor.
The movie starts with a man in a nondescript white box of a room, whose sole job is to blast out arrest warrants. Unfortunately, a bug jams the machine and causes a married man with children, Archibald Buttle, with no relation to the actual suspect, Archibald Tuttle, to be killed by the authoritative government. It is delivered in a way that seems so regimented, as if this death is just commonplace and unavoidable. It is chased by zany visions derived from the depths of low-level government employee, Sam Lowry (Jonathan Pryce). It’s just an “oh shucks!’ moment and pushed away as each minute of the runtime passes.
An innocent man is senselessly murdered by a system of brutality and policing and is pushed into obscurity as if nothing had happened (hah). The consequences of this event are seen as Sam speaks to the grieving wife regarding a financial refund on her husband’s life due to mix-up. What transpires, while brief, is gutting and filled with enough palpable anguish to fill a funeral chapel. Then, in some type of sick magic, this feeling is washed away and never spoken of again. Much like in our own reality, we are shown atrocities that are committed by people in power and chased with easy distractions such as reality television or sh*tty drink recipes. Brazil’s lasting power isn’t just in its look and humor, but also in its tether to reality.
There’s one thing that I’m certain of
Return, I will, to old Brazil
Lean in for a second, there’s a beautiful cocktail recipe you have to try! The world is getting warmer and the only way to beat the heat is by trying my improvement on the Aperol Spritz (yeah, yeah, how can you ‘improve perfection?’). First things first, you have to have Aperol, of course. Some good Prosecco; the non-vintage Bisol Crede Prosecco Superiore Brut from the Valdobbiadene village in Veneto is damn near delectable! Who cares if it’s ridiculous to spend $30 on Italian sparkling wine as one component of a cocktail – the world won’t turn forever! A little club soda and an orange slice for garnish to make it pop. Now, here’s where we get freaky with it, cut a third of the usual Aperol you’d use and add limoncello instead. Dash in some orange bitters, smother the whole affair with ice, and you’ve got the perfect cocktail to lobotomize those feelings of dread!
But no more of that, as I wish to return to my world of fantasies and delight. What did I accomplish today? Doesn’t matter, for I’ll return to Brazil regardless. Should we be subjugated to the mercy of malignant individuals to ensure corrupt organizations can maintain public favor? All of this junk and moral juxtapositions that we have to live through just so we could afford rent and maybe feed our interests with the pennies and pocket lent we have left. I won’t take up more of your time, tomorrow is a work day!
If a recent rumor from Hollywood insider Daniel Richtman is to be believed, then the lambs have not yet stopped screaming. Universal have apparently begun development on a new Hannibal Lecter film.
On the surface this probably looks unsurprising. No classic property is allowed to remain dormant in the 2020s, and Hannibal Lecter has been absent from the big screen since 2007’s miserable Hannibal Rising. But the prospect becomes a lot more bemusing when you question what the hell the film could actually be.
The most obvious possibility is a reboot of some sort, with a new actor coming in to be the cannibal for a new generation. But Lecter isn’t Spider-Man, with decades of stories to draw from that allow for endless cinematic configurations. Every Hannibal Lecter adaptation to date has drawn at least in part from the events of author Thomas Harris’ four novels. The only technical exception is the Hannibal-free TV series Clarice, which rivals only Rising as a low point for Harris adaptations. Given how reliant on Harris the good Lecter properties have been, it’s hard to imagine a new film telling a wholly original story.
But there might not be any other option. The first Lecter novel, Red Dragon, has been adapted for the screen three times. The third, Hannibal, twice. Even Bryan Fuller, creator of the cult TV retelling Hannibal admitted that to faithfully adapt the events of Red Dragon again would make his team ‘assholes.’ Meanwhile, The Silence of the Lambs is such a perfect movie that a straight remake would be a poisoned chalice, while nobody wants to see another take on Rising. Even a reimagined version of the traditional Lecter story would stink of redundancy, given that the TV show’s entire approach was to remix the story elements we thought we knew in a heightened, dreamlike, operatic way.
Nobody would suggest Hollywood is above creatively bankrupt redundancy, but given the Lecter franchise was already seen as played out before the TV show revitalized it, it’s hard to imagine that anyone at Universal is especially enamoured of telling the same stories for potentially a fourth time.
But an original story comes with major risks. Assuming that Thomas Harris isn’t secretly writing a new Lecter book, the lack of source material would invite enormous skepticism going in. Lecter, even in his more controversial outings, tends to be among the more sophisticated horror icons. There is no reliable Lecter ‘formula’ you can resort to like there is with Freddy or Jason – the four Harris novels form a complete saga with a clear ending. Which means if you’re not retreading old ground you’re essentially left with the option of a prequel, which historically has not worked for Hannibal, or a sequel, which presents problems of its own.
In theory, it’s not impossible to bring Anthony Hopkins back for a last hurrah. Legacy sequels, after all, are mostly popular. But apart from the question of how credible a threat the 87-year-old Hopkins could be, the historical compromises this franchise has made might have cauterized the potential for further installments featuring the most famous actor to ever wear the mask.
Even if Thomas Harris wrote a book picking up from the controversial ending of Hannibal, it would be nearly impossible to adapt given how the film version famously rewrote the ending in an attempt to appease Jodie Foster, who passed regardless. On which; the only way to really make this a legacy sequel that might win over audiences would be to bring back Foster, which would mean ignoring Julianne Moore and probably the entirety of Hannibal. And even if that was the direction the film chose, Hopkins is still 87 and without Hopkins, any movie even somewhat in the original continuity has an uphill battle to be taken seriously. Just ask Hannibal Rising.
There is precisely one logical direction for a new Hannibal Lecter screen outing, and that new direction means bringing back an old one. Bryan Fuller’s TV series might have been cancelled due to low ratings, but its cult following and critical acclaim has only grown in the decade since. Fuller has never given up trying to get a revival off the ground. Meanwhile, a decade of franchise exposure means that Mads Mikkelsen is now a highly credible big screen Lecter even for viewers unfamiliar with the TV show. And given Fuller’s take on the material was all about reinterpretation, any film version he was involved in would be true to Harris while also finding new and surprising ways to tell stories we might assume we knew. Universal deciding to bring Fuller and Mikkelsen on board to make a film that doubles as a continuation to a beloved show as well as a standalone Lecter film starring a popular Hollywood villain is not only a smart commercial choice, but it’s the only creatively worthwhile way to return to the Lecter well.
Fuller and Mikkelsen already proved once that Hannibal Lecter still had plenty of life left in him. It’s time to let them do it again.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: a remote reserve full of genetically engineered dinosaurs descends into chaos when scientific hubris unleashes the creatures on visitors. You have, three times? Okay, then how about this; a ragtag group travels to an abandoned dinosaur reserve for an important mission only for everything to go catastrophically wrong. Three times as well? Then let’s go with a plot about scientists creating a hybrid dinosaur only for it to escape and wreak havoc. Twice?
It has been over thirty years since the first Jurassic Park became an instant classic. In that time, there have been six movies, with a seventh just around the corner. And each of those six movies has relied on at least one of the above plots. Often two. Even films that promised something new, like Fallen Kingdom or most egregiously Dominion, largely play out the same beats again. And all indications point to a similar result for this year’s Rebirth, which centerson a ragtag team travelling to an abandoned dinosaur reserve for an important mission only for everything to go catastrophically wrong, this time due to another hybrid dinosaur. Essentially we’re being sold the plot of The Lost World, Jurassic Park III and Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom. Again.
It’s not news that Hollywood likes to play it safe when it comes to legacy sequels. The Force Awakens was mostly a beat for beat mirror of A New Hope, and after The Last Jedi’s mild subversions to the formula kickstarted a ceaseless culture war, The Rise of Skywalker was overhauled to just be Return of the Jedi, but stupider. Is it any surprise that after a mostly disliked last film Universal would go back to familiar territory?
You can’t entirely blame executives for being cautious. Long established franchises come with entrenched fanbases who often hate the formula being messed with. But the problem here is that a new Jurassic World movie can no longer be considered a ‘legacy sequel’. Rebirth will be the fourth new movie in a decade. The franchise has brought back all the old favorites. It has retraced the plots of the first two films several times over. It’s indulged in every tribute and callback imaginable. Surely it’s time, now, to try something else?
Fallen Kingdom doesn’t tend to be highly ranked among Jurassic films, but in 2018 there was a palpable sense of excitement at the final scenes, which promised the chaos and excitement and danger of a world overrun with dinosaurs. It felt like the long overdue fulfilment of Ian Malcolm’s warning in the first film: “Dinosaurs and man, two species separated by 65 million years of evolution, have just been suddenly thrown back into the mix together. How can we possibly have the slightest idea what to expect?”
And after Fallen Kingdom, it really did seem like we might not have the slightest idea of what to expect. With dinosaurs out in the world, the next film could not be another park or secret mission. It had no choice but to do something new. There was a real sense of possibility.
You almost have to admire Dominion’s complete unwillingness to give audiences what they wanted. Trailers teased a world overrun with dinosaurs. But in the film itself, that’s not really the case. In fact, the dinosaurs aren’t nearly as much of a concern as the locusts who, bafflingly, take up much of the first half’s focus.
The second involves the characters converging on another dinosaur park only for everything to go wrong. Again.
Dominion was more than a disappointment; it was an act of audience contempt. You can almost feel the nervous hovering executives warning the creative team not to blow up the status quo too much, just in case this film is badly received and they have to pump out a more ‘traditional’ Jurassic movie in a couple of years. Which obviously is what happened, but it would seem to bespeak a gigantic misunderstanding of why Dominion was so derided; it didn’t do what it promised. And now, rather than offer a mea culpa film that does, Universal are again reverting to the same old formula and, according to the synopsis, they’ve functionally walked back the events of Fallen Kingdom and Dominion by explaining that dinosaurs mostly can’t survive in modern earth’s environment and so now only exist in small, remote, tropical locations. Like, say, secret islands.
If we’re being charitable then we have to acknowledge a couple of things. It does make sense that dinosaurs would be more suited to hotter environments; it’s the whole reason they were on Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna in the first place. And during the press tour for Dominion, director Colin Trevorrow regularly warned that we wouldn’t be seeing a dinosaur takeover of the planet because it wasn’t really credible that could happen, with Trevorrow likening your chances of encountering a dinosaur as being roughly on par with your chances of encountering a bear or some other dangerous predator. And look, that would be fair enough – if we were talking about a franchise that cared much about credibility.
Once upon a time, yes it did. Among the many reasons Jurassic Park struck such a chord is because it didn’t feel a million miles removed from something that could actually happen. But with each new film that relative grounding has slipped away, whether it was the ‘raptor whistle’ in Jurassic Park III or Chris Pratt’s apparently superhuman ability to withstand temperature when he’s lying inches away from molten lava. As such it feels egregious to pick and choose when you want to abide by the rules of reality, especially when said abiding is your excuse for not making the all out chaos movie about dinosaur dominion (actually, this time) that the franchise has arguably been leading towards since the very start.
Is there anyone who would rather watch another movie about characters sneaking onto a dinosaur island over a film where pockets of surviving humans eke out an agrarian existence in a world where a T-rex could appear any second? There is nothing stopping these films from jumping forward several decades to get there, apart from the evident fears that doing so might cross a line this lucrative money machine cannot come back from.
It’s true that a Jurassic film blowing things up to such a degree would indeed be difficult to retcon if poorly received. Once the franchise has moved from dinosaur islands to a genuine dinosaur world, it can’t really go back unless the hard reboot button is pressed.
It’s only fair to note that without having seen Rebirth we don’t know what tricks it might have up its sleeve. And there is a precedent for that; Fallen Kingdom gave us half a film of the standard mission to dinosaur island before pivoting into gothic horror in the second half – still the closest the later films have come to something genuinely fresh. But so far we are not being sold anything close to a radical reinvention. Rebirth has a strong creative team and there’s every chance it will be well written, exciting and fun, but unless the marketing is hiding something massive, it’s nearly impossible to imagine the film getting away with its own familiarity. We’ve just seen this story too many times already.
Changing the Jurassic formula would be a risk. But after so much repetition, not doing so is an even bigger one.
