DOOMonFILM

Back in January of 2012, Jordan Peele made his breakthrough into the popular consciousness via Comedy Central’s comedic golden ticket that was Key & Peele.  While both members of this pairing had achieved varying levels of success as bit players and character actors, I’m sure that nobody anticipated that the mild-mannered and deceptively intense Peele would soon become the face of modern day commercial horror and suspense media, stepping into the rare air occupied by the likes of industry giants like Rod Serling and Alfred Hitchcock.  His debut film, the landmark Get Out, showed infinite potential and promise... his follow-up film, Us, while not loved as universally as Get Out, did manage to garner enough support and respect for Peele to avoid accusations of the sophomore slump... but it was his latest film, the mysteriously promoted Nope, that has left me the most extreme in terms of the juxtaposition of anticipation and curiosity.  Sadly, I missed the film in theaters, and didn’t want to pay ownership price for an early rental, but the day the movie dropped to own I was on top of it, which finally afforded me the opportunity to take Nope in and share my thoughts.

Nope would probably work best as a completely blind experience, but as one of the multi-millions that saw the ad campaign initiated during the Super Bowl, building and creating my own set of expectations was inevitable.  With plenty of looks to the sky and lots of ominous situations, comparisons to Close Encounters of the Third Kind felt logical but obvious, and luckily, the actual film baits and switches narratively in a way that adds tons of substance and subtext to the familiar self-imposed premise.  The parallels between the in-world Gordy’s Home sitcom and the Jean Jacket situation become obvious with the help of the understated OJ, and through his eyes, we immediately shift our thinking on Jean Jacket... normally, we see a UFO as an invading force with some sort of intentionality, but much like the titular Gordy lashing out in a primordial manner on set (a location completely foreign and likely frightening to him), Jean Jacket roams the unfamiliar Agua Dulce mostly unnoticed and harmless, but lashes out once their fear response is spiked by misidentified threats (a.k.a. humans).  With this new positioning of the synergy between all parties involved, we as viewers are allowed to saddle up (no pun intended) for a much needed fresh take on the UFO film trope.

Interestingly enough, this drawn parallel between Gordy’s Home and Agua Dulce also serves as the foundation for narrative subtext surrounding post-traumatic stress responses in the face of tragic losses.  Though he is not presented as the main character, this illustration of post-traumatic stress is the clearest in terms of the character Jupe, the sole individual to make it through the Gordy attack not only unscarred, but acknowledged by Gordy in a non-violent manner.  With this situation seemingly completely derailing what was a promising career in the entertainment industry, we find Jupe not only clinging on to any assemblance of his former past glory, but we also find him essentially trying to recreated that bridge between his fear-based morbid curiosity and a potentially dangerous foreign element in his familiar (read : safe) territory.  In contrast to this stands OJ, who was also is attempting to understand sudden and violent tragic loss.  OJ’s extremely reserved nature allows him to keep his distance, assess and understand the threat, and eventually, turn his tragedy into a potential opportunity to better both his life and the life of his sister Em, though the potential trade may be their actual lives if they make any mistakes.  Outside of this brilliant dynamic, we also are shown lots of very real reactions to a UFO... OJ is scared but cautiously curious, Jupe is attempting to exploit the situation for monetary gain, Em shows completely believable fear and confusion responses prior to extreme bravery in the face of the unknown... even Angel and Antlers find themselves curious enough to provide their technical knowledge and prowess to what seems like a potentially possible window emerging from insurmountable impossibility.

As always, Jordan Peele and company use calculated and ambitious cinematography to put viewers in the grey area between subjective and objective viewership, at many times using his camera to almost make viewers feel like a curious but scared tag-along looking over the shoulder of any particular character.  The visual effects used to bring Jean Jacket to life are stellar on a number of levels... as far as design, the multitude of forms that Jean Jacket takes are somehow both curiously familiar and wholly foreign, while the seamless integration of Jean Jacket into the world of Agua Dulce makes it feel extremely tangible.  The costuming is mostly natural and subtle, seemingly to give prominence to Jupe and his crew, whose signature and outlandish attire serves as a connection element to their signature and outlandish lifestyle.  The sound design of Nope is completely brilliant, with the sounds emitting from Jean Jacket sounding both vaguely familiar and wholly terrifying in their role as the auditory star of the film, while tons of supporting sound design balanced out against deafening silence is used effectively to breed tension.  The location of Agua Dulce is cinematically pleasing, with the rustic and dusty landscape standing in stark contrast to the rich blue skies and healthy clouds that fill said skies.  There also seems to be a healthy amount of homage in the film... I personally noticed the main cloud standing as a sort of proxy for Devil’s Tower from Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Jean Jacket’s primary form resembling the Trimaxiom Drone Ship from Flight of the Navigator, and in a nice personal touch, Em’s final motorcycle ride ending with an homage to one of Akira‘s signature shots.

Daniel Kaluuya’s best leading man performances have always been centered around protagonists that are pensive, resourceful and economic with their words, and Nope continues this tradition, allowing Kaluuya to dwell in the dramatic realms of those like Clint Eastwood or Toshiro Mifune in terms of his ability to own cinematic real estate through steely looks and calculated physicality.  Keke Palmer both uses and offsets Kaluuya’s energy by presenting her character as boisterous, optimistically opportunistic and larger than life despite numerous relatable odds, with deep love for her brother still emanating in spite of her actions.  Steven Yeun, who has been on an amazing run the last few years, turns in another wonderful performance by embodying the most extreme version of grace under fire, with the grace represented by the smiling mask he is barely able to maintain that hides his hurt from the fire that is the Gordy’s Home trauma that Jupe sits in on a daily basis.  Brandon Perea makes the most of his limited supporting time by serving as a happy medium between the energies of OJ and Em, with his enthusiasm and curiosity bolstering Em, and his ability to assess and his natural apprehension lending credence to OJ.  Michael Wincott also makes a brief but memorable performance as a jaded and entitled cinematographer who has created a bubble for himself that allows him to sit in his extreme toxicity, with his unhealthy laser-focus to his craft ultimately setting up his downfall.  Keith David makes an important initial cameo to help set the narrative in motion, while appearances by Wrenn Schmidt, Sophia Coto, Barbie Ferreira, a number of other supporting actors, and perhaps most importantly, and uncanny valley-dweller performance from Terry Notary as Gordy round out the film.

Love, more than likely due to its volatile and explosive nature, has been a staple of film since its inception.  From The May Irwin Kiss of 1896 right down to 2022′s Three Thousand Years of Longing, you can bet that each passing year, generational and cultural shift brings with it scores of new cinematic perspectives on nature’s intoxicating drug.  As an artist, I’ve even found myself personally enamored with the subject... back in 2013, on a song called practicing to come undone, I found myself vocalizing the line ‘trail of destruction in the wake of seduction’.  At the time, I had a clear idea what that line was in reference to, and what it meant to me on the whole, but never would I ever have thought that nearly ten years down the road, a movie would embody this thought in a truly elegant manner.  After a year of waiting, and thanks to the streaming services Mubi and Hulu, I finally made the connection in the form of seeing The Worst Person in the World.

Flights of fancy and whimsy are easily identifiable characteristics of young folks, and Julie exudes these qualities in spades, with the prologue of the film solely dedicated to explaining to us how Julie is equal parts passionate about any given stimulus and wholly able to disconnect from said passion as she dives all in to a new one.  This seeming lack of impulse control, not to mention a deeply self-centered and self-serving view of romance, education and the world in general, become foundational characteristics for Julie and our journey with her.  In turn, the journey sets itself up to be a cautionary tale, with Julie’s signature fast-tracked intimacy (in all of its ugly beauty), her ability to fall in and out of love like bungee jumping, and her extremely toxic habit of pushing men out of their comfort zone as a personal connection mechanism all standing as clear indicators of Julie’s confounding ability to be as bad a person as she is an attractive one with a beautiful spirit.  Her cycle of dealing with men is given plenty of examination, be it with her wanting what she can’t (and shouldn’t) have with Aksel, seeking an excuse for disconnection via Eivind, or the way she reverts to a submissive child in the presence of her father.

The 12-chapter presentation, complete with prologue and epilogue, is a wonderful narrative device, especially in the way that Joachim Trier empliments it throughout The Worst Person in the World.  Initially, I assumed that the 12-chapter layout was a clever way of masking some sort of 12-step approach to personal redemption, but in actuality, it stands more so as clear-cut dividers for the many visual, tonal and emotional shifts we are presented with.  Julie stands as a symbol of youthful idealism in the face of world-weary experience, and while she does not let this opposition break her spirit, it certainly shapes her outlook and perspective, though the ending puts much of this growth into question.  Julie also presents us with a refreshing look at sexual enlightenment and balancing... while she does represent a fiercely feminist stance in the face of the patriarchy and societal norms, her path is not romanticized or absent of turmoil and self-induced stress.  I really enjoyed Julie’s outlook, problematic nature and all, as it often forced me to take a moment and examine my reaction to her stances... her infatuation with men at ‘half-mast’ made me wonder about the roots and expectations of her power fantasies, while her awareness of her generational and general womanhood lineage did let me know that there was intention in her actions, even if it is questionable at best.  Ironically, or perhaps cleverly, the most interesting moment (and seeming thesis statement of the entire film) came via Aksel and a contentious interview he partook in, particularly in the way that we momentarily stand firmly in the position of Julie rather than beside her.  

For all of the work and effort that goes into The Worst Person in the World‘s narrative and character work, one should not overlook the stunning technical achievements of Joachim Trier and company.  The non-linear storytelling works well because, while not chronological in terms of time, it is very much logically chronological, with information and experiences presented at just the right points in the narrative to make you second guess and reassess your initial assumptions of any given situation.  Both the cinematography and music cues (scoring and soundtrack) work together to take the viewer on a rollercoaster of subliminal emotions, starting with such portrait-esque, naturally lit joy that it puts the viewer in a perfect position to take the multiple aesthetic destination-filled plunge.  There are plenty of instances where physical distance and various barriers serve as simple but palatable symbols of rising conflict, immediately clueing viewers in to Julie’s feelings towards Aksel and Eivind.  Comparitively, sequences like the citywide freeze and the drug trip clue us in directly to Julie’s deeper desires, emotions and trauma, while also bolstering and catapulting Julie into her numerous life-altering decisions.  As we reach the final chapters, the sudden narration that appears works as a disassociate element that symbolizes the way Julie attempts to distance herself from the responsibility and consequences of her romantic choices.

Renate Reinsve brings her everything to the role of Julie, serving as a lustful and reckless fly in the romantic ointment, reveling in all the drama and fallout of her actions like a 5-D chess player.  Her ability to push emotions like osmosis onto the viewer is powerful, which makes the casual contrarian nature of her Julie portrayal so much more visceral and confounding as we take the journey of awareness with her.  As for her romantic foils, Anders Danielsen’s Aksel is the perfect initial yang to the yin of Julie, with his calm, thoughtful and sweet nature offsetting her emotional recklessness, which in turn forces him to display a cautious but honest shield in order to defend himself from her onslaught.  In contrast, Herbert Nordrum plays Eivind as a timid loner who is clearly full of longing and internal turmoil and trying his best not to fall to Julie’s temptation, with his journey to enlightenment lining up perfectly with Julie’s blind cannonballing towards her own skewed version of personal awareness.  As for parental influence, Marianne Krogh and Vidar Sandem make a perfectly bittersweet tandem tug of war for Julie, with Krogh’s passive affirmations enabling Reinsve’s Julie choices, and Sandem’s passive aggressiveness forcing Julie to acquiesce and tuck her power in.  Supporting appearances by Marina Grazia Di Meo, Sofia Schandy Bloch, Gisle Tveito, Hans Olav Brenner, Anna Dworak and numerous others bring various textures of sensitivity and tension to The Worst Person in the World.

Recently, I’ve been working on a number of different projects, hence my lack of consistency here at the DOOMonFILM Tumblr page.  Alongside the recording and release preparation for two albums, as well as focusing on Twitch growth, I’ve had to compartmentalize quite a bit of my workload, and unfortunately, both my Tumblr and YouTube film breakdowns have been scaled back.  Recently, however, I fell down a rabbit hole connected to the film Chronicle, specifically how it feels like a bridge between the found footage era and the MCU/DCEU era, and in the midst of researching, I rediscovered my love for independent found footage films.  While compiling a list of examples for my points, many films I’d heard of popped up, and seeing as I’d previously not taken the time to seek many of them out, I figured the present felt appropriate.  This is how I stumbled upon Lake Mungo.

Lake Mungo does a fabulous job of mixing the mockumentary format with the found footage format, blurring the lines of reality so cleanly that it would be easy to assume you were watching a Discovery, Netflix or HBO documentary if you were not prompted that Lake Mungo is a complete work of fiction.  Based on the mockumentary format, the performances given by the cast feel as natural as testimonials and interviews on actual events, and with the added benefit of manufactured VHS and cellular phone footage, falsified family pictures and legitimate-looking records of hypnotism sessions, these seemingly honest interview sequences find themselves bolstered through the magic of in-film world-building.  Lake Mungo is a masterclass in suspension of disbelief through this application of various media and mediums, though this particular aspect of the film is far from the sole one that receives high level execution.

Where this film really excels is in the narrative structure and writing, particular in the way it sets up, subverts and circles back around to audience expectations like a mental maze.  To do a point by point breakdown of just how intriguing and immersive the writing is would do a disservice to those who have not seem the film, but to give you an idea of what you’re in for, we are presented with a potential ghost story that, as the events unfold, unveils just as much in terms of real world horror as it does supernatural horror.  To refer to certain story beats as red herrings seems disingenuous, as they do carry weight both within the boundaries of the narrative and within social norms as a whole, but the gravity of certain story points that are simply placed on the table and seemingly abandoned hit just as hard as the core story that draws you in like traumatic quicksand.  Be warned going into the film... Joel Anderson and company throw a few haymakers at viewers that come from seemingly nowhere, and they will put you in the realms of uneasiness, but in the big picture, they ultimately serve as speed bumps along the main narrative highway we are barreling down.  

The way that Lake Mungo implements different styles of video and digital footage to create a believable documentary-like feel works greatly to its benefit, as it takes little to no effort for a viewer to find themselves hooked and totally attentive.  The way that the actors are able to present such natural, testimonial-style performances further drives home the feeling of not knowing what to believe, be it the overall story, or whether or not the story is even real.  The sound design is eerie and off-putting, with special praise given to the way that nature sounds and silence are juxtaposed to build a sense of supernatural presence.  The writing has a sense of honesty and revelation to it that keeps viewers guessing just when they think they’ve got a handle on what they are being presented.

Though she never gets a chance to really give a standout stretch of performance or an interview, Talia Zucker and her parallel personality characteristics of playfulness and being withdrawn make her an easy and willing center point of focus for the film, as her actions in the ‘found footage’ we are presented seem to validate the continual praise she is given by most of the characters.  Martin Sharpe, who plays her brother in the film, easily gives the most complex performance in the film, as he is able to emote pain and regret in equal measure, making his revelations and actions within the film extremely purposeful as he steps into the territory of unreliable narrator.  Rosie Traynor displays levels of pain, disconnection and disassociation that make her the character most sympathetic in terms of viewer emotional response, with the way she carries the weight of loss in particular coming off as extremely genuine and sincere.  David Pledger offsets Traynor’s heavily emotional response with the rationale and attempted forward momentum that has become synonymous with men and grief, all the while exuding a bit of charm that, in retrospect, feels unnerving and uneasy when compared to the gravity of the fictional situation.  Steve Jodrell comes off as a matter-of-fact, no nonsense well of secrets used to propel the story forward by pushing the Palmer family out of their comfort zone, which plays as equal parts sinister and fatalistic when one revisits the film.  Supporting appearances by Tania Lentini, Cameron Strachan, Judith Roberts, Robin Cuming and Marcus Costello also stand out.

Sir Isaac Newton once stated ‘for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’, and while he was stating his third law in regard to motion, I find this statement to fit the current state of film and television.  As always, we have a strong 70% or so of content that fits standard definition : your rom-coms, you Pixar fare, Oscar-bait dramas and so forth.  If this normality is considered the action, it is arguable that the equal reaction would be the modern-day dominance of superhero content, led proudly by Marvel and DC’s numerous film and television offerings.  For my money’s worth, the opposite reaction would be the groundswell of absurdist and surrealist content that has amassed a large, dedicated fanbase... this would include films like The Lighthouse and Sorry To Bother You, as well as television shows like Atlanta and so forth.  If you’re looking to add another notch to your surrealist and absurdist belt, then I heavily recommend checking out Men, the latest offering from Alex Garland. 

Before we get to the crux of the matter that Men is addressing, it would be best to take a brief look at how it handles its surface level subject matter, as Men has a very unique gift of being both heavy-handed and wildly ambiguous with its titular target point.  The entire affair is blanketed by a complex and nuanced observation of grief and trauma, specifically in the way that questions can hang around when one is uncertain about how direct their role was in the drastic actions of another individual.  The literal and symbolical depiction of Harper’s ghost of the past are palatable and powerful despite their boorish and grotesque presentation... perhaps it is this extremely overbearing and menace-filled depiction that transitions the tension from the screen directly into the lap of the viewer, resulting in people either being glued to their seat (like myself) or finding themselves pushed to the point of walking out of the theater (like the couple I was sharing the viewing experience with).  James Marlowe becomes a viciously on-the-nose example of weaponized vengeance and toxicity, so much so that it does not take in-depth analysis to understand his role as catalyst for the events that take place in Men.  Speaking of the eponymous Men, the presence of Geoffrey works extremely well as a visual and narrative metaphor of the autonomy and expressive freedom men are giving in comparison to the extremely singular and dated view of womanhood... Geoffrey and his multiple manifestations give us emotional and symbolic depictions of the provider, the protector, the predator, the man of faith, the child and more, while Harper is largely pigeonholed into the role of the estranged wife forever tethered to men in some way, shape or form.

Once we break through the surface level elements, we are forced to face some extremely uncomfortable and volatile subject matter of the minefield nature : the tangled web of the #MeToo movement, #NotAllMen backlash and #BelieveAllWomen counter-backlash.  These are extremely nuanced and subjective subject matters, and finding a singular acceptable stance is an exercise in the impossible, but for my money’s worth, I find it brave of Alex Garland to even attempt and approach it, and I am satisfied with his handling of these subjects, specifically with how said handling has forced me to look inward at my thoughts and perspectives when ruminating on these issues.  There is a deeply rooted through-line that pits intimacy versus instinct, breaking down Geoffrey’s existence to a number of almost carnal existences that serve as avatars for the many, many ways men try to deflect their role in the pain they cause on women (ie. ‘boys will be boys’, ‘have pity on him for his situation’ and so forth).  There is also plenty of blaming women for their supposed ‘role’ in volatile desire-based actions, which is even more alarming when the messaging comes from authority figures like police or the clergy.  Harper is no saint, and she is not depicted as such (thankfully), but there is definitely also a strong presence of men and their actions pushing women to their breaking point, resulting in a domino effect of externalized pain and tarnished life experiences.

It’s no surprise that Men excels on a technical level, as Alex Garland has proven himself to be quite the auteur via Ex Machina and his polarizing Annihilation adaptation.  For Men, there seems to be a litany of inspiration in attendance, with the moments of Cronenberg-style trauma-based body horror emerging from a Stanley Kubrick meets Dario Argento construct.  There is also a strong Andrei Tarkovsy-style approach to pacing and aesthetic mixed in with Garland’s signature subtle shock.  The presence of deep reds is used to both offset and amplify the literal and symbolically present horror of isolation that serves as the foundation for Men, with the symbolic coming from the traumatic seperation of Harper and James, and the literal coming from the locale the majority of events take place in.  The score is deeply impactful, with a mix of unsettling choral voices and deep strings working to great effect, often times blurring the line between the ‘reality’ of the film and the more filmlike aspects.  For the most part the editing is by the book, though the chopping up of the past and future helps keep us on our toes, but by the third act, the editing shifts to a very disorienting and layered approach, which adds greatly to the tension.  The climax also opens the door for some extremely grotesque special effects that will haunt you long after the final credit has rolled.  There are some absolutely gorgeous shot compositions in this film, particularly in the limited moments in which Harper is able to find reprieve from her physical and mental anguish.  The church location (particularly the altar) is stellar set design, and the home where much of the film takes place is nearly as unsettling as The Overlook Hotel from The Shining at times, signature red walls and all.

For a movie with such lofty absurdist aspirations applied to the most polarizing of subject matter, a strong and steadfast presence is needed to usher us from start to finish, and Jessie Buckley’s steel reserve is more than capable of fitting that bill... add to this her ability to shift between coldly detached and overwhelmingly emotional moments, and she becomes the perfect lightning rod for the madness that surrounds her.  As compelling as the performance of Buckley is, the real star of this show is Rory Kinnear, who injects dangerous levels of unsettling menace into a litany of characters, making each one distinct enough that he is nearly unrecognizable as a shapeshifting presence until multiple versions of his characterizations occupy the same space... movies like this don’t normally garner much awards attention, but in a perfect world, this Kinnear performance would garner him numerous award nominations.  Paapa Essiedu walks an extremely fine line between garnering sympathy and being a repulsive presence, digging deep into a well of emotional immaturity in order to give viewers a perfect display of how not to deal with relationship turmoil.  Gayle Rankin, through a limited satellite presence, serves as the baseline character for the film, providing rationality and support from a safe distance while the remaining core characters are dragged through the symbolic meat grinder.

While my 2022 moviegoing experience has largely been a story of fulfilled expectations, I’d be remiss not to mention that fact that the year has yielded its fair share of surprise standout films as well.  To be fair, some of these surprises have been films where I’m in the minority opinion, but this past weekend, Disney+ managed to put up a huge W in the form of Chip ‘n Dale : Rescue Rangers.  The trailers showed plenty of promise, but the surprise for me comes in the form of both excellent execution and a prime balance of wonderful nostalgia.

I’m far from the first person to mention this in relation to Chip ‘n Dale, but the levels of self-awareness shown in this film is downright inspiring.  With reboots and nostalgia-bait being such a touchy subject nowadays, directors and film studios are definitely taking a leap of faith anytime that dwell into that realm, but Chip ‘n Dale attacks this phenomenon head on by both subverting expectations and embracing the tendency to refer to it as a reboot with great aplomb, often referring to itself as a ‘comeback’.  Treating the original Chip ‘n Dale : Rescue Rangers cartoon show as a property within a newly established larger world creates layers and layers of deeply meta and heavily referential narrative interaction that oddly humanizes Disney veterans Chip and Dale, as well as their Saturday morning cartoon companions that joined them for their serialized late 1980s and early 1990s adventures.  Through this deceptively complex but easily digestible rubric, the door is not only left open for an avalanche of animated entertainment and film references to be included, but much deeper personality-based humor opportunities are presented, such as the old standby of silent characters in shows being portrayed by Shakespearean-level actors (with Zipper fitting the bill in this case).  Many people have compared this film to Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, and rightfully so, as it is the easiest comparison to make, but I’ve been finding the comparisons to Last Action Hero much more appropriate.

The film is also a technical marvel, not to mention a true assault on the senses in terms of both humor and visual stimulus.  In terms of the technical side, Chip in particular is fascinating, as his 2-D presentation is not jarring at all in the way he inhabits space within a 3-D world, or when he is consistently interacting with a digital version of Dale and other human beings.  Giving Chip and Dale real personalities and human characteristics, rather than their signature squeaky vocals, doesn’t feel odd at all within the context of the created world, and as a bonus benefit, it creates a very real and relatable tension that all of us can relate to, as most everyone has had childhood friendships that eventually grew apart due to larger real world circumstances.  As for the assault on the senses, nearly every inch of every frame contains some kind of reference to a long list of Disney-related and auxiliary-connected properties, not to mention a healthy amount of digs at meme-worthy moments in recent film history, such as the uncanny valley nature of Polar Express or the uproar that followed the Internet-breaking presentation of Ugly Sonic. 

The animation styles are vast and varied in this film, and this mixture could easily be distracting, but the way that the characters are animated and rendered with love and care works much better than one would expect, with everything fitting together very well.  The humor is firing on all cylinders, with plenty of simple gags present for younger viewers, tons of innuendo for older viewers, and tons of fan service-based humor for those aware of deep cut opportunities.  The way that the animated characters interact with real world objects is done so well that I honestly didn’t even think about it until the moment that I wrote this sentence.  Most everything else is serviceable in terms of the standard technical aspects, but Chip ‘n Dale : Rescue Rangers is extremely aware of what it needs to do and do well, and it more than answers the call.

The dry with of John Mulaney matches extremely well with the serendipitous, happy-go-lucky nature of Andy Samberg in a way that not only showcases their natural dramatic and comedic chemistry, but adds a surprising amount of depth to the Chip and Dale dynamic.  Will Arnett gets to fully embrace his talent for comedic gruffness as Sweet Pete, displaying all of the jaded aggression one would imagine coming from a discarded former household name turned crime kingpin.  KiKi Layne works as a perfect audience surrogate slash bridging element to help allow viewers to suspend disbelief, with her character both helping to advance the narrative and standing as the vocalization for many of the viewers’ thoughts and comments.  J.K. Simmons gets a chance to lean into the assured but inept comedic presence he only gets to showcase on rare occasions, commanding both respect and ridicule in equal measure.  Seth Rogen is hilariously awkward as Bob, and alongside the imposing presence that Da’Vone McDonald brings to life, Arnett gets a highly adept pair of comedic henchman to do his bidding.  Tim Robinson steals a handful of scenes as Ugly Sonic as he plays his lack of awareness at the highest resonance.  Tress MacNaille, Eric Bana and Dennis Haysbert bring the remainder of the Rescue Rangers crew to life with their own appropriate world-expanding takes on the familiar group of characters, continuing the trend of the aforementioned cast members.  The list of cameos and supporting appearances is nearly endless... Flula Borg, Chris Parnell, Corey Burton, Jeff Bennett, Liz Cackowski, Rachel Bloom, Steven Curtis Chapman, Vin Diesel, Keegan-Michael Key, Charles Fleischer, David Tennant, Alan Oppenheimer, Jorma Taccone, Jim Cummings, old voice recordings of Betty Lou Gerson, Akiva Schaffer, Paul Rudd, Tad Stones and a digitally aged down Paula Abdul, among a host of others, all make memorable appearances. 

Like so many of the ranking lists I did in late 2020 and 2021, my Ridley Scott list was almost immediately outdated by the announcement of two films within short order of my list drop.  While House of Gucci garnered the lion’s share of critical acclaim and award nominations, The Last Duel was the more interesting of the two films to me, and yet, it took me close to forever to get around to either one of the films.  During an odd one day breather in both the NBA and NHL playoffs were I found myself without a game to watch, I decided to finally kick The Last Duel way up the queue, and I must say that I am very glad that I did so.

My initial expectations of The Last Duel were that it would be something akin to Braveheart or other period-specific battle-heavy dramas, but much to my surprise, The Last Duel seems made in the spirit of films like The Hidden Fortress, particularly in the way that it comments on the power of perspective.  Quite smartly, the film is broken up into four chapters : the recollection of Sir Jean de Carrouges, the recollection of Jacques Le Gris, the recollection of Marguerite de Carrouges (which is presented as the truth), and finally, the resolution of the events that took place.  Through this three-pronged journey towards the climax of the film, we are given an interesting take on each characters motivations, intentions, perspective and the way the events impacted them, not to mention several presentational moments with characters that later receive a sort of behind the scenes, fly on the wall intake.  A prime example of this would be the journey of Marguerite de Carrouges throughout the course of The Last Duel, as she is largely presented as the victim of circumstances with little to no autonomy in terms of her livelihood, only to eventually learn just how important her place within the Carrouges family sphere was up to and during the deplorable actions Jacques Le Gris exacted on her.

Speaking of lack of autonomy, the thing that makes The Last Duel both compelling and incredibly hard to watch would be the very modern viewpoint the film takes in terms of the fog that surrounds sexual assault allegations.  While I (mostly) believe in the tenant that those who falsely accuse others of such gross allegations, to see Marguerite‘s life threatened if Sir Jean does not defeat Jacques Le Gris in a duel to the death is insane, and even more so when it has been made abundantly clear that the de Carrouges family has not been able to conceive, yet Marguerite’s pregnancy length matches the length of time passed since the incident with Le Gris.  In retrospect, I wonder if this bold and unapologetic damnation of the way that humans inherently handle accusations of this nature may have hit a little close to home within the Hollywood crowd, hence the potential silent snubbing of this film, which was already facing an uphill battle as a commercial film dealing with such sensitive subject matter.

With 45 years of filmmaking under his belt (with his first film being The Duelists, ironically), it’s no surprise that The Last Duel is yet another technical masterpiece that Ridley Scott can add to his catalog of marvelous wonders.  Heading to France and Ireland brings a sense of authenticity to the visual side of the story that allows Scott and company to be a bit more colloquial in terms of the dialogue, which eradicates the gap of understanding that normally comes with period films.  The cinematography is as precise as it is breathtaking, with the camera nearly always finding the right placement to immerse you directly in the middle of both the actual and social danger taking place, as if the story is taking place in a whirlwind-like manner around the viewer.  The combat scenes are brutally beautiful, standing up to the high bar that sequences like Game of Thrones‘ Battle of the Bastards in terns of both stylized violence and capturing the hectic and intense nature of hand to hand combat.  I am very surprised that the costuming did not receive any award nominations, as both the armor and the traditional garb not only looks amazing, but feels period-proper.  The editing aids the chapter-based presentation of the filming, helping to create a cyclical approach to the story that feels like a downward spiral.

Matt Damon has a true knack for playing salt of the Earth characters that shine in spite of adversity, and his portrayal of Sir Jean de Carrouges is no exception to this trend, as his characterization encompasses the frustration and towering dignity it takes to remain a man of honor in the face of personal, familial, historical and societal scorn... he could have easily played the role as an erratic loose cannon driven by pain, and yet, his focus and foresight is what shines in his performance the most.  Jodie Comer gives a full spectrum of performance that aids the narrative presentation the most, with her revealing more and more depths to her character in parallel with the unfurling of information we are given in the Hidden Fortress-like structure of The Last Duel.  Adam Driver‘s dense mix of magnetic sexual attraction and deplorable entitlement positions him as one of the most complex film antagonists of recent memory, with his performance being so full of grey area that I personally felt myself torn between him receiving his comeuppance and wondering if he was truly wrongfully accused, making the final moments of the film that much more satisfying.  Ben Affleck is at his purposefully annoying best, shadowing Driver’s deplorable character aspects with an outright disdain for Carrouges, not to mention a knack for performative nastiness and misogyny.  Nathaniel Parker, Adam Nagaitis, Alex Lawther and Harriet Walter all give key supporting performances, with Serena Kennedy, Marton Csokas, Željko Ivanek, Tallulah Haddon, Bryony Hannah and a wealth of others rounding out the vast cast.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before... ‘All Hollywood does is produce remakes’... ‘Nothing about movies is original anymore’... and so on, and so on.  While I have yet to fully drink this Kool-Aid, I do find myself frustrated more so at the choices for films that are remade than the fact that certain properties are given expensive makeovers.  Maybe that’s why I went into Firestarter with the lowest of expectations... it’s not like I have a vested interest in the original film, but as beloved as it has become (especially to fans of Drew Barrymore), it’s definitely interesting that anyone would choose to make an updated version.  That being said, I do have a few caveats that I feel work towards cinematic remakes, and the original Firestarter checks off many of those boxes : the original was released over 20 years ago, the original is closer to cult classic than beloved film, and most importantly, the advances in the realm of special effects could add visual flare.  As much as this Firestarter update was being promoted, I had no idea it dropped on this past Friday the 13th, nor did I know it was released on Peacock as well as in theaters, so I let my curiosity get the best of me.

From what I can recollect, Firestarter 1984 centered mostly around the kidnapping, attempted recovery and eventual emancipation of Charlie, mainly serving as a vehicle for spectacular fire-based visual effects.  What intrigues me about Firestarter 2022, however, is the deeper dives into the elements that led up to and created Charlie’s fear-inducing abilities, particularly the juxtaposition of her parents’ genetically altered abilities versus Charlie’s natural abilities present from birth.  Through this juxtaposition, we see Charlie’s abilities grow and develop along with her, with no presumable ceiling for said growth, while through Charlie’s parents, we get a different perspective, with Vicky representing how the abilities fade away if neglected (be it out of fear or otherwise), while Andy represents what can happen if genetically altered abilities are pushed to their tipping point.  While many films that portray pyrokinesis (the ability to mentally control fire/heat), clairvoyance (the ability to see the future), psychokinesis (the ability to influence the thoughts of others) and telekinesis (the ability to move objects with your mind) opt to show them almost solely in a weaponized manner, Firestarter gives us glimpses at how the abilities can be impacted by puberty, trauma, stress and other factors that may not be visually glorious, but certainly add narrative depth and tension.  It’s almost always a given that institutionalization and the hope of weaponizing those with abilities will be present in films of this nature, but Firestarter 2022 completely embraces the shadowy nature of said institutions, showing how they not only have a vast secret network, but how they are also willing to exploit those they altered to do their dark bidding.

Speaking of the Shop (the shadow organization), their existence, in conjunction with the deeper dive into the McGee family, gives us an interesting comparison of how a familial support system arcs in terms of the burden of abilities versus those transformed into jaded outcasts and loners forced to live with their inherited ghosts.  While there are stark differences, both sides are tied by a unifying knot in the form of the inner war of morality that comes with being an individual with abilities.  In addition to this moral struggle, we also see how both sides share the role of those with abilities pegged as misunderstood outcasts, with Charlie and John Rainbird having the bonus shared pleasure of being misunderstood outcasts to those closest to them.  The final unifying element of both sides is the illustration of the cost that comes with using abilities, be it the ethical weight of taking a life mostly personified by Charlie (or, in the case of John Rainbird, the ability to set it aside), or in the case of Andy, the inward-focused cost of literal bleeding from the eyes. 

Circling back to the remake discussion, it’s crystal clear that Firestarter 2022 knows exactly what it is, with the production explicitly making a high definition and spiritual update of the late 1970s and early 1980s aesthetic glory that came with Firestarter 1984 and other films of its ilk.  In terms of the cinematography, handheld cameras are largely employed to create a visual sense of tension and unease, helping to fuel the overall mood of the film.  Shadows are employed to great use, especially for the interior sets, and with such deep implementation, the daylight scenes receive a transitive impact where the light feels as if it must fight to be noticed.  It goes without saying, but the use of both practical and digital fire effects are combined to help dot Firestarter with moments of pure spur of the moment terror.  Oddly enough, my biggest issue with the film is the pacing, and it’s the opposite issue one would expect... the film never really lets off the gas, even during its introspective moments, and what officially clocks in as a standard 90-minute theatrical film plays closer to a 45-50 minute HBO or Disney+ streaming service special.  I never thought that I’d say a film should be longer, and yet, here we are.  A special shoutout must be given to John Carpenter for his score work, which is ironic considering he was originally tapped to direct the first film.

Stepping into a role once occupied by the formidable Drew Barrymore would be a tall order for even the most season child actor, but Ryan Kiera Armstrong not only lives up to the expectations, but does a great job of making the role her own by carrying both the internal family damage and external peer bullying damage like a loaded weapon waiting to be cocked and fired as she oscillates between brooding sadness and prepubescent fits of frustration, making her volatile ability that much more of a wild card.  Zac Efron brings his charm and natural attraction to his patriarchal role, serving as protector of his wife and daughter while taking part in the age old masculine practice of avoiding the real issue and pushing the personal pain deep into the recesses of his soul.  Sydney Lemmon uses her brief time in the film to serve as a bridge between Armstrong and Efron, playing both the maternal protector and the long-suffering voice of reason in the familial trio.  Michael Greyeyes does what he can to serve as the active antagonist in the film, spinning gold out of straw to create a narrative arc out of an extremely constrained character presentation, somehow forming a minor harmony out of the one-note presentation he was cast in.  Much of the character cache denied to Greyeyes is diverted towards Gloria Reuben, who essentially plays an Amanda Waller surrogate to the Suicide Squad facsimile Greyeyes was given.  Brief but powerful supporting appearances by John Beasley and Kurtwood Smith round out the main cast.

SPOILER ALERT : SPOILERS FOLLOWING / DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT THIS MOVIE SPOILED PRIOR TO SEEING IT

It took a while for me to warm up to the MCU as a phenomenon and an overarching concept.  The first run of movies from Captain America, Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Thor, The Avengers and even Guardians of the Galaxy, while entertaining enough, weren’t necessarily films that I went crazy for (with the exception of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, which is great on a foundational level).  Oddly enough, it was perhaps the first big misstep for the MCU in terms of public opinion, Avengers: Age of Ultron, that piqued my deeper interest, and this is mainly because it introduced me to my two favorite members of the MCU at the time : Vision, and more importantly, Wanda Maximoff.  

When Phase 3 kicked into gear, however, I could no longer deny that I was a sucker for the MCU.  Like many people, Black Panther really locked me in, but it only served as a precursor for what looked like the coolest addition to the MCU on the horizon... the inclusion of Doctor Strange.  Needless to say, when his self-titled movie was released it won me over in no time, instantly vaulting Doctor Strange into the second spot on my favorite Avenger list, right below Wanda.

We all know what happened next... the decade-long experiment that the MCU was undertaking reached a peak with Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame, leaving many character futures in question.  Lucky for me, Wanda came out the other side with a television show, and Doctor Strange remained in the fold as a key member of the MCU.  As WandaVision reached its season one conclusion, rumors started buzzing about the Doctor Strange film in the works that would cross the mythical paths of Strange and Wanda, and the buzz become concrete when Spider-Man: No Way Home put all of the pieces in place for Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness.  Like any major MCU event, the rumor mill kicked into high gear, and avoiding spoilers became a necessary skill, but I did my best, and on opening day, I was lucky enough to grab a seat at the first screening in town.

For such a prolific entry into the MCU surrounded by massive versions of the hype machine and rumor mill, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness did an amazing job of presenting a fresh, expectation-defying story.  With such intense table-setting done in Phase 4 to set up this film and the few that follow, all of the seeds planted came to wonderful fruition in terms of both the Wanda Maximoff and Doctor Strange story arcs, with a nice bit of character evolution for Christine Palmer and Wong thrown in for good measure.  On top of this, we get a plethora of partial fan service additions and partial comic-true additions to further flesh out the intricate and vast world that Doctor Strange and company navigate, be it the introduction of The Illuminati (with members referencing the gamut from classic X-Men to flops like The Inhumans), the illustration of the dichotomy surrounding the Dark Hold and the Book of Vishanti, the inclusion of locations like Mount Wundagore or Westview, or countless other gems found in the tight runtime.  

Speaking of fan service and character additions, we get waves and waves of casting that, in my opinion, fulfilled the rampant expectations without bending into the world of the ridiculous.  Starting with said ridiculous, while the trailers made it seem like we were getting a deep dose of zombies from the What If...? series, the closest thing we got to a zombie was a brilliant use of Defender Strange in the climax of the film.  Luckily, we also did not have to deal with Tom Cruise in a variant Iron Man role, a choice I have always felt would have been wildly distracting.  What we get instead are the return of Mordo (though not our Mordo, as this variant is named Karl) that brings us a nice mixed moment of breathing and tension in tandem, a blitzkrieg insertion of America Chavez (who holds her own amongst some of the most powerful members of the MCU), and in maybe the biggest shock to date in the MCU, we get our first taste of Reed Richards alongside Illuminati members Black Bolt, the previously aforementioned Mordo, a Maria Rambeau Captain Marvel variant, the wildly popular Captain Carter, and last but not least, the truest presentation of Professor X committed to film so far.

I am also hard-pressed to think of another MCU property that leans so heavily into horror and mysticism, which makes the choice to put Sam Raimi at the helm a bit of easy genius due to his pedigree with the depiction of those exact elements on film.  With Strange, Wanda and the entirety of Kamar-Taj at play, not to mention the MCU’s groundwork of establishing the various forms of magic within their universe, it is no surprise that we get to see orange Eldritch magic, red Chaos magic and the purple Salem Witch magic all at play.  We also get to see a wide range of what the Sling Ring can do in terms of combat, as both Strange and Wong dig deep in their respective bags to face the threat presented by Wanda, not to mention its more practical uses such as travel or protection from a great fall.  The menagerie of creatures at Wanda’s disposal are as shocking as they are formidable, and at Kamar-Taj, we get to see a wide range of magic users, including the comic iconic Rintrah, a minotaur who stepped into the apprentice role in the comics that America Chavez is presumably stepping into for the MCU.  For the sake of time, I will not gush over all of the magic inclusions in the film, as I could do this all day (wink wink).

There have been some high level directors connected to the MCU in the past... names like Jon Favreau, James Gunn, Taika Waititi, Joss Whedon, Ryan Coogler, Chloé Zhao, the Russo brothers, Shane Black, Peyton Reed, Benson and Moorhead and more have all done stellar work with this vast cast of characters, but Sam Raimi brings a pedigree to Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness that has yet to be seen (with the exception of the aforementioned Benson and Moorhead’s promise shown in Moon Knight) in MCU films.  There were warnings of the film being scary, and while it is not scary in my opinion, it does a fantastic job of creating tension and providing a bit more spooky elements than previous films (with the exception of the poorly executed The New Mutants).  The fluid, free-moving camera work disorients viewers to an appropriate degree, while simultaneously giving us a subtle connective thread throughout the multiverses in the way that it flips, rotates, inverts and generally bends to the will of a particular scene’s energy.  I’ve never really been one to take active notice of the score in MCU films, but this film somehow managed to make me hyperaware of its musical accompaniment, with the Professor X introduction and the confrontation between Doctor Strange and Sinister Strange involving literal musical notes standing out in particular.  The sequence where America Chavez and Doctor Strange spiral through a handful of multiverse locations rivals the insanity of the scene where The Ancient One sends Doctor Strange through the surrealist woodchipper in the first film.  Like much of this film, I could go on and on about the technical aspects, but Raimi did such a great job of putting this film together that it all blends together into one unified visceral experience. 

Benedict Cumberbatch has clearly taken complete ownership of the Doctor Strange character to the point where he can manage expressions and temperament with enough subtlety to provide us with a range of Strange variants, all of which are rooted deeply in Strange’s signature high-minded and egotistical self-view, but each hitting a different point on the scale in terms of the capability to be vicious, pensive, light-hearted and loving or completely broken.  In an equally powerful parallel performance, Elizabeth Olsen manages to bring new range and depth to Wanda in ways that weren’t displayed during the entire run of the WandaVision series, all of which is caged in by the yin of Wanda’s motherly energy that tangles with the yang of her villainous, world-breaking powers, with a solid touch of aggressive edge for good measure.  Benedict Wong ratchets back the humor we’ve come to know him for and replaced it with a sense of dignity and grace one would come to associate with the title of Sorcerer Supreme, not to mention the leadership tendencies of a benevolent general who cares deeply for his ranks.  Xochitl Gomez confidently steps shoulder to shoulder with this trio, exuding the range of personality from jovial to tortured required to be a fixture in the MCU, and using her time during her debut performance to make viewers forget she hasn’t been in the mix for year.  Chiwetel Ejiofor returns, though the hurt and disdain displayed in the former Mordo is replaced with arrogance and complacency, making the Karl variant stand in stark contrast to the angered teacher we met previously.  Rachel McAdams also returns with a much meatier role, eschewing her previous status as Strange’s romantic interest for a bit more autonomy and agency that helps her factor deeply into the story rather than simply standing around as human set dressing.  Michael Stuhlbarg, Patrick Stewart, John Krasinski, Haley Atwell, Lashana Lynch, Anson Mount, Julian Hilliard and Jett Klyne, Bruce Campbell, Michael Waldron and even Charlize Theron also make memorable appearances/cameos.

Back in February of 2020, when life was a bit easier but on the verge of collapse, I had the pleasure of sharing some amazing news with my friends in the DOOMonFILM Facebook group... the locked in release date for The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, a reported film where Nicolas Cage gets the opportunity to play a fictionalized heightened version of himself.  Unfortunately for all of us, the pandemic put a delay on life, but once SXSW 2022 kicked into gear, a promotional campaign for the film took over Austin telephone and utility poles.  As a big time Nicolas Cage fan, I was definitely excited about this film, and this past Tuesday, I finally got a chance to check the film out.  

I know that I am going to get a reputation for comparing any film with a hint of a surrealist approach to it as 8 1/2, but if I had to give a one-sentence pitch for this film, I would call it ‘8 1/2 meets Pee-wee’s Big Adventure‘.  The comparisons to 8 1/2 are immediate, constant, consistent and easy to identify, with the spine of these comparisons consisting of a parade of references to previous Nicolas Cage properties, up to and including Con Air, Face/Off, Gone in 60 Seconds, Leaving Las Vegas, Guarding Tess, The Rock, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, Moonstruck, The Wicker Man, The Croods film franchise, Mandy and many more.  Two of my favorite references that sit on opposite ends of the recognizability scale would be the appearance of a Sailor Ripley proxy from Wild at Heart that hounds Cage throughout the film, and a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ bit of a cosmic anomaly in the sky that could represent Color Out Of Space.  Nicolas Cage films aren’t the only ones that get attention either, as a parallel running gag involving The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Paddington 2 hits the laughs bullseye every time.  Cage gets to provide viewers with a good balance of a grounded and proud man dealing internally with coming to grips with his place in the continuum of film against the wild, unorthodox and unchained thespian we’ve shaped him up to be in our minds.

In terms of the Pee-wee’s Big Adventure comparisons, this works two-fold, with the context being The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent standing as a parody of action films in general and spy films in particular, and the subtext being a dramatized and almost therapeutic portrait of Nicolas Cage’s very real struggles with bankruptcy, not to mention their impact on the film roles he takes.  As a genre satire, it was nice to see the story not do the obvious option of making Javi a villain with a deep fan respect for Cage, as we’ve seen this particular situation time and again in both film and television... propositioning Javi and the unwilling and unknowing puppet of his cousin Lucas helps keep the relationship between Javi and Cage light, comedic, jovial and heartfelt while still allowing the lifestyle that casts a shadow on Javi be the source of tension, and a valid reason for the C.I.A. to be involved, which in turn creates options for the Cage character.  The subtext is really the key to this film, however... while it doesn’t necessarily absolve Nicolas Cage of the financial and life choices he made that led him to his real life bankruptcy, creating the fictionalized narrative we are presented with in The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent not only gives Cage something he can refer to when asked about that stage of his life in future interviews, but it also works as a comedic cautionary tale for budding and future actors who could find themselves in the throws of financial ruin, thus leading to choices that impact their personal lives.

While The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent isn’t necessarily a film looking to make technical breakthroughs, but props must be given for the way that the Sailor Ripley version of Nicolas Cage is able to occupy space with the “real” Nicolas Cage, up to and including hugging and kissing him.  Though it’s likely he either had a major influence on the wardrobe or perhaps even provided it himself, the clothes that Cage adorns throughout the film are the perfect encapsulation of all the aspects of his personality and thespian character we’ve come to love, enjoy and respect.  The entire feel of the film is very fast and loose, with a healthy dose of scenes involving supporting characters feeling like they were allowed to be bolstered by improvisation, and the way that the narrative folds in on itself near the film’s midpoint and starts providing meta-commentary works extremely well.  Everything Everywhere All At Once may be my favorite film of the year, and The Northman may get my vote for most impressive film of the year, but The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent feels like the most fun I’ve had in a movie theater since a handful of sequences in Ready Player One.

While there is a decent list of names associated with this film, two actors are clearly outpacing the rest of the cast in terms of doing the heavy lifting.  Obviously, the primary name on the list is Nicolas Cage, and while he is playing a hyper-stylized, fictionalized version of himself, he is able to tap into the character quirks that fans love and make them comically performative, as well as managing to provide more than a few moments of pure emotion, which is kept grounded while also clearly being performative.  Surprisingly (or perhaps not, for those that endured WW84), Pedro Pascal steps up to the plate and matches Cage in terms of both enthusiastic energy and comic chops, while also giving us a portrayal of an unwilling anti-villain antagonist that is almost impossible not to empathize with.  On the tier just below these two we can find Sharon Horgan and Lily Sheen, who play Cage’s wife and daughter (respectfully), who combine forces to channel wave after wave of frustration at Cage based on a lack of love, attention or even a desire to truly care for what shapes them as humans.  Tiffany Haddish and the always hilarious Ike Barinholtz both get chances to display their whip-smart comedic chops, though I would say that the duo may have been a bit underused (though the film is a perfect length as is currently).  Paco León steps in for a bit of pure villainy, while appearances by Neil Patrick Harris, David Gordon Green, Demi Moore, Alessandra Mastronardi, Jacob Scipio and more round out the cast.

If given the opportunity to make a tier list of modern day film directors, or at least film directors of the past 20 or so years, the name Robert Eggers would surely be on it, which is a true testament to his filmmaking skill considering he is on the eve of releasing only his third film.  If The VVitch can be classified as his immersive and expertly-crafted debut, and The Lighthouse as his cinematic fever-dream follow-up, then The Northman, based solely on the trailers, looks like it will be his high-concept take on the action-revenge film.  For any other director, the idea and concept of The Northman would signal the red flags of standard-issue filmmaking, but even before the stellar promotional campaign got going, fans of Eggers were highly anticipating this release.  Much to my luck, the film got a Thursday night release in my area, and without hesitation I got a ticket so that I could be on the ground floor of The Northman collective experience.

There is a lot to chew on in The Northman, but personally, the thing I found the most interesting was the way that what, on surface level, seems like the most by the book offering from Robert Eggers is still infinitely more immersive than scores of films that see the light of day.  The Northman is not nearly as period-specific as The VVitch, though it does bask in plenty of Nordic realism and tradition, and it only dabbles in surrealism on occasion, unlike The Lighthouse, which puts you in the surrealist waters way over your head.  What really works best for The Northman is its combination of what appears to be heavily realistic lighting and the benefit of its shooting location being a stones throw from where the events of the film theoretically would have taken place.  Be it the extremely choppy and unpredictable waters the characters navigate, the mixture of lush greenery and marshy wetlands, or the volcanic grounds on which the film’s final moments take place, the difference between shooting on location and shooting in a studio with digitally created worlds is night and day, and it is largely felt from The Northman‘s opening moments right down to the first closing credit.

As for the narrative elements of The Northman, Robert Eggers and writing collaborator Sjón take the story of medieval Scandinavian legend of Amleth, the basis for Shakespere’s Hamlet, and use the royal treachery story as garnish for a very focused tale centering around Amleth as a literal instrument of fate.  In a demonstration of causality that mirrors Mad Max : Fury Road in terms of its side-scrolling adventure effectiveness, we not only get a crystal clear set of motivations for revenge-based actions, but it’s all bolstered by the Deus ex Machina-esque implementation of divine fate, making Amleth’s journey gripping in nature due to the seemingly insurmountable obstacles and choices he faces on the road to his inevitable ending point.  Ironically, we watch Amleth make a half-hearted attempt at shaking his destiny, only for it to lead him deeper into the quicksand of meeting expectations that fate is, specifically in the fiery romance that forms between Amleth and the mythical lover that is Olga.  With such a familiar and trusty framework to hang their narrative on,  Eggers and Sjón are able to focus on making sure that each important story point has an echo on the back end, as well as giving each character room to show a wide personality range.   

For many, I imagine that The Northman will come off like an action-packed Barry Lyndon in the sense that it is a very simple story that would not work without the deep technical prowess and the dedication of the production team as a whole.  The cinematography is deceptively simple, so much so that it masks one or two impressively long oners that put viewers in the heart of the combat.  Speaking of combat, rather than go with over the top and flashy sword flourish, we get lots of calculated chess moves that stress the life and death importance of each choice made, which works extremely well due to the fact that the actors know the choreography so well that shots are allowed to roll as the swords swing.  The wardrobe (or lack thereof, at times) and hair choices immediately format our minds into the Nordic realms, making suspension of disbelief essentially automatic.  Language has always been a strong point of Robert Eggers films, and this practice continues in The Northman, with the added benefit of location and period-specific music as well.  A nod must be given to the way that Eggers and company are able to respectfully handle so much of the mythical element without stumbling into the realm of the ridiculous or unbelievable (or at least as believable as those elements may be, depending on your frame of reference).  

Alexander Skarsgård gives a stoic and stirring performance in the titular role, proceeding forward with Terminator-like dedication with a fire that is kept alive when not allowed to burn at key moments with reckless abandon.  Claes Bang matches that vengeful focus with a false air of righteous indignation meant to hide malicious entitlement, which is played off of brilliantly by the always strong Nicole Kidman, who uses her decades of screen presence to help give off the royal feel needed to give the preceding touches of dignity.  Anya Taylor-Joy gets to let loose as a powerful woman with autonomy and agency, making her a spiritual equal and completing element to Skarsgård‘s lead.  Gustav Lindh echoes the entitlement that Bang brings to the table, minus the pride and wisdom that come with age, making him a wonderfully ironic foil to the promise of Oscar Novak‘s depiction as young Amleth.  A number of high-level talents make glorified cameo appearances that keep Amleth on his path, including Ethan Hawke, Willem Dafoe, Ralph Ineson, Björk, Ingvar Eggert Sigurðsson, Kate Dickie, Ian Whyte, Elliot Rose and others.

Disney continues its march through the realms of inclusion and culturally diverse storytelling with its latest Pixar release, Turning Red.  With the film centering around the experience of a Chinese-Canadian family in Toronto, there is plenty to relate to for viewers from all kinds of backgrounds, and though the expected lashing out that comes with the release of seemingly any film has struck Turning Red, it seems that the film has easily weathered that storm and found itself immediately endeared by both critics and the public at large.  After what has been a monumentally busy month and a half, I refocused my efforts back to watching and writing about films, and Turning Red seemed like a simple and possibly enjoyable reentry point.

Like many Disney/Pixar offerings, Turning Red operates on two levels narratively : a direct level on which the intended younger audience can find connection, and a subtextual level meant to connect with a broader and more diverse audience with a bit of life experience.  In terms of its surface level, Turning Red succeeds on a level of directness arguably not seen since Inside Out in terms of laying out a story that the intended audience can relate to.  With puberty being an inescapable fact of life for both boys and girls, finding a reason to sympathize with Mei is all but inevitable, and her passion for life only endears her more to young people with an optimistic outlook on its possibilities.  Her friend group, comprised of the boisterous Miriam, the rambunctious Abby and the stoic Priya, is a wonderful balance of Mei’s personality aspects externalized into fully-rounded individuals she can not only interact with, but receive fair feedback and judgement from for her actions.  I will not lie, though... until Turning Red outright confirmed that Mei was, in fact, turning into a giant red panda, I was a bit confused as to whether the transformation was meant to be taken at face value or meant to serve as an analogy for the evolution from girlhood to womanhood.  In some ways, the panda transformation is a roundabout symbol for puberty, which can make the film’s name come off a bit unknowingly crass for those who think too deeply into things, but ultimately, it is shown that the panda transformation is more so an analogy for finding your place in the world while under the shadow of parental and familial expectations, which also works very well in terms of serving the narrative.

Speaking of parental and familial expectations, Turning Red applies the adult subtext in a reserved nature, slowly turning the valve as the film proceeds in order to create a balance that serves the film’s climax.  Mei introduces us to the idea of parental and familial expectations from her perspective, which allows parallel lines of understanding between Mei, her mother Ming, younger viewers and adult viewers to box all parties into both the film and real life shared experience.  There has been a bit of negative feedback to Turning Red about it being another story about familial expectation released so close to the massively popular and successful Encanto, but for my money’s worth, I appreciate the way that Turning Red not only frames the parental stance as more deep concern than a fixed set of expectations, but also sets up viewers for a rewarding bait and switch as we learn more about the panda “curse”, Ming’s past, and most importantly, the generational echoes that pass down from Wu to Ming to Mei.  The addition of revealing that Ming’s experience with the panda curse is deeply connected to her romance and marriage to Jin is also a nice touch.

Call me crazy, but in my opinion, Turning Red may be the most Sony Pictures Animation film that Disney/Pixar has ever released, and somehow, they managed to pull lit off without coming off as complete style thieves.  Much of this aesthetic familiarity and comparison comes from the highly spirited editing and pacing of the story, as the film hits the ground running with tons of highly-stylized character and story point introductions, making it feel a bit like a moving comic book at times.  The music also leans heavily into stylized remixes of familiar pop songs from a generation or two ago, not to mention a few direct song drops that comment on the narrative goings-on within the film.  On a technical level, the animation detail within the film is deceptively mind-blowing, specifically in the extremely real feel of natural elements like fur, smoke, hair and so on.  The design of the characters is another aspect that reminds me of Sony Pictures Animation, with them coming off as human enough to connect with and sympathize for, while being pronounced and stylized enough for certain physical attributes to serve as immediate indicators for personality.  The love shown for Toronto as a popular filming location comes across in the way that the animators and background artists designed the city, right up to its signature architecture such as the Rogers Centre and the CN Tower, as well as a few smaller Easter eggs that Canadian viewers will get a chuckle out of.

Rosalie Chiang has a wonderfully powerful ability to play high energy without stepping over into the realms of overplaying, and through this lightning in a bottle energy she harnesses, it is nearly impossible not to immediately fall in love with her depiction of Mei, as she makes everyone believe deeply in both her character’s creed and choices.  Sandra Oh plays off of this energy that Chiang emits by roping hers off and making it barely perceptible how much she is holding back, keeping herself prim and pristine up until the point that her public face is shattered and she is tossed headfirst into dealing with her repression.  Oh’s performance finds itself dually bolstered by the performances of Orion Lee as Jin and Wai Ching Ho as Wu, with Lee’s calm and supportive presence serving as a perfect spiritual match to the still intimidation that Wai Ching Ho employs.  As for Mei’s friend group, the standout is clearly Ava Morse, who willingly steps into the tomboy realm with tons of enthusiasm and jovial playfulness, not to mention a moment of real hurt that still communicates a want (and need) to maintain a friendship.  Maitreyi Ramakrishnan gives a triumphantly unbothered performance that downplays her youthful enthusiasm, and as a former “quiet child”, this was the performance I connected the most with.  On the opposite end of that “quiet child” spectrum stands Hyein Park, who manages to ratchet up the energy presented by Chiang to code red levels while still managing to avoid the realms of comic overplaying.  Other standout performances and appearances include Tristan Allerick Chen, James Hong, Addie Chandler, Sasha Rioz, Lily Sanfelippo and a handful of others.

Stop me if you’ve heard this before at DOOMonFILM... “every year, there’s a trailer I see that excites me to a level...”.  Well, this year, that exciting trailer came early in the form of film number two by the directing duo Daniels, the multiverse dark comedy Everything Everywhere All At Once.  As a fan of Swiss Army Man and a longtime supporter of Michelle Yeoh’s dramatic chops (which are often overshadowed for her martial arts skill), I loved the idea of what was possible, and with the bonus element of the multiverse opening up literal limitless doors of possibility, I bought into this one early and admittedly came in with high expectations formed well before audiences started validating said expectations based on their feedback.

People have really been connecting with this film, and perhaps that is due to the way that Everything Everywhere All At Once manages to broadcast a message about awareness and celebration of the self and one’s potential, and how it does so without coming off as self-centered.  Rather than set its multiverse up as a collective existence of parallel worlds, we are given a demonstration of multiverses that splinter off of intention and passion, to the point that if it isn’t manifested in Evelyn’s “standard” reality, it finds completion in a branching reality complete with its own unique variations on a cast of familiar characters.  Interestingly enough, this scenario not only breeds the aforementioned awareness and manifestation of self that Evelyn opens up for herself, but it serves as the thing that creates an antagonist out of Joy, as the cosmic push and pull that Evelyn partakes in echoes as formative neglect to Joy.  Funny enough, that old saying about expectations being the thief of joy play out in a narrative sense, with a healthy injection of absurdist surrealism to help suspend disbelief so far that it becomes easy to recognize the hardline truths you can tether yourself to.  

On top of this film having some very valuable things to say about the human experience, unconditional love and generational trauma, it is also a vastly varying love letter to the concept of film itself courtesy of the twisted minds that are the Daniels.  Only a duo as deeply versed in an array of films and as creatively forward-thinking as Daniels could mix inspirational echoes of Wong Kar-wai, James Cameron, Jackie Chan, Michel Gondry, Walt Disney, Charlie Kaufman, Edgar Wright and more with such gleeful ease, shifting drastically between tone and style with the focus of filmmakers boasting a much higher catalog volume.  On top of these high brow and intricate shoutouts to other films, Daniels also weave in a healthy dose of crude, blue childlike humor in the form of everything from Bugs Bunny-like hyperawareness right down to very adult visual gags that are set up and paid off Chekov’s Gun-style.  Everything Everywhere All At Once is sentimental without being sappy, it’s wholesome without having to sacrifice its edge, and most importantly, it is an absolute brain-scramble with a crystal clear message and intention at its core.   

On the technical side of things, Everything Everywhere All At Once is not only an absolute masterwork in terms of idea versus execution, but it is an infinitely more signature film-work for Daniels than their debut film Swiss Army Man, which should not be taken as a knock, but rather as recognition of major growth.  The multiverse existence is sold by a mixture of sharp cinematography, subtly well-executed visual effects and choppy, snappy editing, all of which is mixed to rocket-propel the viewers from the feeling of overworked stress into the net of infinite realities, all before dropping us off at the doorstep of cosmic choice.  The costuming in the film will be easy to overlook based on how purely fantastic the film is, but the variety of wardrobes that Evelyn and Waymond don not only impress in their own right, but set up the explosion of colors and styles that Joy is able to manifest.  The fight choreography is top tier, especially the scene involving the reveal of Joy as Jobu Tupaki, where we get multiple switches between different performative fighting styles.  The drabness of the location choices help frame the heightened reality of the events that take place within them, with the mundane nature of a laundromat, IRS building, movie theater and alley serving as recognizable enough for us to connect, but invisible enough as to not distract.  Cheers must also be given to the writing team for their ability to fold together lots of high concept ideas into a rich narrative that is not only easy to follow, but rewarding for those that emotionally invest into it. 

Prior to giving individual praise to cast members, a sweeping statement must be made about everyone’s ability to operate on numerous levels of emotion and physicality, with several members in the cast taking on a large handful of distinct personalities in order to help sell the multiverse reality.  Michelle Yeoh sets a monster of a bar for her fellow cast members, completely selling herself as both a timid presence shielding herself from a painful reality by way of distractions and as a blank slate ready for whatever must be applied to it in order to achieve for the greater good, and doing it all while managing to be both humorous and tender when necessary.  Ke Huy Quan aides this performance by oscillating between a well-intentioned and pure of heart emotionally scorned lover and bold reality-jumping hero, at times seemingly channeling the comedic body language and energy of Jackie Chan in the most ridiculous scenarios.  Stephanie Hsu embodies teenage angst through a delicate balance of frustrated and ignored daughter set up against an overly-confident and wreckless all-powerful being, operating on the highest and most drastic levels in hopes of receiving extremely basic needs in exchange.  James Hong soft sells his importance perfectly, coming on as a hapless and unaware burden to Evelyn before all at once (no pun intended) opening up multiple compelling narrative doors simultaneously.  Jamie Lee Curtis sticks the landing on blending a soulless administrative pencil pusher into a Golem doing the will of her vengeful master, with a few wonderfully tender asides in the alternate storyline that makes up the Hot Dog Fingers reality.  Supporting appearances by Jenny Slate, Tallie Medel, Harry Shum Jr., Audrey Wasilewski, Sunita Mani, Daniels-member Daniel Scheinert and more round out the cast.

2022 marked the first steps towards a return to normalcy, and for those in the central Texas area, that meant the return of the SXSW Film Festival.  As always there were films with targeted advertising hoping to find viral success, and then there were films that organically found an audience at the festival, and through the word of mouth, became highly anticipated releases.  Of the former, The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent was the most obvious, with Nicolas Cage’s face plastered all over telephone poles, utility poles and walls in downtown Austin.  The latter, however, was much more interesting, as hometown cinematic hero Richard Linklater was making noise with Apollo 10+1⁄2: A Space Age Childhood, his latest effort involving his distinct take on rotoscope filmmaking.

To identify Apollo 10 1⁄2 : A Space Age Childhood as nostalgia bait would be an exercise in the obvious, but there is something special about the way that Richard Linklater specifically hones in on the late 1960s as the perfect bridging point between the crystalized nostalgia of the 1950s and the promise of the future that the 1960s promised Americans and the world at large.  The film plays less like a narrative and more like a visit to extended family where you get the pleasure of hearing deeply detailed recollections of how life used to be, from details as grand as the Space Race between the United States and Russia down to moments as small and minute as television programs that weren’t able to make it past a single season.  With everyone hyperaware of the dangers of the world in our current Information Age, it’s ironic to see the ignorance to the dangers of the past played for nostalgic laughs, such as injuries from childhood roughhousing, interstate highway trips in the back of pickup truck beds or the removal of Galveston beach oil with gasoline.  Television’s undeniable impact on our daily lives is given an uncredited starring role, with the nostalgia and narrative finding true unification in the third act as Stanley’s mission comes to a head.

Like many of Linklater’s offerings, Apollo 10 1⁄2 : A Space Age Childhood is largely a slice of life experience, mixing elements of films like Stand By Me and The Sandlot, or even television’s The Wonder Years, as a familiar framework for loosely connected vignette-style storytelling.  There is a special focus on the importance of the family structure that is extremely wholesome without coming off as preachy or judgmental, choosing instead to showcase how much displays of love and support can help shape young adults into well-adjusted and open-minded members of society.  There is also a wonderful set of parallels between the United States maturing into a world leader and the arc of boyhood into manhood, which in itself runs parallel with the idea of overcoming the borders of the Earth in hopes of exploring the endless possibilities of space.  With so many elements on the table, many films could slip off into the realm of the unfocused, but luckily, Richard Linklater understands that maturation is the key focus of the project, and with his eye clearly on the prize, he is able to keep everything wrangled and in order. 

While one cannot deny the technical mastery of films like Waking Life or A Scanner Darkly when it comes to the Linklater rotoscope technique, in my opinion, it has never come off as painterly and explicitly stylized as it does for Apollo 10 1⁄2 : A Space Age Childhood, with specific attention given to the play of light and shadows on human skin.  We not only get rotoscoped moments of entertainment and cultural history presented to us with a loving touch, while the lion’s share of the production was done on greenscreen at Austin-based Troublemaker Studios, with nearly all of the production design done via traditional hand-drawn animation during post-production.  The musical choices are interesting as well, with this deeply all-American story having just as much music from across the pond as there is homegrown music, which would be a proper reflection of the times.  There are literally tons of references to wonderful film and television of the past, so much so that anyone who lived during the era or was raised on Nick at Nite would almost find themselves distracted by the volume of the nostalgia-dump we get.  The production design must be given special recognition, as the research of both wardrobe and the world the characters inhabit shows time and time again throughout the course of the film.  The editing of the film has a special rhythm of its own that lingers long enough to let viewers dwell in the moment while maintaining a snappiness that keeps us out of the realms of boredom.

Jack Black is the unseen force driving the film forward, holding the viewers hand as he gently guides us along a road through the past, taking the time to explain both the surface and subtextual importance of each moment with a mature approach lifted by joyful nostalgia, much like Richard Dreyfuss in Stand By Me, or Daniel Stern in The Wonder Years.  Milo Coy aids the Jack Black narration by playing the physical proof of Black’s joyful nostalgia, navigating the animated past presented by Linklater with a sense of joy and wonder fueled by the curiosity of childhood, not to mention the observational nature that comes with being the youngest of numerous brothers and sisters.  Lee Eddy continues to prove her ability to fully immerse herself into any role, locking into the transitional whirlwind that was the 1960s by mixing a forward-thinking autonomy with an innate sense of motherly protection, making her as much of a provider and supporter of her children as she is the element that shields them from the dangers of the world.  Bill Wise is the gentle giant of the family, bringing a serious stillness to his role that anyone with a bit of life experience under their belt can recognize as forced peace to push back dwelling stress, with his well adjusted manner allowing him to channel the releases as humor and even-handed teachable moments.  Glen Powell and Zachary Levi emulate the all-American confidence and charm of the idealized company man, representing NASA and the potential of the future with a hopeful and slightly entitled thrust often connected to assumed ownership, a state that would almost come off as arrogant if not backed by the affirmation of history.  Performances by Josh Wiggins, Natalie L’Amoreaux, Jessica Brynn Cohen, Sam CHapman, Daniel Guilbot and many more round out the stellar cast.

Well, here we are... days away from the 94th Annual Academy Awards ceremony, and I have one film left on the Best Picture docket.  Surprisingly, Nightmare Alley is a film that went almost complete below my radar... I’d heard marginal things about it, but I don’t remember it spending time in the theaters, and when it hit Hulu, it took my fellow film lovers to notify me that it was streaming and available to watch.  That being said, I’m a fan of noir, and if there were one modern day director that could stylize noir in a compelling and visually striking way, it’d be Guillermo del Toro for sure.  I opted to pull my favorite film viewing trick and went into this one as blind as possible (other than the setup work of listing the cast in the tags below), with all kinds of thoughts about whether the execution would match my blind intrigue.  

Despite Nightmare Alley being a remake/spiritual update, it feels very much like a paired “other side of the coin” for The Shape of Water in many aspects.  Guillermo del Toro presents both as event films with a sense of nostalgia for a far gone time, though Nightmare Alley has the added lift of a star-studded cast and a connection to Hollywood’s golden era.  While The Shape of Water is a dark romance meant to bring hope to despair, Nightmare Alley dwells deeply within the power of mythos while simultaneously pulling the curtain on the past to reveal the darkness behind the scenes (very much in the same way that Christopher Nolan’s The Prestige did).  Stanton Carlisle essentially plays the part of the mythical Kid Icarus, choosing to ignore the warnings from fatherly figures and opting to use his crafted gift to fly too close to the sun, ultimately finding himself crash landing at literal rock bottom.

On a personal note, I really enjoyed the way that Nightmare Alley, and specifically del Toro, approach the dark side of show business and its pull on those living the lavish life.  While everything presented in the traveling fair is grounded in some sort of science, logic or grift, the true dark magic is the exploitation and monetization of belief and wonder.  Seeing that everyone uses everyone else to some degree, a character trait of human existence that has always been around and is likely here to stay, it is both captivating and terrifying to watch the responsible users of these tactics pull people to the edge before revealing the truth, and even more so to watch Carlisle cross the line.  While money and fame are both key factors to this journey, the true capital that is on the table are secrets, as they are not only a tool of manipulation, but a potential powder keg when they are harbored below layers of refusal to take personal accountability.

Nightmare Alley opts for a “colorful noir” approach, using an exaggerated era-specific production and set design with a color palate that is rich in value, but desaturated just enough to give an aged, weathered and forlorn aesthetic.  There is an incredible attention to detail, right down to the burns on Molly’s skin after each climactic conclusion to her act.  The writing is strong as well, setting up a sold action/reaction dynamic that lays out a set of clear expectations and rules, then comments on them as the story boomerangs around to pay off what it set up.

Bradley Cooper knocks his charming everyman take out of the park, right down to the bubbling darkness just under the surface threatening to completely take over.  Rooney Mara lays out a push and pull in her role as romantic interest that, strangely enough, makes her the innocent but seductive antagonist to the protagonist that is Stan finding his calling.  Cate Blanchett, in contrast to Mara, comes on strong as an equal and challenger to Cooper, matching him in confidence and cunning.  Willem Dafoe has a sharpness to his sleaze that makes him as magnetic and entertaining as he is despicable and conniving, and he plays it with such zest and fervor that it’s hard to take your eyes off of him.  Toni Collette gets to display her chameleon-like talents parallel to her riveting dramatic chops, leaning wholly into both the tender and performative sides of her character.  David Strathairn gives a heartbreaking performance as a man surviving purely off of a stubborn refusal to fade away, with a nice dose of being scared straight by the fear of God to make him complex.  Ron Perlman leans into the grizzled tough man role that he’s perfected over the years, while Mark Povinelli works well in tandem with his charm and sharply observational nature.  Full honesty, this cast finds itself with the good problem of an embarrassment of riches, with names like Mary Steenburgen, Tim Blake Nelson, Clifton Collins Jr., Richard Jenkins, Peter MacNeill, Holt McCallany and many more in the fold.

I try my best to stay informed in the run-up to awards season, and in 2021, I made a concentrated effort to get ahead of the curve, seeing most of the buzzworthy and festival darling films by December.  That being said, there are always a handful of foreign language, short films and documentaries that slip past my grasp, but this year, one film out of that grouping was making its presence felt in a major way.  That film, Drive My Car, was not only showing up on lots of year end lists, but when nominations started dropping for the award shows, the film was finding placement in numerous categories outside of the assumed foreign language category.  I had a sinking feeling that the Academy Awards would come and go before I got a chance to see this film, but thanks to HBOMax, I got my chance to not only take a look at this highly touted film, but fully shape my predictions for the Oscars.

Drive My Car is a masterful and deceptively peaceful rumination on the way we attempt to shelter ourselves from trauma that would otherwise derail us from our chosen paths in life.  The instantly iconic red Saab that stands out as a star of the film in its own right doubles as a symbol for the bubble we project as a shield from reality, with Yūsuke Kafuku continuously using it as an escape from his wife’s infidelities and more, with Kōji Takatsuki becoming a willing confidant due to her traumatic connectivity to  Yūsuke Kafuku‘s pain, though her foundation on which her trauma is built is much different.  Viewers are put squarely into the walk of  Yūsuke Kafuku as he attempts to avoid the obvious and inevitable pain that will continue if he chooses to not address the infidelity of Oto Kafuku, so much so that the onslaught of opening titles nearly one hour into the film after Oto’s exit is the first (and possibly only) jarring moment of the film.  Oto Kafuku is presented as a sort of sexual and artistic beacon of creative reemergence, only for us to be forced to come to grips with the harsh truth of her reality as the remaining characters she was intimate with pull back the curtain on her modus operandi.  

Speaking of Oto Kafuku’s actions, Drive My Car works just as well as an illustration of externalizing trauma as it does for internalization, though the externalization is much more subtle in its execution.  The biggest examples of this are the glimpses we get into Yūsuke Kafuku’s performances... the first time we see him perform, it can be implied that his execution is heavily tied to the stress he is feeling from his tenuous but deeply tied connection to Oto’s screenwriting success, but by the time we learn about Oto stepping out and we watch her passing, any inference that Yūsuke’s performances aren’t therapeutic for him are completely dashed, as we watch him have at least two breakdowns mid-performance.  From an antagonist standpoint, the way that Kōji Takatsuki forcefully inserts himself into Yūsuke‘s life is downright parasitic, and while it comes off as tactless initially, as the layers of the onion are peeled away, we realize his intentions fall much further in the realms of malice, with the final bit of information we learn about him casting him squarely into the role of villain.  Misaki Watari may be the one traumatized individual that externalizes her pain in a somewhat healthy manner, as the takes the one controllable element of her troubled past, in this case her ability as a chauffer born from motherly abuse, and uses it to not only better herself, but thanks to her kindness and honesty, Yūsuke as well. 

The choice of using the red Saab as the titular car was a stroke of brilliance, especially during the numerous driving scenes, as the car in itself represents the singular individual in a sea of shared experiences, though the red is an indicator of our protagonist’s unique experience.  The choice to make sections of the film multilingual is a positive choice, as it helps break the idea of Asians being a singular monolith, but rather a wide range of cultures and nationalities with their own histories, stories and experiences.  The painterly stillness and directness of the cinematography forces viewers to be present throughout the deeply personal journeys we are presented, as if we are taking a seat at the figurative table with  Yūsuke Kafuku and company.  The score and soundtrack are extremely pleasant in their modernity, as the musical punches help lift us from the depths of despair and pain that each character displays in the quiet storms we are presented.  The middle section of the film that features the rehearsal processes for the play really help to hold together the emotional bookends of the film, as the path and choices we are shown double as presentations of how our characters process their pain, be it in a healthy or unhealthy manner. 

Hidetoshi Nishijima is the starkly calm and present eye in the middle of our shared but unique experience that is the rockiness of life, with his performance embodying the way we bury ourselves deep into our work and creative passions in order to protect ourselves from the sad realities of life, with his deeply observant gaze helping to sell his prowess as a director and actor.  Tōko Miura plays equally detached and observant, but is able to communicate the pain that is an abusive and exploitive parental upbringing through her melancholy demeanor without overplaying it to the point of distraction, making her wiser for the pain she has endured.  Masaki Okada turns in one of the most brilliant depictions of a hidden antagonist I can remember through his “awwwe shucks” presence and boyish attachment to others, only to reveal a deeply troubling surface level understanding and approach to issues, not to mention a deeply carnal drive towards violence and sex that ultimately catches up to him.  Reika Kirishima displays deeply complex layers of manipulation and romantic exploitation as a means to an end for personal fulfillment, centering it all around a sensuality and sexuality that puts her closer to the mythic Siren than it does wife and lover.  Park Yu-rim and Jin Dae-yeon stand as the two lone beacons of positivity and optimism within the film, which makes their connection that much more pure and easy to gravitate to, with  Jin Dae-yeon in particular able to communicate so much love and passion through her Korean sign language that it makes one question the necessity of traditional spoken dialogue, and Park Yu-rim’s million dollar smile easing the film’s tension whenever he is present.  Appearances by Sonia Yuan, Ahn Hwitae, Perry Dizon, Satoko Abe and more round out the film.

What is there to say about the cinematic portrayal of Batman that hasn’t already been said?  In my lifetime, I’ve seen ten live action movies featuring Batman, countless animated features and series, and numerous appearances of the Caped Crusader in other DC properties.  I’ve seen the likes of Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer, George Clooney, Christian Bale and Ben Affleck all don the cape and cowl, but not even Affleck generated the kind of buzz and debate that occurred when Robert Pattinson was announced as next in line for the role in the Matt Reeves directed film The Batman.  As someone who has not seen any Twilight films, but has seen Good Time, Cosmopolis, The Devil All the Time and Tenet, I know he has the range capable of making him a memorable Bruce Wayne, which is the key to playing Batman, as most anybody can put on the outfit for a growling and punching session.  My anticipation for this film was definitely high, and in the midst of sold out show after sold out show, I finally found an opening week opportunity to see the film.

In my opinion, the best aspect of The Batman is the way that it leans into the detective side of the Batman lore.  Using The Riddler as the antagonist inherently plants the seed of mystery into the story, and based on the deep web that The Riddler weaves, the lion’s share of Batman’s time on screen is spent breaking codes and connecting dots, much to the ire of everyone on the Gotham Police Department short of Commissioner Gordon.  To my knowledge, this is the hardest that any cinematic portrayal of Batman has leaned into his detective side, as most directors have opted to lean into his dichotomy of savior and vigilante, and for my money’s worth, allowing Batman to coexist in a tenuous manner with the Gotham Police helps add to the already tension-heavy setting of Gotham.  Allowing The Riddler to work out of the shadows in a very similar manner to Batman also helps build a clear and present parallel between the two characters without beating viewers over the head in the same way that previous Batman films or properties like Watchmen did, making The Batman as refreshing as it is familiar.  In many ways, The Batman steps walks right up to the border of emulating Se7en, though it pulls back just enough to make the comparisons feel like loving homage rather than a re-skin.

The literal mystery that we are presented is allowed to grow and spread based on the foundation of mystery that Matt Reeves and company build the narrative for The Batman off of.  Rather than hang the intrigue of The Batman on the familiar hook of Bruce Wayne’s internal struggle between philanthropic posturing and revenge-based vigilantism, Matt Reeves digs deep into the world of Batman lore, and the gems that he picks out and puts on display not only ignite the third act of a somewhat maddingly long film, but they recontextualize certain aspects of previous Batman properties.  I am by no means a Batman devotee, as I fall much more on the side of casual fan, so when Wayne family secrets start getting spilled courtesy of The Riddler, particularly those connected to the history of Arkham Asylum, I found myself genuinely curious in a way I have not been for previous Batman films.  In regard to the previously mentioned duality of Batman that we’ve all become familiar with, Matt Reeves allows us to fill in the blanks in terms of Wayne business, choosing to largely dwell within the self-proclaimed “nocturnal animal” realm that Batman thrives in.  Due to this dedication to one side of the Batman story, he is able to build a deeply moody noir where we both understand how Batman can be omnipresent and are unnerved by the feeling that Gotham has eyes everywhere.

The cinematic portrayal of Gotham used for The Batman may be my favorite, as it all but settles the debate on whether Gotham is a proxy for Chicago or New York (with the latter clearly being the correct answer).  The costuming is incredible in this film, with The Riddler’s look in particular being distinct enough to be unsettling while being generic enough to be adopted on a grand scale.  The Batman armor for this film is also impressive, with the utility aspect of Batman’s outfit really getting its day in the nearly non-existent sun, especially the Bathook and the Batarang.  The score has an adequate feeling of epicness needed to put us in the proper state of mind to suspend our disbelief while also putting us on the edge of our seats as the long but well-paced narrative unfolds.  For a film that deals with the fantastic world of superheros and supervillains, The Batman is surprisingly grounded, with the down-to-Earth performances matching the “as believable as possible” series of events that take place, managing to keep the scale of previous films without wandering into the boundaries of a full-fledged circus.  For a film as dark and drenched in shadows as The Batman, the film manages to maintain a distinct look with enough variety to shock and awe.  A special nod must be given to the makeup job for Oswald Cobblepot, as Colin Farrell is basically unrecognizable in this role.

Speaking of performances, I’ve been a huge proponent of the Robert Pattinson casting since the day it was announced, and I am happy to say the his performance more than lived up to my expectations.  He steely, sorrow-heavy and distant gaze not only permeates the Batman cowl, but it immediatelyl makes us sympathetic to Bruce Wayne, and despite his claims of being vengeance personified, it’s the internal struggles with humanity that he constantly goes through that make his performance wholly compelling.  This is heavily complimented by the almost uncannily natural performance of Jeffrey Wright, as he humanizes Commissioner Gordon in a much needed way that makes him less of the unreal beacon of Gotham’s hope and much more the integrity-based humanitarian that I imagine he was always pictured to be.  Zoë Kravitz displays all of the familiar cunning and flirtation that Catwoman is known for, but rather than make her motivations be based in personal gain and survival, she is given a version of revenge-based intention that somewhat mirrors that of Bruce Wayne, though the friend versus family comparison allows her one step of removal that keeps her from succumbing to the creeping madness that constantly threatens Wayne.  Paul Dano, despite minimal facetime, somehow finds a way to broadcast his signature heavily emotive physicality and expressions that make him so visually compelling, with many of his choices feeling as calculated as they do born of madness.  Colin Farrell, as mentioned before, is wholly unrecognizable, but not just visually, as he channels aspects of Scorsese-level unhinged gangsterdom in what feels like an initial step towards a full fledged insane version of the Penguin.  John Turturro does what he does best, putting a charming slyness to the built-in sleaze that comes with portraying Carmine Falcone, while seemingly relishing in the opportunity to be larger than life.  Andy Serkis plays wise beyond his years as Alfred, and interestingly enough, he seems to serve the purpose of sad reminder to Bruce Wayne rather than all-knowing skeleton key, though aspects of his past do come in handy both in terms of their utility and the autonomy in which Alfred chooses to partake in the mystery.     

As a major fan of Aubrey Plaza, I try to keep tabs on her cinematic and television work so that my support can be consistent and thorough.  As a fellow productive cynic, I appreciate her nonchalant approach and ability to lay out uncomfortable truths wrapped in dark humor.  Watching her mature from the realms of films like Mystery Team and Scott Pilgrim vs. the World to material like Ingrid Goes West has been a joy, so when I started seeing murmurs about Black Bear, I made sure that I kept tabs on it as much as possible without spoiling the first watch experience.  COVID-19 did a number on film production, distribution and release, so the journey of this film was a rocky one, but a month or so ago Black Bear landed on Hulu, meaning that I could finally give the sit down I anticipated that it deserved.

Black Bear is a wonderful slow burn of a film that dives headlong into the deep end of ruminations on intimacy, secrecy and drama that comes with the “three’s a crowd” concept through a pair of paralleled fables.  While the scale of the intimacy changes from one chapter to the next, both illustrations are tragically perfect examples of social chess where the name of the game is manipulating others to abuse those you claim to love.  Much like the way that intimate moments sometimes end up in the artwork of others, Black Bear is full of back and forths centered around assumptions and deep reads of other people used as casual conversation fodder, with the frankness of it being so shocking that it must be accepted without question.  As a result, we get one of the wildest presentations of a “will they, won’t they” narrative filled with ambiguity, half-truths and hidden intentions that are only given partial context when the story flips itself on its own head.  Through this tonal shift, two very important points are laid out in a way that sticks with viewers that buy in... on the one hand, we get to see the permanence of interpersonal tension and how it will manifest regardless of the nature of the circumstances, while on the other hand, we are shown a cold and flat example of the ugly and businesslike transactional nature in which emotional manipulation takes place. 

I love how well this movie works on a meta-level without championing itself for being smart or flaunting this choice, as this artistic choice opens up the door for ruminations on creative spirits, their attempts to coexist and their ability (or often, inability) to deal with uncomfortable truths.  As a result of all these lingering questions and uncertainties in the hands of intellectuals and artists, we get an output heavy on the gaslighting, with the juxtapositions of what is said versus what is meant hitting us like blind punches.  As the back and forth builds, each lead takes turns for interjections of deeply uncomfortable soapbox moments where ideals are weaponized in multiple directions, which creates a second love triangle of idealism to play against the traditional romantic love triangle already at work.  As the chapter shift occurs, we as an audience are relocated one step further in terms of participation through a transition from fly on the wall to being aware of a the fact we are specifically watching a film.  Normally, a separation of this nature would disconnect us from the humanity and emotion, but in a strange turn of events, the injection of a crew (not to mention an uncomfortable production environment) not only reveals new character depths in regard to our main trio of leads, but it enhances the emotion within the film. 

Black Bear does a number of things extremely well, but the first and most noticeable thing it does on a high level is mix its general warmth that springs from the deep nature setting and hold it up against a driving and resonating human coldness, a combination that automatically puts us on edge while also intriguing us.  The tension is made more inviting by the use of Earth tones throughout the film, which further enhances the surrounding warmness from the rustic setting of the film.  The centerpiece of this rural setting is the beautiful set piece that is the main house, which is not only visually stimulating, but big enough to create pockets of intimate space within its distance while still emanating a sense of coziness and invitation.  Outside of the few sprinkles of standard soundtrack or modern sonic punctuations for the chapter cards, a dramatic horror score is used, which elevates the darkness of the comedy to prop up the aforementioned tension.  I appreciated the fresh take on the unreliable narrator device through the chapter separation, as the episodic and rhyming nature of the parallel stories makes us question the base nature of the information we are receiving despite an inherent and immediate understanding of the overall situation.  The shift in cinematography from chapter to chapter works very well, and is even mentioned within the film, which is a nice touch for those taking in the movie on the right wavelength.

Aubrey Plaza is no stranger to broadcasting a complex mixture of emotions through her looks and demeanor, and Black Bear gives her plenty to work with, dropping her in a surreal sort of Through the Looking Glass scenario full of confusion, deception, manipulation and tension on so many direct and meta-levels that it can be maddening.  Christopher Abbott steps into this tense environment with a calm, purposefully timid demeanor that is clearly shielding deeply fierce ideals, unflappable stances and a steadfast dedication to his choices, making him a lightning rod for his female leads to play against.  Sarah Gordon showcases her capability to swing back and forth between wide ranges of emotional states and moods dependent on the situation, be it a scorned and impregnated lover fed up with being unheard, or a pampered actress pushing buttons to fuel her entitled need for entertainment.  Outside of this main trio, the madcap and humorous asides provided by the crew members, portrayed by Lindsay Burge, Alexander Koch, a hilariously nervous and inept Jennifer Kim, Shannon O’Neill, Grantham Coleman, Paola Lázaro and a wholly unbothered but compassionate Lou Gonzalez, fill out the remainder of the cast.