Guy Ritchie’s The Covenant

Available now on Amazon Prime

Given how bad Guy Ritchie’s previous big-budget release on Amazon Prime (Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre) was, my expectations for this thriller, set during the height of the war in Afghanistan, were pretty low. 

Picture my surprise when I found out that The Covenant is actually some of the director’s best work in years. The screenplay, which Ritchie co-wrote with frequent collaborators Ivan Atkinson and Marn Davies, is centered on Jake Gyllenhaal’s special ops sergeant and the bond he forges with his interpreter, who is played stoically by an impressive Dar Salim. 

Unlike much of Ritchie’s recent work, The Covenant does not rely on cheap laughs or high jinks to grab its audience’s attention, instead focusing on the respective arcs of its two lead characters, which makes for a rewardingly intense viewing experience.

The film is not without its flaws, with its final act descending into the sort of gratuitous, all-action affair that Ritchie cannot help but indulge in. However, Salim and the ever-dependable Gyllenhaal’s committed work ensures that The Covenant remains engaging from beginning to last, reminding viewers such as myself that a dose of pre-viewing cynicism can in fact be a good thing.

Asteroid City

In cinemas now

I’d forgotten just how talented a filmmaker Wes Anderson is. Between my viewing of Isle of Dogs earlier this year (a movie I wasn’t particularly a fan of) and the ongoing TikTok trend attributable to the style of American auteur’s films, I felt that he’d become somewhat of a parody of himself in recent years. The marketing for Asteroid City also didn’t particularly pique my interest, with the film looking to be fairly standard Wes Anderson fare. 

Thankfully, I was proven completely wrong and I came to find that there is much more to this 1950s sci-fi adventure than meets the eye. One of my favourite things about this movie is how Anderson appears to dissect his own approach to movie-making, with characters often breaking barriers that the story creates and questioning the very nature of the narrative that envelops them. The typical nonchalant Anderson delivery is also explored and deconstructed in some parts of the film, which I found to be particularly interesting. The ideas surrounding art and anti-art are rife here, with it also taking a surprising deep-dive into existentialism towards the end. It almost feels like the director had watched recent hits Everything Everywhere All At Once and Nope and decided to blend them together. 

As a big sci-fi fan, I also loved those elements of the film. One sequence in particular proved to be jaw-dropping in its execution. However, this is not the main focus of the film, it is merely a cover-up for the deeper story underneath it all. No spoilers here, but there’s certainly a lot to digest here and I think Asteroid City will prove to be a very special film for many people.

Greatest Days

In cinemas now

Take That are a good example of the curious nature of British pop music. Beloved by many on these shores (so much so that a helpline had to be set up for fans when they originally split up in 1996), the group, much like their most famous export Robbie Williams, never managed to attain true international stardom.

Nonetheless, their output cannot really be disputed. 56 number-one singles, 39 number-one albums, eight Brit Awards, and an Ivor Novello to boot. Love them or loathe them, you can’t really quibble with that sort of success.

Your enjoyment of Greatest Days will, however, be entirely determined by which of those two camps you reside in. If, like me, you’re partial to Take That’s unique brand of cheesy pop hits, you might be inclined to look past the many flaws of Coky Giedroyc’s film and enjoy it for the inoffensive-but-unimaginative jukebox musical that it is.

Should you be in the latter camp though, then you may well find this somewhat of an ordeal. Despite the best efforts of a cast that is led by the supremely talented Aisling Bea, Greatest Days is for the most part a tonally deaf affair with an annoying propensity to randomly intersperse its more affecting moments with musical numbers, making it nigh on impossible to emotionally invest in its events.

All that being said, Take That frontman Gary Barlow has fully embraced his cheesy status in recent years (as viewers of his lockdown YouTube series ‘The Crooner Sessions’ can attest), so this offbeat flick is perhaps as fitting a tribute to his musical legacy as one could hope for.  

Classic Film Review #36: Avatar and Avatar: The Way of Water

Available on Disney+ now

The commercial impact of James Cameron’s films has always been clear for all to see. Whether it’s Aliens, Titanic or The Terminator, the Canadian auteur is about as much of a sure bet as you can get when it comes to box office returns. However, Avatar and to a lesser extent its sequel, The Way of Water, occupy a different financial stratosphere to those films, with the first instalment of the planned five-film franchise still standing proudly as the highest grossing picture of all time.

That is a testament to Cameron’s own bravado, which saw him work in parallel with the visual effects powerhouse Wētā FX to devise pioneering motion capture techniques which allowed Avatar to blaze a trail for the 3D and 4D viewing experience. Even today, the film cannot help but be viewed as a technological triumph, while its aforementioned sequel demonstrated an even deeper commitment to innovation by being filmed back-to-back with its planned sequel and also being the first picture to include performance capture material that was shot entirely underwater.

When you take all of this into consideration, you certainly cannot question the Avatar films’ willingness to challenge the status quo. Nonetheless, their legacy become more problematic to define when you begin to consider their cultural impact (or lack thereof). Narratively speaking, both films are cumbersome and predictable, with their gratuitous running times and grating white saviour complex not helping proceedings. Their characters, with the exception of Zoe Saldana’s Neytiri, are also forgettable and burdened by dialogue that is more often than not lazy but, at its worst, could rightfully be viewed as an act of cultural appropriation.

There is also a broader question to be asked around just how much Avatar’s technical innovations are of benefit to cinema. It is of course imperative that filmmakers push the boundaries of their medium, but one has to wonder just how palatable a future in which over three-quarters of a picture’s content is computer-generated would be. Such quandaries essentially are of course a matter of taste, but I for one am not overly enamoured by such a concept.

No Hard Feelings

In cinemas now

Fellow cinema enthusiasts will know that there’s few better feelings than when a film surpasses your expectations. Seldom other art forms have the ability to replace cynicism with joy within the space of a few hours, and the latest film from Gene Stupnitsky (of Good Boys acclaim) is a good example of this.

On face value, No Hard Feelings is a lewd, R-rated flick that knowingly leans into the internet’s rampant sexualisation of its star, Jennifer Lawrence, in a ploy to attract viewers. However, while that synopsis isn’t entirely untrue upon deeper inspection, Stupnitsky’s second directorial feature is a far more heartfelt affair than any of its promotional material would have you believe.

The film’s plot focuses on Maddie (Lawrence), a down-and-out millennial who accepts an unusual proposition from the parents of Percy (Andrew Barth Feldman) to date their teenage son for the summer in exchange for a Buick Regal. Like any odd couple flick, No Hard Feelings is beholden to the chemistry of its two leads and both Barth Feldman and particularly Lawrence are on stellar form in that regard, delivering plenty of laughs over the course of the film’s pleasingly tight runtime.

It is especially good to be reminded of Lawrence’s tremendous ability as a comic performer. Her star has waned somewhat in recent years, but her game performance here serves as an ample memo that there are few more charismatic leading ladies working in mainstream cinema today.  

Like the aforementioned Good Boys, No Hard Feelings is far from groundbreaking but is nonetheless a functional and highly enjoyable slice of summer comedy that reminds audiences that R-rated comedies can possess heart and do not have to follow the wearisome American Pie formula of dick-joke-laden chauvinism.     

Classic Film Review #35: The Handmaiden

Available on Mubi

Park Chan-wook’s The Handmaiden can perhaps be considered through two lenses. The first, which considers the film at face-value, views it as a highly sensual and psychological thriller that is not dissimilar to more mainstream fare such as Paul Verhoeven’s Basic Instinct. Even when enjoyed in this more simplistic way, it is a highly entertaining film that is powered by the connection between its two lead actors, Kim Min-hee and Kim Tae-ri.  

However, there is more to be said about Chan-wook’s carefully crafted screenplay (which was co-written with Chung Seo-kyung and inspired by a novel by Sarah Waters), which muses on far more complex topics such as the male gaze, colonialism, and societal divisions. Indeed, there are many occasions in which The Handmaiden appears to make a mockery of the follies of men who occupy positions of power, none more so than in its highly satisfying final act.

Min-hee and Tae-ri are supported more than ably by a supporting cast that includes Ha Jung-woo and Cho Jin-woong, while Chung Chung-hoon’s wonderful cinematography and Jo Yeong-wook’s elegant score ensures that the picture remains a sensory delight throughout.      

Classic Film Review #34: Grease

Available on Amazon Prime

Randal Kleiser and Allan Carr’s iconic adaptation of Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey’s stage musical remains as effervescent today as it was in 1978, when it was the cause of queues leading up to the multiplex. And while the gender politics (or lack thereof) of Bronte Woodard’s screenplay remain a topic worthy of debate, the mass appeal of Grease cannot be denied.

Whether it be John Travolta’s career-defining lead performance, Stockard Channing’s underrated performance as the streetwise Rizzo, or just the unapologetically cheesy (but no less toe-tapping) hits, this remains one of the defining films of the 1970s and a benchmark for mainstream musicals.  

The film’s crescendo, in which the previously bookish Sandy (Olivia Newton-John) abandons her identity to win the affections of greaser Danny (Travolta), is most certainly dated, and does somewhat dim Grease’s otherwise irrepressible shine. Alas, it is perhaps best viewed as a reflection of the attitudes that were prevalent at the time of the film’s release, rather than anything more serious than that.   

The Flash

In cinemas now

Rave reviews were all over my social feeds following the initial press screenings for The Flash. Naturally, I was intrigued. How could a movie with such a troubled production history and a criminal as its lead actor be as good as people were saying? And how would it manage to balance the insane fan service with a sincere storyline?

Sadly, this proves to be a film that isn’t at all worthy of praise. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that this is one of the worst comic book movies I’ve ever seen.

Barry Allen’s Flash has been one of my favourite superheroes for many years, but this film doesn’t do the character justice. Even if we ignore all the terrible actions of Ezra Miller, their performance here is just objectively bad. Barry Allen is not endearing, clever or relatable, he’s just irritating. And while Christina Hodson’s screenplay does occasionally acknowledge that fact, it doesn’t make the character any less annoying. I also didn’t buy into the emotional core of the story because the writing was painfully simplistic, with plot points easy to see coming from miles away and all the emotional beats bordering on cringeworthy.

Not only did I not gel with the story of the characters, the fan service here was also awful to endure. And it’s proven that fan service and cameos can be done right when the characters have an impact on the story and aren’t just there for people to clap and cheer in the cinema.

Michael Keaton returns as Batman and that should’ve felt like a huge moment, but I felt absolutely nothing because he doesn’t have any significant emotional journey or affect the narrative in any meaningful way. There are also other cameos that felt incredibly hollow where people we know stand around on an incredibly fake-looking landscape.

The CGI is also incredibly shoddy, with many parts reminding me of old PlayStation graphics. For a 200-million-dollar blockbuster, there is absolutely no excuse for it to look this bad. I feel great sympathy for the overworked VFX artist who had to animate creepy CGI babies.

The Flash is a disappointing, boring, laughable, disposable mess and another swing and miss for the DCEU. Can we please get this over with and get James Gunn’s Superman now?

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

In cinemas now

I’d like to preface this review by saying that I am a massive Spider-Man fan. So, I’ve tried to restrain any personal bias as best as I can.

That being said, my expectations for Across the Spider-Verse were very high. The first instalment proved that modern comic book fare be emotionally intelligent and pushed the medium of animation further than any other film I can recall from the past 20 years. It introduced us to an incredibly unique art style that takes influence from comic books of the silver and bronze ages and blends it with cutting-edge CG animation.

This movie blows all of that out of the water. The animation in Across the Spider-Verse is light years ahead of its predecessor. As the title suggests, Miles Morales (Jharrel Jerome) and the audience are flung to other far across regions of the Spider-Verse, where other styles of art are incorporated and blended seamlessly into something almost psychedelic. It is truly amazing to watch on the big screen. I have honestly never felt so immersed in the world of a film before, and that’s all thanks to the hours and hours of hard work the animators put in to bringing the Spider-Verse to life.

The storytelling at play here is also incredible. I’ve seen complaints about the fact that this is a ‘part one’ and thus has an unsatisfactory ending, but I didn’t mind that at all. I found that the cliffhanger really worked for me, making the movie feel more like a Shakespearean tragedy than anything else. All emotions are heightened to the max and the arcs of Miles and Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld) are incredibly compelling.

Daniel Pemberton and Metro Boomin respectively knock it out of the park with both the soundtrack and the score. The tracks used to bookend the film in particular were incredibly evocative.

So, is Across the Spider-Verse the best Spider-Man movie? I don’t think so. It does get slightly reference-heavy at times, so I think that crown still belongs to the first Spider-Verse, but I do think that it is a very satisfying instalment, a remarkable achievement and possibly the best movie of the year so far.

Classic Film Review #33: Inception

My relationship with the works of Christopher Nolan has always been interesting. Whilst I enjoy the narrative stylings of some of his films (such as Dunkirk), I often find that I’m not able to immerse myself in a lot of his other work. To me, Nolan has always been more interested in shocking and confusing the viewer than getting them to emotionally resonate with the story at hand.

Enter, Inception. The film I believe perfectly embodies all of his weakest and strongest traits, simultaneously.

The construction of the film’s narrative is often its main talking point, with Nolan constantly cutting between three different layers of dreams whilst three different parts of the plot play out at once. Essentially a huge chunk of the film is like watching the world’s most complicated heist movie. The characters are constantly spouting out exposition whilst we as viewers are barely understanding it.

Perhaps that’s a little harsh. For a film with this much going on at once, I actually feel like Nolan explains the rules fairly well. It’s not insanely difficult to follow and the three layers of dreams having their own unique colour palette does definitely help.

However, despite it not being too hard to follow, that doesn’t change the fact that most of what’s happening is just plain dull. As previously mentioned, this film is packed to the brim with exposition. I think a lot of people forget that the first hour of the movie is mostly comprised of Leo DiCaprio and co sat around tables in grey suits explaining all these ludicrous rules to the audience (the urge to check my phone during these sequences was very strong). And here lies my main problem with the film: It’s not interesting.

Unfortunately, for me this movie has absolutely no character. There are no interesting visuals, everything is that usual Nolan grey, people engage with each other like robots, everyone is talking rather than doing and we are constantly forced to play catch-up. For a film that’s all about dreams, it very rarely feels like we are immersed in one. If you think about any dream you’ve ever had, did they feel anything like this? There is a 2014 Christmas special of Doctor Who that executes this movie’s premise a whole lot better.

This is my main problem with Christopher Nolan. He takes things that should have visual flair (dreams, space exploration, Batman, etc.) and reduces them into feeling devoid of character. But, if you love Christopher Nolan, I really wish I could see what you see.  

Classic Film Review #32: Candyman

Upon its release, Nia DaCosta’s reimagining of the iconic Candyman (1992) was criticised for being too ‘on the nose’. I recall hearing a lot of discourse about how certain scenes didn’t resonate with viewers due to their lack of subtlety and being taken aback by this analysis. After all, surely a movie dealing with themes as intense as systemic racism deserves to do so without the need for it be hidden within the trappings of genre convention. 

DaCosta’s take on Candyman is a work of art about artists and, subsequently, an interesting way to approach a horror movie. It has a level of self-awareness that permeates the story in a very interesting way. Here’s the thing: it’s not subtle. But is that such a bad thing? In an industry where critics often complain about a lack of subtlety, it’s almost refreshing to see a movie that uses that and flips it back on the critics themselves.

The character of Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) is a struggling artist whose work is mocked by others because of the way he presents ideas about race and discrimination. The other characters in the film claim that the ideas are presented with no subtlety or substance. Sound familiar? There’s even a scene where Anthony shows his Candyman piece to his partner (Teyonah Parris) and she instantly starts to talk about the lack of subtlety. However, when Anthony asks how it makes her feel, she responds differently. And this is where I realised that the lack of subtlety was completely intentional on the part of DaCosta. It's effective meta-commentary about how we perceive art and why we make it.

On top of all this, Candyman is also just a very effective horror movie. It’s not insanely scary, but it has a few great spooks in there. The most notable of these is the bathroom scene, which is horrifying in every way. The last 10-15 minutes are also incredibly effective and impactful, due in no small part to the fact that John Guleserian’s cinematography and Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe’s score are incredible. Everything is shot in an insanely unique way with perfect framing and lighting, and the music compliments this via its use of haunting string sounds and the end credit’s ghostly solo piano track. 

If you were put off by Candyman upon its release, I implore you to go back and revisit it. It’s not as strong as something like Get Out, but the fact that it’s not afraid to push the boundaries is what makes it special.

The Little Mermaid

In cinemas now

Disney’s latest live-action remake of an animated classic is unfortunately as perfunctory as most of the others, although this one's casting did at least manage to upset a large number of racist trolls.

It has been apparent for some time that the House of Mouse isn’t interested in reimagining their tales of old for modern audiences, and The Little Mermaid is the latest example of this. While the casting of pop star Halle Bailey as Ariel could be perceived as being progressive, what really matters is the story actors are asked to tell and neither director Rob Marshall (of Chicago acclaim) nor screenwriter David Magee appear interested in saying anything of note.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not every dining experience has to be Michelin, and the same is true of cinema. Despite its aversion to risk, The Little Mermaid will likely do enough to please undemanding viewers, due largely to Bailey’s spirited performance and the toe-tapping musical numbers devised by original composer Alan Menken and Lin-Manuel Miranda.

That being said, a gratuitous runtime of 135 minutes will test younger audiences, and Bailey’s efforts are not matched by all of her co-stars. Jonah Hauer-King is painfully wooden as Prince Eric, while neither Javier Bardem or Melissa McCarthy do anything to suggest that they are here for anything other than monetary purposes. Despite being touted as otherwise, the CGI is also nauseatingly bad (never will you ever see a crab with creepier eyes than this iteration of Sebastian’s).

Nonetheless, bemoaning projects as cash oriented as this is an exercise in folly. It would be great if Disney ever decided to re-examine the narrative arcs of their princesses, but I doubt they ever will. So you can either sit back and enjoy the musical numbers, or just watch something else entirely.

Classic Film Review #31: Toni Erdmann

Available on Mubi

Like any great picture, Maren Ade’s sprawling Toni Erdmann is a thorough examination of many things. However, all of its narrative undercurrents are contained within the relationship between its central characters, an estranged father and daughter who are reunited in the most bizarre of circumstances.

Peter Simonischek is a riot as Winfried, whose titular alter ego serves as a last resort when his misguided attempts to bond with Ines (Sandra Hüller) go awry. His character, who is loosely based on Ade’s own father, is desperate to not only obtain his child’s affection and approval, but to also liberate her from the seriousness of the corporate life she has constructed for herself.

The real genius of Ade’s screenplay is that it appreciates the complexity of this dynamic and is never overly sympathetic towards one character more than the other. After all, why should Ines abandon a successful career to be as comically non-committal as her father? Instead, Ade gives the relationship room to breathe and evolve, while also exploring more deep-rooted topics such as workplace misogyny, the economic landscape of post-Soviet Eastern Europe and, by her own admission, the psychological forces behind comedy.  

Toni Erdmann is a daring and ambitious picture but one whose greatest strength perhaps lies in its ability to make you laugh and think in equal measure.  

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret

In cinemas now

The journey from page to screen for Judy Blume’s titular coming-of-age tale has been laborious, with numerous studios bidding for the film rights before Blume herself opted to sell them to James L. Brooks and Kelly Fremon Craig. The latter won plaudits for her debut feature The Edge of Seventeen and does a stellar job here of doing justice to the highs and lows of girlhood, an experience that appears (to this writer at least) to be both uniquely personal and communal.

Such a juxtaposition would be ripe for misinterpretation in the wrong hands, but the aforementioned writer-director crafts a film that captures all of the contrasting emotions that are associated with coming of age, while also being unafraid to place a refreshingly honest spotlight on menstruation. Subsequently, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret is arguably one of the most important films of the year and something that could prove a real help to any young girl navigating the difficult path to womanhood.

Tender and affecting to the last, this joyous picture is aided in no small part by a breakthrough lead performance from Abby Ryder Forston and an excellent supporting cast that includes Rachel McAdams, Benny Safdie, and a scene-stealing Kathy Bates. It also features one of Hans Zimmer’s most intriguing scores to date, in the sense that it is far less bombastic than much of his headline work.

Sometimes cinema can be at its most profoundly powerful when done simply, and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret is a prime example of that.

Please Baby Please

Available on Mubi now

Amanda Kramer’s third feature Please Baby Please is a manic and vibrant tale of sexual awakening within the stuffy confines of 1950s America. Told through a visual palette that is broad enough to be indebted to both Blue Velvet and West Side Story, it is certainly a film that is as likely to challenge audiences as it is delight them.

The dialogue of Kramer’s screenplay, co-written with Noel David Taylor, frequently oscillates between the sort of abrasive diatribe one would expect to hear in a Scorsese picture and an academic tone that is altogether more complex and, dare I say it, somewhat polarising. Both Kramer and Taylor are clearly keen to study and dissect gender norms via their two central characters, who are played with bravado by an outstanding Andrea Riseborough and Harry Melling.

Whether Please Baby Please has anything particularly insightful to say about its underlying topic is debatable, with the film appearing to be more focused on its loud and aroused set pieces than anything else. This is not necessarily a bad thing of course, and Riseborough’s performance and oddities such as Demi Moore’s cameo make this an engaging slice of erotic cinema.

Still, given the complexities of the topic it seeks to engage with, one can’t help but feel Please Baby Please should be striving to say much more.

Beau is Afraid

In cinemas now

The latest film from writer-director Ari Aster (of Hereditary and Midsommar fame) sees the American director given the auteur treatment by A24. With a $35m budget, Beau is Afraid is the celebrated production company’s most expensive film to date and that, along with its gratuitous runtime, is enough to suggest that they are all in on Aster and his particular brand of horror.

I’ve griped so much in the past about modern cinema’s penchant for self-aggrandisement that it almost feels reductive to charge Beau is Afraid with that criticism. Nonetheless, it’s hard to indulge Aster’s 178-minute fever dream and not come away feeling as if the whole thing would be more resonant if it was at least an hour shorter.

If you were to consider the film as being comprised of three distinct acts, its hard to argue that the first – in which Joaquin Phoenix’s anxiety-riddled man-child embarks on a manic quest to visit his overbearing mother – is a riotous success. Beau is Afraid is loosely based on a 2011 short and these origins are clearly observable throughout its opening salvo, with Aster once again demonstrating his flair for dark, unsettling comedy via the medium of Amy Ryan and Nathan Lane’s scene-stealing side characters.

Unsurprisingly, Phoenix is a joy as a character that is essentially the living embodiment of anxiety, with many of Beau is Afraid’s darkest gags likely to feel more than a little relatable to anyone who, like myself, has experienced this fitfully crippling condition. Indeed, the film is really at its best when it documents how Beau’s mind emboldens seemingly inconsequential events to the point where they feel both seismic and life-threatening, something which is more prevalent throughout its opening hour.

Not everything that follows after this point is disappointing (Pawel Pogorzelski’s cinematography is often joyous, as is the animation work done by Cristóbal León and Joaquín Cociña), but it often feels narratively amorphous. Beau’s eventual showdown with his mother (played menacingly by both Patti LuPone and Zoe-Lister Jones) does redeem proceedings somewhat, but it’s a surrealist slog to get to that point.

Aster and Phoenix deserve credit for drawing attention to the pitfalls of anxiety, and Beau is Afraid does possess an irrepressible allure, but it’s hard to ignore the notion that there is a better, more compact picture in here than the final product.

Still: A Michael J Fox Movie

Available on Apple TV now

Davis Guggenheim’s poignant documentary about the life of Michael J. Fox is certainly as moving as anyone familiar with the Back to the Future star’s life would expect it to be, but nonetheless adopts a refreshingly frank approach to an otherwise tragic story.

For those that do not know, Fox’s life was altered radically when he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, and Still mostly focuses on how the actor and his family have adapted to this cruel and unexpected setback. Fox is an excellent interviewee and is refreshingly honest about his condition and steadfastly refuses to ever be maudlin, which ensures that this picture never falls foul of some of the typical tropes associated with its genre.

Most of the credit for this ought to go to Fox and his inspiring outlook on life, but Guggenheim – best known for the Academy Award winning An Inconvenient Truth – also deserves praise for the candour with which he broaches a sensitive topic. Editor Michael Harte and production company Concordia Studio also deserve shout-outs for the innovative way in which they utilise archive footage to retell Fox’s life story, an approach which lends Still a pleasingly retro aesthetic that is befitting of a topic that is so synonymous with 1980s pop culture.   

Above all else though, this is an inspiring character study that reminded me that we are not defined by our struggles, more so how we choose to tackle them.

The Five Devils

Available on MUBI

Léa Mysius’ sophomore feature is a curious affair that veils a complex and emotionally engaging queer love story within a thematic menagerie of magic, time travel and witchcraft. Whether it’s to good effect will depend mostly on your own cinematic tastes, but it’s certainly fair to say that The Five Devils intrigues throughout its modest runtime.

Mysius and Paul Guilhaume’s screenplay is focused on Vicky (played enigmatically by Sally Dramé), a young girl with an innate ability to smell and reproduce any scent, which she then fastidiously collects and bottles within labelled jars. Vicky’s bond with her mother (Adèle Exarchopoulos) is fiercely strong until it is challenged by the arrival of her aunt Julia (Swala Emati), whose scent transports her to a dark and hidden past.

Dramé and Exarchopoulos are undoubtedly the beating heart of this picture and both deliver standout performances, although the dominance of their respective arcs does have the troublesome effect of leaving Emati and Moustapha Mbengue’s equally important characters feeling marginalised. That is arguably a consequence of The Five Devils’ admirable attempt to juggle multiple topics, which makes its central premise hard to decipher.

Such ambition should not necessarily be derided, but it feels as if there is a more humble (and subsequently impactful) story laying dormant here. Nonetheless, the aforementioned lead performances, Guilhaume’s luscious cinematography, and a cool soundtrack make this a more than worthwhile experience.

Classic Film Review #30: The Worst Person in the World

The third instalment in Joachim Trier’s acclaimed ‘Oslo Trilogy’ is an affair as complex and misleading as its title, as it documents a young woman’s relationship travails and attempts to determine her life’s purpose. Such a role requires two things to work effectively – good writing and a convincing lead performance and thankfully The Worst Person in the World has both.

Focusing on the former element, Trier and Eskil Vogt’s screenplay is a layered and chameleonic work that invites its audience to make snap judgements of Renate Reinsve’s protagonist, who continuously demonstrates an inability to commit to anything other than her own quest for self-fulfilment. Such a singular approach to life can of course cause unspeakable damage to those who are affected by it, which in this case is a duo of jilted lovers.

Crucially, Trier’s film shows that such philosophies are rarely driven out of pure selfishness, or a desire to hurt the ones we love. Moreover, they are a by-product of our own experiences and trauma, much of which stem from our formative years. This ensures The Worst Person in the World is a constantly evolving beast that makes you question your impulses and prejudices.

Key to this is Reinsve’s towering central performance, which rightfully earned the Best Actress award at the 2021 Cannes festival. Throughout the film’s near two-hour runtime, we are made to observe the central character’s evolution and oscillation between emotions and state of being through a kaleidoscope of subtle emotions and sudden outbursts, which altogether makes for a fascinating and challenging study.

Classic Film Review #29: C’mon C’mon

Available on Amazon Prime

Mike Mills’ follow-up to the wonderful 20th Century Women is a far more understated affair that is perhaps best characterised by its intriguing monochrome framing, which is masterfully delivered by cinematographer Robbie Ryan. The screenplay, written by Mills, follows Joaquin Phoenix’s radio journalist as he attempts to look after his young nephew (played wonderfully by Woody Norman), whose mother (Gaby Hoffman) has had to go away to look after her unwell partner.

C’mon C’mon is certainly a philosophical film that asks its viewers to ponder the human experience through a child’s eyes, both via the character arc of its co-protagonist and the emotionally moving answers that several real-life children give when quizzed by Phoenix’s character. The latter is one of the picture’s most endearing and unique features and lends it far more poignancy than it perhaps otherwise would have had.

Phoenix is typically excellent but this is most certainly Norman’s film, with his performance defying the usual limitations associated with child actors and giving C’mon C’mon its heartbeat.