An understated oddity now, in the shape of Them That Follow, a drama centering on tensions in a small religious community in present-day America who believe in proving their worthiness before God by communing with rattlesnakes; if you don’t get bitten, that means you’re pure*1.
It would be easy to make a shrieking affair of this fairly wide target*2, but what Dan Madison Savage and Britt Poulton bring instead is more a character/social study. There are definite notes of folk-horror, but the monsters here are all human and the only supernatural element is the old-fashioned deity to which the town is so slavishly penitent.
The film is visually quiet, but there's an air of grim urgency. We learn of our protagonist’s pivotal circumstances early on, setting the ticking countdown timer for the rest of the film. For the most part there's no real escalation, the film just simmers constantly then boils over in its third act.
As well as the efficiently oppressive cinematography, there's some great sound design. The audience hears every creaking floorboard and faltering breath between dialogue which is a masterclass in subtext and double-meaning, delivered with absolute conviction by an enthusiastically downbeat cast.
On a filmmaking level, Them That Follow is great, but I'm not sure if I can say I actually enjoyed it, and I have no idea who I'd recommend it to. Other than yourself, dear reader…
This has the quiet fatalism of A Ghost Story, the pacing of It Comes At Night and the foreboding of Mandy (before that film goes absolutely mental).
Unless you're actively excited to see it, probably not.
It is.
Hard to say, but everyone's on very solid form here.
Nope.
Nope.
Level 2: Kaitlyn Dever is in this, and she was in that Booksmart with Billie 'Connix' Lourd.
*1 Although 'trial-by-rattlesnake' feels like something of an evolutionary cul-de-sac, although I suspect the type of people who'd go in for it wouldn't believe in that in the first place. I mean evolution, not cul-de-sacs. They're easily provable. Oh hang on, so is evolution. Ah well, as you were. [ BACK ]
*2 I mean it's not like they're luddites or anything. There's a microwave shown in the kitchen and they use power-tools to amputate limbs when the need arises. Speaking of which Terry, you're going to cut right into that kitchen table. At least put a chopping board down or something. Jesus was a carpenter, he's probably going to be the most pissed off about what you're doing, think on. [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Now, it would be unfair to compare Olivia Wilde's directorial debut Booksmart with the 2008 comedy, Superbad from the off. That said, Booksmart is very much like Superbad from the off, so they started it.
Set in the present, we open on the day before high school graduation, in which best friends Molly (Beanie Feldstein) and Amy (Kaitlyn Dever) realise that in studying hard to pass their exams, they've missed out on a whole lot of fun - not least because many of their contemporaries have been partying all year and have still managed to achieve similarly impressive grades. With this in mind, the pair decide to attend the one end-of-year party that everyone will be at, including their prospective crushes, in a last hurrah before Summer and college-life beckon. But getting to the party will be an adventure in itself, as Molly and Amy discover the wild side of town that's been out every night while they've been studying...
HEROINES Even without our heroines being hormonally charged, socially awkward misfits who attract misfortune as easily as they do ridicule and the party Macguffin lending a sense of foreboding impatience throughout, yeah this is largely Superbad. But given that Greg Mottola's coming-of-age bromance is very much near the top of a crowded pile of teen-comedies (and is now over a decade old, obviously), that's neither an unusual nor a bad thing. Writing the movie around young women rather than young men is a great chance to show that dorkiness and bad decision making are gender-blind, and the audience should be likewise.
However. With Susanna Fogel, Emily Halpern, Sarah Haskins and Katie Silberman all on screenplay duty, Booksmart is certainly a crowded and chaotic affair, often suffering the same haphazard focusing problems as any movie with a quartet of authors. As a result, it often feels like Olivia Wilde struggles with the full grip of a script this busy. This feels like it would be a director's second or even third film - that Wilde has produced this straight out of the gate shows her ambition and commitment, if nothing else.
COCAINES Because Booksmart begins pretty much 'on 10', there's no time to really get to know the central characters before we're thrown in at the deep end of their lives. And as we're then finding our way with Molly and Amy, much of the first act seems like white noise as we try to get up to speed.
The script isn't as consistently funny as it would perhaps like to think, although it's frequently charming even when deliberately trying to rub the viewer up the wrong way. There's a constant battle between being an emotionally candid snapshot of teenage turbulence, and not wanting to let go of the gross-out fratboy comedy roots. The film is most enjoyable when it's speaking with its own voice.
HARIBO TANGFASTICS Beanie Feldstein and Kaitlyn Dever are that voice, their chemistry effortlessly selling the nonsense, bickering, sarcasm and upfront love between best friends of any age. They are very much the Seth and Evan of this piece. Although not to be upstaged, Billie Lourd has a borderline scene-stealing role as Gigi, a psychotic party animal who's to be found around every corner waiting to make things worse. And for my money, the animated sequence in the middle could have gone on for longer. I could feel the audience's nervous confusion in the room, and I loved that.
Booksmart is bigger than the indie-energy which runs through its veins and onto the screen with abrasive camaraderie, but it's nowhere near polished or accessible enough to be a breakout hit with its cinematic release. Hopefully this will find its audience once it hits disc/streaming, but even then it's more likely to be a cult-favourite at Logan Lucky levels, rather than The Big Lebowski.
But hey, some movies aren't built to be taken too seriously, that just happens around them. Go see Booksmart and just enjoy it for the haphazard ride...
It's a bit like Superbad (I think we've covered that), with notes of Clerks and Mid90s.
Eighth Grade wishes it had this film's heartfelt adrenaline.
If you're in the right frame of mind, it is.
It is.
Difficult to say, but it should be at the top of everyone's CV.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
And now to the golden, rolling hills of Marin County California, home to Skywalker Ranch and the beating heart of all that is Star Wars. But we're not here for deathsticks, we're here for a tale of weed, pills, crystal meth and good ol' fashioned heroin. So closer to Ewan McGregor's turn in Trainspotting than Attack Of The Clones, then. Which might explain why my brain kept starting Lust For Life at inappropriate moments throughout Beautiful Boy…
Based on the twin-memoirs of the real-life protagonists, the story follows David Sheff (Steve Carell) as he tries to reconcile his teenage son Nic's (Timothée Chalamet) escalating addiction to a range of narcotics with holding together the rest of his family (Maura Tierney as David's partner Karen, and their two young children played by Oakley Bull and Christian Convery), and maintaining a civil relationship with his ex-wife and Nic's mum, Vicki (Amy Ryan). Earnest hand-wringing all round.
BOY My observation at the top wasn't just glib sarcasm, Beautiful Boy really is Trainspotting for the middle-aged, middle-class fan of generational angst, there are glimpses of bleakness at regular intervals, but on the whole it's a reassuringly safe journey, told from a father's perspective. That said, enjoyment of this film will depend largely on what baggage the viewer has brought in with them.
In an early conversation, Carrell's David has a conversation with his son who is just starting to seriously experiment with drugs. Nic tries to articulate his frustration but only manages something about 'blocking out stupid reality'. When the father asks in a state of genuine puzzlement "…what's stupid about reality?", everyone in the auditorium suddenly realises which side of the fence they're watching the movie from.
GOLDEN Delicately handled by director Groeningen, the end product isn't quite as syrupy as you might expect but tells most of its story from David's perspective and so avoids a lot of the grit. It often feels like Beautiful Boy is afraid to get its hands dirty, for the fear of not being able to clean them again in time for the closing credits.
Outstanding work from Timothée Chalamet throughout holds the whole thing together. Carrell, Tierney and Ryan are strong too, but this isn't their film. They're a supporting-cast in every sense, and are playing in far broader ways. Also worth noting is the solid casting of Kue Lawrence and Jack Dylan Grazer as younger versions of Nic in the intermittent flashbacks. Their performances aren't showy or overly foreshadowing, but they sell the evolution of the protagonist effortlessly (in all fairness, the only character in the film who actually appears to age).
Beautiful Boy isn't a perfect ride, and our director clearly has an eye on his awards-cabinet when that's unlikely to come to fruition, but it's made with sincerity. Perhaps ironically, that's both the film's biggest problem and its saving grace…
Beautiful Boy plays like a bittersweet sequel to The Way, Way Back, covering the next darker chapter where everything wasn't alright after all.
But the unfocused anger at the centre of it all is the same.
Only if you already know you're going to get the right things out of it. Which sort of defeats the object of watching a new film, admittedly.
Although it's perhaps worth noting that as evangelical as I am about my Unlimited card, I didn't get to catch the pre-Christmas advance screening of this and now it's not playing at my local. As a result, I did pay to watch this (albeit the £4.99 that Vue are charging in their region cinemas these days) and I rather enjoyed it. Make of that what you will.
It is.
Difficult to say, but everyone should be fairly proud of what they've made.
It's entirely possible.
There isn't.
Level 2: Timothée Chalamet was in Interstellar, alongside David 'Agent Kallus' Oyelowo, and John 'Yoda In The TESB Radio Drama' Lithgow.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Well, this isn't a great start to 2019. Having already grumbled about The Favourite (not my favourite) and Colette (not my… okay, that one doesn't work), the descent into awards season silliness seems rife with movies designed to wind me up, and since there will be no quarter asked nor given this year, I have too many thoughts on The Front Runner to hold back out of politeness. Also, this review is basically a bunch of tweets I did, so there's that as well.
The Front Runner is a film from Jason Reitman based on the 1988 American presidential campaign by Gary Hart, which went up the spout when it turned out he'd been having bits on the side. There's a Wikipedia article about the whole thing here. It is every bit as entertaining and dramatically crafted as the film version, although mercifully shorter.
HART Dear lord, this was boring. Whose side am I supposed to be on, here? Gary Hart? I know he's the subject, but is he our protagonist, too? The film shows nothing of his background as a senator. Is he a good one? Gary's a Democrat so he's nominally on the 'good' side, but is he good at being good? What's his actual professional background? There's never any doubt as to his affairs and he remains unrepentant throughout, even in the scene when his wife finally confronts him. Gary's not sorry for what happened, he just regrets being caught. That wasn't new then and it certainly isn't now. No, Gary's not our hero here.
Am I supposed to be on the press's side? Those sweaty, sex-case-looking guys staking out Gary's house and confronting him with non-questions like they graduated from journalism school earlier that day? Or how about the younger dude from the Washington Post who's literally handed more evidence of Gary's philandering, then just sort of waves it about in the air, unsure what his job is? Or the behind-the-scenes journos who mumble over each other in the office from scene to scene? Are this lot all crusading for freedom or are they bound by the political allegiances of their publications? Not explored, any of it. No, we're not on the press's side, they're just tertiary characters.
MORPH Maybe I'm supposed to be cheering on Gary's wife, who doesn't look surprised, outraged or even saddened by any of it, just tired. Tired and resigned to a life of 'I don't even care any more I'd divorce him but I can't be bothered with the paperwork'. No, she's not in the film enough for it to be about her. Shame, since there’s a stronger hook for a perspective there.
Am I supposed to be with Gary's campaign-team, also massively surprised that a man who's made a lucrative career of nodding through people's opinions and promising he'll definitely look into things when he's in power MIGHT JUST BE A BIT OF A CHANCER? Odd, given that their job is to dispel EXACTLY THAT but with cheering, badges and flyers. Go back to being J.Jonah Jameson and making drummers blub, mate.
CHAS Or is this about Crying Lady Who Got Caught Coming Out Of Gary's House who claims she's intelligent and qualified and people just think she's a bimbo, but we don't see her before or after sitting in restaurants painting her cheeks with mascara so there's no context for this? Gary mate, she might be younger but she's not even as hot as your wife, what were you thinking here? Is this the lesson? I sincerely hope not.
Maybe we're supposed to side with Female Campaign Intern Who Sits Necking Wine With Perceived Floozy, quietly gazing off into the middle distance suggesting some manner of socio-political insight into the whole thing? The one whose character is used so sparingly in terms of screen-time that any character development is abbreviated to 'yeah she knows Gary’s a wrong'un although she'll just keep working for him until the campaign folds'.
DAVE Am I supposed to be remotely concerned in 2019 about these revelatory events depicted in 1988? 'But man had affairs!'. You don't say. 'Press couldn't believe that politician might be bad man!'. Oh mate. Is The Front Runner supposed to hold any modern relevance when the currently unfolding saga in America gets further beyond parody on a daily fucking basis? Does this film genuinely believe it's supposed to sit on the same shelf as The Post and Spotlight?
But most pertinently, how come when we get an advance screening of a film about contemporary social injustice and civil unrest on the other side of the world, nigh-on 25 people decide to walk out in the first ten minutes. But when there's one about a failed yet unremarkable presidential campaign from a deeply flawed white guy from 30 years ago they'll just sit and lap it up like there's some sort of vital new perspective to be gleaned from it all? Is it because of Wolverine? REALLY?
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Detroit Cert: 15 / 143 mins / Dir. Kathryn Bigelow / Trailer
Coming in five years after her last feature directorial, Kathryn Bigelow's Detroit is a snapshot of the Algiers Motel incident during the Detroit riot of 1967, in which three black teenagers were murdered during a police raid, responding to reports of gunfire at the scene.
Rather than try to encapsulate the broader scope of the unrest at that time, Bigelow begins by focusing on the smaller stories. People - authorities and civilians alike - trying their best to go about their lives and jobs while the city tears itself apart every night. Even in such a permanently fragile situation, Bigelow and writer Mark Boal find moments of peace and even wry humour, all the time gradually building tension until the characters are in or around the motel. After this point, the film we get is more scathing than most in living memory, but always with a calm righteousness at its side. Never mawkish, and amazingly delicate given the level of brutality on display*1.
The ensemble cast are all on fantastic form, with John Boyega's performance as a night-time security guard who gets caught up in the fracas only upstaged by the magnificent Will Poulter, as the police officer who's forgotten how the law works. Poulter is destined for huge things and I don't think we've seen his best, yet. It's a brave and committed actor who throws himself into playing a character as reprehensible as this one. But obviously he's only as good as his co-stars; everyone is worked hard under Kathryn's auspices, and the audience reaps the rewards.
On a more technical level, this is one of the very few films where hand-held cameras (and frequent crash-zooming) not only work, but actually help with the atmosphere. Good job this time, Barry Ackroyd, but don't let me catch you doing it again.
So after just under a couple of hours of outstanding film-making, the story moves to the resulting trial of the police officers present that night. And I can see how this sequence - not just a quick montage - is absolutely vital for narrative closure, but it effectively derails the pacing completely. At first I'd thought we were seeing the trial to avoid having the 'what happened next' caption-cards before the closing credits. But it's about twenty minutes of courtroom drama, then we get the captions anyway. The problem is that as heated and emotional as the case becomes, it's thoroughly anti-climactic after what we've just witnessed. It's no biggie, but it feels tacked on given that we get another small coda at the very end, one which is far more in keeping with the main thrust of the film.
Never an easy watch, although it's not meant to be, Detroit is finely crafted, compelling viewing. Twenty minutes or so shorter and it would have been perfect…
If you enjoyed Selma, you'll get a lot out of this.
It'll certainly ramp up the intensity if you do.
I think so.
In Bigelow's case, that's hard to tell as she's consistently great, but the cast can all wear this one proudly.
*1 I'm aware that it's a very right-on thing to say, but I like how angry a lot of America is with its own history, and isn't afraid to verbalise that. We could perhaps do with a little more righteous fury over this side of the pond, sometimes. [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
