On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss Jeff Nichols’ latest film The Bikeriders, starring Jodie Comer and Austin Butler! We’ve been looking forward to this film for a long time now. We are huge Nichols fans and he did not disappoint with his latest.
Review: The Bikeriders(4:00) Director: Jeff Nichols Writers: Jeff Nichols Stars: Jodie Comer, Austin Butler, Tom Hardy, Michael Shannon
Prior to the world premiere of Fernando Andrรฉs latest film, Rent Free, I got a chance to sit down with him and co-lead/producer Jacob Roberts to discuss the film. Andrรฉs is one of the more exciting contemporary filmmakers to pop up on the scene recently. And the reason? Because heโs one of few who so perfectly captures the contemporary worries and anxieties of life. Through humor and honesty, Rent Free gets to the heart of modern society for young adults in ways that will make many viewers feel incredibly seen. Thatโs incredibly powerful, so to get to speak with the two regarding these topics and more was a true pleasure. Enjoy the conversation, check out my full review of the film right here,and most importantly, enjoy Rent Free!
Alex Papaioannou: So obviously, we spoke about your last feature, Three Headed Beast, when it premiered. What I admired so much about that film is that it’s very quiet and very slow moving. And your new film, Rent Free, is a pretty significant shift in style and tone. Can you talk about what encouraged you to make that shift? And how did you handle work on set differently, if at all?
Fernando Andrรฉs: Well, I think that none of it is ever calculated. You know, I’m drawn to so many different kinds of movies, and I always trust that there will be some connective tissue. So, it just depends on the film. For this one, it was the comfort and reliability of a buddy comedy; A thing that I feel was very popular in the aughts. So I was thinking, what if there was a way to use that comfort and that simplicity of a buddy comedy, and use it to tackle some pretty complicated issues that I’m thinking about all the time: queer male friendship, or the incredible anxiety and insecurity of trying to make it work in cities that are becoming increasingly unlivable. And, yeah, that was just how I thought of it. Just thinking about films as concepts and ideas, and then following it as it goes. The first one was the first one, and this one is this one. But then, of course, there’s the reality of making it. All the cliches are true. Comedies are hard! They are really hard to make. They require incredible focus on tone and pacing. And when you have such a large cast, everyone has to be kind of on the same page. And if people are acting in different movies, you have to make sure that those different movie performances still gel together. Because I think it’s a little too much to expect everyone to be in the same movie. But I think that, in the end, we ended up with a pretty cohesive and complementary tapestry of actors, styles of acting, and comedy. So I think that was a big task. Just realizing that this is a comedy. Three Headed Beast was a lot about physicality and body language, and that stuff is still present in Rent Free. So we have to make sure that there’s a lot of intentional blocking and intentional visual language on top of all the dialogue.
AP: Speaking of going from project to project! Jacob, you worked with Fernando on his recent short film.
Jacob Roberts: Yeah!
AP: So can you talk about your relationship together, as well as if you pulled anything from that experience into working on a feature film with him?
JR: Well, Fernando and I met about two years ago… Even though it feels like it’s been longer. We met at a festival in Los Angeles where I had my short film, Half, playing, and he had Three Headed Beast there. We saw each other’s work. We hit it off. We were going to all these parties at the festival together. It was kind of like an instant friendship. We kept in shockingly close touch given the fact that I live in LA and he lives in Austin. And then I was coming to Austin for Austin Film Festival with Half, and Fernando texted me a week before the festival. I was going to come and crash on his couch. And he texted me, “Oh, I wish we were the kind of people who would make something while you were here in Austin.” And then I was like, “Well, why don’t we be those types of people?” So then we were throwing around ideas for a short. And I came up with this idea about a roommate who eavesdrops on his roommates therapy sessions, and becomes obsessed with one of the patients. So I wrote a first draft. Fernando rewrote it. And then that week we shot it. We wrote it and shot it in the span of 10 days. I mean, do you want to talk about that?
FA: Yeah! If you include the conception and the editing, I think you could condense it all to being a two or three week process. So I think we were like, “Okay. If we can dream up and finish a short in two weeks, we could do that for a feature.” So that definitely helped us. And it also unfortunately got me to make another film like Three Headed Beast… I mean fortunately! [Laughs.] I only say unfortunately because of how hard it is when gathering a small team of collaborators and making an ambitious film. I think once you finish a film like that, you’re like, “Never again.” And I think with this one, it was proof that we could do it again. And we could do it bigger, and in a much different style.
JR: And I think with Knowing Me, Knowing You, the collaboration of co-writing, co-directing, and co-producing led very naturally into my decision. When Fernando said “Hey, I’m writing this role for you, and do you also want to produce the film?”, it was so easy for me to say yes. It was also scary, of course, because I did know what I was coming onto. I knew that I was coming onto something that was going to be a lot of work. It was going to be very fast paced. It was going to be both very thought-out and very spontaneous. So it was scary. But I had the confidence from having worked with him on that short. And feeling so proud of what we made together so quickly with that film, I was ready to jump in.
AP: And how long was this shoot?
FA: 30 days.
JR: 27 shooting days in Austin and three shooting days in New York City.
FA: And I mean, everyone says it, but, yeah, it’s never enough. It could have been double that, and it wouldn’t have been enough.
JR: It was enough! [Laughs.]
FA: That’s the producer talking!
AP: [We all laugh.]
FA: It was 30 very full days. They say the thing about feature films is that they’re like summer camp. And this definitely felt like an extended filmmaking summer boot camp.
AP: Jacob, you mentioned you’re from LA. And Fernando, I know you’re Austin-based. I’m from New York City. These are the three seemingly most expensive and creative cities in the country. And a lot of this film talks about a major shift in Austin culture. Specifically, it addresses how a lot of creatives are either leaving, or are being forced out of Austin. So I’m curious. For both LA and Austin, can you talk about your feelings on what’s happening in these cities that, like you said, are now becoming unlivable due to price or a shift in culture?
FA: Of course. I feel a lot of things about that. And I think a lot of things about that. That’s a very complicated issue, and there are many people that are better at talking about it than me. What I will say is that you hit the nail on the head with there being a shift. I think the view of the culture in Austin is lagging a little bit with the days of what they used to call the velvet couch. Like it used to be, you could just get there, and there’s all the cheap beer, the cheap food, the cheap rent. And creatives could just go and relax, and it leads to movies like Slacker. You know, a masterpiece, but a movie about a bunch of creative, artsy people just roaming around… And of course, that’s just a very Gen X sentiment too, so it’s not just an Austin thing. But the shift now is that it’s becoming the same as a city like New York or LA, where there’s just an influx of tech money and people are moving in from those very cities. And they’re just kind of terraforming Austin into something that more closely resembles those cities. And it’s sad. So is Austin just another city now? It loses its culture. When it becomes that untenable and that anxiety-inducing, there’s a hope that something might be better in New York or LA and to just look for a fresh start. Those cities also have more of a defined identity. So I think that’s what Austin’s struggling with right now. It’s an identity crisis. There are just large swaths of Austin that are feeling like LA-lite. You know, I have a friend who put it nicely by saying that Austin has started to feel like an Austin-themed city.
AP: Jacob, with you being from LA, and your character wanting so desperately to be in his New York era; What would you say is the allure to New York?
JR: Well, I grew up in Washington, D.C. And New York was always, you know, a three and a half, maybe four hour drive away. Five hours if you hit the wrong traffic. I grew up seeing New York as this fundamentally more exciting, promising, glamorous, cultural sort of destination. I always envisioned myself living in New York City. I think that people’s reasons for that desire are different. I think some of the mythology of the city just comes from its density. The density of culture that comes with the density of people. And I think another part of it is present in this film. There’s this fantasy that the main characters have, where they think, “We’re going to be able to accomplish this New York on-the-cheap version of the city.” And that’s what the whole opening montage is. And I think that Ben [Jacob’s character] has this idea that he’s going to be able to live that same day over and over again in New York. And he sort of learns that’s not true towards the beginning of the film. But Ben is not a person who learns his lessons very well. So I think through to the end of the film, he still has that same fantasy. It’s this idea of New York being the haven for a kind of creative, restless soul, which is kind of shown as a lie by the realities of living there. Artists are being pushed out because it’s a very tough place to live without the safety net of wealth.
AP: If only every day here could be like that all-day free experience. [We all laugh.] So obviously, rent plays a large part in this film. And we all know what rent means in the very literal sense, but for both of you, how would you describe it symbolically in the film?
JR: Obviously, in the film, it comes to take on sort of an outsized significance. And there’s a reason that the rent is displayed on-screen in each setting. It allows the audience to orient themselves in this reality that is so controlled and so dictated by two questions: What does it cost? And can you pay that cost? And that question of money influences these characters: their interactions, their dynamics, their personalities. I think that’s one of the big significances that rent has in the film for me.
FA: Exactly. We present the context for each chapter of the film. They’re chapter headings, and they’re the inescapable confines of the settings the characters are in. As the viewer keeps watching, they’ll slowly realize that it softly dictates how the characters within those apartments or houses act towards the main characters. From how they treat each other, to how they discuss money and everything else. I think it just kind of defines everything. It’s an overarching thing, even if it’s never directly addressed. I want to make sure that the audience knows the film is presenting it to you, for you to make your own conclusions.
JR: And I think money plays a role in their friendship. Class and class privilege too. I think you start to see that come out more as the film goes along. And I would also say, from a symbolic stance, they’ve been trying to go through this relationship rent free with each other. And a lot of rent is due by the end of the film. [We all laugh.]
AP: Without giving away anything about the end of the film, there’s one sequence where somebody says, “You can’t live in one place forever.” And I thought that was really fascinating, especially having lived in one place my whole life. So do you think that’s true?
FA: It’s funny, because that line is in this drunken riffing. They’re just joking around with each other. And Ben is making a joke about how he just wants to live in one house like they did before the Depression.
JR: And he’s total bullshit, he doesn’t know anything about the Depression. [We all laugh.]
FA: But yeah, the whole movie is that. There’s Ben with his flighty and fanciful way of looking at the world, and his being met with reality. And as for that quote. I live in Austin, and I want to live there for the rest of my life. I know that my work will take me wherever it’ll take me, but I know that Austin will always be home.
JR: It’s very hot!
FA: Yes, it’s very hot and humid. But hey, the whole world is going that way. [We laugh.]
FA: But it just depends on the person. What ties you to your home, you know? If you’re like me, and you have family, and you have a partner and your own friends that keep you tied to a place, that’s one thing. But then there’s people that are seeking their own family, or they’re seeking their own meaning in life, and that can take them wherever. I think it’s just what defines home for you.
Some of these 80s and 90s romps were sleeper hits and others were reviled. However, the successful good humor or forgotten bad pastiche herein are both worthy of a new millennium viewing.
Can’t Buy Me Love
Wine stains on a borrowed without asking dress and $1000 lawn mowing money saved for a telescope help nerd Patrick Dempsey (Grey’s Anatomy) buy being the boyfriend of cheerleader Amanda Peterson (Explorers) in this charming 1987 teen comedy. Arizona sunny moods and eighties colorfulness belie classism amid the fart jokes and cafeteria standoffs. The rich kids are popular but those who have to work toward college are not, despite the cliques all having started off as friends when they were kids. Somber moments in a vintage aircraft graveyard lead to astronomy flirtations as our mismatched couple ends up having fun together. Secretly sensitive Cindy hides writing poetry, actually liking geek to chic Ronald for who he was before he ghosted his real friends for a mischief night gone wrong and changed into someone he doesn’t really want to be. Rich mothers and dads with station wagons represent the generation out of touch yet all the teens act so mature with their cruel lies and pressure to be cool. Although there are a few surprising moments for PG-13, this does proceed as expected with stereotypical teen party exposรฉs, school dances, hammy speeches, and the obligatory slow clap. Fortunately, there’s a certain only in the eighties idealism here with tender personality that does what it has to do and doesn’t overstay the humor and lessons learned. Who decides who is a geek anyway?
My Blue Heaven
Steve Martin’s (Only Murders in the Building) Vinnie Antonelli aka โToddโ can’t adjust to the sunny suburbs while in the witness protection program โ leading to grocery store mishaps, mowing the lawn in expensive Italian suits, erroneous stakeouts, little league fundraising scams, and hijacking twenty-five copies of the same book โin case I want to read it more than once.โ Yes, this 1990 fish out of water caper written by Nora Ephron (When Harry Met Sally) is based on the same material as Goodfellas, and the mob send ups are intentionally absurd thanks to the โProvolone trial,โ over the top Italian stereotypes, and the lack of available arugula. There are so many mobsters in witness protection that the gang goes into business again, causing headaches for FBI handler Rick Moranis (Honey I Shrunk the Kids) and local district attorney Joan Cusack (Addams Family Values) before they both loosen up and let their hair down thanks to Vinnie’s backhanded wisdom. Memorable quips and perfectly timed music cues accent brief moments from Carol Kane (Scrooged), but โdon’t worry, I didn’t marry her under my real name.โ Though popular then and obviously now overshadowed by Goodfellas; the numerous sight gags, witty twists, merengue montages, and charming vignettes make this an easily digestible, pleasant, family friendly re-watch โ save for the dog named โFongool.โ
Oscar
On his father’s death bed gangster Sylvester โSnapsโ Stallone (Rocky) vows to go straight in this 1991 farce from director John Landis (Trading Places). Unfortunately, an embezzling accountant, fanatical wife, sassy maids, proposal triangles, a case of gems mistaken for a case of lingerie, and linguist Tim Curry (Clue) admiring rebellious daughter Marisa Tomei’s (My Cousin Vinny) diphthongs conspire against Snaps in fitting screwball fashion. Barber of Seville cues accent the source play folly, feisty Italian stereotypes, Old Hollywood send ups, and Prohibition colloquialisms alongside roadsters, fedoras, pinstripe suits, candlestick phones, and a grand townhouse setting. This is slow to get rolling, however, with unnecessary scamming bankers, idiot police, and rival mobster bookends. Stallone is somewhat flat; the straight man who still has to be funny in playing against type while the rest of the ensemble excels at the over the top, snappy dialogue and period hyperbole. Bumbling tailors in the library are mistaken for assassins who think their work is an art form, the consigliere’s now the butler, and henchman are in the kitchen baking muffins โ but they’re still packing hidden pieces and brass knuckles. Chazz Palminteri (A Bronx Tale) makes every scene better as more familiar faces lean into the double talk, Lisa, Theresa, elocution, Italian slang, and cigar chewing. Self-aware, fourth wall winks pepper the witty performances, and despite its reviled, Razzie reputation; this is worth seeing for fans of the hysterical ensemble.
Ruthless People
Tycoon Danny DeVito (Twins) is happy not to follow Judge Reinhold (Fast Times at Ridgemont High) and Helen Slater’s (Supergirl) ransom demands when they kidnap his wealthy wife Bette Midler (Hocus Pocus) in this 1986 satire from directors David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, and Jerry Zucker (Airplane!). An opening monologue sets the ruthless mood as DeVito gleefully loathes his desperate to be thin wife and her poodle, and the superb ensemble is both clever and having a good time with the zany miscommunications, chloroform, and criminal cumbersome. Bright colors, angular Miami Vice fashions, and kitschy furniture make for a tacky time capsule โ accenting the worthless expense to look good and modest home versus excessive mansion. Why be a decent person when you can be an ass and get rich? The $500,000 ransom keeps getting reduced as our feeling guilty kidnappers renegotiate with our not-so-loving husband, who feigns grief amid split screen conversations, payphone mishaps, and slapstick escape attempts. Bemusing visuals capture the absurd as backseat romps are mistaken for murderous screaming and inept police are caught in the blackmail misunderstandings. Brilliant phone gags elevate renewed demands for two million dollars while choice cursing sets off the witty interplay. Midler is deliciously over the top in the exercise montages, threatening the electric chair and prison weddings for her kidnappers. Size matters jokes and kicked in the crotch cowardice make for ineffectual men. A VCR costs $350, and nobody’s willing to jump to rescue until they see the money floating in the water. Although successful then, this shrewd dark comedy should not be forgotten now thanks to perfectly timed character farce, killer twists, and a feel good eighties finish.
Director: Ally Pankiw Writer: Ally Pankiw Stars: Rachel Sennott, Olga Petsa, Jason Jones
Synopsis: Sam is a young stand-up comedian and au pair struggling with PTSD, who is weighing whether or not to join the search for Brooke, a missing girl she used to nanny.
If I could offer one recommendation pertaining to Ally Pankiwโs I Used to Be Funny โ that is, without that recommendation being the movie itself โ it would be to go in completely blind. Judging a book by its cover can lead to interesting returns in most cases, but doing so with a film of this nature makes for an even more curious exercise. I mean, itโs a dramedy starring Rachel Sennott as a stand-up comedian with the word โFunnyโ in the title. Youโd be forgiven if your first instinct is to assume youโre in for a bundle of laughs.ย
The reality of Pankiwโs debut feature is considerably darker: Indeed, Sennott portrays a stand-up comedian, and the now-trademark glibness that her characters tend to live by does peek through in one-liners aplenty, but I Used to Be Funny offers her an opportunity to utilize the dramatic chops her well-documented Tisch education afforded her back in the early days of her career. Sennott plays Sam, a comedian who supplements her income by working as an au pair for a wealthy family with a troubled daughter, Brooke (Olga Petsa). As the film unfolds on two separate, tonally-dissimilar timelines, we see Sam forming a unique bond with Brooke in one, while in the other, their bond has fractured due to something Sam did. (At least, according to Brooke.)
This relationship-altering event, which involved Brookeโs father (Jason Jones) and is only vaguely referenced until we see it unfold in the filmโs final act, has left Sam riddled with PTSD, and has sent Brooke running into the arms of older troublemakers in an effort to avoid her problems. Sam, in the interim, has quit comedy, broken up with her boyfriend (Ennis Esmer), and asked to crash with her comedian pals, Paige and Phillip (Sabrina Jalees and Caleb Hearon, respectively). These living conditions provide a natural comedic undertone to the proceedings, but Sennottโs zingers fly few and far between in comparison to what weโve come to expect from the Bottoms star. Needless to say, Bottoms this is not; itโs not even Shiva Baby, the indie that launched Sennott to relevance and carried with it a droll, cringey humor, the likes of which I Used to Be Funny doesnโt waste time attempting to replicate.
Of course, thatโs because it has different things on its mind. Itโs a film that is far more concerned with comedyโs role in grief, how connections can be formed and broken through trauma, and the lengths we will go to to hide from the world that seems to kick us while weโre down. But the more I Used to Be Funny jostles back and forth from one timeline to the next, it becomes scattered, both narratively and tonally. Itโs a worn out stylistic approach already, non-linear storytelling, but when a film becomes so reliant on its perks, things go one of two ways. Either the train falls off the tracks entirely, leaving narrative threads strewn about the wilderness waiting for someone to pick them up and piece them back together, or the storyโs principle twist โ if we must call this filmโs primary trauma a โtwistโ โ is depended upon so heavily that we spend over an hour teasing this inevitable-yet-elusive reveal, and said reveal thus lands with an unremarkable thud.ย
Now, it doesnโt help that I Used to Be Funny telegraphs its most emotional moments through a slew of Phoebe Bridgers needle drops, a cheap (albeit catchy) strategy that causes the filmโs opportunities for natural melodrama to go up in smoke. (Not to mention the fact that โI Know the Endโ โ a song with the lyrics โyeah, I guess the end is hereโ โ plays as the credits roll. As if things couldnโt get more on the nose.) Ultimately, this is just a showcase for Sennott, a chance for a well-known comedic actress to dabble in drama. If only the dramatic moments sheโs given werenโt so ham-handed, and the comedic ones so brisk.
Then again, at least Pankiw is upfront about why: This might be a movie about a comedian, but itโs about one who used to be funny. And while it wasnโt that long ago when Sam had camera crews in house to film her own special, horrible things can happen fast, thus zapping even the wittiest comic of the ability to laugh at her own pain. Whatโs a shame is that Samโs trauma feels dismissed in the moment, not intentionally, but due to the filmโs lack of overall focus. As it lobs misdirection at you from every which way, pulling you from one timeline to another, it stunts its own momentum, causing us to have more questions than answers by the time it reaches its abrupt, saccharine conclusion.
Was the film we just watched about a young female comedian attempting to rediscover her voice after it was yanked from her grasp due to the emotional ramifications of a traumatic event? Was it about rebuilding relationships with loved ones while repairing an even more significant relationship, the one with ourselves? Or was it about the complicated dynamic between a cool au pair and the teenage nightmare she looked after before she went missing? Well, yes, to all of the above. All three work as premises, but become too much for one debut to cover. And thereโs only so much an audience can do when the movie theyโre watching has no idea what story it wants to tell the most.
This week on Women InSession, we have a thorough conversation on physical media vs streaming, the pros and cons of both and how the business is shifting!
Panel: Kristin Battstella, 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!
โAt night! I think of my piano in its ocean grave, and sometimes of myself floating above it. Down there, everything is so still and silent that it lulls me to sleep. It is a weird lullaby and so it is; it is mine.โ
Ada, The Piano (1993)
I always thought of my life as someone constantly drowning.
My empathetic nature, neurodivergence, constant obsessions, and infatuation with everything artistic have led me to live a thrill-seeking, hectic life that feels ridiculous to describe to anyone, even the closest of the closest people in my life.
I told a close friend of Native American roots that I was born on a stormy night, on January 22nd, 1988, and she told me that this explained why I was so obsessed with the ocean. The sea calls out to me now and then, willing me to succumb to its entirety so that the noise inside of me would be reduced to a hush.
Iโm a sea girl but Iโm not that talented of a swimmer. I have lived in the same coastal city since I was born. Iโve briefly traveled to work and live in the capital city of my country, fell in love with someone on the same intellectual level, decided to get married there, then chickened at the last moment, returned to my hometown, feeling the sea calling out to me, whispering in my ears all the words I donโt want to hear.
I have been writing since I was 9. But my writing matured and branched out, usurping every other aspect of my life like Aerys II the Mad King when I was in my teens. I fell in love with a classmate, hard and rapidly, rolling them around like cigarette paper while dating two guys. My poetic self wanted to constantly plunge me into this chaotic mess of feelings, this love triangle felt more like a necessity for my artistic expression. I fed on it like some people munched on burgers or consumed alcohol. The feeling was my drug. I craved feelings to write. I sought dangerous, crooked routes and paths to untrodden lands, barely made it out of some alive, bringing with me piles and piles of refined, raw, and scraped at the edges feelings. They would all be stored inside of me, ready to burst at any hint of danger or even something that triggers the trauma of falling again in love where my feelings usually cradle the whole relationship like a fetus in an abandoned, dark womb.
And every time I fell deep and hard in love, I immediately thought of the sea.
The sea in my town is wild and unruly. The Mediterranean Sea has never been known for its mild, calm shores and predictable nature. As a child, I remember my father teaching me how to swim and envying his outstanding swimming skills. One of my cousins could work her way through waves as high as mountains, the sea breeze and the gravitational pull of the tides never breaking her stride or slowing down her arms hitting the crests. But not me. My conservative father denied me access to professional swimming classes at a very early age. And I remained the sea girl of the shore, barely making it a few meters in. It wasnโt until I became an adult that I realized, I still donโt know how to swim well. I am not a skilled swimmer.
But if thatโs the case, then why is the sea still a mystery to me? Why does it feel like my life has always been in a constant state of drowning? Is it because of my lack of proper swimming skills? Or is it because I chose a different swimming mode, the arts?
I donโt remember my first introduction to Ada (Holly Hunter), Jane Campionโs stunning female protagonist in her Palme dโOr winning, The Piano. As soon as I heard Michael Nyman’s โThe Heart Asks Pleasure First,โ I realized I would like to see the film where it is featured. I did, and it didnโt disappoint, because I felt this invisible connection shared with Ada. We were both living in a constant state of drowning.
When we first meet Ada, she is stranded on the shore with her belongings, her daughter, and her piano. A situation likely to make anyone lose their mind; but not Ada who finds a gap in the crate and slowly removes the lid to play on her piano. The magical sequence ends when a rush of seawater disrupts the momentary peace and wets her shoes. Adaโs daughter screams and she is forcefully pulled back into real life. That scene is key to the experience of Adaโs life. A passerby between two worlds caught between the pull and push of the tidal waves. The pull of the arts, like baby sirens calling out to her from deep, dark sea caves, where she can give in completely, become a mermaid, and submit to the divine existence of a world devoid of tiring daily interactions with humans, and the pull of the real world where she has a husband, a daughter, duties to attend to, and people with whom to interact.
Watching Ada in the film, I never felt less alone. Like her, I have always been consumed by the arts, letting them engulf me, swallow me, and immerse me so hard that thereโs nothing left of me. I watch a film or read a poem and get so lost inside it that itโs hard to get out. Ada was a woman ravaged by the musical beast growing inside her, stronger as days went by, and it had to find the wildness in another human being, to contain that monstrosity of artistic expression held within her ribs. Her grip on the real world was carefully maintained through her daughter, her sole tool of communication in what other people understood best; words.
Ada had no words. Me, on the other hand, my life was filled with words, to the extent that sometimes, I wanted silence, a space devoid of any sound or verbal communication. And the sea, what better than a large body of water to drown all other sounds? I am a film critic, a podcaster, a writer, a translator, and a poet. Iโve been using the written word to express myself better than anything.
Ada has been using her piano to send messages to the world in a parallel life. When she was happy with her daughter and the untamed sailor who took her to play on her piano, the only person in this foreign land who seemed untethered by her eccentricities, she played โThe Heart Asks Pleasure First,โ when she mourns the loss of her piano, and wants it back from Baines, the man whose infatuation by her eerie, sexual presence increased day by day, โA Bed of Fernsโ sounds in the distance and no one sees her play it. But the music sounds as if it is coming from deep inside her. When she is seducing Baines (Harvey Keitel), or rather he is seducing her, when the love is foaming inside of her like a sea, not calm and dead, windless and boring, but also not raging with storms and hidden fears, she plays โThe Scent of Love.โ When Baines rejects her and she is trapped in her home, she plays โLittle Impulse,โ then returns to Baines, throwing her wild storms into his arms, hoping she will find peace one day. When she learns of Baines leaving New Zealand she plays โThe Mood that Passes Through You,โ a haunting melody that expresses her mourning the end of her love story. When her husband cuts her finger and locks her in his house โI Clipped Your Wingโ can be heard. Ada is bleeding on the keys, not with her freshly chopped-off finger but with her soul. I feel her with every molecule in my body, my fingers hurt me so bad I start crying, tears make the nerves in my face tingle. I imagine being her, trapped in a loveless marriage with a man unable to comprehend how I might love him, through my way of making him an object like my piano, and whenever he starts to work his way through an understandable idea of the act of making love, I visibly tense and die out. My body becomes a shell of a woman, with no feelings, no movement. I black out the incident and float out of my body to hover over myself, completely shutting off the experience. But with the man I discover and bring into my dark world, the only man who doesnโt chicken out, I am punished for it.
The way Ada looks at her piano, even when itโs right in front of her with yearning and an ache that never soothes, reminds me of my relationship with words, like the ones Iโm writing right now. Itโs either a hyperfocus where the whole world suddenly disappears and itโs me and the words written ahead, nothing else to be seen, felt, and heard or itโs a distraction, and my flow of thought keeps getting interrupted, and an article or a poem that can be written in an hour take days to finish. Sometimes I have to remind myself that the outside world exists and matters. Ada has always seemed consumed with her music, self-absorbed and narcissistic, a true artist. Thatโs what we do, we tend to ignore the outside world, loved ones, lovers, friends, obligations, birthday parties, formal dinners, and things that might take us somewhere else, a bigger place, a higher status. Ada got me, even when I failed and disappointed my loved ones over and over, just like she failed her daughter with neglect and forgetfulness amidst a passionate love affair with a man who matched her inner freak.
That day Ada played for Baines on the beach, as the ocean waves formed a background to her content, hypnotized face as โThe Heart Asks Pleasure Firstโ poured through her fingers on the keys, I knew something was wrong. The same thing happened with my freak, who was drawn into my world with my series of poems, words unlike any other, twisted and turned like serpents on a cloud, but also vicious and monstrous like a serial killer hiding in the forest, ready to slice any pathetic fool who trespasses their land. On that particular day when the freak in me found a match in a scarier freak, as the ocean bore witness to Ada and Baines, I went to walk by the sea. I asked if it was willing to swallow me. In that particular moment of love, I wanted it all to end. The mountain of emotions was too much to be contained within my soul and body. It had to stop. I wanted it to end.
Ada wanted it to end as well, and whatโs better than the ocean that suddenly took her piano and sank it deep, deep down on her trip out of New Zealand with her new lover Baines and her daughter? Ada let herself swallowed by the ocean, deep down inside its mouth open agape, ready to engorge her whole, like a fly in a storm so frantic it broke all vines, leaves, branches, and roots around her. A clearing in the middle of the forest, all gone to snatch Ada from the misery of her life above earth, yet she chooses it.
As soon as my love with my freak ended, as brutally and wildly as it started, it began to dawn on me how I missed the sea. I watched it on a clear day when it looked as calm as a pond. It didnโt match the frustration in my head, the wildfires ignited inside me. My freakiness finally matched, my artistic obsessions finally finding a home, a name, making sense after a lifetime of misunderstandings, only for everything to crumble, my world to fall apart, the words getting madder and madder in my head, playing a heated boxing match against each other, the passion against the pain, the torment against the sadistic satisfaction, the rage against the heartache. The sea felt dead to me, beneath my persistence to finally do it and let it trap me within, imprisoning me within the body of water unable to let go.
Like Ada and all freaks consummated with art, like itโs a Catholic marriage, that binding sometimes leads to scary places. Some partners donโt understand the obsession, the lovers, the friends, the obsessives, for some, it is the families as well. So, like Ada, people tried to clip my wings, but fortunately for me it was temporary, my battle scars less visible than hers. But like her, I escaped. This normal life has not been meant for us, even if that meant throwing ourselves into the heart of a raging sea.
Unlike Ada, though, my will to live in the arms of my freak subsided, and so did his. But like all โcis menโ freaks, they want to own the soul of the woman, trap her within their gated cages that dictate whether freakiness consolidates or counts for a worthy cause of survival. Not in my tale. The woman I was born as knew that the ocean was her destiny. And the sea, now thatโs a tricky one, it never stays calm and could shift moods in a minute. Thatโs why salty people like us, sons and daughters of coastal cities know that a docile sea doesnโt mean anything, for it will wait until a swimmer has forgotten about it, letting down their guard, only to change stance and turn clear skies into greys, catapulting the oblivious weary snuggled in its false embrace.
I had to do something as Ada did, she drowned her piano. I was in this overwhelming, loving relationship with a fellow artistic freak. Both of us are narcissistic, consumed with respective artistic endeavors, both of us razors raised and arms arched, ready for a fight or a sexual night. None of our cliques wanted us in each otherโs lives. So I lured him into the sea of metaphors and salty whispers, and as I fooled him into thinking the coiled rope of the piano was around my foot, it was actually around his, his foot stuck in the loop, he is dragged into the deep dark sea along with my piano, in that case, all the poetry Iโve written for and inspired by him. I get rid of them both, I watch them fall through the depths of the cold water.
Like Ada, for instance, I wish I could have gone down with them. Those poems and prose pieces would grow fins and gills and fight back, bringing back my prince of the underwater world. But this never happens. The Ariel in me has died and will not give up her voice for Prince Eric. I watch as two years of my life fall to the depths of the sea. I walk away not feeling triumphant but empty, like a vessel desperate for fluid to fill it to the brim.
In my heart, I buried my art down at the bottom of the sea, but in my mind, words are forming again, ready for another round of constant struggle with the will to live…in the arms of a raging ocean.
Synopsis: Katherine Parr, the sixth wife of King Henry VIII, is named regent while the tyrant battles abroad. When the king returns, increasingly ill and paranoid, Katherine finds herself fighting for her own survival.
It is almost funny, not to mention odd, how heavily a prestige television show about continental domination, dragons, and incest has influenced every medieval-adjacent drama since Game of Thrones premiered on HBO in 2011. Never before the reigns of House Targaryen, Stark, and the like had I heard the term โsanctity of the realmโ tossed around so frivolously when describing a kingdomโs safety, yet now itโs as common as the โprestige dramaโ distinction. Those words donโt actually mean anything, but are said in hopes of hammering home the severity of a given situation involving knights on horseback and royal relations in disrepair. If not for the sanctity of the realm, then what? (Gee, I donโt know, world peace?)
So itโs no surprise that Karim Aรฏnouzโs Firebrand begins with title cards that read, โHistory tells us many things, largely about men and war. For the rest of humanity, we must draw our own โ often wild โ conclusions.โ For it is indeed a story about men and war, one that draws increasingly wild conclusions about what actually went down beyond the drawbridge. All the while, though, it attempts to posit itself as a tale of female empowerment, the story of Katherine Parr, King Henry VIIIโs only surviving wife. (There were six. A handy little trick to help you remember has been branded into the pop culture zeitgeist since the Broadway musical โSixโ was first staged: โDivorced, beheaded, died; Divorced, beheaded, survived.โ)
When she and Henry (a wacky Jude Law) wed, Katherine (Alicia Vikander) represented a new dawn to their loyal subjects, a possible reprieve from the menacing ways of the King. Adapted by Jessica and Henrietta Ashworth from Elizabeth Fremantleโs novel, “Queen’s Gambit,” Firebrand sees Katherine โflirtingโ with radicals from its beginning moments, something her ardent supporters warily appreciate, but a behavior that Henryโs disciples deem threatening to the monarchโs rule. Though Katherine sees her choices, like publishing a book under her own name and communicating with friends and outsiders alike, as non-issues, given that Henry has never laid a hand on her. A friend tells Katherine that this is because he is confident in her weakness; the only reason he keeps her safe โ rather than having her burnt or beheaded like the others who disobey him โ is because he doesnโt fear her influence. Or, at the very least, he knows he can trump it with the swift wave of a hand.
This subtle conflict drives Firebrand, for better and for worse, as while it lends itself to a few standout moments when Henryโs rage takes over, leading him to literally instilling the fear of God into his followers and, most notably, his wife, itโs too narrowly conveyed to ever get off the ground. Itโs a shortcoming that canโt possibly fall on the shoulders of Law, whose turn as Henry is equal parts sinister and silly, aided not so subtly by a fatsuit and a garish, revolting leg wound that spends Firebrandโs entire overlong runtime infested with maggots and oozing with pus.
Then again, films of this nature grow tired quickly, as they rely more heavily with every passing scene on the bemoaning diatribes of their Kings, many of which find themselves in paralyzing pain and, as a side effect, mental hysteria. Firebrandโs fate is similar. Law leaves no crumbs, but itโs admittedly difficult to sink your teeth into a game of cat and mouse when the cat in question roars like a lion and the mouse is intermittently sidelined from her own contest. Vikander, like Law, shant be faulted, for when given the space to do so, her Katherine inhabits a Jerry-esque energy to combat Lawโs Tom, endlessly squirrelly and finding hole after hole to crawl into for safety. If only she was able to operate outside of the holes as much as she is behind the walls they lead to.
Otherwise, Vikanderโs Katherine operates with the same sort of vivacity I imagine her A.I. vessel from Ex Machina would, had we continued to follow her post-Oscar Isaac trek into civilization. Sheโs not dull, but she appears to be finding her footing in a film that expects her to have it from the jump, even if she seems to have abruptly stood up only to find that both of her legs are asleep every time we see her communicating with others. Thereโs a ferocity to Katherine that Vikander evokes only in fits and starts, but thatโs more a bug of the film, not the performer.
In fact, Firebrand seems to be hell-bent on keeping the pace of a manually-operated car, requiring the perfect balance of shifting and hitting the clutch if itโs ever going to move forward. At least early on, the narrative potholes it faces on an already irregularly-moving journey arenโt at all serviced by Hรฉlรจne Louvartโs cinematography, which flattens and dulls the colors and sets, all of which could (and should) otherwise be vibrant and impressively crafted for accuracy per the time. In time, things settle and become more stimulating โ to be expected from the woman behind the lens for The Lost Daughter, La Chimera, Never Rarely Sometimes Always, and more โ but little else about Aรฏnouzโs stylistic approach seems to have a point. Heike Parplies, the editor behind Toni Erdmann and Aรฏnouzโs previous feature, Invisible Life, elects to place meaningless cuts throughout Firebrand; one moment, weโre following Katherine as she walks in a panic from one point to another, until the film suddenly cuts to the same stroll, only four steps later. Thereโs little purpose here, an odd choice for a film that feels like it exists solely to prove its director has a knack for artistic flair, never mind if said flair lacks substance entirely.
The movieโs central conflict โ Katherine gave a necklace away to her radical friend, Anne (Erin Doherty), and the King must find out how it came into her possession โ feels dulled by an incessant idleness to the project, or at least the narrative that surrounds it. You never truly feel that itโs going anywhere, and itโs especially not going anywhere fast, resulting in a two-hour slog chock-full of great performers who have very little to do. (That Eddie Marsanโs name has yet to be mentioned isnโt an oversight, but simply due to the fact that he under-utilized in a sly role as one of the Kingโs advisors.) Perhaps thereโs no better way to say it: Firebrand lacks fire. Itโs a film so desperate to cram everyone and everything into its half-baked world that the result is about as close to nothing as a movie can be. You might say that the sanctity of the realm is looking rather dire.
Director: Kevin Hegge Writer: Kevin Hegge Stars: Judy Blame, Duggie Fields, Princess Julia
Synopsis: Rising from the nihilistic ashes of the punk movement in the late 1970s, a fresh crowd of flamboyant fashionistas, who would later be christened the New Romantics, began to materialize on the streets of London, England.
The Bromley Contingent. The Blitz Kids. St Martins College. Derek Jarmanโs Sebastiane and Jubilee. David Bowieโs Ashes to Ashes film clip. Squatting in a not quite gentrified London. SEX/SOCIETY. The artists on the fringe of the fringe. The best of times and the worst of times. They were kids running from austerity and making art out of themselves. They had no product โ they were the product. โWasnโt it fabulous at The Blitz? Oh please!โ responds the then elder Philip Sallon. It was punk, it was post-punk, it was the New Romantics. The DIY decadents who flocked to London from their working-class homes and were artists with their bodies as the canvas.
Canadian filmmaker Kevin Hegge documents a period which started as far back as the mid 1970s with the Alternative Miss World and in many ways still exists despite many of the main players being wiped out by drugs or the tidal wave which was AIDS. Hegge primarily focuses on four voices who are the guides to the moments which defined a New Britain while the old one had quietly slipped away after the Swinging โ60s. A world where Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren acted as punk impresarios delving into the world of bondage and provocation. 1977 at The Roxy, The Clash played. The Roxy had formerly been a gay club. Punk was queer โ just no one was ready to admit it until it burned its nihilistic flame and from the shadows emerged a new light. That light was radically queer and led by John Maybury (filmmaker and artist), Judy Blame (DIY fashionista and stylist), Scarlett Cannon (a model and club kid), and Princess Julia (an iconic DJ and promoter). There were many more people: A young George OโDowd who was the coat check attendant at nightclubs so he could steal money. The same George OโDowd who is forever now Boy George. Steve Strange who ran The Blitz and refused to let Mick Jagger in.ย
John Maybury calls it a golden era of experimentation. The government was paying bursaries for people to go to art colleges. If you were happy to forgo regular meals and basic hygiene you could share a group of rundown Edwardian terraces with like-minded (or not โ love and hate co-existed) creatives and be the art. Some people were already on the road to success โ Siouxsie Sioux, Adam Ant, Amanda Donohoe, Mark Moore. Others connected in the community of misfits and mudlarked their fashion. New York and Berlin were epicenters of culture, but London was about to emerge once again like the ever-rising phoenix and redefine fashion, art, and music once more. Exclusive and inclusive โ icons and iconoclasts in 24/7 performance mode.
Heggeโs documentary begins with a whirl inspired by John Mayburyโs 1994 video art project Remembrance of Things Past which stars Tilda Swinton (a constant presence in Jarman films and a Maybury collaborator) and Princess Julia. Styled by Judy Blame and with a below the line crew of stylists and costumers who were part of the Blitz Kids generation (sadly, many now gone). There is chaos at the gates of HELL (the club), taboo breaking at TABOO. Leigh Bowery, the post gender creator who fled suburban Melbourne for London and used his day job at a fast-food chain to pay for his entry into a world of transgression. There are the neo-naturalists โ the Binnie sisters writhing in body paint nestled against the classical dancers Les Child and Michael Clark (OBE).
Even the straight women and men admitted they were dressing up in a radical drag. The queer body was becoming male/female/undefined. Nipples, mounds of Venuses, cock-sure young cocks who whirled about in a Genet and Fassbinder world next to Greek and Roman deities or pirates, the Royalty of the past (Queen Elizabeth I) or Ray Petriโs buffalo dandies. Quentin Crisp stopped into cafes for โgrey coffeeโ โ David Bowie recruited for his โScary Monstersโ film clips. Everyone was alive with possibility, but the shadow of austerity and AIDS merged with the party stopping and starting. Heroin took some. Extremity took others. Accidents and coincidences like a perpetual cut-with-the-kitchen-knife collage brought people together and tore them apart.
โWe didnโt have a product, we were the product,โ Judy Blame announces. How could they monetize their existence? Some moved into fine art, some into becoming stylists, and some into music. The beautiful Marilyn, who was always with Boy George, released a hit single and then faded away for over twenty years into a crack addiction.
Many artistic and fashion movements are interrupted by war or inspired by it. For the Tramps, the war was poverty, AIDS, and fleeting fame. But what luminosity! Without the post-punk generation there would be no i-D magazine. No issues of The Face. Life would have been perpetually elsewhere in a Warhol or Studio 54 blur. Interview Magazine or Rolling Stone would still be the bastion of gonzo journalism with NME and Melody Maker fighting for British supremacy. There would be no Smash Hits magazine.
Living fearlessly came with a cost for many โ John Maybury seems left in a small void of survivorโs guilt (his partner Trojan died of a heroin overdose, his mentor Derek Jarman died of AIDS, Leigh Bowery died of AIDSโฆ so many, too many). Yet the moments in the neon lit sun or the dingy squats that became art collectives had energetic joy which came together in the BodyMap fashion shows which produced their ready to wear street couture (something we see as standard now) that included bodies young, old, of colour, and of varying sexuality.
Judy Blame says that death and poverty hold no sway. The melancholy aspect of the documentary is that Blame passed away before it was released. Princess Julia others can barely speak of the losses they witnessed. Some cracked under mental health pressures. Hegge allows that there are people who do not wish to speak at all of their time, and those who simply cannot.
โLondon is a shithole,โ says Blame. Debt and gentrification mean that London is now a place where the creatives are in Princess Juliaโs words โNo longer fucking each other but fucking each other over.โ Itโs a little misty eyed for her and her nostalgia for a seemingly golden period. Austerity is back and life is elsewhere again. But without the โLesbians, Queers, Punks, and Prostitutesโ who daily caught the Tube on their way to be โseenโ there is so much of culture which just wouldnโt exist. No Alexander McQueen fashion house. No BOY London. No Neneh Cherry. Kylie Minogue would still be singing about being lucky and doing the locomotion. Tramps! reminds the audience that there are those who will never Fade to Grey.
This week on Chasing the Gold, Shadan is joined by our very own Zach Youngs to discuss the Best Picture category, which he will be covering this year at insessionfilm.com!
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!
Editing is what makes movies really come to life. A static shot or a tracking shot can evoke a lot of emotion or wizardry when it comes to staging a scene, but there’s nothing more satisfying than when a character looks off-screen, and there’s a cut to exactly what or who they’re looking at. It could be the killer, finally coming after the last woman standing. It could be the character’s lover arriving home from a long separation. It could be something outlandish that the character just mentioned was impossible, but lo and behold, thereโs a zebra walking down Main Street. It’s a moment of magic that holds the audience in a state of heightened emotion until that cut is made. Editing molds the disparate ideas of screenplay and filmed scenes into coherence. It can be hard to tell what is great editing as the art is meant to be seamless. You’re not supposed to know or think about how the film was stitched together. Yet, the art of the cut can shine through because of the artistry of the craftsperson behind it.
One of the best edited films of the year is The Fall Guy, edited by Elรญsabet Ronaldsdรณttir. This film is the fifth collaboration between Rolandsdรณttir and stuntman-turned-director David Leitch. The previous four are John Wick, Atomic Blonde,Deadpool 2, and Bullet Train. These films have reshaped action cinema for the past decade. Itโs obvious that Leitch has found a terrific collaborator for his particular brand of action cinema. The Fall Guy is the pinnacle of this partnership, not only for the fabulously stitched-together stunts but because it acts as another example of Ronaldsdรณttir’s proficiency as an editor.
There is a lot of action in The Fall Guy, but a strong and utterly charming romance is taking shape within it, too. It seems like the love story could distract from the action, but it really heightens the drama of what’s taking place. This plot piece requires a more delicate touch, and Ronaldsdรณttir captures something magical between our two leads (Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt) in a couple of particularly exceptional scenes.
At one point in the film, Colt (Gosling) is caught unawares when Taylor Swift’s song “All Too Well” comes on the radio. The film shifts to a montage of the budding relationship between Colt and his ex, Jody (Blunt). The scene is a typical montage, but what sets it apart is the fact that it shifts The Fall Guy so beautifully and seamlessly from action comedy into romance. The scenes chosen are silly and sweet and suddenly heartbreaking because we hear the songโs lyrics, and we know that Colt is sitting in deep pain. It’s a masterful feat of tonal shift. That feat is only topped by the split-screen scene that follows it.
Split screen is often gimmicky and not always utilized for the best purposes, but in The Fall Guy, it works. Elรญsabet Rolandsdรณttir found a way to make the scene feel like all we need is the two frames in front of us. The scene works because of the chemistry between the two leads and also because of how intricately matched their individual sequences are. Colt and Jody have a matched set of movements, not only camera angles. It requires a lot of skill to get the timing and position of the actors just right for these two simultaneous sequences. Rolandsdรณttirโs editing makes the scene look effortless, much like the film as a whole.
She is also responsible for making the incredible stunts look stunning and easy to follow, which she does with aplomb. The film has many action set pieces, and each one looks fabulous. It would be ludicrous to ignore such a masterful display of the craft. The Fall Guy has charmed critics and audiences. It needs recognition for the incredible talent behind it. And Editing might just be the perfect category for it.
Director: Annie Baker Writer: Annie Baker Stars: Zoe Ziegler, Luke Philip Bosco, June Walker Grossman
Synopsis: In rural Western Massachusetts, 11-year-old Lacy spends the summer of 1991 at home, enthralled by her own imagination and the attention of her mother, Janet. As the months pass, three visitors enter their orbit, all captivated by Janet.
With her debut feature film, Janet Planet, playwright Annie Baker writes and directs one of the most delightful films youโre likely to see all year. There are many factors that contribute to the warmth that basically pours off the screen, but the most apparent is immediately clear. Itโs Zoe Zieglerโs performance as Lacy, the young girl around which this film is structured. We meet 11-year-old Lacy as she wakes up in the middle of the night. She sneaks outside to a public telephone and makes a very comical call, but to Lacy, it appears to be a grave one. She wants to go home immediately, and in the morning, her mother, Janet (Julianne Nicholson), comes to pick Lacy up from camp. Lacy walks towards her mother calmly and casually, drops everything sheโs holding, and is provided with that critical embrace so many of us might remember from childhood. At such a young age, the feeling that the very expansive world around us emanates can become quite crushing. While we may not be even remotely aware of the struggles that come with adulthood, as children, we very much have our own sets of worries. Internal dilemmas feel that much larger when theyโre the sole focus of our lives. And without time, itโs difficult to process such overwhelming feelings.
At an age where summers were devoted to practicing piano or playing with toys, or just casually adventuring around the house, moments of solitude could become quite overbearing. In the case of Lacy, being away from her home and her mother appears to have been the breaking point. I too have called home from a sleepaway camp and begged to be picked up, and what should be exciting and refreshing becomes something far worse. Itโs a clear-cut indication, at least in my mind as a child, that the universe was telling me I wasnโt supposed to be there. I was supposed to be back home, watching television or making up games to play in the backyard. We are all looking for some semblance of familiarity at that age to calm us, rather than venture out into the unknown journey of growing up and growing apart. And Janet Planet is interested in what it means to slowly lose that sense of familiarity. Whether or not itโs for better or for worse, is left to us to be decided.
Now, the film may be called Janet Planet, but much like a solar system, Janetโs orbit revolves around the most important star there is: Lacy. Nothing is ever outright revealed through the film, but one canโt imagine single mother Janet is having the easiest time raising the young girl. It would appear that, more often than not, Janet puts Lacy before herself. And these decisions come to a head and provide the film with a very specific conflict. Made up of extended vignettes, Baker both introduces and removes a trio of individuals brought into Lacyโs life in a very classical playwright fashion. Upon first use, itโs a moment worthy of a chuckle. Yet over time, it takes shape into something fundamental about the film.
Lacy is an inquisitive girl in the very funny way children often are. Sheโs deeply curious, and hides no questions, even in the face of being told to leave a room or to be quiet. Itโs not that sheโs unaware of whatโs occurring, as she does appear to be very intelligent, but more so that she just canโt help herself. One gets the sense that sheโs asking countless questions in the hopes of hearing a perfect answer. And that answer will hopefully unlock the entire mystery of this new person who has found themselves in the orbit of Janet and Lacyโs seemingly idyllic life. While on the surface, it may appear the two are living a comfortable, remote life in the Western Massachusetts woods, the quiet moments of reflection in this film reveal the complicated set of emotions at work. And itโs in these tender moments between mother and daughter that the film comes to life. But it also reveals what I feel the film struggles with a bit.
The main issue that appears to plague Bakerโs script structure is seemingly its indecision to focus primarily on Lacy or Janet. Thereโs obviously no issue with the film being interested in both characters as two halves of a larger piece. But personally, it feels a bit as if both characters get the short end of the stick by the time we emerge on the other side. The questions and emotions Janet Planet brings forth over its soothing runtime are certainly felt, but one may find themselves asking for a bit more to chew on as the credits roll. Luckily, Bakerโs screenplay is a dense one, and provides plenty to be affected by. To me, Janet Planet is at its best when it focuses on Lacy and her outlook on life. Thatโs not to say Janet takes up a large chunk of this film. And by no means is that necessarily an issue on its own, as Nicholson delivers a really strong and subdued performance. Zieglerโs performance as Lacy is just one that is so deeply charming, you can’t help but want more. And so much of the film early on feels framed from her point-of-view; so any shift that occurs from there then feels a bit out-of-place. Bakerโs camera wanders or focuses in on select moments as if it were the eyes of a child. When Lacy is in the car with Janet and then-boyfriend Wayne (Will Patton), we notice the backs of their ears and beard stubble via off-center, yet acutely focused, close-up shots. At its best, Janet Planet sees Baker innately capturing fragments of time with an undeniable charm. They are all moments that feel rich with memory and a hope to understand the past. And one sequence in particular captures how moments in time can be mined for resonance, even years later.ย
During one segment of the film, Lacy and Janet find themselves with a house guest. Regina, an old friend of Janet, is staying with them. They have not seen each other in a few years, but that seems irrelevant to Janet. At some point or another, these two had a connection. And Janet seems like the type to never harbor ill will. As the two are speaking candidly late one night, Regina finds herself detailing a story about her and her father. And itโs a moment that, while resembling the very core idea of the legendary Mad Men meme, is a genuinely effective observation on the moments in life that make us who we are. More importantly, it highlights how those moments in time are just that to some: moments. A completely forgotten conversation that cannot possibly be comprehended in retrospect.
Yet it has irrevocably changed the path of an individual. Itโs quietly devastating, as some of us, including Janet, may never know those moments which affected us deeply but have also been forgotten. Further, have we forgotten a moment that has done the same to somebody else? Janet Planet, at its very core, feels as if we all have, and will likely continue to do so throughout life. We can hold onto as much as we like in this life but, sooner or later, we either drop it, or simply pass the weight onto the next person.
More than anything, it feels as if Bakerโs script is grappling with some rather lofty ideas of the varying bonds and relationships formed in life. When channeled through the lens of a coming-of-age story, it makes for a viewing both charming and intriguing. As stated, the sentiments are felt consistently throughout Janet Planet, even if the overall focus feels spread a bit too thin. One canโt help but think of a particularly striking image from the film when reflecting on its overall ideas. Unexpectedly, artwork in Janetโs home begins being removed off of a wall. One New Yorker cover in particular is unceremoniously removed from the tape holding it up, leaving a chunk of the cover left behind. Lacy sees this piece of tape and small fragment of what once filled space, and itโs a beautiful testament to what Baker is conveying with this debut film. Though her career thus far has spanned countless award-winning plays, Bakerโs natural visual storytelling is perhaps most exciting to witness. That scrap held up by tape may resemble a memory, only partially viewable. Our memory will fill in the blanks as best as possible, but for the most part, it is merely lost to time. Whether thatโs for better or for worse is up to the viewer, and Lacy, and Janet, to decide in the end.
Directors: James Erskine, Rachel Ramsay Writers: James Erskine, Victoria Gregory, Rachel Ramsay Stars: Elvira Aracen, Brandi Chastain, Birte Kjerns
Synopsis: Told by the pioneering women who participated, this is the extraordinary story of the 1971 Women’s Soccer World Cup, a tournament witnessed by record crowds that has been written out of sporting history – until now.
There are certain moments in the history of sports that are unjustly forgotten or ignored for various reasons. Past ignorance, particularly towards women, has stymied progress which could have grown sports much earlier than when it began growing with the inclusion of women. However, time becomes friendly to these moments and are unearthed for the good, as with Copa โ71 from directors Rachel Ramsey and James Erskine. It is one event that many soccer fans would not have been aware of very much until seeing this inspiring documentary.ย
The opening of Copa โ71 starts with Brandi Chastain, when former player (and hero) from the USA Womenโs World Cup squad of 1999, is given a tablet with archive footage of an event buried in history. She says the first Womenโs World Cup was in 1991 (officially, yes), but Chastain has no clue until she watches what is playing in front of her about the women playing soccer in front of a crowd of 100,000 people in Mexico City. It is something she has never heard of because it remains an unofficial, unrecognized event in FIFAโs history books. It was the Womenโs World Cup of 1971, which featured six teams, but due to the sexist politics of the time regarding womenโs soccer, it was disregarded and mocked.
Members of the six squads – Italy, France, Denmark, England, Mexico, and Argentina – are interviewed for what is their first time telling their story in over 50 years. Driving back in time, the living testimony of these players, mixed with surviving artifacts of what looked like a successful exhibition, puts into perspective the backwards notions that nations felt about women in a โmaleโ sport. As noted in the film, several countries banned professional womenโs soccer until 1970, and some countries even made it illegal. A major reason was womenโs health: playing such physical sports would damage a womanโs reproductive system. A lot of the rules back then were countries controlling womenโs bodies.ย
Within this frustration is an overall entertaining film about a sisterhood in a time of change for women in general. Seeing the smiles on the participantsโ faces during the competition and how even today they think fondly of the period, working together and playing efficiently in front of surprisingly massive crowds. While it doesnโt take a deeper dive as it could have with the system sexism of the time, it still feels like a crowd pleaser with some amazing memorabilia put out along with the filmed games. All of it just undermines the early perception of womenโs sports, yet the idea was still undermined by the powers that be with total vindictiveness.
Today, of course, it is a quickly growing sport to see professional womenโs soccer and the World Cup that has become more popular since its formal start in 1991, but the reality is that it couldโve been already bigger. The infuriating thing audiences learn from this documentary was that the old traditions blocked progress for years, halting these surviving players from laying the groundwork for generations that missed out on a career. Decades delayed, Ramsey and Erskine finally gave the rightful glory to these women whose existence was denied for so long.
On this episode, JD and Brendan the new Star Wars show on Disney+ The Acolyte and the crazy discourse that has followed in recent weeks! Say what you will about the show, but it’s made some bold choices that are very compelling. The execution is maybe wonky at times, but there is nuance to be discussed that you won’t find much in the conversation around the franchise.
Jessica Chastain is that kind of actress. Her name is a reference to cinema, and its mere mention is linked to talent and adaptability. Chastain proves that she is capable of handling big roles and commanding the audienceโs attention on-screen. Below are some of her desirable films, showcasing her versatility as an actress and talent in the film industry.
1. Zero Dark Thirty (2012)
In the tensioned war movie Zero Dark Thirty by Kathryn Bigelow, Chastain plays the role of CIA analyst Maya, whose pursuit results in the capture of Osama bin Laden. Her performance met the approval of many, and she was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress. Chastainโs portrayal of Maya is an apt performance that contains and channelled a lot of intensity to depict the dedication and the price the people involved in a ten-year search must pay.
2. The Help (2011)
In her movie โThe Helpโ, Chastain pulls off the character Celia Foote, who is cheerful and kind-hearted, which gave Chastain the Oscar Award nomination for best supporting actress. Based in the 1960s southern United States, this movie narrates the lives of black male domestic workers confined to white households. Chastain once again plays the role of a character who does not quite belong in the small town of Jackson, Mississippi and having her in the movie brings a unique personality into the story.
3. Interstellar (2014)
In the film โInterstellarโ directed by Christopher Nolan, Chastain is featured as Murph, daughter of Cooper, played by Matthew McConaughey. It reveals the issues of love, sacrifice, and the continuation of human existence, necessary for people to preserve. Chastain delivers a powerful and passionate performance as an adult Murph, a skilled mathematician trying to crack the code for humanityโs survival as the film explores its narrative layers.
4. Mollyโs Game (2017)
“Mollyโs Game” is a riveting biographical drama based on the true story of Molly Bloom, a former Olympic-class skier who ran one of the worldโs most exclusive high-stakes poker games. Chastainโs portrayal of Molly is fierce and vulnerable, earning her critical acclaim. The movie is about some underground poker empire and the gambling world. This production was a riveting piece of work which captivated the audience who understood that whether it may be traditional table games or the most recent online casino games, this type of activity has always been a usual pastime for many, especially those in high society and the like. Directed by Aaron Sorkin, the film highlights Molly’s journey from a promising athlete to the target of an FBI investigation, showcasing Chastain’s ability to bring complexity and depth to her characters.
5. A Most Violent Year is a crime drama thriller released in 2014.
โA Most Violent Yearโ, a crime drama film shot in 1981 in New York, features Catherine Chastain opposite Oscar Isaac. She portrays the character of Anna Morales, a woman trying to provide for and uphold her husband Isaacโs healing oil business enterprise amidst fraud and, most importantly, extra-judicial killings. Chastain is a force to reckon with being unyielding and clever as Anna, and her performance provides the perfect balance in conjunction with Isaac to make the movie compelling and dramatic.
The following filmography demonstrates how Jessica Chastain has showcased her versatility and talents as an actress. Even if one has seen a thousand movies, she keeps the audience engaged with her intense performances in action-packed thrillers and powerful dramatic roles. These movies prove why she has earned her rightful place in the list of the most revered and adored actresses of todayโs cinema.
On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss the debut film from Daina O. Pusiฤ in Tuesday, starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus! We’ve seen movies depict death in a visual way before, however I’m not sure we’ve ever seen anything like we see in Tuesday. It’s weird. It’s funny. It’s going to be polarizing. But that’s what makes the conversation all the more compelling.
Review: Tuesdayย (4:00) Director: Daina O. Pusiฤ Writers: Daina O. Pusiฤ Stars: Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Lola Petticrew, Leah Harvey, Arinzรฉ Kene
Jaylan Salah, after reviewing Nathan-ismbriefly interviewed the director, Elan Golod.
Jaylan Salah: What compelled you to take on this story?ย
Elan Golod: When I first stumbled upon an article about a retrospective exhibition of Nathan Hiluโs artwork, I was immediately captivated by the circumstances of his experiences serving as a G.I. guard at the Nuremberg Trials. I was also intrigued by the visual richness that Nathan’s vibrant artwork could bring to a cinematic portrayal of this remarkable narrative. When you initially are confronted with Nathanโs artwork, there’s this intriguing clash – a sort of cognitive dissonance – between the weighty themes he addresses and the lively, almost childlike, style of his art. That felt inherently cinematic to me.ย
JS: What do you think is the role of documentarians as archive keepers of history?
EG: I think documentarians play a crucial role in providing context and perspective to historical events, helping society understand the complexities of the past and its impact on the present. Documentary films can help amplify voices that may otherwise be marginalized or forgotten. By sharing stories like Nathan Hiluโs, I hope filmmakers like myself can facilitate dialogue and reflection, encouraging audiences to engage critically with the past and its implications for the future.
JS: How did you find approaching Nathan Hilu for this project? How were your interactions with him?
EG: Initially, when I cold-called Nathan to discuss my interest in his story, he seemed hesitant to open up. About 15 years prior, another team had approached him with plans to create a book about his experiences, but unfortunately, that project never materialized, leaving Nathan somewhat jaded. Despite his initial reservations, Nathan eventually agreed to let me visit him. Over several visits, I worked on building a rapport, gradually fostering a sense of trust and comfort between us. It was during this process that Nathan began to feel more relaxed and, eventually, agreed to participate in the filming of the documentary.
As our relationship developed, Nathan became increasingly comfortable in front of the camera. Over time, his initial reservations transformed into genuine enthusiasm for the filmmaking process. Despite his enthusiasm for the process, our filming sessions were far from typical interviews and felt more like a “show-and-tell” experience – Nathan would eagerly share the stories behind his latest drawings. It was tricky to get a word in edgewise with Nathan, but here and there I was able to guide the conversation towards the themes I wanted to explore.
JS: How difficult was it to visit such a dark time in the history of humanity such as the Holocaust?
EG: When starting this journey with Nathan Hilu, I didnโt set out to make a run of the mill Holocaust film. I was however fascinated by the opportunity Nathan offered to explore this weighty subject
from a fresh perspective that certain audiences might find more accessible. Wherever possible, I think itโs crucial to find ways to expand the conversation about the Holocaust in order to prevent the world from turning a blind eye to the lessons of the past.
Through Nathan’s story and others like it, we have an opportunity to prevent indifference and ensure that the profound significance of the Holocaust remains ingrained in our collective consciousness.
JS: Some of the montages cut between Hiluโs paintings and archival videos and photos were brilliantly assembled. How did you come up with the style for the documentary?
EG: The stylistic approach was born out of extensive experimentation in the editing process. At its core, our aim was to create a dynamic juxtaposition between Nathanโs subjective storytelling and the ostensibly more concrete, “objective” evidence provided by archival videos and photographs.
Through this intertwining we found we were able to inject layers of meaning and depth into the narrative. The drawings served as a visual representation of Nathanโs interpretation of events, while the archival footage and photographs grounded the story in the tangible reality of historical record. This juxtaposition allowed us to blur the lines between subjective interpretation and objective evidence, inviting viewers to consider multiple perspectives and engage with the narrative on a more nuanced level.
JS: As a storyteller, what is the most important theme that you want audiences to take from your film?
EG: I think the most actionable takeaway I would like audiences to take from the film is the imperative to take the time and listen to our elders. In today’s fast-paced world we risk overlooking the invaluable insights and experiences our older generations possess. By taking the time to truly listen and absorb the lessons they offer, we not only honor their lived experiences but also enrich our own lives. Their stories carry the weight of history and offer invaluable perspectives that can guide us in navigating the complexities of the present and shaping a better future. I think fostering intergenerational dialogue and cherishing the knowledge passed down from our elders can help us build a more empathetic and understanding society.
JS: Which were the most difficult scenes to shoot?
EG: By far the most tense and challenging scene to film was a pivotal confrontation where I had to challenge Nathan on certain aspects of his story.
This scene demanded a lot of sensitivity from both myself and my team. We recognized the importance of approaching the confrontation with a mindset of inquiry rather than judgment. Our goal was not to put Nathan’s recollections on trial but rather to delve beneath the surface, seeking a more profound understanding of the story he was sharing.
Throughout the filming process, we remained acutely aware of the emotional stakes involved. We understood the potential impact of our questions on Nathan’s psyche and the integrity of his narrative. Ultimately, it was our commitment to empathy and understanding that enabled us to navigate this challenging scene successfully. The result was a scene that not only added depth to the documentary but also underscored the complexities of storytelling and memory.
JS: What do you think is the artistโs duty toward the world? How do you think the work of an artist is comparable to a philanthropist or a missionary?
EG: I think artists have the power to contribute to cultural dialogue and provoke thought, inspiring change and progress. Like philanthropists, artists share a common goal of improving society, albeit through different means. While philanthropists may provide material support and resources to address social issues directly, artists address these issues by raising awareness, challenging norms, and inspiring action through their creative expression.
JS: Do you prefer the medium of documentary filmmaking to feature films in terms of telling an inspirational story based on/semi-based on an impactful real-life story? What do you think is the main difference between both media?
EG: When it comes to telling an inspirational story based on an impactful real-life event, I believe both documentary filmmaking and scripted films have their own strengths and limitations. I tend to prefer the more raw and unfiltered depiction of real-life events, providing audiences with a sense of immediacy and authenticity. As an editor, I also relish the process of discovery in the edit room. I recognize that scripted films have the ability to distill complex narratives into a cohesive and emotionally resonant story, using cinematic techniques such as visual storytelling and character arc development to engage viewers on a deeper level. Ultimately, the choice between the two mediums depends on the specific story being told and the filmmaker’s creative vision.
JS: What are you working on after the widespread acclaim for Nathan-ism?
EG: I am currently working on a short documentary about an artist within my own family while also doing research for a larger film project. These projects are both continuing my exploration of the intricacies of artistic legacy.
Director: Alice Englert Writer: Alice Englert Stars: Jennifer Connelly, Alice Englert, Ana Scotney
Synopsis: A former child actress seeking enlightenment at a retreat led by a spiritual leader navigates the close but turbulent relationship with her daughter.
It may be impossible to quantify how terrible the new Jennifer Connelly movie Bad Behaviour actually is. And yet, Alice Englertโs film had plenty of room to be much worse than its final product. This film clearly has such a rancid take on mental health that even Dr. Jamie Zuckerman, the advocate who coined the concept of toxic positivity, may rethink her lifeโs work because of this misguided script.
Iโm sure Bad Behaviour was meant to be award bait for Jennifer Connelly, perhaps even for an Oscar. Instead, the final product lacks logical thought, whether artistic or realistic. Its only concern seems to be propping up the performers with roles that do not gel, are inconsistent in tone, and work directly against each other in an unpleasant way, without any informative insight into themes that lack ambition and are shallow efforts at best.
Alice Englert and Jennifer Connelly in Bad Behaviour | Image via Ahi Films
The story follows Lucy (Connelly), a single mother and former child actress, who goes on a wellness retreat to find personal and perhaps spiritual growth. Life is hard for Lucy, who is going through a professional rut. She also has a somewhat strained and distant relationship with her teenage daughter, Dylan (played by writer and director Alice Englert), who is an actress and stunt performer in her own right.
When she arrives, it becomes clear that the goal of the exercise is not mental wellness. The exercises are being taped by the behind-the-scenes organizers (Ana Scotney, Alistair Sewell), who frequently try to coyly discourage participants from refusing two-party recording consent. The spiritual leader is Elon (Ben Whishaw), a figure who begins to resemble a snake oil salesman with his own rage issues.
Ben Whishaw in Bad Behaviour | Image via Ahi Films
Alice Englert’s script is filled with characters’ nonsensical behaviors, sugar coated with hateful, unpleasant actions. Whishaw’s Elon seems to be operating on Dr. Arthur Janov’s “Primal Therapy,” which has patients express their repressed emotions through primal screams or plain rage. However, the characters are flimsy, resembling those you might find in a situational or sophomoric comedy, and blatantly go against types that feel disingenuous.
You have the vain social media darling (Dasha Nekrasova), a narcissistic type, the angry muscle head (Robbie Magasiva), who is tender when it matters, and, of course, the Connelly character, a loving mother who attacks a fellow retreatmate after her slow simmer begins to boil over uncontrollably. Except, we never come to understand where any of these actions originate from and why they are manifesting. Itโs as if the actions are just there to shock the audience instead of enlighten them.
Jennifer Connelly in Bad Behaviour | Image via Ahi Films
Bad Behaviour is a New Zealand production, so you see some brief but beautiful natural landscapes. Still, it doesnโt touch on any social or political issues known for its rich cinema history. Some eye-opening artistic choices, like an out-of-place animated sequence, are genuinely head-scratching. Also, the film is too indulgent when examining artists’ motivations but is rarely relatable to general audiences. You have to walk a fine line, and the film fails in this regard.
Overall, Bad Behaviour has very little to say that comes close to being meaningful. It could have been an insightful look at mental health, not just for the participants but for a character like Elon, who could be susceptible to burnout. It could even show how mental health professionals suffer from issues of their own. Instead, Alice Englertโs script has Lucy and Dylan’s stories play out where they eventually intersect, which leads to a stunning lack of purpose for the film and the audience.
Excuse me while I head off for a primal scream of my own for my precious time being wasted.
Director Jeff Nichols has become a big part of InSession Film Podcast lore as he’s become one of our very favorite filmmakers working today. Long time listeners will know that Midnight Special was my favorite film of 2016 and in his Top 10 for movies of the 2010s. Take Shelter, Mud and Loving are all great as well, with Shotgun Stories being one hell of a debut. It was an absolute honor to sit down with Jeff to discuss his new movie The Bikeriders, opening in theaters very soon.
Synopsis: On a journey that spans the formative years of their lives, two sisters navigate their loving but volatile father during their yearly summer visits to his home in Las Cruces, New Mexico.
In the Summers is a personal debut feature inspired by the director Alessandro Lacorazza own relationship with their father and sister. Vicente (Renรฉ Pรฉrez Joglar a.k.a. Residente) is a fractured and damaged man creating complex legacies he passes on to his children- legacies which were probably passed on to him. His masculinity, as defined by class, place, ethnic background, opportunity, and the feeling that something unfair happened to him at some point is of particular interest.
The film begins and ends in the same airport in Las Cruces, New Mexico and is given chapters resonant of Dutch still life and memento mori painting to show how time passes. The first chapter features Vicente nervously waiting to pick up his daughters Violeta and Eva. Heโs been cleaning the house left to him by his mother. Heโs jangling with excitement to show them the swimming pool and make this summer, his first after losing custody rights with his Californian ex-wife, the best he can for the girls. Bubbly young Eva (Luciana Quiรฑonez) clearly adores him. The slightly older Violeta (Dreya Castillo) is more aware of what has really happened between her parents for Vicente to lose visitation rights and is less forgiving. However, his enthusiasm manages to win them over โ albeit in small and unsustainable doses.
Vicente is battling addiction, primarily alcoholism, although harder drugs turn up. He loves his kids, but he canโt be a reliable dad. In fact, heโs often a terrible dad. His focus on proving that he is smarter than he feels people give him credit for merges in with his general resentment and discontent and spills over to his kids at different points in their formative years. Vicente is so profoundly stuck in his own spirals he cannot see the intensity of his instability. The greatest tragedy is that he is clever, he does love his children, but in almost every interaction he has with them there is always a passenger โ his alcoholism. A night spent stargazing with Violeta and Eva would be perfect without the six pack of beer next to him. A birthday party is a trial by fire for Violeta and Eva.
At first, heโs trying to win over Violeta, someone who is smart but โnot pretty.โ He seems to miss the part where Violeta is clearly dealing with gender and sexuality issues, something his long-term friend Carmen (Emma Ramos) picks up on immediately. Carmen is the other parent for Eva and Violeta in Las Cruces. When Vicente is too far gone, she is the one the siblings turn to. Carmenโs weary eyes tell a story of life-long care for Vicente but with no illusions he is more than he is. Something a child learns over time โ for Eva perhaps more slowly than Violeta.
Eva reminds Vicente of her mother. He sidelines her for being โstupidโ and not caring about mathematics and science like he and Violeta do. Yet Evaโs adoration for Vicente is ritually self-punishing as she gets older. As she enters her teen years (played with heartbreaking authenticity by Allison Salinas) she has no idea who she needs to be to make Vicente proud of her.ย
The siblings must find a way to keep their own bond alive while dealing with a man who could embrace them or hurt them โ possibly both in the space of a conversation. The beauty of Lacorazzaโs script is that although Violeta and Evaโs relationship with Vicente is shifting, their sibling solidarity rarely does. From the child Eva helping Violeta to cut off her hair with paper scissors, to the teen Violeta putting herself in the line of fire to protect Eva.
By the second summer the clean house and the once fresh swimming pool are dirty and filled with muck. V (Kimaya Thais Limon) is more confident in their identity. V experiences their first crush on Vicenteโs student Camila (played at two ages by Gabrielle Surodjawan and Sharlene Cruz). Ava begins to fade into the background except when Vicente makes remarks about her appearance.
An accident that was always going to happen, does. Vicente has now done real physical damage as well as psychological damage to his kids.
By the third summer, V doesnโt turn up. Only Ava, and she is watching Vicente with a new partner, Yenny, and a new daughter. If things seemed to be terrible the previous filmed summer, they are worse now. Yenny (Leslie Grace) is obviously an addict. The house is in squalor and Vicente is not working. The baby Natalia is often left to cry, and Ava quietly moves into the position of caregiver to Natalia, Yenny, and Vicente. Otherwise, she drifts alone through the streets of La Cruces which are showing the wear of neglect.
The final summer brings together the now adult V (Lรญo Mehiel) and Eva (Sasha Calle). Vicente is finally sober and the sole parent to Natalia (Indigo Montez). But Ava is struggling with her own version of addiction and self-destruction. V realizes that, they too, have not avoided Vicenteโs influence. Some of it has been positive, a lot of it negative. They all love each other but it is too late to undo what has been done.
Renรฉ Pรฉrez Joglar Is excellent as the mercurial Vicente. Someone whose promises just donโt mean anything. Not the promise he showed in his youth, or the promise that next time it will be better. Perhaps he really has a chance to get things right with Natalia โ perhaps this time he will go back to school, and he will stay sober. Lacorazza doesnโt answer the question, what they do answer is that V, Eva, and Vicente have reached a point of melancholic acceptance. No matter how much you love someone you canโt ignore their flaws, especially when they can become fatal on the spin of a dime.
Alessandra Lacorazza is never patronizing their characters. They are observing them with compassion and clarity. Just as they are not damning New Mexico โ but showing both its cosmic and otherworldly beauty as well as the poverty and shuttered businesses. Alessandra Lacorazza also looks at Latine tradition with each chapter essentially opening with an altar of memories which show how time is passing. How every member of the family has value and how all the small mementos as well as the searing events mean something.
The memories of a bar where they play pool, how to break an egg to make an omelette, or the position of the stars, intermingle with seeing a parent passed out soaked in their own piss, or a violent shove. A dance which is not joyous but aggressive, and one that is just heartbreaking.
Rich with detail, In the Summers explores Latine and queer identity but doesnโt dwell on either being anything but who the people are; it is no huge burden or shame for the siblings. If there is any shame it is what Vicente carries as he falls into machismo lashing out as he has potentially had no healthy male connections in his life.
In the Summers is as tender as it is a powder keg. The siblings learn they canโt please someone who doesnโt know what they really want even if that was to please them. Beautifully acted and expertly shot by Alejandro Mejia, Alessandra Lacorazzaโs emotionally raw feature aches with authenticity. In the Summers is a legacy of love in all its vicissitudes.
Director: Caroline Vignal Writers: Caroline Vignal, Noรฉmie de Lapparent Stars: Laure Calamy, Vincent Elbaz, Suzanne De Baecque
Synopsis: Iris, a woman who has everything: a wonderful husband, two perfect daughters, a successful business – but no sex life. When was the last time she made love? Perhaps the time has come to find a lover.
Four years ago, Gallic filmmaker Caroline Vignal made a big splash on the festival circuit with the delicate, warm-hearted relationship comedy Antoinette in the Cevennes. The film was an unexpected hit with French audiences, drawing in over 700,000 spectators and even picked up a Cรฉsar award. The Rohmer-inspired character piece offered viewers a rambling, picaresque snapshot of the disordered life of a vibrant schoolteacher engaged in a doomed affair with a married man. It was a light, airy affair that nonetheless captured the psychological nuances of its protagonist with remarkable precision. As a filmmaker, Vignal was uniquely receptive to the concerns and desires that drive people to enter into dysfunctional relationships that canโt be sustained in the long-term.ย
With her third feature, Iris et les Hommes (2023), she returns to the subject of marital infidelity but shifts her gaze from Antoinette, flighty, exuberant mistress, to Iris (Laure Calamy), a middle-aged dentist who is disappointed by the lack of passion in her marriage. This shift in focus is accompanied by the adoption of a darker tone and an attempt to tackle heavier subjects. We first witness Iris sinking into a mild depression as a result of her inability to achieve physical or emotional intimacy with her husband, Stรฉphane (Vincent Elbaz). He is sweet-natured and shows signs of being an attentive father, but Iris worries that the spark in their relationship is dead. While attending a parent-teacher meeting, she is introduced to a dating app by a fellow parent and soon finds herself communicating with a wide array of potential suitors. The app opens Iris up to a whole new world of possibilities and she begins to lean on it heavily as she battles a mid-life crisis of sorts.
One naturally wants to applaud a romantic comedy that throws so many different ideas up on screen. Much as I adore this genre, it is fair to acknowledge that it is often brought down by an over-reliance on formula and an unwillingness to make audiences uncomfortable. For every Ernst Lubitsch or Gregory La Cava, there are dozens of studio hacks with no interest in fully exploring some of the more challenging dimensions of stories about people falling in and out of love. Vignal doesnโt possess Lubitschโs gift for biting class commentary or La Cavaโs deft touch with ensemble casts but she is a talented behaviorist. Here, she takes a clear-eyed view of the inevitable acknowledgment that human beings and their motivations can be ultimately unknowable. You have to accept a certain lack of transparency within any relationship and live with the knowledge that any form of objective truth will forever elude you. She brings this mildly provocative thesis statement to the table and maintains a pleasingly ambiguous stance on the actions of the protagonist but one is still left with the feeling that the film as a whole doesnโt coalesce into anything substantial.ย
This feeling of mild dissatisfaction could be chalked up to the fact that the film never delivers any big laughs. The big comic set-pieces, including a song-and-dance number set to a French-language cover of The Weather Girlsโs โItโs Raining Men,โ are too overworked to be truly lively and spontaneous. Antoinette in the Cevennes has a ramshackle, thrown-together quality that heightens the comic effect of the gentle, word-play heavy jokes that are skilfully threaded throughout the narrative. Iris et les Hommes has a harder time handling tonal transitions; often lurching violently between being a heavy family drama and light sex farce. Unfortunately, when the jokes are delivered in such a labored manner, it doesnโt do much to ease the transition between the two separate strands of the plot.
If this doesnโt manage to build upon the achievements of Vignalโs sophomore outing in ways that are productive, it still provides evidence that sheโs one of the more exciting filmmakers working in the romantic comedy genre today. There is something to be said for the fact that sheโs legitimately fascinated by the ties that bind married couples together, even in the face of work-related burnout and the anxiety that tends to accompany parenthood. Her rich, evocative portraits of complicated women who make questionable choices fill an important niche within the realm of contemporary cinema.
