J. Schaefer Reviews

"Thoroughbreds" is a brief, economic film written and directed by Corey Finley in his first outing since leaving the stage and going behind the camera.  At just over 90 minutes, this film moves fast and looking back it is amazing just how much Finley works into his script.  Finley does not take a very standard approach in screenwriting, but his talent and experience from live performance shine through and make for a twisted, captivating drama.

One of the big rules which "Thoroughbreds" breaks is that much of the action takes place of screen.  It is almost a cardinal rule that films should "show, not tell" and many writers take that to heart.  Finely, to his credit, shows us only what is important - often times the result of a character’s actions leaving us to fill in the gaps.  "Thoroughbreds," for as short as it is, demands your complete and total attention.

The other interesting thing about the script is the passage of time.  At first glance, it does not seem that much time passes between the first and final scenes, but the careful viewer will notice that Lily and Amanda take quite some time to bond.  Finley achieves this not by using title cards - though he does have three defined act breaks - but by showing us physical progression with the characters to keep track of where we are on the calendar.  For example, when someone is injured, we see the cut still fresh and the next few scenes, while they may seem that they may only be hours apart are actually days or weeks we learn when the camera again shows us the character's almost healed injury.

“Thoroughbreds” is the product of a very smart and balanced script.  Finley has a fine understanding of who these two young women are and how to present them on screen.  A lesser screenwriter – and lesser talent – would have made this film almost unbearable. Two teens bored of their perfect lives, so they need to spice themselves up; we’ve seen this concept a million times and end up rolling our eyes at the character’s outlook more often than not. Finely manages to not just make these characters bearable, but he makes us care deeply for them.  We find ourselves empathizing at first with the porcelain Lily and later the emotional atheist, Amanda.

In Wes Anderson’s latest work, “Isle of Dogs,” he returns to his animated fare, but the themes that have become synonymous with the director still remains.  At its core, “Isle of Dogs” is a film about love and friendship above all else.  Anderson does well pulling from these themes and his latest film is no exception.

Admittedly, “Isle of Dogs” does require some very attentive viewing.  For one, there is a bit a language barrier between American audiences and the Japanese characters.  In a creative choice, Anderson opted out of using traditional subtitles and instead inserted the translation mise-en-scène or craft split screens where an English-speaking character lets us know what is being said.  Further, the majority of the characters in the film are dogs, some of whom look similar in their dirt and grime, but as long as you pay attention it is not difficult to follow the film.

The overall story of the film remains pretty straight forward despite its frantic pacing and rapid-fire edits.  Anderson does not try to play any games with his storytelling, there are no tricks up his sleeve which makes the film an enjoyable one to watch.  Proof that he is a master of this style, Anderson hides a lot of deep themes and motifs in the whimsy of the film, and while it is hard to ignore them, the film does not demand that they be dissected to be understood.

A lot of this is due to that, by and large, “Isle of Dogs” is a character piece that is almost entirely supported by the relationship between the dogs and Atari.  On one hand, many of the dogs are instantly attracted to Atari.  To loosely quote the film itself: “He’s a 12-year-old boy, dogs love those.”  Opposite the majority is Chief (Bryan Cranston), an independent stay that refuses the companionship of humans.  This dynamic is the true driving force of the film and is very satisfying to watch it unfold.

When it's time for the plot itself to come to a close, the resolution is unfortunately a bit messy. The fast cuts really fail the film here as Anderson rushes to put so much information and wrap up all his story arcs in very short time.  Up to this point, he made a very good effort at mixing the languages while not alienating the audience.  He throws this reserve to the wind in the final minutes and while the visuals do enough to convey the story elements, the amount of detail with which the rest of the story was told is not entirely present.  

“Tomb Raider” is a reboot of the early 2000’s Angelina Jolie pair of films based off of the same video game franchise.  Much like Jolie’s films, the 2018 installment is decidedly mediocre.  It hits all the point you would expect from an action/adventure film and is led by a more layered of Croft, but it’s script has some major faults when it comes to the pacing of the film overall.

The first act is packed full of artificial, pulse-pounding suspense as we witness two extended chase scenes. While they are shot well enough, it leaves us a bit exhausted seeing both of these chases within the first 30 minutes that by the time we get to the island we are ready for things to settle down. The film is smart enough to not include any other major chase sequences, but the initial bike race could easily have been trimmed or removed in favor for another mystery to solve once on the island.

Once on the island, the film introduces us to the typical antagonist, Mathias Vogel (Walton Goggins). There is literally nothing exciting or engaging about Richard Croft’s ex-adventure partner.  His only motivation is to get off the island and in order to do so he must first discover the tomb.  The script, in a throw away line, alludes to Vogel having a family back home, but it is still paper thin, and he becomes cartoonishly evil the more the film progresses.

What further drags “Tomb Raider” down is that it still meanders its way once on the island much in the same way it took its time in getting us into the second act.  Sure, there are some neat sequences and set pieces, but the more screen time the film spends outside of the tomb, the weaker the third act becomes.  The film also spends a lot of screen time in the second act building up Lara’s character even though her motivation – finishing her father’s legacy – has already been made abundantly clear to us.

Thankfully, with only about 45 minutes left in the 118-minute film, we enter the tomb.  For the most part, the journey to the crypt is, as promised, full of peril but the first act chase scenes seemed weighted with more peril. Most of this I attribute to the fact that the characters essentially have a dungeon guide thanks to Richard’s notebook.  There is only one puzzle that they need to solve in the moment and that is a great disservice to a film in the genre.  The other thing working against “Tomb Raider” is that Lara is protected with some sturdy plot armor.  While this plagues many films both in and outside of the action/adventure umbrella, “Tomb Raider” does not make any effort to hinder Lara.

To support the mostly-weak third act, the script does offer an interesting twist on the lore behind Queen Himiko.  It is in this revelation where the film truly shines.  In the crypt, discovering the truth behind the legends, this is what the “Tomb Raider” name promises, and we are finally getting it.  As an introductory effort to what I’m sure studio execs are banking on turning into a multi-film franchise, it is not entirely bad.  The third act reveal does help restore faith in audiences that engaging and exciting adventure films are still out there.  

“Love, Simon” is based off a young adult novel by Becky Albertalli.  As far as the plot goes, the film does not reinvent the wheel when in comes to teenage rom-coms, but by focusing on a gay character it gives these tired tropes a fresh feel.  That being said, “Love, Simon” is still full of all the over-the-top, eye roll moments you would expect from the genre, but all of the meniscus material that holds these staple moments together is where the film shines.

When the film is not operating as a teen romance, it plays out as an extremely touching coming of age story for Simon.  Nick Robinson is exceptional in the role and proves that he is a promising young talent as he balances all of the nuanced notes which the script requires lest it become a sloppy mess of a film.  Robinson displays such vulnerability throughout the film as he struggles to find the right way to come out and this internal struggle helps elevate “Love, Simon” to something more than just a shallow, glitz and glam love story.

The other stand out performance in the film is Emily Spier (Jennifer Garner), Simon’s mother.  There are moments, especially in the second half of the film, where their interactions are a pure and shining example of a mother’s love for her children and her desire to see them happy and healthy.  She mentions to Simon that it feels like he has been holding his breath the past few years and the scene is so delicately handled by the two actors that it creates what is probably the strongest scene in the whole film.  The beauty of it lies in its simplicity as the script does not use this tender moment as an opportunity to preach to us, but rather it moves on once the scene’s objective is fulfilled.  The scene and its message are transcendental; we are never truly alone, and it is one of the many reasons that “Love, Simon” is not a film just for gay youth but for all of us.

Many of the other performances throughout are memorable, but only because they are the absurd comic relief that help to lighten the mood.  Some of these characters work; Martin (Logan Miller), the eccentric theatre kid who spends most of his days mosquitoing around Simon’s crew for example, while the tired trying to hard to be hip vice principal character, Mr. Worth (Tony Hale) falls flat. What is different with Martin is that he serves more than just one purpose; he is not just for laughs but is vital to the plot.  Worth, while present throughout the film, is not afforded that extra depth.  While his heart is in the right place, his incompleteness is only magnified when compared to Mrs. Albright (Natasha Rothwell), the school’s drama coach, who starts out as just another bumbling staff member but evolves into an actively supporting force for Simon.

While the script struggles in handling its large cast of supporting characters, it excels in creating a touching and balanced narrative of modern homosexuality that, despite the rise of gay cinema in pop culture these past few years, has not been seen before. What “Love, Simon” does differently from films like “Moonlight” (2016), “Beach Rats” (2017), and the critical darling “Call Me by Your Name” (2017) is that it both allows its protagonist to embrace his sexuality instead of repressing it and also allows him to find a healthy and fulfilling relationship and see it to fruition.

The other thing which I admire the script for is the way it handles its out characters in the film.  Admittedly, “Love, Simon” looks at coming out and everything that comes with it through rose colored glasses in that any time there is a negative reaction to Simon’s revelation it is quickly shut down and Simon is shown new avenues of support.  It does not, however, get too out of hand when it comes to fetishizing being an LGBT ally which was a fear I had going in to it.  The marketing campaign, especially in the first trailer which ended with Simon’s crew coming out as straight to their parents, had me worried that this film would be overly aggressive in its argument that we are all the same, but when that sequence plays out verbatim in the film its fits so perfectly once put into context.

Reminiscent of the quickly-canceled ABC sitcom “The Real O’Neals” (2016-17) which follows Kenny O’Neal (Noah Galvin) in his own sexual awakening while living with his strictly devout parents, both Kenny and Simon allow us a look into their oft daydreaming minds and the ideal scenarios they create for themselves.  It is in one of these interludes where Simon muses that its not fair that straight is standard and what if it was the other way around.  

This framework continues throughout the rest of the film as Simon desperately tries to figure out who his closeted crush is.  Blue is portrayed by several actors as Simon and he continue their relationship.  With each new clue, Blue changes face and we see Simon imagining what Blue is doing or how they will finally meet.  These scenes help make Simon extremely likeable as a protagonist because instead of spending time anguishing verbally about Blue’s identity, we are placed directly into his thoughts and therefore far more invested in Simon’s quest for love.

This approach has its faults, however, and ultimately does hurt the film in the long run.  While keeping Blue’s identity so ambiguous for so long, when the reveal finally happens it does not have the same emotional release we would expect.  Whereas the typical rom-com formula makes it clear within minutes of who will end up with who come the end, “Love, Simon” can’t do that based on how Blue and Simon meet. As Simon spends his time shuffling through the possibilities of who Blue is, when it is finally revealed we don’t have that same investment in the couple as we would if we knew who he was trying to court in the first place.  The timing, I’m sure, works better on the page, but on screen when the romance is such a driving force to the narrative, keep half the couple secret until the final minutes of the film is damaging to the effectiveness of the story.  It is especially frustrating when you consider that the film has an unlikely romantic subplot with a stronger payoff than when Simon meets Blue.

In her feature length, directorial debut, writer-director Maggie Betts delivers an unusual piece of cinema that was very effecting and packs some exceptional bits of performance. Betts, while using Christianity and religion as the framework for her narrative, carefully avoids polarizing audiences with her views through her careful character work.  At its heart, “Novitiate” is a film about love and relationships; the convent serving more as the setting than that focal point.  

The film, admittedly, opens a bit roughly, but once it gears up for the second act it finds its footing. The first act also greatly informs the plot as it develops in the later parts of the film, but of the whole film, those opening 20 minutes or so is where Betts’ script gets a slightly sloppy. We learn about Cathleen’s upbringing by her atheist mother, Nora (Julianne Nicholson), who spends most of her introductory screen time belittling and poking fun of Cathleen’s attraction to faith and religion in general.

Nora’s indifference – or rather lack of understanding – towards Cathleen’s faith becomes a major point in their relationship as Cathleen continues on her way of becoming a nun.  Her mother grows as a character throughout the course of the film instead of staying stagnant in her views and opinions of her daughter’s choices.  It was refreshing to see that Betts did not seek to turn the mother into the villain of this film, but as another layer to the relationship themes this film explores. There is a scene late in the film when Nora comes to visit Cathleen and despite not having seen or really interacted at all with her daughter over the past few months, her motherly instinct kicks in and she delivers just one of the many explosive moments in this brief, yet bombastic film.

The other explosive scene which almost bookends the second act with Nora’s outburst is between another postulate in Cathleen’s class, Sister Sissy (Maddie Hasson), and Reverend Mother Marie Saint Clare (Melissa Leo) when the young girl mistakenly breaks Grand Silence with a friendly, well-intentioned greeting to her superior. It is a scene that very clearly defines the power relationship between the two, and also informs us greatly of who Mother Maria is as a person.  She is one for tradition and order.  It is no surprise that as the changes are coming down from the Vatican it is Mother Maria who takes them the hardest; though it is not entirely fair to say that as she spends much of the film keeping silent on the matter.

“Novitiate” plays a lot with the concept of silence.  The postulates should strive to be as silent as possible throughout the day and should not utter a sound during the periods of Grand Silence.  They should always be reflective and aware of their surroundings only enough so as not to cause a disturbance from the prayer and meditation of themselves and others.  There are few who respect the Grand Silence as vigorously as Mother Maria, yet it is she who wants to scream out the loudest.  In a meeting with Archbishop McCarthy (Denis O’Hare), she anguishes that these changes are wrong, that they can not possibly reflect the views of the church as no sisters were allowed a seat at the table.  

Leo is everything a supporting role should be in a film and brings her best in every moment especially in the second half.  Specifically, in the third act, when Mother Maria is forced to disclose the changes to the convent, it is a brutal scene to watch as this proud woman breaks and crumbles before our eyes.  For most of the film, we are groomed to fear the Reverend Mother; from her intense personality to the way she treats the postulates after they take their first vows, it is not that big of a stretch to say that Betts leads us to believing that she is an antagonist when she is just misunderstood through our modern lens.  The catalyst for us to transition our thinking on her character comes when McCarthy steps in and we see just how silent the Reverend Mother is seen by her superiors.  We find ourselves at once deeply moved and sympathetic towards her.  It is a true complement to Leo as an actress and Betts as a screenwriter.

The film does stumble a bit when it comes to figuring out how to handle the relatively large cast. There are many moments where poor ensemble management harms the emotional impact of the scenes.  “Novitiate” has a lot working against it in terms of telling the class of postulates apart; they are all women of similar age and in identical, feature hiding dress.  It becomes hard to tell who we are talking about or to as many of the names are similar in the sense they are all classic, female saints.  One moment where it is a real shame that the film is plagued by this is the first time we see the self-exploration of faults within the postulates.  It is a strong scene, regardless, and one that lingers for a while after it passes, but if the film found a way to forge a stronger connection with the characters before this scene occurs at the midpoint, it would no doubt hang in our minds long after the credits roll.

“Annihilation” is the follow-up film for director, Alex Garland’s heady “Ex Machina” (2014). There are many similarities between the two films and it is clear that Garland is determined to tell unique stories which challenge the audience.  While “Ex Machina” is the more straight forward of the two, “Annihilation” plays a bit more strongly with metaphors, but never becomes inaccessible to audiences. Garland is proving himself to be a master of ambiguity, doling out just the right amount of information to us while still leaving parts of the mythology of the film open for interpretation.

The one fault with the film would be that the first act, before Lena goes to Area X, has a strange element added to the composition.  The sets and the environment all seem to have a shine about them and there are many subtle lens flares throughout.  While the consistency of these effects proves it was a creative choice, it did not work for this reviewer as it does not ground Lena in a reality.  This effect continues after Lena enters into the Shimmer, a strange veil shielding the crash site and growing out from there, where it makes sense as it is essentially an altered reality, but by the time she enters this new environment we grow tired of these effects.

Once in the Shimmer, “Annihilation” really takes off.  Garland balances the dramatic, horror, and mystery elements with ease and, other than the first scene after the team’s entry, the film is expertly paced.  There is a point early on in the second act where the team runs into a giant alligator, only after do they realize its teeth are that of a shark’s.  The design of this creature is very well done and the perfect introduction to the world of this film.  It cues us in that not everything is going to be what it seems from here on out and sets us up mentally to continue on the journey with the characters.

What is nice about “Annihilation” is that it also has great ensemble management.  There are moments where all of these women on Ventress’ team can shine and have their individual moments in spotlight.  They all have names, skills, histories, and aspirations. While loosely based on a novel of the same name, “Annihilation” is female-led filmmaking done right.  It is not just taking over existing properties and gender-swapping them, but it is creating five strong, original, characters that are not bound by any preconceived notions.

After a terrifying moment at the end of the second act, Lena makes her way to the center of the Shimmer for the cerebral unfolding of the third act.  While “Ex Machina” had a fairly straightforward ending, “Annihilation” opts for an extended, metaphorical climax.  There is no way to explain exactly what happened here other than it was a fantastic bit of filmmaking.  It was visually striking, fiercely unique, and backed with a pulse-pounding, unnerving score.  When it concludes, we are left emotionally spent and that feeling of catharsis is glorious.

Garland ends the film back at the lab which has been used as a bit of audience service throughout the film as well as shoring points for the framework of the narrative.  While up to this point, these scenes have helped transition the acts quite well, the final scene of the film seems a bit like Garland trying to get one last mystery snuck in where it doesn’t belong.  It is not enough to ruin the film, but the final sequence bloats the ambiguity that until this point was perfectly balanced.

“Nocturama” is a film by French writer/director, Bertrand Bonello.  The film was barred from the Cannes Film Festival in light of the real Paris terror attacks in November 2015.  After its rough theatrical release, Netflix eventually picked it up for their streaming platform.  While Netflix’s distribution of foreign releases is admirable, the subtitles are very rough with choppy sentence structure as if the dialogue was directly translated rather than synthesized.  

It goes without saying, then, that this really hurts the film overall.  For starters, the way the script is structured keeps us at arm’s length from the characters.  For example, only a few of them are ever mentioned by name and often times only in quick passing.  It is very hard to feel for a character when you can’t even recall hearing their name.

Further, the script plays coy with the characters motivations.  Almost as if Bonello was scared of making a political point with this film, the rudderless attitude these teens have make them portraits of self-entitlement and importance.  When all is said and done, “Nocturama” never explains why these young people were driven to terrorism which makes the 130-minute run time drag on.

It is frustrating because the way that this film is shot and the topics it flirts with gives audiences a lot to unpack, yet the film does not ultimately have much to say.  The opening fifteen or so minutes play out almost like a silent film as the plan unfolds.  We really don’t have any context for what is happening, and we are thrown right into the middle of it all.  It is fast paced with its cutting and sequencing and lazy viewing is strictly punished.  It is not until later that the film takes a step back and briefly fills us in on what is going on.  The opening of the film is essentially a heist arc but with all of the in-depth planning and execution is removed which is what makes heist stories exciting.

The lengthy second act takes place in the department store hideout.  This deep into the film and still with no real idea who these characters are is very damaging.  We recognize their faces, but without names and motivations, we are just watching kids run wild in a wonderland.  There are moments where some of the older leader-esque characters tune in to the news to see what effect their attack has had on the city, but by and large they al continue to party on through the night.  At other times they will talk about what they did, but it never escalates past they are scared if they get caught.

Bonello redeems himself, however, with the tight and expertly crafter third act.  He ups the tension in one quick scene and the proceeding cat and mouse game is truly the work of an expert cameraman.  Emotionally, we are invested in the moment, but unfortunately, due to the poor character work it does not have long lasting an effect as it should.  It is interesting that he bypasses any resolving action; the film quick-cuts to the end credits. He misses a great opportunity to retroactively educate us on who these characters are or the greater reason for their plot and thus make “Nocturama” a more memorable experience.

The hardest thing to stomach about this film is just how stupid all of these characters are.  In their own minds they are geniuses, but if that were true why come together and hide out in a department store.  Looking at it with an even wider lens, why plan four bombings throughout the city with no overt motivation than to get trending on Facebook.  These young men and women are so shallow in character that when they meet their fate as their nonsensical end game veers off-track, we can’t help but blame them as they pay the consequences for their actions.

“Beach Rats” is a very unique coming of age, queer drama directed by Eliza Hittman as her second feature.  Her aesthetic vision for the film is very clearly communicated in the muted and gritty tableaus of beaches and boardwalks.  Even the neon glow of the freeway appears muddled, murky, and disorienting. There are moments that are clear and bright as the summer sun beats down on the tanned, toned skin of the Brooklyn natives at large, but for the most part we see this film through the eyes of Frankie and his internal strife is made apparent through the palette of the film.

The other thing which Hittman does to show how Frankie is feeling that every move he makes is being closely scrutinized is that she does not allow him to hide behind any fancy camera work or sets.  That’s not to say that the shots are ill-composed or that the production design is lacking, but they do not allow Frankie much solitude except in the dark of his basement dwelling; the flash of his camera in the mirror or the dull glow from his computer screen acting as the only real source of light.

Unfortunately, though, for everything the Hittman gets right behind the camera, the script, which she also wrote, suffers which affects the film negatively as a whole.  While she is determined to paint Frankie as not-your-typical-closet-teen, how she does so and the arc which he travels is a very dangerous route.  By painting this portrait of toxic masculinity, Hitman has Frankie turn into a predatory character of sorts which is a damaging image, especially for the demographic which he represents.

While the exploration and questioning of his sexuality is an obvious part for any coming-of-age story, the repression and rebellion against it is not only harmful, but also creates a weak narrative protagonist which is only exemplified in his almost active ignorance of the concept that he may not be straight.  Under some sharper writing, a balance could probably have been better achieved for Frankie, but as the film was shot, he becomes a wishy-washy indecisive character.  His motives are week and his identity remains overwhelmingly ambiguous come the end of the film.  His arc is primarily sustained from plot point to plot point and not actual development.  

Given this, Dickinson still provides and engaging performance as the lead character and brings us into Frankie’s world through this very intimate and exposing role.  At the surface level, he is a very likeable protagonist that we want to see grow and develop, and even though his actual character growth is stunted at best, his scene to scene work is exceptional.  What is truly a testament for the London native is that he adapts so organically to the New York beach life; he appears to be a staple in this iconic American environment.  A strong young talent, it will be interesting to see how his career continues to develop.

“On Body and Soul” (“Teströl és lélekröl,” Hungarian) is a romantic drama written and directed by Ildikó Enyedi.  After winning Berlin’s Golden Bear award and receiving a nomination for Best Foreign Language Film from the Academy, it found international release through Netflix.  The film plays like an ode to anyone who has ever been in love – especially for those whom the feeling of love may be frightening – and the effects these emotions have on both body and soul.

Set in a slaughterhouse, be prepared for some truly jarring imagery that almost bookends the film.  The bone saws, the cattle, the hanging carcasses; none of which adds up to the backdrop of a conventional romance, but it sets the tone for the film ahead.  Shocking as it may be, the camera work in this unconventional romance is still dexterous and creates interesting visuals if you can stomach the subject.

Completely opposite these scenes are the dream sequences in a picturesque winter forest where the two lovers meet for the first time as deer.  Everything about these shots captures a dream-like quality and while we can easily get lost in the beauty of it all, they stand to remind us just how cold and sterile the real world can be when juxtaposed against scenes in the offices, the cafeteria, or the meat lockers.  Everything comes easy in the woods, there are no external pressures or invading thoughts. It is natural and organic, a self-contained love story in the most pure, raw, and basic level.

When the sun comes up and Endre and Mária awake, however, eyes are always on them.  Endre, one of the bosses at the slaughterhouse is an older gentleman, a social recluse who is committed to his work and tries to hide his crippled hand from the world.  Mária, outside of being the peculiar new-comer to the office has her own set of obstacles. While it is never fully revealed why, the film informs us that she has been continuing to see a child psychologist (Tamás Jordán) which gives us a bit more insight on why and how she acts the way she does.  Coupled with Borbély’s portrayal, Mária is a character whom we can strongly bond with which is important as much of the film is on her shoulders.

In fact, the film truly revolves around Mária.  While Endre does learn to love; perhaps again, perhaps for the first time, it is Mária’s world which is completely turned on its head.  We experience every bit of anguish with her as she begins to break down these walls she has built around herself and let someone else in to her world. There is a scene towards the later half of the second act where she discovers music for the first time, or anther where she not just allows but actually welcomes the compassionate touch of another person.  It is beautiful, it is tragic, it is terrifying; we experience the catharsis of a first love with Mária as she bravely opens herself up to Endre.

Their courtship, however, is not perfect.  There are points where they falter, stumble, and are drawn apart, which while vital to ensuring the film does not become too much of a fairy-tale like love story, these moments do tend to be the weakest part of the film.  It is not even that they are poorly crafted or suffer from lesser craftsmanship, but rather the scenes where Endre and Mária experience success in their relationship are so strong and engaging that they simply eclipse scenes depicting their failures.

The third feature for the Safdie brothers, Bennie and Josh, "Good Time" starts off very strong with Nick being processed by a therapist (Peter Verby).  The scene is tight and suspenseful; as an audience we are thrown right into the middle of this situation and are unsure of exactly what is going on which aids the effectiveness of the scene.  Don't think, however, too deeply into what Nick is revealing as his answers do not come back in to play or help inform the narrative later on which is unfortunate.

The processing is disturbed when Nick comes barging in through the door.  Pattinson has completely reinvented his image from his early Twilight heart-throb days in this film.  In fact, this actor has had the unique opportunity to pick and choose his work and finds himself working on a host of interesting projects that other actors may not touch as they are so transformative to their image.  

After the title sequence rolls, we go back to the true beginning where the brothers are in line and masked at a bank preparing to rob it.  Again, the Safdies show their skill in creating these tense moments where control of the situation is up for grabs and we find ourselves rooting for these protagonists we barely even know.  It is all very interesting how "Good Time" frames this cast of anti-heroes.  As is true with most characters of this archetype, despite that we as a rational audience know what is best for them, often see characters that are looking to help them back on the right path as the enemy.  The seed of this concept was planted mere minutes ago in the timeline of the film, but when the credits roll after spending only 100 minutes with these characters, that seed has grown, blossomed, and flourished.

Once caught and taken away, we meet some of the people which the Nikas brothers surround themselves.  Corey Elman (Jennifer Jason Leigh), Connie's girlfriend, steals the film for the 10 or so minutes of screen time she has.  There is a scene between Connie, Corey, and Eric the Bail Bondsmen which Corey erupts into a screaming meltdown when her credit card is denied, and she gives it her all.  This is truly a woman at her wits end.  It’s what makes her outburst so amusing; she has no chips in the game but in her mind the world revolves around her and any minor inconvenience is a major catastrophe.

She is the complete opposite to Pattinson's Connie.  Throughout the night, his plan to break his brother out becomes foiled time and time again, yet he just keeps going with it.  There is nothing that can stop him in his search and that determination is the through line that truly carries the film.  Unfortunately, though, his motivation is not enough to really keep us invested and interested despite the short run time.  The film starts to fall apart after the first act comes to a close.  The tight tense moments; in the processing office, the heist, and the later scenes at the hospital, are lost and while the momentum of the film never ceases, the story gets lost in the wild tales of these fringe dwelling members of society.  Throughout Connie's midnight ordeal, he runs into a host of interesting characters, and while there is nothing overtly bad with their portrayal, they just do not draw the same tension or dynamic that was present in the first act.

“The Florida Project” is a slice-of-life coming of age drama written and directed by Sean Baker.  The narrative is interesting and the characters which inhabit this imagined block of Florida real estate are eccentric enough to keep us invested, though structurally it is hard to follow at times as we view this world through the eyes of six-year-old Moonee.  All the information we need is eventually brought in to light, but the withholding and muddied delivery makes this a film that requires attentiveness throughout.

The structure of the film – at least for the first half – is very fractured.  It is presented more as vignettes instead of scenes, though this goes hand in hand with how most children relate stories, jumping from point to point.  Whether this is the fault of the script, co-authored by Baker, or in the editing is hard to tell, but the rapid-fire story telling makes it hard to not only learn who these characters are but also what they are doing, what they want, and why are we watching them instead of someone else.

Additionally, there is no traditional antagonist in “The Florida Project” which makes the film harder to follow.  It does paint the motel manager, Bobby (Willem Dafoe), as the leading opposition, but as the film progresses we see a softer and more caring side to Bobby. His character arc is one of the highly rewarding aspects of the film and he excels in this role.

There is a scene as we near the half way point of the film between Bobby and a wandering creep, Charlie Coachman (Carl Bradfield).  This is a big turning point for us as audience because by breaking away from Moonee’s point of view, we get to see Bobby’s character as he truly is and not just a grumpy man hell bent on breaking up the kid’s fun.  The film also attempts to show this through two scenes with his estranged assumed-to-be son, Jack, but they do not land near as well as the Charlie sequence.

Once we crest the half way point, the narrative thankfully does take a pretty drastic shift from Moonee’s point of view to her mother’s and this is where the film finally hits its stride. It adopts the more traditional, scene to scene style of storytelling – as an adult would relay information – and with it, the tensions and the obstacles become those of an adult as well.  Besides Halley’s economic struggles, we se her suffer socially as her friendship with Ashley (Mela Murder) begins to crumble.

This relationship’s development, or rather deconstruction, becomes a vehicle for the theme behind “The Florida Project.”  To Moonee, she is confused as she is being barred from seeing her best friend, Scooty (Christopher Rivera).  To her, this is earth shattering; she is confused, upset, hurt, and lost not sure how she will spend her summer without her partner in crime.  To Haylee, however, she loses a confidant, prospective employment, and a supply of free food in the fallout.  The second act becomes a grand display of small acts conveying the resilience and the unconditional love that a mother has for her daughter.  No matter what happens, Halley is committed to providing for Moonee; and Moonee, despite he independence which took center stage during the first act, will follow Halley wherever she may lead her.

As times become increasingly tough, Halley turns to ever-increasing dangerous ways to generate income.  Her actions eventually catch up to her and the third act erupts into a climax that is both explosive and mesmerizing.  Some of her strongest work through the entire film, Vinaite demands your attention. With her back against the wall, she fiercely chooses fight over flight in a last-ditch effort to protect her daughter.

Moonee, sensing something amiss, runs to her friend’s home in a neighboring motel and delivers her strongest performance as well in a very touching and raw penultimate scene.  Unfortunately, the mood changes on a dime and the film ends with a jarring final sequence.  Everything about this scene is contradictory to the entire film up to this point and as the end credits begin to roll, we are left confused as to what just happened.

From the top-billed casting alone, “The Post” promises to be an engaging internal espionage thriller. Coupled with director Steven Spielberg’s prowess behind the camera, a movie about newspapers becomes an exciting, suspenseful feature even if it is a bit long in the middle.  The fact that this film does feel long at all is surprising as the camera is almost always moving and there is seldom a moment of silence.

What truly carries the film is the performances from this star-studded cast.  Led by Streep and Hanks, their reputation unfortunately precedes them, and the roles are lost at times in the shadow of their fame.  Hanks does a better job at masking this and while Streep in no way gives a bad performance, we never really forget that we are watching an actress playing a character.

The supporting cast if chock full of familiar faces and character actors that you’ve seen a million times. In supporting roles, their recognizability is a little bit less distracting and they tend to lose themselves in the role a bit easier.  

The production design of the film is exceptional as is to be expected from Spielberg.  The color palette is full of nostalgic shades reminiscent of newspapers and publications past.  Despite this, it never feels stuffy or old but remains vibrant even through its muted hues.  

What “The Post” really excels at is that it gives us a look in to an industry that many may not have known exists and certainly does not operate in the same way today.  The film also benefits from the time period.  The 70’s and 80’s are such a rich and cinematic time as much of the technology we have today was in its infancy and it can ride off the “look how far we’ve come” mindset.

“The Killing of a Sacred Deer” is writer/director Yorgos Lanthimos’ follow-up to 2015’s dystopian romance “The Lobster.” The 2017 film inherits Lanthimos’ strange, almost stream of consciousness dialogue. It is a little strange at first but once the film gets moving it is easy to follow along and does not alienate the audience despite the characters’ strange musings. The way in which Lanthimos uses dialogue, much as he did with “The Lobster,” creates the sense that we are in a mirrored reality.  His films never reach too far into the absurd so some of the stranger, or in this case supernatural elements, don’t seem out of place.

Looking at Lanthimos’ body of work, it is clear he likes to play with hard-hitting moral concepts.  In “The Lobster” he focused on love, in “The Killing of a Sacred Deer” he focused on life.  Unfortunately, his newest film neglects to really explore the concept the worthiness of life and instead opts for a pulpy revenge plot come the third act.  The most frustrating part about this is that the film does touch on the concepts but does not fully dissect them past the most basic philosophy 101 level.  We see Steven struggle with the decision of which member of his family must be sacrificed but he never truly wrestles with the moral complications that would have propelled “The Killing of a Sacred Deer” to a whole new realm of understanding and meaning.

Thankfully, however, performances across the board are all very strong which helps keep us engaged throughout the barrage of unconventional dialogue.  Colin Farrell returns and gives a very strong sense of a man who does not know what next to do.  Towards the end of the film, the sense of desperation overtakes him in an explosive scene in the kitchen with his wife, Anna (Nicole Kidman), who powerless to help calm him down.

The other stand out and true star of the film is Barry Keoghan’s Martin.  His character introduces elements of the supernatural to the film and does so in such an organic and convincing way that we don’t really question it.  The ultimatum which he levied against Steven is never fully explained; how does Martin know what will happen, is he the one controlling it or just delivering the message? These questions are left wide open for interpretation but the answers are not necessary to understanding the plot and so the ambiguity works.  If anything, it makes us more empathetic towards Steven as we are just as much in the dark about what is going on as he is.

Director Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest film “Phantom Thread” finds him reunited with Daniel Day-Lewis and his oft-explored themes of perfectionism and obsession.  As with many of his films, the driving force behind them is not simply these master craftsmen giving us a tour of their world but rather the relationship of someone up-and-coming who at the start is almost entirely ignorant of the word which they are entering.  It is a tried and true structure that Anderson finds himself drawing from time and time again.  

Looking at 2012’s “The Master,” Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) is brought into the fold of a new pseudo-religious movement led by Mason Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman).  1997’s “Boogie Nights” explores the porn industry in the early 1970’s and 80’s through Eddie Adams’/Dirk Diggler’s (Mark Wahlberg) rise to fame with the help of visionary porn producer Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds).  Going back another year to Anderson’s first feature, “Hard Eight,” John (John C. Reilly) is in the dumps until he is taken in by Sydney (Philip Baker Hall) who teaches him how to play the casino system.

But not all of these mentor/apprentice relationships are healthy.  In what remains Anderson’s magnum opus, 2007’s “There Will be Blood” has Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) manipulating the Sunday boys (Paul Dano) to give up their land and more importantly, the precious oil which lies underneath.  It is a variation on this kind of relationship which “Phantom Thread” explores.

Alma enters into Reynolds’ life like a quiet, contained hurricane.  At first it seems like this immensely particular man will chew the timid country girl up and spit her out, but Alma refuses to stand down.  It seems a strange comparison, but she holds herself with all of the skill of an expert chess player.  Always a few steps ahead, she never outright attacks Reynolds’ style or way of life, but there is a venom behind her actions that leaves behind a bright, painful sting.  This is a huge testament to Krieps’ talent as she more than holds her own against Day-Lewis and even tends to wrestle away some of the scenes which they share.

“Phantom Thread” is a film the belongs to the woman.  Opposite Reynolds at the top of the House of Woodcock and fulfilling the more traditional Anderson-ian mentor role to Alma is Cyril Woodcock (Lesley Manville).  Where Alma takes the more ambiguous route to getting what she wants from Reynolds, Cyril will come right out and shut him down. Delivering some of the sharpest lines of humor in the film, Manville is a true treat to watch on screen and is one of the strongest supporting roles of 2017.

That being said, there is something very unique about Day-Lewis’ reported final role in this film. It is a version of him which we do not tend to see on film all that often.  Tending to gravitate towards more grand roles of legendary characters from history, Day-Lewis is very free and natural as Reynolds because he is not held down by any real preconceived notion of who this man is.  The fictionality of the story and the characters seems to have unlocked a different kind of performance from the actor which we have not seen in quite some time.

Looking at the production, it is easy to see that “Phantom Thread” was begat by a master with a deep-seated love and passion for his art.  Every frame is lit in such a way that it is warm and lived in yet cold.  As if we are looking through a veil, at least until the final sequence when Alma puts all her chips on the table and truly steps up in such a profound way the Reynolds sees her as part of his life from now until the end.  That certain haze dissipates, and we see clearly into their dysfunctional yet necessary relationship.

“Phantom Thread” also finds Anderson collaborating with composer Johnny Greenwood who has done a handful of scores for the director in the past.  Greenwood outdoes himself this time with a hunting score that cuts deep into the audience but is never too opaque.  An impressive feat given just how fast moving and sweeping the narrative is at times and how almost the entire film seems to be narrated subconsciously by the score.

“Hostiles” is a well crafted and ambitious western written and directed by Scott Cooper.  Visually, the film is stunning as it captures the sweeping, largely untouched landscapes of 1890’s America.  Cinematography by Masanobu Takayanagi really helps to make sure that no detail is lost in the frame.  He does not let the dusty browns take over but manages to find the vibrancy in each location and moment.  His skill is only elevated in times of dusk or dawn when the purples, reds, and oranges that paint the sky fill the frame and breathe life into this otherwise dusty narrative.

Coupled with the stunning visuals is a haunting score composed by Max Richter.  Combining the classical sweeping orchestra with echoes of Native American music interwoven throughout, the music which backs “Hostiles” perfectly captures the tone of each scene without becoming too intrusive or on the nose. That is not to say that it is invisible, in fact we are very conscious of the music, but it fits so seamlessly with what is happening on screen that it enhances the experience rather that distract from it.

At the crossroads of a moral crisis, Blocker’s struggle has all the makings of a captivating character study, but through Bale’s mumbled musings it is almost impossible to understand what he is saying and therefore can’t connect with him on the level we need to as an audience.  Our entire window inside of this troubled and conflicted soon-to-be veteran is limited by his actions, which until the second half of the film are not conducive to creating a bridge of empathy from us towards him.  He is cold, harsh, and angry.

A foil to him, Rosalie Quaid (Rosamund Pike) has lost her entire family at the hands of the Comanche and in turn her heart is full of hate towards all native people.  Still in mourning for her lost husband and three children when the Army caravan comes across the charred remains of the Quaid homestead, Blocker’s chivalry shines through and he urges the widow to come with them.

She delivers a horrifying portrait of grief making Pike’s performance is one of the highlights of the entire film. Her character goes through a similar arc to Blocker’s as her heart begins to forgive Chief Yellow Hawk and his family for the crimes which the Comanche committed against her.  As she begins to see them as humans, so to does Blocker’s stance begin to change.

Visionary director, Guillermo del Toro’s “The Shape of Water” follows a mute janitor, Elisa (Sally Hawkins) and her friend who does enough speaking for the both of them, Zelda (Octavia Spencer).  The duo is chosen, as fate would have it, to help clean up the lab where the Asset is being held after an accident.  It is here where Elisa first sees the creature and is taken over by curiosity. She begins to find excuses to visit the lab where the Asset is held, and their unique relationship quickly blossoms.

As a driving force behind the narrative, the relationship between Elisa and the Asset needs to work, otherwise the entire film will fall apart around the failed “Beauty and the Beast” concept.  Thankfully, that is not the case with “The Shape of Water” however, that is not to say that there was no room for improvement.  Some expanded exploration of their relationship would have catapulted this film to the next level.

The flow of time in this film, if you’ll be kind enough to excuse the pun, is very fluid.  At the end of the 123-minute film, only a few weeks have passed narratively.  In this short time, we need to take the leap that a mute woman and an Amazonian River God not just learn to communicate with each other but form a strong emotional and romantic bond.  To the film’s credit, it works, but when running through the events of the film it requires quite a lot of suspension of disbelief, and that’s not even taking into consideration that the Asset exists at all.

The real flaw with their relationship lies in the speed that it is formed.  It is tough to swallow and if their courting period was drawn out just a little bit more, it could have provided some interesting and exciting moments. We also would have been given an opportunity to learn a more about the Asset before the relationship is consummated, and with that knowledge some moments in the second act of the film would be met more receptively by audiences.

Despite these missed opportunities, it is not hard for us as an audience to see the humanity of the Asset which Elisa sees, and that greatly helps us buy in to their relationship. This is aided by the Asset – and much of the film, actually – being built around practical effects instead of relying solely on CGI.  Doug Jones was in the body suit for the Asset and not a motion capture suit which allowed for a strong performance.  The wide-eyed curiosity which he gives the Asset brings us into his world and helps garner our sympathy for him.

As the film is marketed as an adult fairy tale, it is no surprise that we never fear the Asset, even during scenes where he has an animalistic outburst.  Much like the tales of old, there is very little grey area with the characters; they are either good or they are bad.  While this works well in favor of the Asset, it unfortunately does not help create complex villain.

Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon), is the leading antagonist of the film and while his character is interesting, there is not much depth.  Strickland has a wealth of possibility behind him, but because the script holds a black and white moral philosophy, he is ultimately forgettable as a villain. To Shannon’s credit, he does not phone in his performance and he delivers some really good work as a man in power who has always succeeded in life but is now finally facing failure.

Looking at the cast of characters as a whole, “The Shape of Water” is an ode to the fringe members of society; Elisa is a mute, Zelda and African American working-class woman, and Giles (Richard Jenkins), Elisa’s neighbor and best friend is a homosexual. It is no accident that the question of the Asset’s humanity is the central mystery being investigated by a cast full of social misfits of the time, but the script seems almost afraid to really explore this concept past the surface level.

Character work aside, the production value of the film is phenomenal and looks like a $100 million film though was made for less than a quarter of that.  Del Toro, as previously mentioned, employed many practical effects throughout the film which allows for a much better read on screen.  Coupled with his devotion to the film’s color palette of predominantly blues, greens, and browns, there is no denying the beauty of each and every frame.  It is no exaggeration to say that “The Shape of Water” is one of the most beautifully composed films of 2017, visually speaking.

Given the tightly woven narrative of “Call Me by Your Name,” the following review does contain spoilers.

“Call Me by Your Name” opens with some of the most stunning title credits of 2017 and perfectly captures the mood of the story to come. Photographs, sketches, and notes about statues and artifacts far past their prime but still beautiful despite their tarnished imperfection fill the screen. Coupled with the beautiful piano score invoking the carefree atmosphere of the dog days of summer, as an audience we are fully prepared to enter Elio's world and his mindset.

Timothée Chalamet give a nuanced performance with the adeptness of artists well more than twice his age. He makes Elio a sympathetic and relatable character even through his bouts of peacocking around in an effort to be noticed by and consequently impress his father’s extended house guest, Oliver. Despite his hormone-fueled cockiness, he never becomes someone that we tire of watching. His internal struggle brought on by these changing feelings – the driving force of all coming of age films – keeps him near and dear to our hearts as an audience and we find ourselves wanting him to come out on top.

The budding romance between Elio and Oliver is far from immediate. It takes its time as the men begin to tease out the other’s feelings, desires, and urgings. Almost half way through the 132-minute run time is when their moment finally happens. What we have been secretly rooting for this entire time finally unfolds as Elio takes control and bears himself to Oliver. This scene – a fragile storm – is just one of many that make up this movie chock full of tonal juxtaposition which really makes “Call Me by Your Name” a treat to watch.

The first real problem present that will face this film truly present itself. Given the shakeup in the Hollywood community throughout the last half of 2017, it is understandable how this relationship between Elio and Oliver can be considered an abuse of power, though I would beg to differ. While Oliver does make the first move on Elio, it is not until this moment that Oliver begins to see Elio in a romantic light. He goes so far as to explain that when Elio was nonresponsive to his advances, he ended the pursuit. The problem here is not in the relationship, but rather the casting of Armie Hammer.

Hammer gives an impeccable performance, there is no denying him that, but there is no way this classically handsome figure translates to a 24-year-old body on screen. It is this casting choice that will unfortunately be a huge hurdle for this film to jump any time it is to be discussed. There is very little to support that Oliver preyed on Elio and if anything, that scene where Elio comes out to Oliver, it is Elio who continues the advance despite Oliver’s objections.

Getting back to Hammer, he commands the screen with all of the charisma of a striking, young American man which reflects perfectly with Elio’s teenage bravado. It is this similar attitude and world view that could be the force driving them together. Even though Elio is son of a professor, there is little evidence that he wants to follow in his footsteps and enter the academic world. The closest we get is when Elio is at the piano but what he plays is more showing off than showcasing his knowledge. This difference is especially apparent when compared to a scene early in in the film where Oliver corrects the Mr. Pearlman on the entomology of the word apricot. His tone is that of a teacher, exited and engaged about the topic at hand.

Even without the major allegations that have recently come out, one of the biggest struggles facing “Call Me by Your Name” is the central romance. While it is clear the Elio and Oliver do deeply care for each other, it doesn’t feel complete. Possibly because we know from the onset that Oliver’s relationship with any of these characters has an expiration date of 6 weeks we subconsciously don’t allow ourselves to get too attached so as not to suffer the same hurt which Elio does at the close of the film. But I think it is deeper than that.

Narratively, I think the script could have worked a little bit harder in convincing us that these two men are the true and total centers of each others world. There is no question that for Elio, all he sees is Oliver, but there is a lot of evidence that says Oliver may not be as mono-committal as his younger lover. This isn’t an absurd notion, and in fact happens all the time in real life, but coupled with the fact that it takes almost half the run time before Elio and Oliver come to terms with their to-this-point morally repressed feelings for one another, it hurts the way their relationship is perceived on-screen.

The film does a lot of work in making us believe that these two men are ferociously in love with one another and while there are scenes that help build this notion in us as an audience, there are very few scenes where they are allowed to let the primal lust to take over. The film handles the sex very respectfully and delicately. It treats it much as Elio in his mind does but because it is so careful, there is never a chance for them to throw their inhibitions to the wind and consummate their relationship with the power and the fury that this narrative tries so hard to show is being pent up inside these two young bodies.

As we enter into the third act and summer comes to a close, it is time for Oliver to leave. It is in this final act where Chalamet delivers some of his finest acting. He is lost, deserted, and completely broken. Gone is his bravado. A mostly silent scene – or if there was dialog, I was about as aware of it as Elio was – in the car with his mother on the way home from the train station is when we really begin to see a change in Elio. He has suffered his first loss in love and it has crippled him. The red in his eyes a symptom of these new emotions he never knew he had.

It continues further to a scene with Elio and his father gives a speech that is widely praised yet to me felt rather ambiguous in message. Possibly I was still so in tune with Elio’s overwhelming emotion that I may have missed key parts of what his father was saying, but this speech, actor-ly as it may be, failed to really hit a chord with me.

As the film winds down, Chalamet again is given a chance to showcase his emotional range. Receiving a call from Oliver over the winter, his heart is at once set ablaze with passion and shattered into a million pieces just as quickly. Oliver informs his that he is engaged to be married to a beautiful American girl; the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. Elio, gazing into the fire with the stream of consciousness lyrics of Sufjan Stevens’ “Visions of Gideon” playing non-diegeticly over the background, we relive Elio’s and Oliver’s romance with him in his mind as the camera holds tight over Elio’s face. A brutal scene to watch, yet also beautiful, in the hands of a lesser actor it certainty would not have been as effective. Chalamet promises to be an exciting young talent to watch grow and develop as he takes on these unique and challenging roles.

The thing which is really unusual about “Call Me by Your Name,” and on one hand is nice, is that it does not follow the typical gay romance arc.  Sure, it doesn’t end with a wedding, but in similar films in the past, these stories always tend to end on a more tragic (read: fatal) note, and the fact that both Elio and Oliver have their entire lives left ahead of them, albeit apart, is refreshing.  I have a feeling that this is because the relationship, while central to the plot, is not what the film is truly about.  It is harkening back to the audience’s first crush, their summer fling; it is for that reason that the details don’t matter, the narrative all flows together through the hazy summer heat as if we are living through the memory of their love, romance, and passion while relating their story to our own experiences.

Another thing which the film manages to do is avoid many of the tropes LGBT films fall prey to as far as the way our character’s handle their sexuality.  Despite being the 1980’s, there is no overt opposition to Elio discovering these feelings he is having.  There is passing mention of the social and political climate, but by and large Elio finds immediate acceptance from his parents and his friends.  This lack of tension really makes “Call Me by Your Name” stand out as the only real enemy facing our heroes is the inevitability of time itself.