Classic Film Review #15: Call Me by Your Name (2017)

Available on: Netflix

Luca Guadagnino’s sensual coming-of-age tale is laudable for many a reason – chief amongst them being the most creatively unedifying use of a peach I’ve ever seen – and certainly can be considered one of cinema’s most authentic documentations of the pain and insecurities of youth.

Serving as the final instalment in the director’s ‘Desire’ trilogy, Call Me by Your Name is an unashamedly erotic film that perfectly depicts the experience of finding and losing love, which is of course all the more excruciating when experienced in the throes of one’s formative years. We experience this aching through the eyes of Elio (Timothée Chalamet), a ‘too cool for school’ type who spends his summers lounging around his academic parents’ idyllic palazzo in northern Italy.

Elio’s world is upended by the arrival of Oliver (Armie Hammer), a charming research assistant who is to spend the summer working alongside Elio’s father Samuel (Michael Stuhlbarg). The two establish a rapport which gradually evolves over the film’s runtime, eventually transforming into the sort of summer tryst that always seem that bit more thrilling when viewed on the silver screen. Guadagnino and cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom do a stellar job of depicting the pair’s irrepressible lust for one another, effortlessly combining subtle touches (such as the relentless heat of the Italian sun) with more overt acts of affection (see said peach scene).

Chalamet and Hammer are naturally pivotal to the film, and do a sterling job as two lovers who, despite the strength of their feelings, are not quite ready for one another. But a word ought to go to the ever dependable Stuhlbarg, who essentially steals the show when delivering a moving speech to his son during the film’s final throes. It truly is one of those lump-in-throat moments that only the most emotionally affecting of pictures can deliver.

Piggy

In selected cinemas now

Carlota Pereda’s Piggy isn’t the first horror film to muse on socially conscious issues and almost certainly won’t be the latest, but is laudable for achieving the difficult balancing act of discussing difficult topics without trivialising them. By which I mean, it’s very ease for the intentions of such a film to become lost within its genre conventions, and that Pereda does an astute job of avoiding such pitfalls.

Piggy is also laudable for the conviction with which it depicts teenage anxiety and the especially grim act of body shaming, which essentially fuels the character arc of Laura Galán’s excellent protagonist. Bullied by her more popular contemporaries and mollycoddled by her overbearing mother, Galán’s character is especially easy to sympathise with, even as her actions gradually take a darker turn.

Bringing a more familiar, bogeyman effect to proceedings is Richard Holmes’ dark and overtly physical serial killer, whose odd, unspoken connection to the central character fuels the film’s atmospheric build to its bloody, grindhouse crescendo. All the while, Pereda’s screenplay maintains a dark humour which ensures that Piggy remains an entertaining ride from beginning to end.

And, while its motif may not be especially ground-breaking, the film is commendable for doing justice to a vital everyday issue while also delivering a genuinely shocking and often thrilling horror flick.

The Fabelmans

In cinemas now

The COVID-19 pandemic was a contemplative time for us all, such was the immediacy with which we were made to transition to a new way of living. Naturally, this prompted many of us to reflect on the lives we had led to date and ponder whether things would ever be ‘normal’ again. This existential quandary perhaps explains the fervent spate of ‘personal’ films released in the years since COVID restrictions began to ease.

Whether it’s Tarantino’s bloated Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Sam Mendes’ well intentioned (but wildly uneven) Empire of Light, or Damien Chazelle’s critically-panned Babylon, the need for filmmaker’s to pay homage to the unifying power of cinema has been painstakingly clear. And, with The Fabelmans, one of the silver screen’s greatest sons has gotten in on the act.

Steven Spielberg’s coming-of-age tale has garnered acclaim and attention for the fact that it is a semi-autobiographical inspection of his formative years as a filmmaker, as well as a tender paean to his deceased parents. And it is most certainly an emotionally affecting film in parts, due in no small part to Gabriel LaBelle’s stellar breakout performance as Sammy Fabelman, an aspiring filmmaker whose prodigious talent behind the camera allows him to understand the inner machinations of his dysfunctional family and those around him.

Spielberg and Tony Kushner’s screenplay, adapted from conversations between the two about the director’s childhood, is also one of The Fabelmans’ USPs, with Judd Hirsch and David Lynch benefitting most from some of its more scene-stealing lines. Cinematographer Janusz Kamiński also ensures that the film is always a visual joy to behold, none more so than in the early scenes when a young Sammy experiences his first interaction with the big screen.

And yet, the actual events of The Fabelmans are oddly humdrum, with very little happening to justify yet another gratuitous runtime. That might explain why its critical acclaim has not translated into box office returns, with audiences seemingly (and understandably) fatigued by excessively long films that do not speak to their own lived experience. That is not to say that there is anything wrong with Spielberg indulging in retrospection, just that such artistic dalliances are only ever likely to appeal to a niche audience.

Cineastes are likely to find some value in The Fabelmans, but it is fair to say that it is far removed in entertainment value from some of Spielberg’s truly great work.

A Man Called Otto

In cinemas now

This Hollywood remake of the 2015 Swedish film A Man Called Ove (which was itself an adaptation of a bestselling novel) is a fairly typical redemption story that certainly isn’t a stranger to narrative tropes. Starring an uncharacteristically abrasive Tom Hanks, it tells the story of a widower’s failed attempts to commit suicide and, with each attempt, how he fell in love with his wife. The latter aspect is recounted through flashbacks and is more than a little heavy-handed, as reflected by the unironic use of Kate Bush’s ‘This Woman’s Work’ in one particularly maudlin scene.

Hanks’ cantankerous character is gradually redeemed by his friendly but dim-witted neighbours, who themselves are an impossible bunch to buy into. Only in the most twee of sitcoms do such people exist, meaning A Man Called Otto – for all its good intentions – never really feels like anything more than the sort of perfunctory ‘feelgood’ content that studios routinely trot out.

Empire of Light

In cinemas now

Sam Mendes is an undeniably fantastic filmmaker, but this uneven melodrama suggests that he isn’t as skilled a writer. Set in 1980s’ Britain, it is intended as a paean to the unifying power of cinema but wades through far too many competing themes (chiefly mental health and racism) to convincingly convey its central motif.

Also not helping the film’s cause is the unconvincing relationship between its two leads. Michael Ward and Olivia Colman are both stellar talents and own their respective roles, but they do not gel as romantic interests. Indeed, their tryst feels like the most unnecessary addition to an already overstuffed narrative.

Still, Colman and Ward are great to watch and Roger Deakins’ cinematography, though not up to the standard of his admittedly excellent best, means that Empire of Light is always a visual pleasure. It’s just a shame that the remaining components of Mendes’ cinematic love letter do not quite do its subject justice.

Classic Film Review #14: Get Out (2017)

Available on: Netflix

Resonant and necessary, Jordan Peele’s satirical dissection of racist attitudes remains as impactful today as it was upon its release.

The film is focused on the experiences of Chris (a breakthrough role for Daniel Kaluuya), whose first time visiting his white girlfriend’s family soon leads to a series of disturbing discoveries and disquieting interactions, all of which eventually leads to the unveiling of a terrifying secret founded on exploitation and white privilege.

Despite being a fine case study in independent filmmaking, Get Out was a huge commercial (as well as critical) success, and thus provides an ample reminder that there is plenty of room for provocative and intelligent pictures that are predicated on challenging conversations within mainstream cinema.

Peele has an innate knack for delicately communicating the unease that is synonymous with the black experience, something which is evidenced in succeeding films such as Us and Nope. This, coupled with the Lynchian flares that distinguish his visual style, have helped establish him as one of contemporary film’s foremost voices.   

The Menu

Available on: Disney+

Given that director Mark Mylod’s credits include Succession, the panache with which The Menu satirises the absurdity of extreme privilege and haute cuisine should come as no surprise. But this dark comedy packs a punch which belies the limited fanfare it garnered upon its original cinematic release.

Maybe it’s because me and my girlfriend are not long back from a trip to Paris which featured fine dining aplenty, but I found The Menu riotously entertaining. It really captures the odd subculture that has gradually infiltrated the culinary experience, in which diners worship the chef more than they do the food that is served to them.

This oddity is portrayed perfectly by the character of Tyler (Nicholas Hoult), a ‘foodie’ of the absolute worst kind whose decision to bring an unexpected guest, Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy), to an exclusive (and ludicrously expensive) dining experience hosted by Ralph Fiennes’ sinister chef sets in motion a highly entertaining and often disconcerting chain of events.

The Menu is a long way from being ground-breaking cinema, but it is a devilishly clever satire that features stellar performances from a pleasingly varied cast.

Classic Film Review #13: The Lion King (1994)

Available on: Disney+

Arguably the greatest Disney film of all time, The Lion King resoundingly answers the age-old question that has plagued many a creative – what would Hamlet be like if its main characters were played by lions? The answer to which, of course, is – bloody well brilliant.

Still capable of rendering the most emotionally stoic of adults to blubbering wrecks, this tale of Simba the lion’s exile from, and eventual return to, the fictional kingdom of Pride Rock is one that continues to resonate with audiences in a manner that is ingeniously simple. Unfussy throughout, it features all the traits of a classic arc – a sympathetic hero, excellent comic relief, and a truly dastardly villain.

Throw in an all-time classic story from Elton John and you’ve got yourself one heck of a movie.

Classic Film Review #12: Blade Runner 2049 (2017)

Available on: Netflix

The impact of the original Blade Runner on the sci-fi genre is well documented but cannot be overstated. Ridley Scott’s vision of a dystopian future remains one of the most forward-thinking films of its kind, and it’s for this reason that the weight of expectation surrounding this Denis Villeneuve directed sequel was so intense.

Set three decades after the first instalment, Blade Runner 2049 is focused on LAPD officer K (a powerfully emotionless, Drive-esque performance from Ryan Gosling), a replicant whose only purpose in life is to hunt down and retire older, more sentient models. However, a devastating discovery begins a chain of events which force K to question the nature of his reality and eventually seek out the help of Rick Deckard (a returning Harrison Ford) to help to uncover the truth about replicants.

A blockbuster that is unafraid to engage on an intellectual level, Villeneuve’s film deals with concurrent themes of mortality, identity, slave culture, and, perhaps most of all, memory. These topics are only made more intellectually visceral by Villeneuve and Roger Deakins’ beguiling and nightmarish future vision, which serves as a fitting ode to Scott’s arresting original.

Good Luck to You, Leo Grande

Available on: Amazon Prime

This smart, theatrical film from writer Katy Brand and director Sophie Hyde is most notable for Emma Thompson’s intimate, personal, and funny lead performance as an uptight widow who decides to pay a younger man for discreet sex in an upmarket hotel room.

It’s a premise that could easily backfire, but Brand’s clever screenplay and Thompson’s trademark wit means that Good Luck to You, Leo Grande remains an effortlessly engaging watch throughout. Also aiding proceedings is Daryl McCormack’s performance as enigmatic sex worker Leo Grande, whose determination to help his client enjoy physical intimacy gives the film much of its charm.

Brand and Hyde’s depiction of sex as being a joyous and cherished experience is most welcome, as is their reluctance to give Leo Grande a harrowing back story that diminishes his enjoyment of his work. While the latter decision means that said character does not always feel fully formed, it ensures that the film’s depiction of sex work never feels righteous or judgemental.

But really this picture belongs to Thompson, whose willingness to literally bare it all is both admirable and inspiring. She truly is an indomitable performer who shines brightest in this type of role.

Barbarian

Available on: Disney+

Zach Cregger’s thriller sparked early fanfare for its laudable media campaign, which demonstrated a restraint that is rare in modern cinema by simply presenting its central premise – that of a young woman (played by Georgina Campbell) arriving at her pre-booked Airbnb, only to find that it is already occupied by a stranger (Bill Skarsgård) who suggests that she stays the night.

This rare case of ingenious marketing, helped in no small part by Skarsgård’s previous role as Pennywise of IT fame, means that Barbarian does retain an element of surprise that succeeds in getting viewers on the hook. But unfortunately, the film cannot resist the familiar tropes of its genre and devolves into a predictable affair.

To divulge why this is the case would be to ruin the film’s few surprises, but it’s safe to say that its greatest sin is allowing Campbell’s initially astute protagonist to regress into the sort of eyeroll-inducing damsel in distress that is too stupid to root for. It’s for this reason that I simply cannot agree with some critic’s assessment that Barbarian is a piece of feminist filmmaking; for me, it flirts with contemporary topics without ever seriously engaging with them.  

Ultimately, this is familiar monster movie fare that fails to deliver on an otherwise engaging plot.

Classic Film Review #11: The Matrix (1999)

This ground-breaking sci-fi odyssey made a return to public consciousness not so long ago on account of its unfairly derided, studio-enforced fourth instalment. And, while there were undoubtedly merits to Resurrections, it is this debut outing which remains the franchise’s finest moment.

Resplendent in all its delicately choreographed action, The Matrix has somehow not aged despite Hollywood’s relentless progression of special effects over the last 24 years and retains an innate spirit of innovation and progression at its core. This is clearly evidenced by the sense of awe viewers still feel when watching Keanu Reeves’ legendary protagonist Neo dodging bullets in slow motion, or the legendary Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) dishing out a beating to a roomful of foes.

Indeed, it’s hard to argue against the notion that this is both Reeves and Moss’ most iconic roles, with both imbuing an irrepressible air of cool throughout the film’s proceedings. The same could be said for Laurence Fishburne, in fine fettle as the scene-stealing rebellion leader Morpheus, and Hugo Weaving, who does a fine job dishing out the pithy one-liners and pessimistic monologues that make antagonist Agent Smith so memorable.

The central storyline of The Matrix, although not devoid of fault, is also one of its clearest USPs, specifically for the way it forecast the burgeoning roles of both virtual reality and artificial intelligence within modern society. Here, machines are depicted as humanity’s eventual overlords in a manner that is both fanciful and not entirely implausible, with the film’s heroes fighting tirelessly to liberate their human counterparts from their imposed tyranny.

The Matrix wears its many influences proudly and (at times) unevenly, but viewers can easily renovate with the clear Biblical notion of Reeves’ Neo being ‘the One’ that is prophesised to save humankind from a life of enslavement. In choosing such a familiar narrative throughfare, the Wachowski’s ensured their franchise always retained a broad appeal that no doubt did its part in helping it achieve such rampant commercial successor.

Undoubtedly a game-changer for the sci-fi genre, The Matrix remains an iconic, one-of-a-kind classic.

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio

Available on: Netflix

Guillermo del Toro’s typically unique take on Carlo Collodi’s classic fable is perhaps most curious due to its similarities with Pan’s Labyrinth. Much like his magnum opus, a morbid curiosity with both death and fascism runs through Pinocchio, positioning it as something other than just another star-studded Netflix ensemble.

The Mexican auteur’s long-awaited adaptation of this well-known fable is striking for its almost lifelike stop-motion, which is coloured by a visual palette befitting of his other classic works. Turbo-charging proceedings is a stellar voice cast that is led by Ewan McGregor’s wildly entertaining narrator Sebastian J Cricket.

Pinocchio himself is also a different iteration to the one previously served up by Disney, with del Toro electing to celebrate his antihero’s intrinsically chaotic nature, which only becomes more entertaining as the film is gradually engrained in comic, Groundhog Day-esque repetition.

Put simply, this is smarter and more essential than one had cared to imagine prior to watching and offers another timely reminder of del Toro’s cinematic genius.

The Banshees of Inisherin

Available on: Disney+

This quaint, Chekhov-esque melodrama sees Three Billboards and In Bruges writer-director Martin McDonagh reunite Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell for a breakup movie that oscillates effortlessly between the hilarious and horrifying.

Set on the fictional island of Inisherin in 1920s Ireland, The Banshees of Inisherin concerns dairy farmer and simpleton Pádraic (Farrell) who, every day at 2pm, calls on his best friend Colm (Gleeson) so that they can head to their local and chat idlily over a pint of Guinness.

Sounds delightful, no? After all, this is a ritual shared by men across the globe. Time spent with friends at the pub is sacrosanct for many a soul, and McDonagh’s screenplay captures this perfectly. But the turning point of this narrative is Colm’s sudden decision to annul his friendship with Pádraic because, put simply, he has realised that he finds him dull.  

As was the case in In Bruges, Farrell and Gleeson play a chalk-and-cheese couple – the former is a gentle but uninteresting soul, whereas the other is a deep thinker whose mind is preoccupied with culture and a fear of being forgotten when he dies. Naturally, Pádraic is devastated by the prospect of losing his best friend and spends most of the film trying to win back his affections.

The genius of McDonagh’s writing lies in the fact that he presents neither Pádraic nor Colm as the wronged party. This is because The Banshees of Inisherin is a deeply philosophical film, and so has little time for good or bad guys. Even when Colm takes the drastic decision to start mutilating his own hand to try and deter his friend’s efforts of reconciliation, we can appreciate the twisted logic that motivates the act.

Farrell and Gleeson are tremendous in the lead roles and are supported ably by Kerry Condon and Barry Keoghan, while cinematographer Ben Davis also delivers a plethora of stunning shots of Ireland’s coastal landscape. McDonagh is once again being tipped for glory come award season, and it’s difficult to argue against this being a worthy winner of any accolade.

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery

Available on: Netflix

The sequel to 2019’s Knives Out is every bit as preposterous as its predecessor and, thankfully, only slightly less enjoyable.

Though far from perfect, writer-director Rian Johnson’s long-awaited whodunnit avoids most of the tropes associated with the ‘difficult second album’ and remains both enjoyable and engaging for much of its gratuitous runtime.

This is due in no small part to Johnson’s own unique approach to the murder-mystery model, which gradually reveals its culprit over the duration of its second act, and another riotous turn from leading man Daniel Craig, who returns as the legendary (and outrageously dressed) Southern detective Benoit Blanc.

While Craig is the undoubted star turn, Glass Onion elicits good performances from all of its A-list cast, including Edward Norton, here playing an insufferable, Musk-esque billionaire, and especially Janelle Monáe, who does most of the heavy lifting from a dramatic perspective.

However, despite its quirky appeal, this is essentially the same film as Knives Out (just with a Netflix budget) which means that even its more unexpected twists are never all that shocking. This is a criticism that could be levelled at almost all murder mysteries though, and doesn’t manage to quash the good-natured fun that lies at the core of Johnson’s flick.

Classic Film Review #10: Roma (2018)

Available on: Netflix

Alfonso Cuarón’s first Mexican film since 2001 is also his most personal, it being a semi-autobiographical account of his upbringing in Mexico City during the early 1970s. With the auteur on director and cinematographer duties, it is undoubtedly a masterclass in filmmaking made even more impressive by the fact he also wrote, co-edited, and co-produced it.

Roma’s story is told through the eyes of Yalitza Aparicio’s live-in housekeeper who, as well as her own personal travails, endures the fracturing of her employer’s domestic life, which itself is set against the backdrop of social disorder and unrest. Aparicio is outstanding in the role and ensures that, even in its stiller moments, Roma remains an emotionally demanding watch.

The undoubted MVP of Cuarón’s film is, however, his decision to frame it in a sweeping monochrome that delivers moments of beauty aplenty, ensuring the film fulfils its intended duty as a love letter to the city of his youth.

Emancipation

Available on: Apple TV+

Will Smith’s post Oscars comeback sees him deliver a physically committed performance as a slave desperately seeking to reunite with his estranged family but has an air of cynicism befitting of a character from Tropic Thunder.

Contrary to the assumed opinion of Smith and director Antoine Fuqua, it is possible to make an insincere film about slavery and Emancipation is proof of this. Loosely based on the true story of an enslaved man whose photograph, taken in 1863, became world-renown, it is a preposterously far-fetched action flick that merely attempts to present itself as something more profound.

Unsubtle at every turn, the film sees Smith’s emaciated protagonist navigate the perilous swamps of Louisiana, successfully take on an alligator bare-handed (yes, you read that right) and eventually take up arms in the Civil War. Put simply, it is so silly it is nigh on impossible to take seriously.

While Robert Richardson’s cinematography offers an occasional moment of monochrome beauty, it cannot dispel the clumsiness of the film’s narrative or the disservice it does to those that actually suffered the abhorrence of slavery.

Classic Film Review #9: Avengers Infinity War & Endgame

Available on Disney+

The Marvel Cinematic Universe has provoked plenty of debate among filmmakers, critics, actors, and fans alike since its inception, and perhaps rightly so.

There are elements of the superhero genre which do threaten cinematic conventions, such as an overreliance on special effects and repetitive narrative tropes. Put simply, when a comic-book film is bad, it’s bad.

And yet, the two-part climax to the 22-film series that previously made up the MCU shows just how affecting these films can be when done well. I have always admired Kevin Feige and co.’s ability to seamlessly balance concurrent characters and arcs, and this skill pays off in a big way in both Infinity War and Endgame.

Both films finally pit the Avengers against the big bad that is Thanos (Josh Brolin), a misguided demi-god that is intent on wiping out half of the universe’s population. To do this, he needs to acquire the Infinity Stones and it is this quest that puts him on a collision course with the protagonists.

The shocking conclusion to Infinity War raises the stakes in a way previously unseen in the MCU, with our heroes seemingly down and out. But, as you might expect, Endgame sees them find a way to regroup and square off with their greatest foe one final time.

Both films are directed by the Russo Brothers and are praiseworthy for their toned-down palette, which is in direct contrast with the usually unrelenting brightness of the Marvel franchise, and delicate balancing act between the trademark wit of the Avengers and the more sombre tone that is befitting of the narrative’s apocalyptic stakes.

While the heroes ultimately triumph, they do so at a great cost and the emotional payoff of both films is undeniable. Quentin Tarantino may think that ‘real actors’ do not work this kind of film but tell that to anyone who watches the emotional gravitas with which Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, and Scarlett Johansson retire their respective monikers.

The world could certainly do with less superhero movies but, in the eyes of this writer at least, mainstream cinema would be a lot worse off without them, and these epics offer ample proof of that.

She Said

In some ways, it feels slightly premature for there to be a film about Harvey Weinstein’s sexual predation, given that his court case is still ongoing and, therefore, the true extent of his crimes remain unknown.

Alas, Maria Schrader’s tight picture offers an essential reminder of the damage that unchecked male privilege causes and the bravery that goes into any effort to reset such well-ingrained societal structures.

Telling the story of the New York Time’s investigation into Weinstein’s shocking offences, She Said is a sobering procedural that lays bare the extent to which Hollywood insulated one of its favourite sons from prosecution. It is a diligent film that works in service of the women whose story it seeks to tell and is anchored by two excellent performances from Carey Mulligan and Zoe Kazan.

Perhaps the grimmest aspect of this tale on reflection is that Weinstein is only one man, leading one to wonder how many other powerful people’s actions are continuing to go unchallenged. There is no doubt that the #MeToo movement has inspired change, but we have a long way to go before preordained attitudes can be reset entirely.

Films like this, however, can only help to get us there faster.

Classic Film Review #8: Sorry to Bother You

Available on: BBC iPlayer

The acerbic breakthrough feature of writer-director Boots Riley offers a comedic and surrealist commentary on the societal effects of consumerism, seen through the lens of the African American experience.

Sorry to Bother You tells the story of Cash (Lakeith Stanfield), a down-on-his-luck telemarketer who experiences an unexpected and rapid rise through the ranks of his dubious employer. Crucially, the cause of Cash’s newfound success is due to his ability to put on a ‘white voice’ when speaking to clients.

Despite the material benefits that come from his promotion, Cash soon finds himself at loggerheads with his artist/activist girlfriend (Tessa Thompson) and the colleagues he has left behind. The conundrum of choosing between solidarity or material gain might be the driving force of this film from a narrative standpoint, but its handling of oscillating racial experiences is its true point of difference.

Riley’s film is, on face value at least, an eccentric slice of indie comedy – and an enjoyable one at that. But scratch the surface and you will see that Sorry to Bother You is resplendent with plenty of disquieting insights into our capitalist society and the racial divide that continues to run through it.

The film is also a visual delight and unafraid to play with the boundaries of form, making for a unique and at times unsettling viewing experience. This is never more apparent than during its brilliantly bonkers crescendo, when Cash finds out the true motivations of his nefarious paymasters.