While JIGSAW isn’t a bad movie, not even particularly low down in the wider SAW franchise (for the record it goes I, III, VI then Jigsaw) but it’s hard to love. Expect pleasing references to the earlier movies, new traps (my favourite for its simplicity is a big sandpit that immobilises you to have an assortment of sharp and heavy things drop in your head TOM AND JERRY-style) and a pretty easy mystery to solve. If you’ve seen even a handful of these movies surely by now you know the formula for guessing who Jigsaw’s (Tobin Bell, still having a blast) latest accomplice is: it’s not the really obvious suspect, it’s the slightly less obvious one. The Spierig Brothers are so much better than this material (watch PREDESTINATION) but they keep things polished and sure-footed even if few moments or characters are particularly memorable. SSP
Review in Brief: Jigsaw (2017)
Review in Brief: Their Finest (2016/17)
Yes, it’s probably destined to be a perennial Sunday afternoon favourite along with all the other cosy feelgood historical fare, but THEIR FINEST has a fair bit of bite to it as well. It has what SUFFRAGETTE (dignified as it was) was missing: some palpable anger. Never mind the insult delivered to Catrin (Gemma Arterton), “obviously they can’t pay you as much as the chaps”, but women screenwriters didn’t even receive a writing credit for the considerable valuable work they contributed to the war effort. The film industry may still have a way to go to achieve true equality, but at least we’ll never go back to the days of anonymous “script girls”. Yes, Their Finest doesn’t quite stick the landing as either a particularly convincing romance or as an act of significant historical reassessment, but it’s got a bit of attitude and it’s very watchable with good turns from Arterton and Bill Nighy. SSP
Review in Brief: The Vault (2017)
THE VAULT isn’t a very good…anything. Marketed as a horror-thriller (haunted bank vaults: why isn’t that a genre go-to?) but it just doesn’t work because it’s not scary and it’s not exciting. I think they might have been going for bank robbers doing a bad thing for the right reasons, a Robin Hood-type thing, but the character motivations and storytelling are so muddled that nothing really sticks. Taryn Manning and Francesca Eastwood are both fine as the sibling bank robbers, but James Franco makes no impact despite his character being pretty key to the plot and everyone else in the movie is just a cardboard cutout. It’s just a waste of the talents of everyone involved, lacking surprise, suspense, good lighting and general interest in what’s going on. Use your time better elsewhere if you can because this one really isn’t worth it. SSP
Review: Lady Bird (2017)
Retail therapy: Scott Rudin Productions/Entertainment 360
While we’re up to our eyeballs in father-son stories on film, even pretty frequently seeing father-daughter and mother-son stories (both examples involving sons tend to be dysfunctional, because aren’t we just the worst?), there are relatively few really good mother-daughter films. Then along comes LADY BIRD.
Christine “Lady Bird” McPherson (Saoirse Ronan) is at a difficult time in her life. Her Catholic school life is coming to an end, she wants a boyfriend, she wants to go to a college that will nurture her artistic inclinations and she’d love it if her mum (Laurie Metcalf) would get off her back for once. Since none of this (by Lady Bird’s estimations) will happen while she is stuck in Sacramento, “the Midwest of California”, she sees it as just the right time for her to leave the nest.
It’s so refreshing to see Saoirse Ronan, a young actor who I’m sure has bad hair and greasy skin days like the rest of us, allowed to have acne and lank hair, because that’s what real teens look like! The teenage characters speak how real teenagers do as well; they’re bright but not ridiculously verbose as someone like Diablo Cody might write them. Lady Bird’s defense of her mathematics skills not being a strength (“that we know of…yet”) and her uncomfortably “not flirting” with the cool kid in the band (Timothée Chalamet) rings far truer than all the forced (if charming) quirk of JUNO.
Major props to Laurie Metcalf for playing a challenging personality (the family “bad cop”) so sympathetically. Lady Bird’s mother is a formidable woman really struggling to understand her difficult daughter. In one of the film’s major moments, as she leaves Lady Bird at the airport for her journey to college she has a mini-meltdown that traverses an impressive emotional obstacle course in a very short space of time, and she still just about pulls herself together before she sees her husband (Tracy Letts) again.
The best scenes are the constantly shifting, passionate, petty arguments between Lady Bird and her mother. God bless her, but Lady Bird can be more than a little insufferable. She is the kind of kid who makes a scene over eggs at breakfast and would rather throw herself out of a moving vehicle than continue an awkward conversation, after all. A key point has Lady Bird asking her mother, of her potential, “What if this is the best version?” Tellingly, her mother struggles to alleviate her doubts. Still, at least she doesn’t lie to her!
The film unusually portrays a pretty positive Catholic education. Supportive and passionate teachers (Lois Smith and Stephen Henderson among others), ample opportunities for extra-curricular growth, not being expelled for graffitiing “just married to Jesus” on a nun’s car… Even if Lady Bird feels lost, it looks like a good school, a school with a sense of humour apparently, which sends the Irish kids home to sober up after they got drunk on locker-stockpiled minis on St Patrick’s Day.
The McPhersons have a really interesting, unusual family dynamic, with adopted children, surrogate children and ungrateful biological children. This isn’t overtly explained, but seeing the family unit sitting down for breakfast and the dynamics between them gradually flesh out throughout the film is enough.
Lady Bird draws liberally from Gerwig’s experiences, and the timelines certainly match up, but Gerwig has been keen to distance the film from the biopic label. Lady Bird’s story is perhaps a bit too neatly tied up by the end, it maybe could end a scene earlier for a more ambigious final note, but there’s very little else to criticise of the film as a whole.
Gerwig’s naturalistic delivery in her acting has carried over to her writing and direction. It’s a really good-looking, sharp, confident debut and her authorial imprint is already clear. We have graphically strong transition scenes, low-key character beats and jolts of joyous, more extrovert, endearingly goofy energy. Lady Bird is a thing of understated, honest beauty and a sign of great things to come from Gerwig. SSP
Review in Brief: Mute (2018)
I’m so pleased Duncan Jones got this one out of his system. It’s just a shame MUTE doesn’t feel fresher or more complete. Speechless protagonist Leo (Alexander Skarsgard, cast for his big sad eyes) is Amish . Except for when he isn’t. Yes, Leo sits with his back to the TV, but he also has family photos (which promote vanity) and uses desk lamps and modern plumbing (both of which are conveniences of modern life). I know some visual similarities to last year’s BLADE RUNNER 2049 were likely coincidental, but there’s also an exotic dancer in gold bodypaint and a clear plastic poncho that unwisely invites comparisons to Ridley Scott’s original, as does his less smoggy future city (if there’s one city that’ll stay shiny and well-run even if the rest of the world goes to hell, it’s Berlin). I’ll say one thing for Mute: the relationship between Paul Rudd and Justin Theroux’s incredibly dark characters is fascinating, but one thing working isn’t enough. SSP
Review: Call Me by Your Name (2017)
Study break: Frenesy Film Company/La Cinefracture
I was just starting to think the 90th Academy Award nominations weren’t all that impressive. Then I watched CALL ME BY YOUR NAME, and thank goodness I did. This is one of the most powerful, thoughtful and heartfelt dramas of recent years.
Gifted teenager Elio’s (Timothée Chalamet) long Italian summer with his family is rocked by the arrival of Oliver (Armie Hammer), a mature student on placement with his academic father (Michael Stuhlbarg). Though standoffish to the newcomer at first, the pair’s relationship soon blossoms to a full-blown romance, one that will change at least one of their lives forever.
It took me a while to get used to the pace of this one. I’d describe it as languid or leisurely, completely befitting the Mediterranean setting. It’s a long film, and might feel longer were it not for these characters, but they quickly grow to fascinate you and the passage of time becomes unnoticeable. I adored this strange but natural developing relationship, from apathy to open hostility to grudging friendship and finally passionate physical attraction. Elio and Oliver are both proud, troubled, brilliant men who become the best versions of themselves together, as tragically fleeting as their summer dalliance is. Elio shows off, Oliver dismisses him, and both compete for the affections of the locals and Elio’s family. Their love scenes are tender and real, but tastefully handled. This isn’t just for the sake of studios squeamish about portraying gay sex, either. Both Elio’s intimate scenes with women and with Oliver are handled in the same manner. The more disturbing potential of their age gap is avoided because of one key concept: consent. This is not a one-way relationship.
Distance is used in some really interesting ways by director Luca Guadagnino and DP Sayombhu Mukdeeprom. When Elio comes clean about his feelings for Oliver, they are working their way around opposite sides of a WWI memorial, never mind making eye contact, they can seldom even see each other at this key moment. More often than not the camera pulls back and takes the characters in as part of the landscape, their big beautiful emotions and experiences swallowed up by the even bigger, more beautiful landscape. The sun-drenched Italian countryside couldn’t look more enticing, yet it hides pain and heartbreak in equal measure to passion and elation. Is there a word like “bittersweet” but for a bright summer’s day? That’s what Call Me by Your Name is.
This is the kind of work Armie Hammer excels at. Despite his looks, he is not a Hollywood lead, he is, and always will be, a character actor. You completely get why Elio falls head-over-heels for Oliver, why their meeting matters. Their scenes together positively crackle, but the simple purity of the film’s final flourish is completely reliant on the skills of one talented actor conveying a storm of repressed emotions. There is nowhere to hide here, and it is here that Timothée Chalamet becomes a star by staring, utterly distraught, past the camera and the stages of grief overwhelm him.
As stunning as Call Me by Your Name’s final shot is, the film’s best scene, indeed the best scene of 2017 comes a little earlier and it is typified by a some wonderful small moments between Chalamet and Stuhlbarg. If you take nothing else away from the film, take this quote about young love: “We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster that we go bankrupt by the age of 30, and have less to offer each time we start with someone new”. The scene plays out unexpectedly and refreshingly honestly, it accepts that first love may feel like the end of the world when it ends, but it is not the be-all and end-all.
This is a story of first love and sexual awakening that is optimistic but also realistic. As Elio’s story, we see his world glimmer with new possibilities during the good times and get plunged into blackness in the bad. The chemistry at the story’s core makes all this work and the craft, from the locations, filming and sensitive adaptation of the source novel elevates the whole package to something gorgeous enough to hang in a gallery. SSP
Review: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)
Dressed for a dirty job: Fox Searchlight/Film 4
The more I mull over THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI, the more its place at the head of the Oscar race baffles me. Martin McDonagh’s first film since SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS boasts admirable performances and fiery dialogue but fundamentally frustrates you as well. This year’s Oscars boast two films that will almost certainly win for their lead performances but which shouldn’t even be in the conversation for the top prize.
Mildred Hayes (Frances McDormand) takes her town’s police department to task for failing to bring her daughter’s killer to justice. Hiring three billboards on the outskirts to publicise their ineptitude (“Raped while dying / And still no arrests / How come, Chief Willoughby?”), she draws the ire of Willoughby (Woody Harrelson), blunt instrument Officer Dixon (Sam Rockwell) and many of the residents of Ebbing, Missouri as well.
McDormand is outstanding, a sweary toughnut matriarch ready for war (just look at how she tears apart the local reverand with a foul, personal monologue). Unfortunately, her character Mildred is utterly abrasive and unlikeable throughout. I know that’s the point, that the terrible defilement and loss of her only daughter has reduced her to a bitter, combative shell of a human being, but it’s a long two hours to spend in her company. Between her and Rockwell’s bigoted live wire as the two showiest roles, you find yourself praying for more time with Woody Harrelson who at least plays a character with light and shade. I wish we were given more time with Mildred’s family unit as a whole – we only get one real flashback that establishes two things: they argued, and they used the C-word very liberally.
I became irritated by the rolling series of coincidences that is the main plot, the on-the-nose dramatic irony in the flashback sequence and whenever McDonagh thinks he’s playing the part of a clever satirist. He’s much better at peppering his barbed dialogue with creative or unexpected swearing, like Mildred’s seemingly innocent billboard inquiry, “I assume it’s ya can’t say nothing defamatory, and ya can’t say, ‘f***’ ‘p***’ or ‘c***’. That right?” The rest is all just a bit contrived, whatever the intention was. I know McDonagh isn’t exactly a subtle creative force, but Three Billboards still features one of the most heavy-handed pieces of symbolism I’ve ever seen, and it’s made all the worse by a character further explaining it to the audience.
While it’s always nice to see Sam Rockwell getting recognition for something, I completely agree that the film’s excusing Dixon’s deplorable actions because he’s dumb and lives with a monster of a mother is pretty repulsive. Harrelson’s Chief Willoughby pulls the old “good deep down” justification for his psychotic subordinate and we’ve no idea what he’s spotted to give Dixon the benefit of the doubt. All points to slightly shoddy writing for Rockwell’s character: if he’s going to be forgiven, redeemed towards the end, then he has to be given more than one dimension.
Equally troubling is that by the end of proceedings, McDonagh seems to be advocating the virtues of vigilantism. I understand the reputation of the Police in the USA has rarely been lower, attitudes, working practices and disciplinary procedures are in dire need of change, but there’s a fair few steps separating the idea of Police reform and the call to arms for citizens sorting it out for themselves, especially when guns as a way to dispense justice comes into the conversation.
My biggest issue with Three Billboards, even beyond the disturbing political subtext and surface-level characterisation, was that I did not feel engaged in this story or characters. I felt passive, unemotional, despite the hard-hitting human story being told. We’re relentlessly pummeled by horribleness for little payoff, and because the story is told in a conventional a-b-c manner instead of playing with time and perspective to gradually reveal the moments that made Mildred who she is, we’re not given enough context or emotional resonance to really understand these characters. Bursts of classical music, the laziest shorthand for “we’re an important film, we’re intellectual, we promise!” really doesn’t help this misjudged, strangely dead-eyed Oscar-contender. SSP
Review: The Shape of Water (2017)
Is your glass half empty or half full?: Fox Searchlight/Double Dare You
THE SHAPE OF WATER promises a lot, and as such you might want to manage your expectations. Don’t worry, it’s good, but with such acclaim lavished on it from the Venice Film Festival onwards you might be expecting another PAN’S LABYRINTH. It isn’t that, but it’s still beautiful and beguiling in its own way.
When an unusual asset arrives at an American government facility during the Cold War, mute cleaner Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins) begins an unlikely relationship, blossoming into a full-blown romance between the unlikeliest of lost souls. But can Elisa and her amphibious paramour (Doug Jones) escape their government captors and survive, together?
Here, water equals both sex and death. It’s certainly del Toro’s most overtly sexual film (yes even more so than CRIMSON PEAK, which lest we forget featured Tom Hiddleston’s bum cheeks) but being del Toro’s usual brand of twisted fairy tale, acts of passion beget a balance to be paid in blood, and though the actual body count isn’t high there are consequences to everyone’s actions. The Amphibious Man is seen as a key to the USA getting an edge in the Space Race (something to do with its bilateral respiratory system…or something) and this was very probably intentionally ridiculous. It’s really amusing actually about how quickly the Russian agents in the film lose interest in this particular “asset”. They soon realise that the Americans are desperately clutching at straws and don’t really have anything worth their while.
Sally Hawkins is captivating as Elisa, a bouncy, passionate dreamer who lives and speaks vicariously through film. Tellingly, all the women she idolises on the big screen have very distinctive voices, and they speak on her behalf. Elisa and her new friend are of course (slightly simplistically) made for each other – both are trapped by their physical forms, without speech and only able to communicate through one (OK, two) ways with each other. It’s not subtle, it’s not an especially new or profound take on a relationship, fantasy or not, but it serves this story well enough.
Scene-stealers Octavia Spencer, Richard Jenkins and Michael Stuhlbarg steal their scenes, funnily enough. The trio ground the story, lend humour and heart, and provide a nuanced take on a well-worn archetype, respectively. I’m also pleased to report the film features Michael Shannon at his Michael Shannon-iest. Government “security consultant” Strickland doesn’t quite top Vidal from Pan’s Labyrinth as del Toro’s most chilling villain, but that’s mostly because he uses a cattle prod rather than the blunt end of a bottle to kill people and the latter is somehow scarier. But when it comes to cruel, murderous sociopaths, it’s an apples and oranges situation really.
The Amphibious Man (who looks like a cross between HELLBOY’s Abe Sapien and Thane from MASS EFFECT) doesn’t quite end up being a leader in the del Toro creature pack. The Faun, the Pale Man and the Angel of Death (all also played by Jones) all somehow looked and felt more memorably original. What the Amphibious Man is, though, is a new benchmark in CGI-enhanced man-in-suit performance. Jones’ performance is among his most sophisticated as well, largely because he is being asked to be the least human. This divide between the other-worldly and and real asks you to suspend your disbelief at the central relationship a fair bit, but I guess you should fully expect to do as such in a merman romance.
This could be a dark horse for the Best Picture Oscar what with the established auteur behind it (which the Academy loves), the gorgeously-rendered stylised period setting (which the Academy loves more) and the frequent, indulgent references to the Golden Age of Hollywood (which the Academy loves the most). The Shape of Water doesn’t quite have the magic of Pan’s Labyrith but it has at least as much heart and knowing world-building as Guillermo del Toro’s other work in Hollywood. He still whips back and forth between fantastical wonder and grim reality better than anyone else, but I wasn’t quite swept off my feet by the love story at the heart of this particular tale. If anything, I wanted more of Richard Jenkins clumsily flirting with the pie shop guy. Egg? SSP
Review in Brief: A Futile And Stupid Gesture (2018)
Netflix really were straight out of the gate with their 2018 Originals. I hope it’s further evidence of them being enticing for risky, different projects and that we’re not just going to get a deluge of mediocrity. National Lampoon biopic A FUTILE AND STUPID GESTURE gets the Lampoon tone just right, flitting between rowdy hijinks, pretty sharp and unforgiving satire (“the Kids need something to read while getting tear-gassed!”) and the more out-there postmodern stuff, like an alternative, modern Doug Kenney (Martin Mull) talking to camera, mocking the storytelling and the story mocking him right back. It’s a great-looking, MAN ON THE MOON-esque alt-biopic and the cast, particularly Will Forte’s whirlwind Kenney (“You really think Will Forte’s 27?”) and Domhnall Gleeson as the brains and clear head behind National Lampoon Henry Beard (“The oldest man to ever be a teenager”) really make their mark. One for fans and non-fans of ANIMAL HOUSE alike. But mostly, it’s for the fans. SSP
Review in Brief: Good Time (2017)
For those of you still in denial: Robert Pattinson is a really good actor, given the right material. GOOD TIME, the tale of a robbery gone wrong and good and bad brotherly influence, comes from the ridiculously talented Safdie Brothers Josh (writer-director) and Benny (director-star/beating heart of the film). They have aesthetic flair with imposing aerial shots, sickly neons and deep shadows, they clearly push their actors to go that extra mile with some of the most pained exchanges of heated dialogue I’ve seen in a long time, and they really have something to say about our world and its shortcomings. Admittedly the middle section of the film where Pattinson’s Connie hides out at someone’s house then goes looking for a fellow outlaw’s valuable acid stash doesn’t compel quite as much as the rest of the film. But the final scene, so pure, so simple and affecting, absolutely floored me. SSP
SSP Thinks Film 