Director: Tony Goldwyn Writer: Tony Spiridakis Stars: Bobby Cannavale, Rose Byrne, Vera Farmiga
Synopsis: Comedian Max co-parents autistic son Ezra with ex-wife Jenna. Faced with crucial decisions about Ezra’s future, Max and Ezra go on a life-changing cross-country road trip.
As a neurodivergent person, I find myself relating to people I am not supposed to relate to in films.
I rarely find myself properly represented, and it frustrates me how definitions, symptoms, diagnoses, and tics intertwine when screenwriters are trying to get it. It’s not every day that I find Mozart and the Whale, one of the few films that captured the magic and the scary existence of being a neurodivergent woman on screen. But since every neurodivergent person existing on the spectrum is different from one another, it’s not my position to accurately analyze how autism is depicted on screen and whether the film honored the characters or not.
Ezra is a film about a stand-up comedian (Bobby Cannavale) mid-divorce, co-parenting his autistic son (William A. Fitzgerald) and living with his father (Robert DeNiro). He is coming to terms with how he raises his son, getting over separation from his wife (Rose Byrne), whom he adores, while giving his son the freedom and liberty to exist and go beyond what the world perceives of him, something that other people may find problematic at times.
The film is based on writer and director Tony Spiridakis’ relationship with his autistic son, which makes for authentic storytelling but lacks enough compelling elements to appeal to a wider audience.
The fact that the film is promoted as starring an autistic actor is not a reason to celebrate for me. How many actors are neurodivergent but unwilling to admit it? What are the different types of autism and how do we know who belongs to which? Generally speaking, neurodivergence comes in varying grades of characteristic representations. Multiple people are not diagnosed until later in age (me!), and sometimes people even live and die without knowing who they truly are. People exist on the spectrum for a reason. Other neurodivergent people, unfortunately, self-diagnose celebrities and athletes based on their diagnoses, and some people in the public eye are forced to hide their truths for fear of stereotypes, the ableist culture, or being pigeonholed to a specific role, an existence of oddity that doesn’t promise much in real life.
As a high-functioning neurodivergent person, it has taken me a lot to get diagnosed, admit it, and even talk to my friends about it. As far as some of the struggles I’ve seen of people dealing with other neurodivergent friends or family members, I like the angle this film is going for. I love Bobby Cannavale and have loved him since Sex and the City and The Station Agent. To see one of my favorite actors take on the role of the caregiver like a pro has made me enjoy the film even further. There’s nothing like a parent who allows their child to be their true self and encourages authentic behavior beyond what is expected of a certain someone during a particular age. “He’s not like the other kids,” that’s what most parents would hear about their neurodivergent kids. While some might go down the road of forcing their kids into a so-called existence of conformity, others like Max (and my mom) and people I’ve known prefer to give complete freedom and high levels of self-expression.
However, this film struggles to find footing. Between being an endearing family drama/road trip movie, it is also a narrative that features a neurodivergent character at the heart of the storytelling. Greedy as this sounds, I might have wanted to see more of Ezra than his bickering parents, but if that states anything, we need more films that positively depict neurodivergent characters on screen.
If anything, Ezra should have been a bigger release, a more solid and compelling script, a better platform to open a conversation on neurodivergence, existing on the spectrum, and an ableist culture that forces people into silence and shame rather than allowing them the pride to exist as they are, not as the world wants them to be.
Director: Ishana Night Shyamalan Writers: Ishana Night Shyamalan, A.M. Shine Stars: Dakota Fanning, Georgina Campbell, Olwen Fouéré
Synopsis: A young artist gets stranded in an extensive, immaculate forest in western Ireland, where, after finding shelter, she becomes trapped alongside three strangers, stalked by mysterious creatures each night.
Ishana Night Shyamalan makes her feature debut behind the camera with The Watchers. The young filmmaker has limited experience, penning all the episodes of her father M. Night Shyamalan’s series Servant, but also directed a majority of the season. Yet, helming a studio film on a studio budget with minimal experience makes you wonder if nepotism continues to rule in the land known for its Angels.
While watching The Watchers, I couldn’t help but think, if you are old enough to remember, there was a time when there was nothing like the cinematic experience of an M. Night Shyamalan film. From the jaw-dropping TheSixth Sense to the all-consuming Unbreakable to the spine-tingling Signs, we took Shyamalan’s name for granted.
I’m happy to report that Ishana Night Shyamalan’s talent for storytelling means the pen hasn’t fallen far from the thriller master’s hand. The Watcher is an armrest-grabbing genre film that’s an entertaining and pulse-pounding example of an almost textbook combination of tone, style, and pace… until it isn’t.
The story follows Mina (The Equalizer 3’s Dakota Fanning), a young artist on the verge of turning thirty. Mina has turned to a life of loneliness. She is sullen, sad, and running away from her past. She has no family to speak of except for her sister, Lucy, but she keeps ignoring her phone calls because of their shared family tragedy.
Mina is now in Ireland, working at a local pet shop to earn some cash. Her boss is strange, getting quickly excited over a Meyer Lemon-colored Parrot he has sold. Her boss then asks Mina to deliver the special bird to a remote countryside location. Of course, she drives into an unmapped lush green forest somewhere in Western Ireland.
She leaves her car after it breaks down and her cell phone runs out of juice. She gets lost, taking her feathered friend with her. Then, she hears ominous noises: a rumbling of birds leaving their nests and a weathered old woman (Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald’s Olwen Fouéré) telling her she has only a few seconds to get to a mysterious bunker with a large window or she will be killed by whatever ominous presence fills those woods.
The Watchers is an adaptation of the novel by the same name, from author A. M. Shine. Ishana Night Shyamalan wrote the script for the screen, with her father as the producer. As mentioned above, the first act of The Watchers is wonderfully paced, full of tension, and has a stylistically ominous mood. The filmmaking team know something about feature-creature thrillers: it can be more frightening when you cannot see the threat.
The younger Shyamalan creates a psychological atmosphere impossible to shake in the first 45 minutes that’s thrilling fun. The two generations of Shyamalan know that suspense is built from not knowing what is on the other side of that mirror because of the human condition of heightening our imaginations. This is also effective because there is no need to over-explain what is happening; just let the viewer enjoy the ride.
That’s where The Watchers makes its fatal mistake by turning to the Lost playbook, which makes zero sense. To avoid spoilers, it’s hard to explain why the film takes a nosedive into mediocrity. The film explores the backstory of the bunker, which becomes total cornball when it details how it was constructed in the middle of a dangerous location.
It’s the equivalent of trying to dig a hole in the middle of a lion’s den with two steaks tied around your waist and then surviving without a scratch. Then there is the issue of a key character’s office at a university, which, for reasons beyond explanation, has not been touched in nearly two decades for the sole purpose of moving the plot along. That leads to the most glaring issue: the third-act ending and excessive exposition explaining the apparent plot twist to the audience.
The gut feeling is that this is a source material issue, but it’s the director’s job to iron it out. However, the over-explanation in the third act is a ploy to set up a franchise of films for the future, which makes the error even more of a case of cinematic negligence. I will remain steadfast in backing this Shyamalan because, if you remember, even M. Night’s first film was not a Bruce Willis-led classic. With more experience and better source material, she has a bright future ahead of her.
On this episode, JD and Brendan are joined by Danny Jarabek from The Rolling Tape to discuss Richard Linklater’s new film Hit Man! We are big Richard Linklater fans, so we would have been excited for this film anyway, but a Linklater and Glen Powell collaboration? Now we’re really cooking with gas.
Review: Hit Man(4:00) Director: Richard Linklater Writers: Richard Linklater, Glen Powell Stars: Glen Powell, Adria Arjona, Austin Amelio
Director: Rob Reiner Writers: Stephen King, Raynold Gideon, Bruce A. Evans Stars: Zoe Ziegler, Luke Philip Bosco, June Walker Grossman
Synopsis: A writer recounts a childhood journey with his friends to find the body of a missing boy.
It’s 1959 and twelve-year-old friends Gordon (Wil Wheaton), Chris (River Phoenix), Teddy (Corey Feldman), and Vern (Jerry O’Connell) go on a hike out of town in search of a rumored dead body – instead learning about their own fears and hopes along the way before standing up to local gang leader Ace (Kiefer Sutherland).
Rob Reiner (The Princess Bride) directs Stand by Me, the 1986 adaptation of the Stephen King story “The Body,” with built-in reflection and nostalgia thanks to the narration from Richard Dreyfuss (Jaws) as the adult Gordon – who perhaps embellishes the junkyard dog chases, dangerous bridges, oncoming trains, and leeches in the wrong places. Although it is not a slow, talkative piece; there’s a lot of background to start Stand by Me with details on first hearing about the dead body of a boy their age and introductions on each boy and their family circumstances. Their small town lives aren’t that great – they know they’ll be punished for lying about their hike but it will be worth it to get their picture in the paper and become local heroes. The adventure starts so fun and carefree as they sing to themselves and quiz each other. It’s also somewhat humorous, as an adult now, to see how unprepared they are for this trip with two dollars and no food. Such eighties does fifties fondness casts a sentimental patina, but the simplicity escalates to climbing fences, dodging trains, and arguing about who is trying to kill themselves. Stand by Me realistically asks questions that weren’t spoken in 1986, much less 1959, and are still not fully addressed today.
The train tracks seem unending in the distance, it’s hot, they’re out of breath and hungry, and somewhere along the way, the journey becomes a somber maturation on the finality of childhood. The end of decade and Labor Day setting invoke this last hurrah as our boys race each other and throw rocks in can – there for each other, hugging and defending friends amid gay and fat insults, jinxes, and jokes about their mothers. Stand By Me has a clever script with each vignette-style chapter of the quest balanced with humorous conversations and well paced action. Time is taken for the serious undercurrent and innocent confessionals, and our boys realize they are seeking a dead body and this shouldn’t be a grand time. They may trespass or steal from their bad parents, but the older teens are much more violent. Our twelve-year-olds are at the pass between becoming problematic as expected or making something of themselves. Certainly, the “Lardass” campfire story’s weight jokes are cringe now. However, we can laugh at the over-the-top pie eating contest because it is a barf-o-rama child’s tale with a deeper satire on the fifties itself. The perfect families at the seemingly so pleasant county fair are lampooned for what they really are – cheering on their own gross fallout and projectile end. Choosing shortcuts leads to mud and swamp dangers yet a solitary moment seeing a deer reminds us how short-lived this experience is. Stand by Me moves fast as our boys find the body and finally grieve over what’s happening in their lives. Knife versus gun standoffs and doing the right thing make for a somber return to a town that now seems small to them.
Our young ensemble has incredible foresight into their characters, and Stand by Me is bittersweet thanks to not just the subsequent death of River Phoenix (My Own Private Idaho), but the surviving cast’s continued struggles.Feldman (The Lost Boys) has spoken about numerous abuse allegations while Wheaton (Star Trek: The Next Generation) is vocal about his mental health issues and O’Connell (Sliders) struggled with body image growing up on television. Nightmares, funeral memories, and fears of being weak for crying accent each boy’s emotional moment. Often they are mean to each other but the jests and jabs are also lighthearted compared to today’s vehemence.
Thankfully, the narration knows when to be quiet as the boys don’t share everything with each other and already seem to be growing apart. Different boys pair up at times, performing with mature aplomb as they effortlessly curse and complain about their mean drunk dads. Feldman’s reckless Teddy isn’t afraid to cry over his abusive, shell-shocked father but quickly acts tough, apologizes, and wants it forgotten. His friends wonder how he can love a father who hits him but they also ask our young writer what happens next in his pie eating story. Gordon doesn’t know, but Teddy thinks it should be guns and running away to join the Texas Rangers. These wistful metaphors match what they think are such existential campfire questions: What’s Goofy? Why do they never get anywhere on Wagon Train? Why can’t they eat nothing but Pez? It’s just like Twitter! Phoenix’s leader Chris wishes he could go away to where no one knows him, and Gordon feels invisible after his older brother died and his parents wish it had been him. However Chris tells Gordon to make something of his writing. Although they tease one another, they enjoy being together because it’s the best time of their lives.
Numerous familiar faces pepper Stand by Me as the out of touch adults, and John Cusack (Say Anything) as Gordon’s beloved late brother is lit differently in flashback scenes – glowing moments when Denny gives Gordon gifts and tells their parents to notice his little brother’s stories. Kiefer Sutherland (The Lost Boys), on the other hand,as the mailbox baseball swinging, chicken racing bully Ace is somewhat over the top in his tattoo carving, trash talking menace, perhaps embellished on The Writer’s part since all the gang actions happen outside of young Gordon’s point of view. Of course, Stand by Me‘s soundtrack with recognizable radio hits and plenty of doo wop is superb. There’s a naivete to “Lollipop” and “Yakety Yak,” however the instrumental version of the titular Ben E. King staple tugs at the undercurrent throughout the film before the touching, fitting lyrics play in full over the closing credits. Up close angles, wide shots, and natural sounds elevate the train track suspense. Rustic visuals and forested photography contrast our sophisticated eighties writer and his giant computer, too. We don’t hear people say sir or quarter of and quarter to anymore, and little Gordon buys four glass bottle sodas, a bag of rolls, and hamburger for $1.50!Can 21st century viewers demanding shock and scandal rather than something heartfelt appreciate this layered eighties does fifties nostalgia? Today’s youth have to deal with far worse than a single knife or lone gun, and many little things here that will make older viewers chuckle can seem corny. Unlike watching as a child for the humor and adventure, nowadays I choke up over the disappearing Chris fading away down the road. Fortunately, Stand by Me remains a fascinating sociological time capsule of American youth. It’s okay that Stand by Me‘s framework is rose colored and sentimental with a bittersweet eerie that doesn’t overstay its welcome. Our youths saw the body, now they must face what’s next. That’s life.
There were many surprises at the Cannes Film Festival and much movement throughout the festival.
In the Supporting Actor category, some of the strongest reactions went to Jeremy Strong for his portrayal of Roy Cohn in The Apprentice, in which he manages to imbue redeemable qualities into a fairly irredeemable character and real-life person. Even though the reviews for The Apprentice weren’t overwhelmingly positive, Strong, alongside co-star Sebastian Stan, were both cited as the reasons this film worked in any capacity. Not to mention, in an election year in which one of the main characters will be on the ballot, this will be a movie discussed all season. The ripped-from-the-headlines buzz could bode well for Strong, who, after his spectacular Emmys run on HBO’s Succession (3 nominations and 1 win through 4 seasons), is still looking for his first Oscar nomination.
The festival’s top acting prize went to Jesse Plemons for Yorgos Lanthimos’s Kinds of Kindness, a movie some call one of the director’s most unhinged since Dogtooth. Plemons’ performance is defined as “explosive.” With the film split into three stories, it would make sense that Plemons would ultimately be lumped into the Supporting Actor category, given the large ensemble cast. As a former nominee, he is liked by the Academy and his peers. As long as Kinds of Kindness isn’t too weird for Academy voters, he could ride this win all season.
Another top prize winner was Sean Baker’s Anora, with newcomer Mark Eydelshteyn giving a breakout performance in a film that surprisingly won the Palm d’Or, marking NEON’s 5th Palm in a row. While most of Anora’s praise was given to co-star Mikey Madison, Eydelshteyn also earned his flowers, portraying the son of a Russian oligarch who enters into a relationship with a sex worker (Madison). Winning the Palm is a good sign for a film’s future awards chances, as 3 of the last 4 Palm winners went on to be nominated in multiple Oscar categories, including Best Picture. The Florida Project earned a Supporting Actor nomination for Willem Dafoe, the only film by director Sean Baker to have received Oscar acclaim. With Anora winning the Palm d’Or, this could pave the way for a big season for the film, and Eydelshteyn could tag along to the ride.
Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is in theaters now, premiering ‘Out of Competition’ at the Cannes Film Festival. Mad Max: Fury Road was a massive Oscar player, winning 6 of its 10 nominations. While these nominations included Best Director and Best Picture, none came in the acting categories; could that change in George Miller’s latest addition to the saga? Chris Hemsworth has been an A-list actor for years as the face of Thor in the MCU. His performance in Furiosa could be the best work the actor has done yet, as his performance has been said to be completely unhinged and deranged. We have seen this category take some big swings in the past, including nominating Ryan Gosling for portraying Ken in a movie about Barbie. Hemsworth does not have that same rapport with the Academy. Still, if Furiosa is as beloved as Fury Road was, Hemsworth could add Oscar nominee to the front of his name.
Outside of the Cannes films, some performances heralded this year include a few indie standouts. Kieran Culkin has earned significant buzz for Jesse Eisenberg’s A Real Pain, which currently holds a 91% on Rotten Tomatoes and whose aggregate review blurb states Culkin gives a “scene-stealing” performance. Like Jeremy Strong, Culkin is also coming off an impressive run on Succession; they could both be battling it out this awards season for an Oscar instead of an Emmy. Sing Sing premiered at TIFF last September, but A24 held off on the full release until this year. That move could benefit the now Oscars record-holding studio as newcomer Clarence Maclin has been earning high praise alongside his co-star Colman Domingo in what is being called a “star-making performance.” Sing Sing could be a massive Oscars player this year, and Maclin might have the juice to ride the wave to the Dolby Theater.
After this, we start getting into some unknown territories. Samuel L. Jackson hasn’t been Oscar-nominated since Pulp Fiction in 1994, and while he did receive an honorary Oscar in 2022, his role in the adaptation of August Wilson’s play, The Piano Lesson, could not only bring him his second nomination but his first competitive win as well. Denzel Washington already has nine nominations (and two wins) under his belt; his role in Ridley Scott’s Gladiator 2 could push that nomination total into the double digits. While Scott has been hit or miss lately in his directorial projects, the early buzz out of CinemaCon was that Gladiator 2 would be a return to form for the director. Washington has a good amount of screen time as an ex-gladiator searching for power. He is beloved amongst the Academy, and if Gladiator 2 was as thrilling as the early reactions suggest, he could also be back.
Samuel L. Jackson pictured on Broadway in the 2023 revival of ‘The Piano Lesson.’ Photo: Julieta Cervantes
The race becomes more unpredictable as we move further into the potential pool of nominees. Could former nominee Paul Raci come back for his role in Sing Sing? Another former nominee, Brian Tyree Henry, is starring in The Fire Inside, a film written and produced by Barry Jenkins. However, the film has been in production since early 2020, and no new updates have been released since the name was changed from “Flint Strong” in March of this year. Edward Berger’s upcoming Conclave includes a loaded cast of supporting actors, most notably Stanley Tucci and John Lithgow. They could be battling it out for a nomination when the time comes. The uncertainty of these potential nominees adds to the intrigue and excitement of the award season.
Currently, I am predicting Samuel L. Jackson for this award. The previous two August Wilson adaptations (Fences [2016] and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom [2020]) received multiple acting nominations, including a win for Viola Davis in Fences. The 1995 TV movie adaptation of this play earned 9 Primetime Emmy nominations. Jackson has remained busy over the years, primarily in Marvel projects. Still, as we saw with Robert Downey Jr.’s convincing awards run for Oppenheimer, there is a narrative for former MCU actors and beloved veterans in the field making a “return to form” regarding acting prowess. Clarence Maclin, Denzel Washington, Jeremy Strong, and Jesse Plemons round out my top 5, with Plemons making it in based on the acting win at Cannes. Many ensemble films and beloved actors are seeking recognition, and this category is just starting.
On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss the Pamela Adlon comedy Babes, starring Ilana Glazer and Michelle Buteau! Talk about one of the best surprises of the year at the cinema. We talk about how Babes is not only a great comedy, but for one of us, it might as well be a documentary with how strong its depiction of parenthood is in the real world.
D.W. Waterson is a Canadian drummer, musician, disc jockey, and now feature film director. They have previously made an acclaimed web series about Toronto club life and electronica called That’s My DJ which focused on the contributions LGBTQ+ people and female coded POC made to the traditionally male industry.
In Backspot, Waterson turns their camera to a sport which has traditionally been seen as an adjunct to male sports – cheerleading. Waterson never for a moment lets the audience forget that cheerleaders are athletes, first and foremost.
Starring Devery Jacobs, Evan Rachel Wood, Noa Diberto, Kudakwashe Rutendo, Thomas Anthony Olajide, and Shannyn Sossamon – Backspot is tough, tender, intelligent and visceral.
Nadine Whitney spoke with D.W. Waterson about queering the gaze and pushing limits.
Nadine Whitney: Riley (Devery Jacobs) is in a battle to be the best. She genuinely loves cheerleading, but she also genuinely loves Amanda (Kudakwashe Rutendo) and Rachel (Noa Diberto, who has played a gymnast before) – yet she becomes willing to physically harm Rachel under Eileen’s (Evan Rachel Wood) instruction. Did you spend a lot of time researching elite performers?
D.W. Waterson: I spent over five years scouting a cheer squad, which we ended up featuring in the film. They’re the only Black-owned cheer squad in all of Canada; Cheer Fusion All-Stars. Working with them was incredible, we wouldn’t have been able to create Backspot without them. Having them be involved so closely ensured that we were able to understand the hard work that goes into cheer and the high stakes of competitions, while nailing the specifics of the cheer world.
NW: Riley is dealing with extreme anxiety. She has what is clinically known as trichotillomania. She goes into dissociative states. Her Mom is also dealing with mental health issues. What made you decide to focus on the need to please and be pleasing? And how those expectations – whether internal or external shape the journey of many people in the film.
DW: Backspot delves into many conversations, about the sport of cheerleading and the toll that it takes, about queer elders (Eileen – Evan Rachel Wood and Devon – Thomas Anthony Olajide) and bridging the gap between generations of queer folks, but it also unpacks pressures and mental health. Riley suffers from anxiety, and it’s not without reason. She is the backspot on her squad, which is arguably one of the hardest and most dangerous positions in cheer. She is at the bottom of the pyramid, holding up the girl’s ankles as they’re hoisted, and is the first to catch the girls as they fall, putting their bodies at physical risk of harm. But Riley also suffers from hereditary anxiety, where her mom Tracy (Shannyn Sossamon) suffers from obsessive compulsive disorder. It’s through these difficult navigations, but ultimately from unexpected queer mentorship, that Riley is able to find a healthier balance with herself, her relationships and the sport that she loves.
NW: Which came first? The music or the script? How much of the film comes from your experiences working as a DJ and seeing people move?
DW: The script and the music unfolded simultaneously. I feel like DJing and directing are very similar, in the sense that you’re trying to get a large group of people on the same page, and to go on a journey together. There were obviously a couple of tracks like “Come On Eileen” that we knew we needed to lock in early. I’m a huge Prodigy fan, and I named the Thunderhawks team after the Prodigy before I even knew I could get that track. But after an impassioned letter to the Prodigy, we were able to license the song and it was one of my personally favorite things to cut in the film; the Thunderhawks cheer montage.
Throughout the scriptwriting process, I was also working and producing my own electronic music that emanated that “jock” feel, to infuse into the film. Songs like “BodyLimit” ft. T Thomason.
NW: A character called Nikki (Madison Seguin) comes with her girlfriend to the sleepover in the auditorium. She says to Riley, Rachel, and Amanda that cheerleading is very “male gazey”. When it comes to Backspot do you think that there is a queer gaze?
DW: The queer gaze has been something I’ve been looking to protect throughout the entire process of creating Backspot. Cheerleaders have too often been viewed through the male gaze, sexualizing and trivializing them. But I feel like being a non-binary and queer director, who admires the fuck out of this sport and the queer actors in the film, it creates a sense of deep respect that bled through the gaze of the film. Being a director, I literally direct the audiences’ eye, and turn it towards where they should be looking, which is moments of pure athleticism and brutality, but also queer joy.
NW: We are living in an age where people are facing threats for simply existing. How important was it to you as a non-binary artist to make a teen centric film which also stars queer folk and people from diverse backgrounds?
DW: In a primarily white, cis and Christian space, we often overlook the queer athletes of color who are the foundation (and dare I say backspot) to the sport. I wanted to reflect my world, and my co-producer Devery Jacobs’ world in this film, and within the sport of cheerleading.
Backspot premiered at TIFF and is currently in select cinemas and is available to rent in certain territories.
Created in 1968 by the French Directors Guild, the Quinzaine des cineastes (formerly known as the Quinzaine des réalisateurs), or the Directors Fortnight, aids filmmakers from around the world and contributes to the discovery of their filmographies to a broader audience. They have an eclectic slate covering many perspectives from various styles, ranging from surrealistic to social-realist and experimental. This section of the Cannes Film Festival tends to showcase the new exciting voices of cinema’s future, and (I think some of the names that were a part of this year’s Quinzaine, like Joaquín Cociña, Cristóbal León, and India Donaldson, can be such.) In this capsule review piece, I will discuss three films I saw from the festival’s section: Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point, Savanna and the Mountain, and Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed.
Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point (Directed by Tyler Taormina)
The first film in this capsule review is Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point from Tyler Taormina. It is an ironic comedic piece that constantly teeters between an indie holiday hit and a conflictless miscalculation of tones. The holiday season arrived early in Cannes, although the hot summer weather didn’t change one bit. Although I wasn’t particularly aching for that holly, jolly cheer at this point in time, it sure is welcoming. If I’m being honest, it is quite strange to see a Christmas film not only at the Cannes Film Festival but also at this time and in this weather. But the programmers at the Quinzaine des cineastes have offered to give one of their spots to Taormina and crew to deliver a “warm up” for December.
Rather unfortunately, the majority of Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point doesn’t manage to capture the feeling of warmth and melancholy that arises during the Holiday season; Taormina opts for a narrative without a precise lead or tone, which keeps the audience away from the tenderness we were expecting from the feature. The story, or lack thereof, is set in Long Island, New York, following the Italian American Balsano family. They spend the night of Christmas Eve in unison, celebrating the Holidays in the matriarch’s (Mary Reistetter) house. However, this may be the last of this sort of gathering, as Grandma Antonia’s health is deteriorating rapidly.
As each family member deals with their problems and blues, they question the ties that bind them. They ponder the separation and loss of tradition that might occur in this circumstance. Does the house itself have the power to unite this fractured family? Or do they feel compelled to continue without it? From that specific angle, I believe most people can relate to that scenario; something similar happened to my family, and somehow, the holiday season hasn’t been the same. But Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point loses its way amidst the snippets that cover family conversations, which lead nowhere, and overwrought deadpan comedy, which doesn’t land. The performances fit Taormina’s vision of an odd, funny, and brooding Christmas Eve dinner.
There’s a tactility in their chemistry that allows you to sense the emotions scattered across the canvas. However, none end up engaging enough to get into the emotional core that Taormina wants to show near the end. The film’s sweetness isn’t artificial, but the nostalgia it wants to bask in does have specs of such, which diminishes the Holiday season cache.
Grade: C-
Savanna and the Mountain (A savana e a montanha) (Directed by Paulo Carneiro)
The second film in this capsule review piece is Savanna and the Mountain (A savana e a montanha) from director Paulo Carneiro. It is a stylistically interesting picture in its combination of documentary and narrative feature filmmaking with some small elements of magical realism scattered across the canvas. It is a portrait of a small town slowly crumbling. Still, its people are holding their might against the mining operations occurring in Covas do Barroso, a village in northern Portugal. This issue has happened for the past few years, and the rest of the world doesn’t know about it.
This is Paulo Carneiro’s shout to make sure people realize what is happening and how similar situations are happening in other places worldwide. The townsfolk are fighting against a company called Savannah Resources, which is creating lithium queries and looking for a way to rebuild the village based on those actions. This is all seen from the perspective of the townsfolk, as the actual residents are cast in the project, which gives Savanna and the Mountain a nice touch of importance and thematic weight with a bigger personal layer from the people involved’s point of view. They play different versions of themselves with more profound discontent and disquietude as the denizens travel across the grass-covered plains and rocky steppes.
Their angst and frustration are front and center. The company sends messages about revitalizing job creations and giving them great chances, yet most people are skeptical about these so-called “empathetic communications”. That is why they take matters into their own hands. Carneiro is motivated to depict this development artistically, keeping the political fury present. He does so by not only using vivid imagery that shows the place’s ins and outs but also adding folk songs to the film, which serve as changes with a rebellious tone. And Carneiro doesn’t sugarcoat it; these songs contain very on-the-nose lyricism, for better or worse.
His play’s style sometimes falters as the structure grows creaky and repetitive, often keeping the audience not so much at a distance but without a precise narrative hook to latch onto outside of the mutinous story elements. For most of the film, I wasn’t entirely captured by the narrative presentation of the picture, even though its cinematography is very vivid due to the realistic portrayal of life – and the injustices occurring – in that small town. Nevertheless, the power of its messaging remains intact. The atmosphere is filled with tension and resistance. Paulo Carneiro culminates on a solid note that leaves the audience with doubts about how everything is still, to this day, going on.
The third (and final) film in this capsule review piece is Hernán Rosselli’s exciting Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed (Algo viejo, algo nuevo, algo prestado). It is a crime drama with a neo-noir background that isn’t explored due to its focus on the personal and meditative – a blend of elements and dark tones that borrow from a variety of genres, most to its favor, in a way that demonstrates the Argentinian director’s playfulness behind the camera. The film follows the Felpeto family, who are struggling to cope with the death of the patriarch and the underground lottery business that he has left behind – the matriarch, Maribel, now has to handle it forcefully.
The issues between the family arise not only in their conjoined grief but also in the chance that the police might raid them, as has happened to the other illegal businesses that were in contact with the Felpeto. The trepidation comes from their fear of losing it all at a time of sheer frustration and astray amidst passing. In case the worst-case scenario occurs, they burn files, destroy records, and hack into the patriarch’s computer to see if he has money tied up in other dangerous places they don’t know about. This process takes many years of their lives. And we see it through old VHS tapes and camera recordings – hearing the minute details through Maribel’s narration.
This combination adds a unique layer to the film and separates it from the many crime films released yearly. It is stripped down and more grounded, almost feeling documentary-esque at specific points. Rosselli remains very stylish in how he edits each sequence together, blending past and present through these recordings in ways that immerse you into this story full of uncertainty. In his attempt to break the mold of crime films, the Argentinian director doesn’t want to showcase any violence and keep his film tight and clean, focusing on the family preparing – and managing a forced-upon situation – for a detrimental shift in their lives.
Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed’s impact might get knocked down during its last couple of minutes, with an ending that might leave many, including me, looking for a deeper resolution after seeing ten years of their lives encapsulated across such old-school recordings. But the project remains entrancing mostly due to Rosselli’s poignant portrait of a family portrait. At a time of conventionality, we come across yet another director from Argentina who wants to reinvent or experiment with genres that, for the most part, have circled around the same tropes for years.
This week on Women InSession, we discuss the legacy of River Phoenix through his performances in Stand By Me and My Own Private Idaho! It’s, of course, tragic what happened to Phoenix, but his performance live on with a deep emotional fervor that will stand the test of time. We talk about that and much more with the great River Phoenix.
Panel: Kristin Battestella, Jaylan Salah
On that note, check out this week’s show and let us know what you think in the comment section. Thanks for listening and for supporting the InSession Film Podcast!
Directors: Adil El Arbi, Billal Fallah Writer: Chris Bremner, Will Beall, George Gallo Stars: Will Smith, Martin Lawrence, Vanessa Hudgens
Synopsis: When their former captain is implicated in corruption, two Miami police officers have to work to clear his name.
Bad Boys: Ride or Die is the fourth installment of the franchise. The original Bad Boys was a breakout hit for Will Smith, proving he could lead a summer blockbuster. It also paved the way for him to be cast in Independence Day, which signified a breakthrough in mainstream Hollywood films. An action franchise with two leading African American actors was born for the first time.
Yet, breaking through the City of Angels’ major studio exclusivity didn’t light a fire under those controlling the money. The studios do what they do. They refused to greenlight the Bad Boys II sequel for almost a decade, then waited another 17 years for the third chapter, Bad Boys for Life. Meanwhile, there have been three The Expendables films from 2010 to 2014, then a fourth less than ten years later.
Thankfully, nearly 30 years after the original, the franchise has a sequel that does Bad Boys justice. Bad Boys: Ride or Die is a nonstop, bombastic nostalgia machine, returning to its roots by adding an equal amount of humor—a revitalized Martin Lawrence—to its jaw-dropping and thrilling action sequences. The latest installment is spectacular fun and full action-packed hilarity, though the filmmakers have trouble keeping a consistent style and tone.
The story continues the saga of two mismatched buddy cop detectives: the uber-cool ladies’ man, Mike Lowrey (Will Smith), and the anxious, wise-cracking family man, Marcus Burnett (Martin Lawrence). Now, the plot returns to its original Bad Boys roots. The duo begins to investigate corruption within their own Miami police department. What spurs these well-respected detectives to break ranks and investigate their own?
After all, the police have a “rat” squad of their own. However, when some bad guys hack their late captain’s computer, it sends a video recording of Conrad Howard (Joe Pantoliano), left, claiming that if they receive it, he was murdered. So, these bad boys (I know, I regret typing it) drop everything, even after Mike’s recent nuptials and Marcus’s health scare.
It turns out that Captain Howard was accused of being in bed with the local cartels (it’s Miami, so if Colonel Jessup walked by, he would say, “Is there another kind?”). However, Mike and Marcus’s investigation soon takes a nosedive (quite literally) as they are set up and accused of being in bed with the cartels and their late captain, turning them into fugitives who must now prove their innocence.
Bad Boys: Ride or Die is directed again by Adil & Bilall, who also helmed the third film (and are probably more famous for the Batgirl debacle at Warner Brothers). Working with a script from Chris Bremner (The Man From Toronto) and Will Beall (Aquaman), this installment is a marked improvement over Bad Boys for Life. For one, that film wasn’t funny; this one is hilarious.
I couldn’t quite recommend the two Bad Boys sequels. For one, they traded Martin Lawrence’s fast-talking humor and friendly friction with Will Smith for ominous tones and an excessive amount of violence. And frankly, the last film’s ridiculous twist of Lowrey’s lost child becoming a Sicario and shooting Lowery’s father figure was getting close to toxic male soap opera status.
Thankfully, Lawrence has abandoned the sleepwalking, cruise-control performances of the last two films. Here, the comedian brings a level of maximum overdrive energy we haven’t seen since the original. Lawrence is spectacularly funny here. He’s over the top in a few spots (alright, a lot), but anyone can do action, and not everyone can do what Lawrence is capable of when he’s on his game.
Several cameos from the original are included, and the team makes it a family affair. Some spectacular action scenes bring back the bombastic quality that is almost a nod to Michael Bay. And, of course, if you are a fan of ’90s action films like I am, seeing the iconic light strike graphic of a Don Simpson/Jerry Bruckheimer production is like a quick hit of nostalgic action bliss. Not to mention the scene-stealing Dennis Greene, whose Reggie steals the film.
I will say the plot doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I mean, it’s obvious, but when it comes to specifics, there seems to be a healthy dose of very graphic violence to distract you from it being completely contrived. The villain, played by Mr. McSteamy, Eric Dane, is incredibly one-note (and you need to get a sense of his motivation). You immediately know who the “hidden” villain is as soon as they walk on screen. However, Jacob Scipio’s Armando works much better in the story this time.
Seeing this duo back on the big screen with Bad Boys: Ride or Die in fine form is an absolute joy. Smith still brings the same charisma and action-star status. Yes, you turn to Bad Boys for the Bayhem magic (watch out for the Michael Bay cameo), the pastel-colored skies, and the beautiful guys and dolls filling the Miami streets. However, it’s the bromance—LawSmith, if you will—that keeps you coming back time and time again.
Heck, if the Fast and the Furious franchise can do ten movies, why can’t they?
Director: Pablo Berger Writers: Pablo Berger, Sara Varon Stars: Ivan LaBanda, Albert Trifol Segarra, Rafa Calvo
Synopsis: The adventures and misfortunes of Dog and Robot in New York City during the 1980s.
Robot Dreams is an empathetic animated tale that captivates with its wordless storytelling. With its meditative pace and immersive 2D visuals, a far cry from current Hollywood counterparts like Illumination, this is an anthropomorphic cartoon for children and parents alike. Transporting the audience with a masterful soundscape to 1980s New York, this deeply human story invites them to experience the world of Dog and Robot with tenderness and heart.
The film, directed by Spanish filmmaker Pablo Berger, is adapted from Sara Varon’s 2007 graphic novel of the same name. Centered around Dog (Ivan LaBanda), the Twin Towers stand tall in the distance as the film introduces you to the canine protagonist alone in his apartment. The animation style of simple lines and not-too-bright colors match the feeling of its graphic counterpart. The detail is born out of the initial simplicity – this is clear-drawn animation with intent.
Microwaving his dinner and yearning for companionship, Dog watches the television in solitude before seeing an advertisement for an ‘Amica 2000’ robot. Fed up with seeing his reflection as a sole entity, he orders the robot companion. After a fast delivery and DIY construction, his Tinman-looking friend is born with long arms and a loving smile. An unbreakable bond between Dog and Robot instantly sparks – they begin doing everything together.
Strolling through the Zootopia-reminiscent city, sound designer Fabiola Ordoyo crafts an intricate coating of metropolitan sounds that add an immersive and authentic feel to New York. Whether they are eating a hot dog, sitting on a bench looking up at the Brooklyn Bridge, or even roller skating to Earth, Wind & Fire’s “September,”the visual and auditory storytelling achingly paint a beautiful picture of both character and setting.
On a Labor Day holiday, Dog is separated from Robot when a trip to Ocean Beach causes rust to set into Robot’s parts – Dog doesn’t have the strength to lift him. It is also the final day before the beach closes for the season. Dog promises Robot he will return with a box of tools when he can, but the authorities catch him when he attempts to break into the beach the next day.
Over the off season on Coney Island, Robot is left to dream in the sand. It is not an electric sheep he dreams of. Instead, it is his best friend in the whole world. It’s not starting a conversation about AI sentience; it is exploring the obstacles and joys of friendship in any form. So begins a tale of longing and the frailty of connection.
With needle drops placed with expert precision (“September” becomes the film’s anthem and will likely have the audience reach for the tissue box), the world of Robot Dreams is bittersweet and expertly storyboarded. Berger told the crew to watch Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and Harold Lloyd as inspiration, which is evident. As a love letter to the masters of silent cinema, Robot Dreams makes the audience feel deeply invested in characters that don’t utter a single word. There is friendship and love but also regret and loss. It’s never pessimistic, but it allows for melancholy – a traditional tale that speaks volumes about the human experience.
Throughout life, one of the core things we must learn as conscious beings is to seek connection. Loneliness can feel like a dark shadow that never draws in light, but friendship is the opening of the curtain that breathes life and love into one’s existence. The most important aspect of balancing the lonely and the connected is knowing when to let some things and some people pass through. Robot Dreams is the purest and most melancholic amalgamation of this concept. Calling the film ‘Past Lives for best friends’ would not be an unjust statement.
As people grow, mature, and change, they won’t necessarily know the same people they did a decade or two ago. For some, that is a complex concept to grasp. For some lucky ones, they will have lifelong friends. The conflict facing Dog and his journey back to Robot reflects life itself. Maturity comes from accepting that some people will not be in one’s life forever. Rather than grieve the times that were, there is wisdom in musing on what they gave at that time. They look out in the street and find peace seeing them living their lives in contentment. Through its Tintin-inspired visual palette, this film asks for love and thoughtful reflection to replace feelings of regret and remorse.
We all need to find our people in the world. If a dog and a robot can find their way in amongst the verve of ’80s New York with its busy streets, smoggy stations, and overcrowded beaches- anyone can. Robot Dreams is a triumph of tender, empathetic animated cinema. It doesn’t necessarily give the catharsis one wants, but it certainly provides the outcome that the film, and life itself, deserve.
Synopsis: At the end of World War II, Nathan Hilu, the son of Syrian Jewish immigrants to New York, received a life-changing assignment from the U.S. Army: to guard the top Nazi war criminals at the Nuremberg trials.
“I’m a memory man,”
With this sentence, Nathan Hilu, the son of Syrian Jewish immigrants, starts the documentary Nathan-ism. As director Elan Golod carefully shoots his hands and features, immersed in the work of art at hand, traces of a world start manifesting in front of our eyes.
This documentary connects the past with the present through the canvas of art. Fresh off WWII, young Hilu was a soldier on a mission from the U.S. Army: to guard the top Nazi war criminals at the Nuremberg trials. What follows is his unruly imagination turning factual events into works of art. Hilu’s paintings become a parallel visual memory of what happened during those formative years in his life and at a critical time in world history.
This documentary is an archive of a particular human being, at a special time in history. Documentarians are the modern-day historians. They keep a record of what happens in the world. But instead of news channels and social media working on mass reporting, documentarians take a slice of life and put it under the microscope. The Holocaust is a massive humanitarian tragedy, and taking it one slice at a time, one survivor at a time is the right thing to do, to collectively bring together the history of the world saved and protected for the generations to come.
If there is a lesson to learn, it’s how impactful art is in safekeeping the horrors and massacres taking place all over the world. Filmmakers and artists worldwide must pay attention to every person who has contributed to documenting wars and genocides. If we want something to stand the test of time, let’s write about it and photograph it, but also, let’s make art and seal it with emotions.
For 90-year-old Hilu, his ultimate victory over Hitler is making fun of him. His paintings are a mockery of bloodthirsty antisemites, brutal ethnic cleansers, and fascists. Art always stands on the right part of history when it does what it does best, belittling the evil and the greedy, and elevating the weak and the oppressed. Golod perfectly captures that through various shots of Hilu’s tools and paintings of Nazi war criminals during the Nuremberg trials. Hilu’s imagination has created a strange, lucid world. His construction of the cells and the prisoners, while leaving space for some of his thought processes to survive the rapid progression of his old age.
Nathan-ism is a tool of resistance. It’s not simply a documentary, but an insight into the mind of a genius recluse. An artist so swallowed and consumed by his art that the outside world seems to vanish in his presence. The inside of Hilu’s mind is a cacophony of events, words, actions, and colors. Golod’s camera perfectly captures his surroundings but helps him retrieve his memories, evoking them and showing them alive and vibrant with the intensity of the past.
This film truly implies that history is the greatest teacher. If the past and the present could be set side by side, only then will people know how suffering looks and feels. When years have passed and the comparisons become eerily similar, the world beholds one tragedy unfolding after the other, leading to worse outcomes but also bringing them back to textbooks and hate speeches, uncovering the root and cause of all problems, prejudice, hostility, unprecedented hatred, violence, and evil in its raw form. The hatred that people carry in their hearts, the grueling intentions to obliterate one group off the face of the big, wide earth, as if life cannot contain all creatures big and small, this hatred that breeds hatred has no place in a modern world where seemingly constant connectivity has made it easier for people to empathize with similarities rather than fuel differences.
Director: Muta’Ali Stars: Mitch Lowe, Nathan McAlone, Sydney Weinshel
Synopsis: Exploring the company founding and the implosion of the business by outside investors who took over the company, left it bankrupt and under investigation.
The new documentary MoviePass, MovieCrash, brought up some resentment for me. For one, like many cinephiles, when I heard about MoviePass, it was as if a business and product were finally made for me. This was a time I call the golden age of American life (you know, except for the guy with orange hair running the country at the time).
I mean, for God’s sake, you could hide out from the searing 100-degree-plus heat here in Las Vegas from 9 a.m. to midnight, having access to three square meals a day, unlimited drinks, and bathrooms while lounging in comfortable chairs for $9.95 a month. I saw more movies in three months than in the previous five years.
Then reality set in, and MoviePass turned off its cards, began refusing to respond to customer complaints, and removed the unspoken agreement between owner and customer on the metaphorical handshake to see any movie they wanted on July 17, 2018, shutting down access to a little film called Mission: Impossible—Fallout.
(Side note: I had to buy a ticket to a little film called Blindspotting because of the blackouts which turned out to be my first published film review and sat at the top of my 2018 top ten list.)
Even director Christopher McQuarrie had to issue a tweet saying he had no comment on the MoviePass fallout, pun intended. (Though he should have since members were buying tickets to other films and sneaking into his Tom Cruise action-spectacular, cutting into their reported profits.) By the following year, the dream had ended in the fall of 2019, but the movie industry had changed forever.
That’s the feeling captured and conveyed in MoviePass, MovieCrash, a relatively straightforward and informative *cough* true crime *cough* documentary that is entertaining and can even cause feelings of anger, especially when you look back at the public relations spin put on by MoviePass executives. Remember when we were told the executive was a former co-founder of Netflix? According to the film, all he did was supply the DVDs.
The film reveals that the scheme was to market how well HMNY stock was doing. The only way to do that was to promote a subscription price that was a non-viable market and claim that data was the key to making profits (which was a lie). They then used the subscribers’ monthly contributions to fuel lavish parties and movie productions (do you remember Kevin Connolly’s infamous Gotti?) and even launched an airline version called MoviePass Air.
Yes, it was a thing. According to the film, the scheme’s executives, Mitch Lowe and Theodore Farnsworth, will soon stand trial for fraud charges.
Director Muta’Ali Muhammad’s (Cassius X: Becoming Ali) white-collar crime documentary reflects on the racial divide in American business. It was not Lowe and Farnsworth who started MoviePass; it was Stacy Spikes and Hamet Watt, two African American businessmen who were forced out of the company.
They even held 80 million dollars worth of company shares at the time, which they could not sell for twelve months after being kicked off the board. By the time they could sell, they were worthless. The documentary is like Fyre: The Greatest Party That Never Happened, but on a grander scale.
Muta’Ali Muhammad’s film is a slick and fun experience, similar to Eat the Rich: The GameStop Saga andEnron: The Smartest Guys in the Room. However, MoviePass, MovieCrash is different because it highlights systemic racism in the minority public. Here, a white businessman took control of a black-owned and led business, then defrauded the American public.
The Max documentary MoviePass, MovieCrash, is tailor-made for anyone who is a fan of the spectacular rise and downfall of public figures and businesses. Some of the film comes across as a puff piece for co-founder Stacy Spikes new venture, who bought back the company last year in a bid to relaunch. (Frankly, to the extent that it made me wonder if a studio like Warner Brothers bought a piece of it. My concerns will be realized if a Max subscription comes with a MoviePass membership in the near future.)
While the story of MoviePass is still incomplete and the future uncertain, the documentary MoviePass, MovieCrash provides a thorough and entertaining coverage of the fraud, offering a nostalgic, enlightening, and frustrating trip down memory lane. Now, excuse me while I run to eBay because the defunct MoviePass MasterCard that I found in my junk drawer is selling for up to a cool grand, and who couldn’t use that kind of money nowadays?
This week on the InSession Film Podcast, JD and Brendan are joined by Ben Miller of the Target Audience Podcast to discuss Billy Wilder’s 1945 Oscar-winner The Lost Weekend! We also discuss Pixar’s new direction and a controversy surrounding JD’s latest hockey adventure.
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!
– Controversy! (5:05) We open the show this week with injustice! A travesty! A robbery! JD talks about how he scored the goal of his life in beer league hockey, but it was taken away by the refs in what can simply be labeled as a dubious call. This time we have video to prove it.
– Pixar / Scott Wampler (12:55) Recently, Pixar executives made headlines for comments about a new direction they are taking after films such as Luca and Turning Red apparently not satisfying them. Evidence suggests that they were well liked and gave propulsion to the Disney+ app, so pointing out those films leaves some very murky questions. On a different note, we end the segment by discussing the heartbreaking passing of film critic Scott Wampler and the unity shown by everyone on social media.
– Best Picture Movie Series: The Lost Weekend (53:03) We continue our Best Picture Movie Series in the 1940s with Billy Wilder’s 1945 Oscar-winning film The Lost Weekend! The film, in many ways, is a first of its kind and might have hit certain pockets of America in a big way as the War was coming to an end. Ray Milland gives one of the best actor wins of the era with a striking performance that enhances the films visceral quality. It might not be Wilder’s best film, but so many movies (especially about addiction) are influenced by The Lost Weekend in some way.
Best Picture Movie Series: The Best Years of our Lives
Help Support The InSession Film Podcast
If you want to help support us, there are several ways you can help us and we’d absolutely appreciate it. Every penny goes directly back into supporting the show and we are truly honored and grateful. Thanks for your support and for listening to the InSession Film Podcast!
Josh O’Connor is one of those actors whose performances feel like a mountain climb. The higher he gets, the more guttural his portrayals become. He conveys a whole range of emotions, from tenderness to sensuality and disgust.
It started with his career-turning performance in The Crown where Emma Corrin’s haunting and en pointe interpretation of Princess Diana didn’t eclipse his subtle and toned-down take on Prince Charles. O’Connor’s performance garnered him deserved accolades and increased respect within critical circuits.
O’Connor has spread his wings even further with two powerful performances electrifying this year’s slightly boring, slightly calm movie scene: Arthur in La Chimera and Patrick Zweig in Challengers.
Technically, La Chimera was released last year, so it won’t be eligible for this year’s Best Actor race at the Academy Awards. But it’s a great predisposition for his award potential for multiple reasons. Through the lens of La Chimera’s female director Alice Rohrwacher, O’Connor appears on the verge of a seance, a man feverish with memories and despair, harboring a sensitivity for hidden artifacts more than he understands how to communicate with people. Rohrwacher has seen the tormented, shy introvert inside O’Connor and exploited him, bringing him full circle in front of our mesmerized eyes. As he rests his head on stone, cowers in tight spaces, and caresses the stolen heads of statues, O’Connor’s Arthur is a madman torn with fragile masculinity, a visible lightness both difficult and enjoyable to watch. Like the fragile artifacts he holds between his palms, Arthur is a ceramic piece on the verge of cracking.
In Challengers, Luca Guadagnino, one of modern cinema’s most baroque masters of sexual subtext, pushes the docile man further down the drain of O’Connor’s psyche, bringing out the coy, seductive, bitter monster in him. Patrick is a seductive pansexual beauty. Unlike Art, the poetic lover, always needing a dominant woman or a passionate man to coax his internalized emotions, Patrick is a stallion, too wild to tame but too bored to care about being tamed.
O’Connor has impressive post-production and pre-production projects ahead. He has recently worked with diverse and international directors with different visions and artistic perspectives. He also has a supporting role in the drama Lee, co-starring Kate Winslet, due in September 2024.
He has another Luca Guadagnino project, Camere separate, in development. Brazilian-Algerian director Karim Aïnouz is directing him alongside festival darling Kristen Stewart in Rosebushpruning. He is also starring in South African director Oliver Hermanus’s latest creation, The History of Sound. The news of O’Connor’s casting in the third Knives Out installment with Daniel Craig, Cailee Spaeny, Kerry Washington, and Glenn Close has rocked the internet and trended on Twitter. That’s a lucrative career like no other and in a very short time. The tricky question in this case would be: Could O’Connor’s impressive performance in Challengers garner him a Best Actor nod this year? Does his Patrick Zweig deserve award recognition? After Cannes premieres like The Apprentice and Bird, and big players like Gladiator II in the second half of the year, the Best Lead Actor race is yet to be defined. So far, most male performances seem to be on a subdued, lukewarm level of ‘okay’ acting. The actors have yet to shine and cast shadows on each other in this so-far dull season.
Unlike female performances—notably Zendaya’s stunning, broken (but outwardly all-collected) mess as Tashi in Challengers—that predict a tough, competitive season, male performers are more laid-back as we near mid-2024. Their competition is unlike the thrilling past seasons, when it has been nearly impossible to pinpoint a deserving one over the other.To answer the big question, I would like to know if his performance in Challengers will give him an award nod. But do I feel he deserves it? Absolutely. I prefer his turn in La Chimera, but that doesn’t detract from his wild, subtly seductive turn as Patrick Zweig. We may see O’Connor for award consideration sooner than we think if voters, critics, and Academy boards recognize the Challengers cast as young Hollywood shakers.
Historically, the Best Director category has been primarily filled by directors with films that come out late in the year, the classic awards season that starts in late November. This isn’t necessarily the rule anymore, with the past two Best Director awards going to Christopher Nolan for Oppenheimer and Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert for Everything Everywhere, All at Once, released in July and March of their respective years. It’s possible to be nominated for the Oscar award with any release date and win the top prize. For all we know, this year’s winner has already been released.
Thus far, we have seen one clear frontrunner in Denis Villeneuve for Dune: Part Two. Frankly, this film is the current frontrunner for many awards, both above and below the line. This would make Villeneuve’s second nomination for Best Director, his first coming for the science fiction film Arrival. Many thought he could squeeze in for Dune: Part One at the 94th Academy Awards, but was ultimately edged out from the already stacked list by Kenneth Branagh for Belfast and Ryusuke Hamaguchi for Drive My Car, the latter of which displayed the continued growing success of international films and filmmakers garnering more attention by the Academy over the past decade.
Villeneuve’s popularity among film lovers has skyrocketed since the release of the first Dune, and he’s proven capable of several different kinds of films. Whether it’s a smaller, more intimate story like Enemy or Prisoners, a high-stress crime thriller like Sicario, or large-scale action adaptations like Dune, Villeneuve delivers entertaining, thought-provoking films time after time. He also offers a unique visual style, which puts some people off. His films are hyper-realistic in lighting and color without much extra flare to brighten things up. This near-brutalist imagery gives audiences something different than the bland color palette of a streaming show or film. It’s also the antithesis of over-stylized cinematography that blasts neon colors into every frame. This style sets him apart, allowing him to bring something only he could envision to the screen.
Another Spring contender could be director Luca Guadagnino for Challengers, a film that has already been memed to death on social media. Its instant online popularity may fade quickly, but ignoring a movie like this that takes the world by storm is impossible. Ironically, Zendaya is one of the stars carrying this one and Dune: Part Two. While Guadagnino’s Call Me By Your Name was nominated for Best Picture, he has never gotten a nod for directing. There’s clear evidence that the Academy responds to his films, and this is easily the most accessible film of his since the Best Picture nomination at the 90th Academy Awards. It’s also important to note that his film was meant to come out last fall, and another film will be released sometime this year. Queer, starring Daniel Craig, is also being eyed as a potential awards player, and whichever film is more palatable to audiences and voters alike could get Guadagnino a nomination that encapsulates love for both movies.
Thankfully, there are many more films to look forward to this year, and the release of George Miller’s Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga this past weekend will likely shake things up in several categories. As it stands, Denis Villeneuve is the clear-cut favorite in our eyes, but he will have to weather many storms in the coming months to keep that momentum going.
Directors: Lindsey Haun, Nick Roth Writer: Nick Roth Stars: Toby Bryan, Jacob Demonte-Finn, Clare Grant
Synopsis: A man and his sentient napkin friend save the world from a dark evil in a cabin deep in the Utah mountains, and also learn to love.
A no-longer-than-an-hour-and-a-half, solid, horror comedy has become a rare gem recently. Thus my surprise to find Hanky Panky, a silly, tongue-in-cheek feature debut from Lindsey Haun and Nick Roth, an emerging new director duo on the horror scene. Imagine bringing in a bunch of genres, and mixing them in the blender while sprinkling the top with some shrooms, the result…is a chaotic mess.
The film’s premise is as adorable as it is absurd: A cabin in the snow. A group of unfortunate misfits. A two-faced woman called Lilith. A man and his talking, excessively swearing handkerchief. And a setting suitable for a murder or an orgy. In a secluded, snowy mountain cabin, our protagonists gather for a retreat by a quirky ayahuasca wannabe shaman. Things get complicated when bodies start piling up and a talking hat is the villain, wreaking havoc on our protagonists and their handy friend the wanky handkerchief.
The film relies on all the complacent horror tropes; extreme close-ups and awkward Dutch angles, over-the-top actors’ reactions, dialogue that runs towards ridiculous at times, and off-camera murders with copious amounts of fake blood splatters, and yet, all those elements seem to make it work. It’s funny without being overt, it’s got some decent jump scares, and it’s a great companion on a trip, that is, if the trip is toned down to below 30 Fahrenheit.
The fun behind the camera and the feel of the gone-and-forgotten indie movie where people brought along their friends and non-actors to a non-existent set where everyone got high and went home happy is there.
One of the key things that makes Hanky Panky work is Toby Bryan’s voice as Woody, the foul-mouthed, talking handkerchief, and the main protagonist, Sam’s, best friend. Woody seems out of a Wong Kar-wai alternate universe if Cop 663’s house items have decided to talk back to their lonely, chatty owner in Chungking Express. Woody is gross, witty, and doesn’t miss a chance to let out a crude remark or a sneaky chuckle. He’s the perfect antithesis to Sam, and he makes sure to make himself heard. He has a voice unlike his human friend Sam, whose isolation and social discomfort make his voice come out sputtering and fiddling with self-expression unless he’s trying to flirt.
Roth excels as the co-director, and his on-screen presence as Dr. Crane is always a joy. It reminds me of David Cross’s portrayal of Tobias Fünke in the same deluded gullible existence that seems unaware of its incredulousness. Clare Grant shines as the stereotypical Southern, friendly neighbor, and plays her role with such saccharine-heavy positivity even when her truth is eventually exposed.
Everything about this movie rules. Characters -possible actors- are stoned and goofing around. The plot is too idiotic to notice any plot holes. Seeking fun and laughs for laughs is the name of the game so wrapping the audience’s mind on the turn of events or continuity seems unnecessary and sucking the enjoyment from the movie-watching experience. This is a film made with love and for the love of giggles. People who want to get a laugh at being scared, Scary Movie style are welcome to come aboard this humble abode. Hanky Panky is just for gigs. No need to go hard on it without taking into consideration the amount of brilliance Nick and Lindsey have exhibited to make such a moronic premise not only work but surpass initial skepticism. The dialogue and the acting are its strongest points, and while it falls short of its horror scope sometimes, it has a lot to make up for what it is lacking.
Director: Tayarisha Poe Writer: Tayarisha Poe Stars: Leon Bridges, Aya Cash, Kiersey Clemons
Synopsis: It follows a young woman grappling with the meaning of love and commitment, follow her over her non wedding day.
The Young Wife’s writer and director, Tayarisha Poe, is a filmmaker with a singular and unique vision so distinct that there is nothing like her films out there. Her movies are obsessive about language, filling her script with witty and intense dialogue that is sharp. They sting or touch you in a way that most filmmakers can only dream of. As you get caught up in her words and stunning visuals, you begin to fall under the grip of a filmmaker who wields her camera frame with the intent of affecting her audience in a way that sneaks up on you that is holistic and honest.
As a case in point, a breathtaking scene in The Young Wife moved me in a way a film has not done so in quite some time. All with a single piece of dialogue, Poe has the character of Sabrina (a scene-stealing Aida Osman) tell her friend, lovingly and dripping with empathy, how it is a “privilege that others are affected by you.” The scene is beautiful, even lyrical, in a way only achievable when writing, acting, and atmosphere achieve a certain harmony.
It’s this quality that always keeps The Young Wife present and in the moment for the audience.
The story follows Celestina (Heart Beats Loud’s Kiersey Clemons), a young woman in her late twenties who is about to get married. Yet, Celestina is doing everything she can to tell friends and family it’s a “non-wedding.” She is engaged to River (a terrific Leon Bridges), and Celestina is keeping a secret–she has just quit her job but hasn’t told him. The only person Celestina has told is her mother (Sheryl Lee Ralph), who is less than thrilled with her daughter giving up her high-paying gig when her fiancé doesn’t have the means to support them.
That leads to some delightful and thought-provoking scenes about individuality and conformity. The script takes that theme with the ability to weave together an eclectic group of characters that are so different they can be placed in their specific genres (and arguably even a few tropes). Many will complain about this being unattainable whimsy, but this is not the point. Celestina is surrounded by unique individuals who stand out among the crowd, and she’s afraid of blending into it. When she marries River, Celestina seems to be asking herself if she will lose her sense of self. Will she only be known as River’s wife?
In one of the film’s best scenes with Clemons’s former Transparent co-star, Judith Light, who plays River’s grandmother, she tells Celestina how a man can break you down into little pieces, “Let your husband choke to keep yourself whole.”
It has been interesting to see how artists, particularly actors and directors, have been influenced by the COVID-19 pandemic by looking at their films before and after. In the case of The Young Wife’s director, Poe’s debut film was the 2020 Juvenalian satire Selah and the Spades, which had some of the sharpest commentary about the social justice political climate in recent memory. However, in The Young Wife, the lines of social justice commentary are erased, and you have a lovely eclectic mix of all backgrounds bonded through love and friendship.
The story is set in a futuristic background where climate change is rapidly causing rain and forest fires, and the world has begun to embrace the burden of alleviating mental health globally. (Be looking for a Lovie Simone cameo in a recurring scene called “The Meditation Minute.”) Celestina is a woman who is consumed by her anxiety about her future while experiencing depression about her past. Her character is never mindful or in the moment but experiencing what most of us have had during and now (yes, it’s still going on).
The scenes with her friends are chaotic because they are present. The scenes on the news of impending doom are present, causing Celestina to look past them as a defense mechanism to ignore the present. What Poe has created here is a controlled chaos constantly in motion and revolving around Celestina. When you break it down, the tone and feel of Poe’s The Young Wife is akin to the first act of Lars von Trier’s Melancholia. As the film progresses, the looming sense of a world’s rotting at its core becomes more prevalent and brought to the forefront. This plot point mirrors the reason for Celestina’s internal turmoil that she cannot seem to bring under control.
However, all Poe accomplishes here is possible because of Clemons’s best career performance. That’s because the young actress begins to realistically depict the twenty-something sense of existential dread against the backdrop of extraordinary circumstances. Clemons can show great strength and vulnerability in a single glance as her characters slowly come apart at the seams and are repaired by the ones she loves around her. This comes back to the “privilege that others are affected by you.”
The Young Wife is a metaphor for a new world, still seen through a feminist lens that reveals the more things change, the more they stay the same. While many may stick their nose up at the film’s idiosyncratic composition and claim there is a purple prose to its subtext, the final act of Tayarisha Poe’s film becomes profound. One that causes the audience to have a visceral reaction to the chaos happening all around us.
Director: John Makens Stars: Neil Young, Chad Muska, Steve Alba
Synopsis: Embark on the epic ride of Jim Phillips, the genius behind skateboarding and rock culture’s electrifying art. This documentary explores Phillips’ unyielding commitment to his craft, embodying a testament to resilience in art and life.
The corporatization of the relatively informal Santa Cruz skating scene and the wider countercultural movement was, of course, inevitable but there’s still a bittersweet sense of loss that emerges when one thinks back to the halcyon days in which simply hanging out with a bunch of other social outcasts could be read as a countercultural gesture. We live in a world in which capitalism eventually comes to encompass everything, but we find ourselves desperate to hold onto the few things that appear to stand outside of the realm of commercial product. Fortunately, artists have found productive ways of responding to the complicated, often destructive relationship between art and commerce. The clash between pure, authentic artistic expression and soulless, draining financial concerns is not as simple as I have made it out to be. Many of the illustrators who flourished during the 1970s were willing to explore the contradictions inherent in producing commercial art in an irreverent manner.
One of the most prominent artists of this period was illustrator Jim Phillips, who hit his stride when he began working as the sole art director for NHS Inc. The sports equipment distribution company primarily targeted the youth market and Phillips became increasingly immersed in Santa Cruz’s burgeoning skate and surf subcultures. He found a way to achieve a form of artistic expression in a cut-throat professional environment, while also forming genuine bonds with other skating enthusiasts. His life story is captured in Art and Life: The Story of Jim Phillips (2024), a loose, affectionate portrait of a turning point in the history of the hippie movement. Phillips serves as a warm and engaging interlocutor; ready and willing to throw out amusing anecdotes at a moment’s notice, while also commenting on the links between the social climate of the 1970s and his development as an artist.
The documentary’s easy, free-floating structure allows it to jump fluidly from one shaggy dog story to the next and prevents it from feeling like a simple hagiography. Director John Makens wisely limits the scope of his documentary to a point where Phillips’s specific preoccupations as an artist can come into focus. There is always a danger, when attempting to tackle such an extraordinary, overwhelming subject, that a project will end up losing a sense of focus altogether. Makens offers up tantalizing glimpses of the bigger picture here but stops short of attempting to craft a Diaries, Notes and Sketches (1968) for the internet age. In narrowing his project’s focus down to the specifics of Phillips’s life story and professional successes, he finds a microcosm through which a larger story can be hinted at. It’s a fruitful approach to treading over ground that has already been subjected to a frightening level of close analysis.
There is also something enormously moving about the documentary’s joyful deconstruction of the Santa Cruz logo, which has come to be seen as Phillips’s magnum opus. This documentary asks us to view this iconic piece of branding as the centerpiece of a wider artistic movement within Phillips’s oeuvre. We get a greater sense of the build-up to the creation of this signature piece and the difficulties that an artist faces when challenged to keep producing after hitting a creative peak of sorts. A lot of this material will seem familiar to viewers who have watched a wide assortment of documentaries about the creative process but Makens’s take on this particular phenomenon is heftier than the likes of Jeff Koons: A Private Portrait (2023). He might not unearth anything groundbreaking but the journey ultimately serves as the destination and there’s plenty to enjoy if you go along with the ride.
The picture will naturally find its viewership among young aspiring artists who are likely to already be familiar with Phillips. However, I would recommend that those who aren’t already deeply embedded within the Santa Cruz underground scene still make an attempt to seek this film out. It has a certain universal appeal that taps into the deep need that humans have to find a sense of belonging within a larger community. The heyday of the Santa Cruz skate and surf subcultures might have passed but this documentary gives you a nostalgic yet clear-eyed vision of what it might have been like to experience those glory days firsthand.
Synopsis: Follows Nora, Ginny, and Mary, three childhood best friends who used to spend every summer at a sleep away camp together. After years, when the opportunity to get back together for a summer camp reunion presents itself, they all seize it.
First of all, since when do summer camps have reunions? It’s a question I’ve been asking since having to sit through the trailer for the cortisol-fueled women of a certain age comedy, Summer Camp. As baby boomers begin to retire, more and more of these types of movies have been made over the past decade. From the Book Club (gulp) franchise, Poms, Las Vegas, and Going in Style, you have a series of movies being shoved down the throats of moviegoers to watch with their parents on Mother’s or Father’s Day.
Summer Camp is that movie, but at the very least, it has its heart in the right place.
The film stars three legendary performers: Academy Award winners Kathy Bates (Misery), Diane Keaton (Annie Hall), and Academy Award nominee Alfre Woodard (Cross Creek). The story follows three childhood friends who, yes, have been best friends since finding each other at that recreational outdoor camp. Ginny (Bates) is a life-hack guru and has conquered social media stardom, unlike any woman her age.
Ginny has been trying to get her friends, Nora (Keaton) and Mary (Woodard), together for ages, but life happens and gets in the way. Nora is a widow, lost her husband of 34 years, and buried herself in her work. Mary is a nurse who regrets never finishing medical school to become a doctor. Mary’s husband, Mike (Seinfeld’s Tom Wright), is too needy and over-reliant on her, calling her during her shift in the emergency room to see where the remote has been placed.
So, Ginny buys a gigantic recreational vehicle, practically abducting her two friends, and goes off for a nostalgia-filled week of reliving old memories while making new ones.
Castille Landon, director of the After franchise of underwhelming films, brings the same sort of shallow and saccharine storytelling and characters with such little three-dimensionality that a couple of fat heads on your child’s wall would be more well-rounded. Not only is the story incredibly lame, but everything from the story, main characters, and supporting roles comes straight out of the studio machine artificial playbook.
This regurgitates the same old story we have seen countless times before and in any age bracket. Three friends get together, check. Three friends enjoy their time together, check. Three friends meet members of the opposite sex, rekindling romantic feelings they haven’t felt in years. Finally, those friends fight; they leave angry but get back together for an apology, leaving everyone with that warm and fuzzy feeling studios pander to their audiences with, check and check.
My issue with movies like Summer Camp is that their scripts treat their targeted audiences like children’s movies. They try to teach and send positive messages to older adult men and women who are fully formed as if they haven’t lived their entire lives with more experience than anyone. Cliché, cut-out romantic lead (and villain) male characters highlight these issues.
Eugene Levy’s Stevie is the nerdy and anxious one. Of course, he pairs with Keaton’s anxious and nerdy character. Dennis Haysbert’s Tommy is a different kind of trope; that good guy cliché is looking to fill that romantic void. (It’s a role he has played hundreds of times before and was tailor made for.) Even Wright’s Mike is a one-note, toxic male villain type we have seen countless times before, with no redeemable qualities.
Yes, Kathy Bates has one or two feisty retorts that are humorous. Josh Peck has an amusing yet predictable running gag. The only reason that Summer Camp is tolerable is the infectious supporting turn by Betsy Sodaro, who has the film’s only laugh-out-loud moment, which, unfortunately, is all about product placement. Besides that, this is one of the more underwhelming comedies in recent memory.
