Category: Uncategorized

The Square

thesquare“The Square is a sanctuary of trust and caring. Within it we all share equal rights and obligations” — such is the provocative statement written at the foot of an art exhibition at the centre of Swedish director Ruben Östlund’s (Force Majeure) film, The Square.

It is a film that drags you into its contemporary art landscape of self-indulgence and self-importance with a tour de force of satirical film-making that spits and fizzes with sardonic humour and ethical insight.

Stockholm’s newest art exhibition provides a space to observe and participate in its ideals, offering a further tableau of ethical exhibits that focus on human social behaviour.  All the while the film deftly shows the exhibition as a shining beacon of hypocrisy through the contrasting behaviour of its creators.  Christian, a hapless contemporary art curator played by Claes Bang is one such hypocrite, idealistic in rhetoric and yet cynical in his actions, he has a likeable earnest nature that belies the ignorance of his own self-importance.

The Square follows Christian as he makes a progression of poor choices. His verbal jousting with an American reporter, Anne, played superbly by the ever-reliable Elisabeth Moss offers some wonderfully crafted scenes of cringeworthy brilliance.  The two serve and volley semantics before giving way to an awkward physical exchange that unsurprisingly leads to Anne, Christian, and the exhibition unravelling.

Wonderfully dextrous humour gives way to some very probing investigations of human nature as lines are blurred between “art” and reality. The Square becomes at times almost unbearable to watch with some moments of squirm-inducing boundary pushing. An episode involving a human imitating an ape at a black-tie event is as intriguing as it is disturbing.

The film covers a lot of ethical ground being about sexual power, stereotypes, middle-class guilt and moral values.  But it handles these touchy subjects with the perfect balance of satire, insight and entertainment.  Deserved winner of the Palme d’Or at last year’s Cannes Film Festival, Ruben Östlund appears to be at the peak of his powers and has directed a film that is hilarious, fiercely intelligent, and encourages a healthy amount of self-examination.

See my reviews for Witchdoctor here.

Game Night

gamenightNow here’s a film that goes down like a churro dunked in chocolate sauce. And like that alluring sugar-coated doughy Spanish treat, Game Night is a film with zero nutritional benefits but sooo easy to consume. No subtexts, no heavy messages, it keeps its mood light and its subject matter dark—it’s a cheerful black comedy, if you will.

The film centres around a married couple, Max and Annie, whose weekly game nights provide a release for their unbridled competitiveness. Their failure to conceive a much wanted child provides the nexus around which the film explores their relationship. Max’s sperm mobility is lacking, which only adds to the inferiority complex he has in relation to his brother, Brooks. Played by Kyle Chandler (Argo, Manchester by the Sea), Brooks is a highly successful entrepreneur, a winning risk-taker, and is everything Max isn’t. When Brooks invites Max’s friends over, offering “a game night to remember”, the film shifts gear and begins to take great delight in blurring the lines between what is “the game” and what is real.

Max is played by the affable Jason Bateman (Office Christmas Party). I’ve always considered Bateman to be a male Jennifer Anniston, average, likeable, and very much the “everyman”. Bateman’s typecast roles often deliver a feel-good comedy schtick that, for all its “sameness”, is surprisingly funny. Rachel McAdams (The Notebook, Spotlight), who often seems to fly under the radar, gives a pitch-perfect performance as Annie, offering comedic moments that highlight what an underrated talent McAdams is.

But the surprise performance is Jesse Plemons (Black Mass) as Gary, the creepy serial killer-esque neighbour, who wants in on game night. His socially awkward pauses and off centre comments are a delight to watch and provide the film’s high watermark.

Game Night brings some genuinely laugh-out-loud moments and thankfully stops just shy of being outrageously silly (although it gets fairly close at times). It doesn’t elevate itself to the comedy classics … it would need to be less churro and more creme brûlée for that, but it still packs enough comedic entertainment to get you well aboard the chuckle train.

  
You can see my published reviews here.

The Party

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Weighing in at a very modest seventy-one minutes, what The Party lacks in screen time it makes up for in detail. Writer/director Sally Potter has delivered a punchy dramedy that boldly fizzes with black humour and satire. While it doesn’t entirely avoid the oft-maligned staginess of a chamber-piece (a curse that’s not necessarily a bad thing if the writing is up to snuff), Potter has kept things visually as silver-tongued as her script, and it works … most of the time. 

Kristin Scott Thomas plays the political matriarch Janet, who fresh off a promotion, puts together a small soirée to celebrate. The wonderful ensemble cast makes up the collection of invitees, each one giving this dark comedy plenty of meat and drink to dine on.  There is Janet’s liberal-idealist friend April (Patricia Clarkson) with her hippy boyfriend Gottfried (Bruno Ganz) in tow; there’s the academic Martha (Cherry Jones) and her pregnant partner Jinny (Emily Mortimer)—they’re a gay couple who both argue over the correct level of radical feminism to assume; and finally the outsider, a cocaine-snorting suit (Cillian Murphy). 

Janet’s husband Bill, played by an overly forlorn Timothy Spall, sits sullenly as this dynamite-laden bandolier of guests file in and proceed to bristle with thorny exchanges and barbed retorts.  It doesn’t take long before everyone begins lobbing bombshell announcements into the champaign and canapés. 

With very little plot, the film risks becoming too script centric and while Potter’s screenplay weaves some spell-binding wit, it does occasionally become knowingly smug. Thankfully, Potter doesn’t let things get too stuffy and counters with some nice visual flourishes that utilise the limited set size to good effect. Shot entirely in black-and-white and utilising some lively camera and lighting choices, The Party is clearly giving a knowing wink to the screwball comedies of yesteryear.

The Party will likely split its audience into two camps.  Some will find it bright, buoyant, playful, and sharp-witted.  The cynical among us will most likely find it smarmy, morose, and irritating.  Suffice to say, if you enter the theatre with the correct attitude you’ll probably have a lot of fun with this film. 

Read the full review for the NZ Herald here.

Lady Bird

ladybirdGreta Gerwig is no stranger to mixing a celluloid cocktail of angsty humour with a twist of social realism. In her sophomore years, the fledgling writer/director/actor was understudy to Noah Baumbach, both bringing about delightful films such as Francis Ha and Mistress America.  With Lady Bird, Gerwig has spread her wings, gone solo, and showed us what a genuine talent she is.

Loosely autobiographical of Gerwig’s youth, Lady Bird is a hilarious yet powerful study of mother/daughter relations.  The film takes great delight in telling this coming-of-age tale in all its nit-picky detail. Christine “Lady Bird” McPherson (Saoirse Ronan) is a fiercely head-strong student in her final year of high school. She is desperate to attend a College on the East Coast because that’s where “culture is … and writers live in the woods”.  Her naive ideals unsurprisingly lock horns with her mother Marion, who thinks she should go to an affordable College in California. Tender moments are laced with comic hostility as the two belligerent personalities are perpetually wrought with tension.

Despite this strain, the film avoids getting bogged down in gloomy sentiments, keeping things buoyant and playful, and yet it never loses touch with the realities of an average family and their enduring flaws.   As such, Lady Bird is an ode to the ground-swell of “normality”—a film about middle America, but could just as easily translate to middle New Zealand.

Although Lady Bird is predominantly Christine’s story, the film really belongs to both her and her mother. Laurie Metcalf delivers a standout performance as Christine’s mum. She runs a tight ship but when things begin to unravel at home the weight of her responsibilities as a mother, wife, and breadwinner come to bear.

It is a superb solo directorial debut from Gerwig, who has managed to get the balance just right—it is smart yet doesn’t feel preachy, is tender yet bristles with humour, and above all feels new and fresh.  Greta, Greta, fly away home … and make another film this good. Please.
 

You can see my published reviews here.

Phantom Thread

phantomthreadPaul Thomas Anderson doesn’t seem capable of putting a foot wrong.  He is one of the most malleable auteurs currently working with a filmography that spans genres, periods and subject matter, each time garnering critical praise.  The American director’s latest feature, Phantom Thread reunites him with Daniel Day-Lewis, whom he directed to Oscar-winning plaudits in There Will be Blood.

Phantom Thread tells the story of Reynolds Woodcock, a couture dress designer in 1950s London.  Daniel Day-Lewis, in what reportedly will be his last role before hanging up his coat, plays the troubled designer.  It is a perfect role for the method actor, who has completely encompassed the physicality of the part. Cold, calculating, and insular to a fault, Woodcock is only bested by his sister, Cyril (played by a deliciously curt Lesley Manville). She runs the design house and keeps a contriving hand on comings and goings, dismissing people who derail Reynolds delicate routine—this extends to any love interests.

Enter Alma (Vicky Krieps), a waitress at a seaside hotel.  Their chance meeting has a reciprocal effect on their lives. Her doe-eyed innocence is met with an equal measure of stubborn resolve and she seems to melt his heart as quickly as he hardens hers. The two become entwined in a seemingly impossible relationship, the consequences of which become so wrought with tension that the film has to shift into Hitchcock gear to resolve itself.

Like Woodcock’s designs, Anderson has delivered a visually measured result.  A stunning amount of attention appears to have been spent on the film’s look, pace, and sound.  Everything is in place, and like a designer about to send a dress onto the runway, Anderson has made sure every edit is tucked, every pan and tracking shot is folded in nicely, and the sound design ruffled appropriately.  The result is beautiful.

With pitch-perfect performances and an intriguing narrative, this film had me from beginning to end.  Phantom Thread might be a touch too slow and emotionally cold for some, and I suspect the slightly peculiar and unexpected ending could leave a sour taste for those wanting things more conventional.  But for myself, I found the film to be an absorbing battle of wills wrapped up sublimely in a gothic love story.

You can see my published reviews here.

The Wound

thewoundThando Mgqolozana’s controversial novel, ‘A Man Who Is Not a Man’ has already ruffled plenty of feathers within South Africa’s Xhosa community. His work explored the contentious issue of traditional circumcision and the dubious conditions with which the rite is undertaken. Now, South African writer/director, John Trengove, has made the bold (or foolhardy, depending on your opinion) move to stir the pot further.  His latest film, The Wound, is a reworking of Mgqolozana’s book (Mgqolozana also co-wrote the screenplay) and examines homosexuality against the traditional backdrop of the Xhosa ritual.

I’m sure some may take umbrage at Trengove, a white South African director, telling a Xhosa story. Certainly, my lack of knowledge of Xhosa culture and customs means this reviewer, a white New Zealander, must take this film at face value alone.

The Wound is a provocative tale that nervously sits at the intersection where tradition and sexuality collide. Set in the remote hills of the South African outback, The Wound operates almost entirely within the confines of a Xhosa initiation camp.  Adolescent males are brought before the elders and through a rather brutal rite-of-passage are ceremonially circumcised.  There, the “initiates” stay for weeks engaging only with their caretaker until the healing process, and their journey into manhood is complete.

The film centres primarily on Xolani (Nakhane Touré), a caretaker and his initiate, Kwanda (Niza Jay). Charged with the task of “ushering” Kwanda from boyhood to manhood, Xolani also harbours an ulterior motive for his annual pilgrimage to the remote camp.  Xolani sees the job as an opportunity to intimately reconnect with another caretaker, Vija (Bongile Mantsai). The two men have been doing this for years, using ritual as cover for their trysts. However, when Kwanda suspects of the affair, his confusion around what “manhood” means, and his disillusionment with the Xhosa establishment, swiftly becomes a quiet rebellion against what he believes to be a hollow and pointless ritual.

The Wound makes for uneasy viewing and soon becomes a smouldering powder keg that threatens to explode into violence.  Tender moments are laced with hostility and the three contrasting personalities are perpetually wrought with tension.

Shot almost entirely with a hand-held camera and with no musical score, the film bristles with a social realist sensibility. Through all its dust and grime The Wound is a beautiful film to watch. Cinematographer Paul Ozgur balances a heady mix of environment, framing and lighting to capture a rural South Africa that feels genuine and earthy. The film’s visual tendencies and its economy of dialogue give way to superb physical performances from its cast, in particular, Nakhane Touré who shows an acting maturity beyond his experience.

Obvious comparisons will be made to God’s Own Country, and like Francis Lee’s brutally honest film, The Wound is unsentimental and unflinching in its depiction of gay love and remains an affecting depiction of what it means to be a gay man within a traditionally heterosexual community. 

Loving Vincent

lvThe process of animating over the top of pre-shot footage (rotoscoping) is a procedure that has existed since the dawn of cinema, most notably applied recently by Richard Linklater (A Scanner Darkly and Waking Life). Loving Vincent pushes the envelope further, with Directors Hugh Welchman and Dorota Kobiela (and an army of artists) making the technically ambitious decision to turn their film into a Van Gogh oil painting through the arduous process of hand painting each frame. While some might find this a painstaking exercise in gimmickry, there is little doubt that the result is an immersive experience, nudging you ever closer to the work of the famous Dutch painter. Certainly, Loving Vincent is a film where you could hang any one of its overwhelming 65,000 frames on your wall—although at twelve frames per second, the resulting animation takes a little adjustment.

The film investigates the months leading up to Vincent Van Gogh’s death. Postmaster’s son Roulin (Douglas Booth) has been charged with the task of delivering Vincent Van Gogh’s posthumous letter to his now late brother, Theo.  Upon arriving in the Parisian suburb of Auvers-sur-Oise, home to a close companion of Vincent, Roulin discovers that the locals have conflicting accounts of Vincent’s apparent “suicide”.  The mysterious events surrounding Vincent’s death become a fascination for Roulin as he sleuths his way around the town looking very much like a gumshoe wanting to crack a murder case.

Van Gogh aficionados will be quick to point out that each character is inspired by, or in some cases is the actual subject of, Van Gogh’s paintings—and although this bolsters the authenticity of the film, it is somewhat jarring to see very recognisable actors playing these parts. An unmistakable Jerome Flynn (Bron, from Game of Thrones) in oil on canvas feels a little odd at first, but you soon get used to it.

It is evident that writing is not Welchman and Kobiela’s strength and the beautiful visuals, unfortunately, can’t hide a screenplay which feels at times trite and stagey.  Nonetheless, Loving Vincent remains a visually unique film that piques enough narrative intrigue to be worth watching.

Read the full review for the NZ Herald here.

Molly’s Game

mollysgame“The humiliation and depression had given way to blinding anger at my powerlessness over the unfair whims of men.”—it is a line that succinctly expresses one of Molly’s Game’s many concerns with male power and while the film is not explicitly feminist, its sentiments feel very apt in Hollywood’s current #metoo climate.

This remarkable true story of entrepreneur Molly Bloom follows her rise from the ashes of a former emotionally abusive workplace into the shady world of men as she spends a decade running the world’s most exclusive high-stakes poker game. It was a hush hush man-cave for rich celebrities, and Molly, a self-confessed “anti-wife”, used her drive and wits to develop a successful business model, all the while plugging holes in its legality.

Biopics often take liberties with the truth for dramatic ends, but thankfully Aaron Sorkin’s adaptation has kept surprisingly faithful to Bloom’s memoir.  The film employs a flashback structure often returning to her upbringing, and makes it clear that her drive was born from her relationship with her father (played by a very stern Kevin Costner). But when the inevitable cracks begin to appear in her burgeoning business, she feels compelled to put her moral conscience under the microscope and finds that all is not well with the industry she has encouraged.

The ever-reliable Jessica Chastain (A Most Violent Year) is no stranger to portraying head-strong women. An affirmed feminist, Chastain appears to have embraced this role of empowerment. Molly seems to take great delight in standing her ground on questionable legal advice, with her lawyer (played by Idris Elba) frustrated by the moral code she sticks to.

It’s no surprise that Molly’s Game leans heavily on its screenplay. Wordsmith Aaron Sorkin has, in his directorial debut, wisely let his strength do most of the heavy lifting. And with the exception of a few early flourishes, Molly’s Game is a visually conservative, yet sumptuously scripted affair. Its sharp and snappy dialogue is paced just fast enough to have you reaching,  but just slow enough to give you a sense of catharsis.

Read the full review for the NZ Herald here.

I, Tonya

itonyaIt seems the perfect time for Tonya Harding’s story to finally surface onto the big screen.  In the current age of relativism, this personal truth of Harding’s life is to be taken at face value. Right from the opening credits I, Tonya makes clear its intentions as an “irony free, wildly contradictory, totally true” account of Tonya’s story. In fact, the truth may never be known, not by us at least. But in Tonya’s own words “there’s no such thing as truth. I mean it’s bullsh*t. Everyone has their own truth and life just does whatever the f*ck it wants.” … which perfectly sums up this film’s sassy tone.

Most will already know the events surrounding the infamous scandal of Olympic ice-skaters Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan.  But less is known about the events leading up to the incident.  Physically abused from a young age by her mother and later in life by her husband, Tonya’s rough start moulded her into a belligerent, naive, self-confessed redneck that didn’t give an inch. Her side of the story is presented through mockumentary-style interviews with the key players, including Tonya (Margot Robbie), her husband Jeff Gillooly (Sebastian Stan) and Harding’s mother LaVona Golden (Allison Janney)—all who clarify events leading up to the “planned” kneecapping of rival skater Nancy Kerrigan. The incident made headlines around the world and defined the careers of the two Olympic ice-skaters.

Director Craig Gillespie’s (Lars and the Real Girl) visually charged approach is perfectly partnered with Steven Rogers’ punch-and-duck screenplay, resulting in a film that ebbs and flows effortlessly throughout. And although at times it relies too heavily on its emotive soundtrack, it packs enough kinetic wallop and alluring fourth-wall breaking (which at times includes us, the media frenzied public, complicit in her abuse), to keep you engaged.

It’s difficult to know how the real events behind closed doors actually played out, but one thing’s for sure; I, Tonya presents Harding’s “truth” as a feisty tale of dark humour and tragedy that proves to be an absorbing romp from start to finish.

Read the full review for the NZ Herald here.

Downsizing

DOWNSIZINGWhat if you could be shrunken to a miniature version of yourself? It’s not the first time the concept has graced the silver screen and as you might expect, Downsizing ends up asking more questions than it answers. Nonetheless, in an interesting take on human reduction, Director Alexander Payne (Sideways, The Descendants) has taken this well-used idea and wrung out a surprisingly bleak look at the possibilities.

Matt Damon plays the disgruntled Paul Safranek, an Occupational Therapist who along with his wife (Kristen Wiig), are finding it increasingly difficult to get ahead financially. After much deliberation, they decide to undergo the irreversible procedure of “downsizing”—a new technology invented by Norwegian scientists in the hope of turning the tide of human consumption.

Interestingly, the film is more concerned with exploring the environmental and humanitarian impact of downsizing rather than having fun with the shrinking concept itself.  And although it has its playful moments, this is far less Honey I Shrunk the Kids and more High-Rise … well, ok maybe not that aggressively grim.  But it paints a nihilistic world where human society inexorably gravitates towards a life of pleasure to the detriment of the planet’s health—the new invention simply providing people with a further reason to live a life of hedonistic excess rather than using it as an opportunity to reverse the damage done.

Despite the film’s mildly depressing outlook, Safranek’s tale does ultimately deliver a positive message—one that encourages us to focus on individuals in need rather than the world’s forlorn situation. It is a noble message which unfortunately is muddied by Downsizing’s rather loose and disjointed delivery.  A mishmash of different genres renders the film an unsatisfying experience as it struggles to settle on a single tone.  It swings from romcom to sci-fi drama and then shifts gear into a soft disaster flick, creating a tonal disparity that separates rather than coalesces the film’s themes. It’s an interesting attempt at one of the more unique takes on the subject, but it simply tries to cram too much in.  Perhaps the film could have done with a bit of downsizing itself.

  

You can see my published reviews here.