#francesconroy

Catherine O'Hara as Carol Ward in Six Feet Under

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Having a film pop on one radar is normally enough for me... I had noticed The Power of the Dog on different lists of 2021 film releases, and of course, as a Netflix user, I saw it listed in my queue, but other than making the list, my interest was not piqued.  Then, earlier this week, the Golden Globes dropped their list of nominations, and The Power of the Dog was all over the film categories, and immediately, the film jumped up my list.  While prepping, I noticed that Thomasin McKenzie was a member of the cast, and after her performance in Last Night in Soho, I was fully hooked and on board for a viewing.

Maybe it’s just due to the fact that the Old West is a long bygone era, but outside of the highly stylized films in the Western genre, most Western movies have an ingrained sense of tension baked into them... perhaps it’s due to the sense of despair that comes with living by your wits in a world of have-nots, or perhaps it’s due to the built-in patriarchal code of ethics that comes with the gunslinger and cowboy era, but even the most mundane goings on feel potentially explosive.  That being said, there is something about The Power of the Dog that encompasses this aspect of the Western in spades, and all of this is present from the opening moments based on a combination of how the story arc that Benedict Cumberbatch, Jesse Plemons and Kirsten Dunst share is set up both visually and purely based on physicality.  As the narrative unfolds, we get touches of classic Western aesthetics and practices thanks in large part to Cumberbatch’s all-in sinister nature as Phil Burbank that stand in stark contrast to the modernity and humanity that unfolds in the path that is shared between Dunst’s Rose Gordon and Plemons’ George Burbank.  While George displays good intentions, he seems much more aware of the rift between himself and Phil than he does how much he’s disrupted Rose’s world by putting her in the center of attention spot in a time where not only most women tend to “know their place” (at the risk of using an outdated term), but also by trying to steer her out of the deep protective focus for her son Peter without so much as asking her thoughts on it, which is doubly ironic when considered that the connection between George and Rose was sparked because of Peter and Rose’s shared hurt.

Seeing romantic and controversial aspects of Western life through the lens of Jane Campion adds new shades to the collected familiar tales we’ve come to be familiar with, and her passion as a writer/director shows in the work presented.  The romantic arcs in The Power of the Dog turn the concept of the Bechdel Test on its head by forcing the male characters to be the ones that deal with emotional waves on a raw and visceral level, while leaving Rose Gordon to be the tragic figure that falls apart under the weight of expectations and pressure.  George Burbank is propped up as the male of the future who is seemingly in-touch with his manhood and femininity, while Phil is put forth as a more stereotypical male figure who is unable to face their deep-rooted issues, and therefore, is prone to misplacing their aggression by way of verbal and physical lashing out.  In light of these initial setups, Peter Gordon is brought into the picture as a literal slap in the face to Phil based on how in-touch he is with himself at such a young age, and from Phil’s perspective, how the characteristics that Peter cherishes fly in the face of the male image.  Based on the triangular setup of the main leads with Phil as a satellite element, layers upon layers of conflict and tension emerges that not only brings the viewer lots of discovery, but creates a rewarding narrative ripple effect that moves the story forward. 

One of the immediate standout aspects of the film is the cinematography of Ari Wegner, whose highly stylized plains photography, multi-level focused wide shots and deeply uncomfortable close-ups not only capture beauty, but fuel tension right from the beginning, even when one can’t put their finger on what they should be uneasy about.  The score goes great lengths in keeping the tension palatable as well, with alternating small groupings of instruments and solo offerings that hit dissonant notes doing much of the heavy lifting while sparse symphonic interjections do the bridgework.  The Power of the Dog has some of the strongest capture of natural lighting and candle-based lighting that I’ve seen and years, and when night falls (or we find ourselves in less fortunate locations), the work done with shadows and sparse lighting is downright phenomenal.  While this film dwells in more of a low key world outside of the outlaw life, it must be noted how elaborate the costuming, hair and make-up is in the appropriate areas, with just as much focus given on the cowboy costuming in order to create a natural order that is immediately recognizable upon sight.  Breaking the film up into chapters helps pace things out beautifully, allowing for each particular element to get weighted moments before they shift into both predictable and unforeseeable directions.

Benedict Cumberbatch turns in one of the most moving and dynamic performances of the year, straddling the fence perfectly between posturing male toxicity and a man deeply afraid to face a true nature he tries to inwardly embrace while hiding it outwardly based on his societal positioning.  Jesse Plemons helps to fade the initial heat off of the Cumberbatch arc by playing the sympathetic white knight with an honest nature that is sadly unaware of any damage he does that doesn’t impact his pocket.  Kirsten Dunst goes to pieces under the pressure of expectation in a secret manner while displaying innate motherly instincts in the hopes of protecting her character’s son.  Kodi Smit-McPhee exudes shades of youthful innocence, but much like the motherly character Dunst portrays, McPhee’s son characterization also hides much of his truth beneath a public veneer that is partly self-aware and partly based on self-protection.  Genevieve Lemon and Thomasin McKenzie bring light touches of comedic joy to a deeply moody household.  The cast is rounded out by brief appearances for characters that hold weight in the Burbank world, including Keith Carradine, Frances Conroy, Peter Carroll, Alison Bruce, Sean Keenan, Adam Beach, Maeson Stone Skuccedal, Alice Englert and many more.

Remakes - particularly horror film remakes - have a bad reputation but the 2006 version of The Wicker Man takes it to a whole new level. If you want quotable, memorable, laugh-out-loud hilarious, and utterly baffling, look no further. After seeing the 1973 original, I wondered what elements would be changed and updated by writer/director Neil LaBute. Seems he chose to take out everything which made the horror classic creepy and replace them with lots of bees, a conspiracy that makes no sense, and lines so bad no one could make them sound good.

Policeman Edward Malus (Nicholas Cage) receives a call for help from the fiancé who abandoned him years ago. The daughter he never knew he had has disappeared. Willow (Kate Beahan) believes her mother, Sister Summersisle (Ellen Burstyn) intends on sacrificing the girl as part of a strange harvest ritual.

This film's madness creeps up on you. At first, there appears to be potential. A mystery to be solved, an island full of weirdos. Malus is a nice guy. He’s forgiven his insane ex-fiance and is coming to help her. Immediately, things are creepy. The island's men are treated like servants, all of the little girls dress alike. Willow is so brainwashed or traumatized she’s hardly any help. Then, slowly, the movie begins tossing nonsense and bad dialogue your way. The further you get in, the more ridiculous it gets until you reach the jaw-droppingly awful conclusion.

A great “so bad it’s good” movie requires a story that’s interesting, but straightforward enough that your audience can interject with witty comments without missing too much of the plot. You need memorable, quotable scenes to turn into inside jokes afterward. You need bad dialogue, lousy performances, and ideally, noticeable mannerisms you can imitate. Unconvincing special effects are a nice bonus. The Wicker Man has it all. Willow’s dialogue is comprised entirely of half-finished sentences while officer Malus has lines so awful they're legendary. After this film, bees will never be the same. You'll find yourself compelled to scream “No, not the bees. NOT THE BEES! Ahhh! They’re in my eyes!” every time you see them. What kind of movie could hold that kind of power? A glorious catastrophe.

What this story is really about is the world’s stupidest police officer trapped in the most convoluted, hackneyed, “100 things should have gone wrong but none of them do” conspiracy. Try and write down every factor that should've compelled Malus to act differently than he does. It’s one of those movies where you can’t guess the ending because the ending makes no sense. Only a madman would be able to think as Labute does. As a special bonus, odds are that if you get this movie on Dvd, it will be a double-sided disc. One side theatrical cut, the other an “unrated cut with an ending too shocking for theatres. What you want to do is play the theatrical cut. While your guests are recovering from that glimpse of madness, you eject the disc, flip it around and play the ending of the unrated version. You thought it couldn't get worse? It just did.

I'd tell you all about my favorite parts but the less you know about The Wicker Man before going in, the better. Nicholas Cage is a gem. He delivers an extreme performance. Even when there's no dialogue, he's so eye-poppingly loony you'll be making dozens of computer gifs just so you can watch them on a loop and laugh. He's bad but proves himself a good actor. It takes a special kind of talent and dedication to be able to deliver this dialogue with a straight face. I love the remake of The Wicker Man; it’s one of my go-to movies that’s “so bad it’s good again”. (Theatrical and Unrated Cut on Dvd, May 9, 2015)

“Joker’s Odyssey” (A Film Review) by Adam Wękarski

“Joker” is one of the most psychologically complex & artistically provocative films ever made. Todd Phillips directs his best film to date (commonly known for his work in directing comedies) in a staggering contrast to his typical work. This film is undoubtedly Phillips’ masterpiece. This film takes a gigantic leap forward in the direction that Christopher Nolan & Heath Ledger’s Joker had initiated 11 years ago in “The Dark Knight.” This movie is an enigmatic tragicomedy that pulls no punches.

Joaquin Phoenix deserves an oscar for his performance as the lead character. Count on Joaquin-frikkin’-Phoenix to be the only other actor who could not only meet Heath Ledger’s ground-breaking performance, but challenge it with a bold & fearless flair. This is the best picture of the year and absolutely deserves an oscar for directing, writing & cinematography.

Phoenix plays Joker a.k.a “Arthur Fleck”, a struggling Street-Performer/Comedian/your all-around Party-Clown who lives in a bleak and morally-crumbling fictional Gotham City, USA (set in 1981). Highly reminiscent of New York City in the late ‘70s/early ‘80s (apparently where the director Todd Phillips grew up), there is an overwhelmingly oppressive structural presence of the city throughout the entire film (with some of the most breath-taking wide shots) - which has the ability to create a legitimate sense of isolation (and claustrophobia).

Immediately into the story, we know that Fleck clearly has some form of severe emotional instability (while struggling in a post-vaudevillian world which is a creaky ol’ memory fading of a bygone era of performers & entertainers). Despite the overwhelming struggle that is Arthur’s existence - Arthur trudges on, beaten down, and continues dancing his dance and putting on a show for everyone & no one. The only times that Arthur Fleck appears to have any form of happiness is when he is performing & dancing as “Carnival” The Clown working for an entertainment agency known as “Ha Ha’s”, and when he is at home spending time with his mother. Arthur Fleck’s journey throughout the story is not only about his life’s struggle, but his eventual demise and fall from grace.

While Arthur climbs the seemingly infinite stairway each day in his life, the weight of his problems become clearly visible on his shoulders - as he resembles the factory workers in Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis” striving upwards with futility. Fleck has literally been taking a beating in his life, and he does eventually transform (due to a tremendously slow-burning tension that carries throughout the entirety of the film) into the larger-than-life villain at the end of the story (which is the crucial moment Joker truly becomes a symbolic figure of anarchy).

Technically-speaking - this film is shot perfectly (with a heavy tone reminiscent of a graphic novel). From larger-than-life exterior wide shots that truly showcase just how small Fleck is in the grand scheme of the city to extremely tight interior shots that allow access to intimate moments with one of the most twisted & insane characters of all time (perfectly portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix). The story, an original, was written by Todd Phillips & Scott Silver who had made the conscious effort to bring an entirely fresh take on one of the most celebrated (and revered) characters of the comic book world (and now film world) to the big screen. In terms of the story - it is the best origin story of the Joker by far, successfully achieving a level of sophisticated storytelling to the point that it actually transcends the genre and becomes a truly remarkable artistic effort of genius that has cinematic elements similar to the likes of Kubrick, Scorsese & Malick (particularly in terms of artistic bravado).

Speaking of Scorsese, “Joker” has the uncanny ability of concealing it’s influences while simultaneously paying homage and informal tribute (I suppose more of an artistic ‘tip of the hat’ to a plethora of cinematic influences). There are plenty of hints & clues for any familiar film-lover (especially a few obvious nods to Heath Ledger’s Joker, although more of a precursor of where that Joker could have possibly originated). For instance, anyone who has seen “Taxi Driver” will automatically draw parallels between the slow, yet inevitable, unwinding & downward spiral of the protagonist (of whom lives in a city that is slowly unraveling at the sociological seams, so-to-speak - which, in turn, is a reflection of the mental stability of the main character as he continues his journey) - Especially when Zazie Beetz’s “Sophie Dumond” encounters Fleck in an elevator and points her fingers towards the side of her head, which Fleck later does to himself (an obvious nod to De Niro’s character “Travis Bickle” in “Taxi Driver”).

Robert De Niro (one of the finest actors of all time) even appears in the film as a very important character by the name of “Murray Franklin” of whom has his own live late-night television talk show. Arthur Fleck is a huge fan of the Murray Franklin show and even fantasizes about being on the show and interacting with Murray Franklin on live television for the whole world to see. Arthur Fleck is obviously obsessed with the notion of becoming famous and celebrated and adored - something he certainly is not in his real everyday life. De Niro’s performance of Murray Franklin is an ironic nod (and inversion) of his performance as “Rupert Pupkin” from Scorsese’s “The King of Comedy” in which De Niro had played the overtly-unrealistic stalker of a late-night TV personality (played by Jerry Lewis) - which is, of course, a brilliant full circle moment for De Niro now playing the big shot entertainer.

Arthur Fleck’s obsession with Murray Franklin is one of many story arcs within the psychologically-labyrinthian tale of how the Joker was born. While portraying Fleck, Joaquin Phoenix has a look reminiscent of the killer “Scorpio” in “Dirty Harry” (played frighteningly by one Andrew Robinson) with the 1970s-friendly shaggy-locks and brown slacks and large-collared attire. This entire film is a herculean psychological character study on Joker and it’s without saying that this is in no way a family-friendly version of the character. The Joker kills three men on a subway in self-defense (after the three Wallstreet men harass a woman and then physically attack Joker). This film lives and breathes in the proverbial gray area of right & wrong and good & bad (which is a part of it’s terrifying genius).

The film’s music also appears as it’s own character (in a way) throughout the film  - acting as a spiritual extension of Joker’s mental & emotional state (as Joker appears to have music consistently flowing from within and exuding outwards with each crucial moment that happens in the story). After Fleck’s first murder in the subway, he runs and hides in a public restroom and begins to dance to his own symphony of psychosis as he stares into his reflection (as Joker; his split personality; his other half, alter ego, etc.). The musical score is just as unsettling & schizophrenic as the Joker, and the film perfectly embodies all of the most defining attributes of what makes Joker so very fascinating (and frightening).

Joaquin Phoenix’s powerhouse performance stands alone, mighty on it’s own two feet, while Todd Phillip’s care for the character and his dedication to present the character as a real human being is unmatched in it’s sophistication & artistic bravery (with exception of perhaps the Nolan trilogy - God, if only this version of Joker was in the third installment for The Dark Knight trilogy - could you imagine Joaquin Phoenix opposite Christian Bale? - OH My - or perhaps even see where this Joker storyline would dare venture if given the opportunity for more exploration). Joaquin Phoenix had allegedly stated that in researching psychological disorders and real-life behaviors that people actually have - he did not want anyone who is educated in the field of study to be able to pin-point Joker’s psychological “condition” or “symptoms.” Phoenix successfully accomplishes such a feat as Fleck/Joker due to the character’s ever-changing (and constantly-developing) madness amidst his life in this origin story.

This film is a very, very intense tragedy whose psychological depth goes well beyond the screen.

Arthur Fleck/Joker is a care-taker of his own mother, Penny Fleck (played very well by Frances Conroy). Penny begins the story as a seemingly sweet-hearted mother who is ill and in need of some form of help or assistance - of which Arthur does his best in providing (as her only family). As the film progresses, we find that Penny had been a former employee working on the estate of one Thomas Wayne (played very well by Brett Cullen) and she expresses her assurance to Arthur that Mr. Wayne wouldn’t allow them to live in their current conditions had he been aware of their struggle.

Arthur loves his mother very dearly (in a Norman Bates ”Psycho” kinda way), and despite his efforts to nurse her - her condition gets worse, and then the story truly takes a dramatic left turn into an unsettling reveal of the hidden, murky depths of not only the Joker’s life, but his overall psyche. Specifically, when Arthur discovers the truth about his life and the harsh trauma he had experienced as an adopted child with a psychotic mother, who carelessly stood by while Arthur was severely abused (while also discovering he had been an abandoned orphan before Penny adopted him) and would apathetically allow the abuse to thrive.

Arthur Fleck’s psychological abyss is interwoven within Arkham State Hospital (a mental institution primarily focused on abnormal psychology and psychiatric rehabilitation). The emotional and mental state of Arthur is at the forefront of the film, as Arthur frequently discusses his mental & emotional well-being with a social worker (played very well by Sharon Washington), who eventually loses her job as well as her department due to government cutbacks and lack of funding. The loss of all of his medication gives Arthur’s unusual condition(s) of uncontrollable laughter at any given time (which comes handy with a card to address anyone of said condition) a significantly more off-putting presence. This is especially true due to the reality that his unique condition merely scratches the surface of what is looming underneath (which appears to be an eclectic & deadly combination of a potential variety of psychological disorders including: post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, paranoia, delusional disorder, manic depression, schizophrenia, in addition to possibly having some other forms of personality disorders and/or possibly even a form of undiagnosed autism).

In one of the most iconic moments in cinema, the Joker dances down that same infinite stairway as before (with a Ray-Bolger-like air of arrogance), now in full Joker fashion, experiencing a complete liberation of the weight he once carried on his shoulders as Arthur Fleck. This is a moment that not only represents Joker’s infinite dance of madness, but also symbolizes Arthur Fleck’s tragic descent into hell.

This film is more disturbing than it is violent. What’s so disturbing is that this is the most realistic depiction of the Joker and how a human being could become a product of one’s environment (in the worst way). I think this film has successfully struck a chord with contemporary society (worldwide), despite the film being a complete fictional story based off of a comic book character, set in another time - there is a significantly realistic undercurrent of honesty shouting loudly in the film in a tone very similar to Howard Beale’s epiphany in Sidney Lumet’s astounding masterpiece “Network”(1976); albeit a bit more deranged (especially once Joker actually goes on live television and scolds Murray Franklin regarding his continual debasement of Arthur Fleck for the sake of entertainment). Joker speaks openly on live television about how he had been the one who murdered the three Wallstreet men in the subway. It is at this point in the journey that Joker is viciously taunting not only the host Murray, but also expressing the cold & harsh reality of the overall system being an institutionalized failure. The Joker has no political agendas, nor financial, or even ambitions within show business anymore after the onslaught of life experiences that have transformed him and tragically removed his innocence.

Joker was once a man who genuinely wanted to bring joy & laughter to the world and perhaps if someone was there to hand him a book or a guitar instead of a gun in those crucial “in-between” moments in life, or if he had someone in his life who actually loved & cared for him and would be there for him - maybe it could have all been prevented. If Arthur Fleck had positive reinforcement in his life, and perhaps Faith, maybe he would have turned his frustration into inspiration rather than a maniacal form of self-destruction. The same could be said about any one individual in our very own reality (especially considering the highly unusual rate of violent, self-destructive behavior in America as we know it).

It is after the Murray Franklin Massacre that the Joker is truly “reborn” as he has officially become an abstract figurehead for the downtrodden of society. The same part of society which has had enough of the ugly side of the system and the overall tragedy of humanity’s indifference & ignorance towards the ones who struggle with the weight of the system on their shoulders (while looking up at the ones who have been riding upon humanity’s shoulders for far too long). Joker’s “birth” comes from a symbolic “death” so-to-say of Arthur Fleck as he’s in a severe car accident and carried out by his followers and attains a distinct level of martyrdom. Joker’s tragic destiny is to reign in hell rather than serve in heaven (which is the symbolic dilemma of humanity; hence the inception of Batman in the film, as a young Bruce Wayne’s parents are murdered due to the chaos Joker has sparked - a moment that successfully calls back to Tim Burton’s “Batman” flashback with the movie theater & flying pearl necklace and all).

“Joker” is a highly visceral artistic statement that has a brutally honest hidden social message: society must not fail the very humanity that fulfills it. The madness of one can spark the madness of many - and in any case - we may need to create a better way to heal our sick & our poor, and we should consider better methods to mend the broken (in mind, body, and spirit) rather than feed into chaos and self-undoing (as individuals and as a whole). If we are capable to view such a mirrored fantasy which has created such a social controversy due to it’s violently philosophical conclusion - are we also capable of improving ourselves, as a society, for the betterment of our very own collective reality?

I give “Joker” a Perfect 10 out of 10.