The Beanie Bubble

Available on Apple TV now

The Beanie Bubble continues one of 2023’s most unusual trends by serving up another biopic that is focused on the inner workings of a global corporation, in this case the late, great Ty Inc., whose Beanie Babies range momentarily took the 1990s by storm. Like Air and Tetris before it, the picture attempts to explain commonplace, but no less complicated, marketing staples (in this case ecommerce) via the medium of fast-paced dialogue and larger-than-life lead performances.

With respect to the latter, Kristin Gore and Damian Kulash’s film does deliver, with Zach Galifinakis putting in some of his best work in years as Ty Warner, the brash and egomaniacal face of the Beanie boom. He is underpinned by a stellar support cast that includes Elizabeth Banks and Geraldine Viswanathan, who deliver entertaining turns as two of three women that are scorned by Warner’s histrionics.

Sadly, the same can not be said of Sarah Snook, who is completely wasted in her role as Warner’s long-suffering second wife. After the dreary Run Rabbit Run, it’s a real shame to see the phenomenally talented Snook pick another underwhelming post-Succession role. Nonetheless, her misuse is not the only issue with The Beanie Bubble which, simply put, feels completely unoriginal from begging to last.

Gore’s screenplay brazenly borrows from a litany of other, more entertaining films and is at times predictable enough to make you wonder just how much of its events actually took place in real-life. Dramas of this nature will of course always stretch the truth to some extent, but The Beanie Bubble never really feels convincing, which makes you question whether its story was ever worth telling at all.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem

In cinemas now

It’s almost impossible to discuss Mutant Mayhem without making the obvious comparisons to the Spider-Verse movies, given that both animated movies focus on iconic comic book characters using a style that mixes 2D and 3D animation. However, I personally feel that, whilst it’s obvious that this movie wouldn’t exist were it not for the success of the Spider-Verse franchise, it almost feels reductive to compare the two, as Mutant Mayhem certainly stands up on its own.

First of all, the voice cast is stellar. In this iteration, the ‘teenage’ part of the group is emphasised by the fact that they are all actually voiced by teenagers. It’s also very evident that the cast recorded their lines together, because their chemistry is off the charts. On that note, this is just an incredibly funny movie, with the style of humour feeling both fresh and unique, and helping to set this version of the Turtles apart from previous iterations.

The aforementioned animation is absolutely superb. One of my favourite details about the animation is that the lens flares are all simply scribbles. There are other small details like that in the animation that really made it feel special. The movie also feels innately grimey, due to the designs of the environments and the fact that 99% of it takes place at night. The New York setting never feels polished or clean, which I felt was a fantastic choice. The animation also allows for some of the best action sequences I’ve ever seen in an animated movie.

Mutant Mayhem is in a league of it’s own. And it may not be perfect (I found that some emotional beats didn’t hit as much as they could have), but it still manages to be an incredibly enjoyable experience with an incredibly fresh tone and style that finally gives the Turtles a worthwhile big screen outing. I really hope they make several more of these.

La Amiga De Mi Amiga

Available on Mubi now

This whip-smart comedy from Barcelona-based director Zaida Carmona works equally well as a love letter to one of Europe’s coolest cities and a celebration of sexual freedom. Its screenplay, co-written by Carmona and Marc Ferrer, is focused on a young woman (played by Carmona) who is reeling from a break-up, only to find solace in the company and affections of a group of like-minded lesbian friends.

Carmona makes for an authentic screen presence, as does the supporting cast of Alba Cros, Aroa Elvira, Rocío Saiz, and Thaïs Cuadreny. Despite its modest budget, La Amiga De Mi Amiga maintains a chic aesthetic and makes good use of a soundtrack that serves as a celebration of local musicians, in particular Christina Rosenvinge, who is feted by Carmona’s character and even cameos in a handful of dream sequences.

At its most interesting, this picture examines the pros and cons of polyamory, with many of its characters celebrating their lack of commitment whilst simultaneously yearning for deeper, more meaningful relationships. Such contradiction alludes to a more introspective, meaningful film than La Amiga De Mi Amiga ever manages to be, with Carmona instead electing to persevere with a light, too-cool vibe that is charming but ultimately rather hollow.

Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One

In cinemas now

Love him or loathe him, you cannot sneer at Tom Cruise’s commitment to keeping the box office alive. His latest outing as super spy Ethan Hunt in the seventh instalment of the Mission Impossible films is one of the year’s most ludicrously entertaining films (in spite of its near three-hour runtime), a claim which is evidenced best by the American actor’s decision to drive a motorbike off an actual mountain before actually parachuting himself to safety.

Such stunts have inevitably become an indistinguishable part of Cruise’s oeuvre as a leading man, so much so that some viewers may be tempted to view them as little more than gimmicks designed to generate buzz. While that may be true to some small extent, above all else such commitment to the craft of making genuinely nail-biting action films demonstrates Cruise’s passion for keeping the experience of cinema-going alive.

Like many films, Dead Reckoning Part One was beset by COVID-related delays to its production schedule, but the final product thankfully shows no such signs of hindrance. And, while its whopping $291m budget helps, props must go to director Christopher McQuarrie and co-writer Erik Jendresen for that, whose delightfully silly screenplay has a prescient interest in rogue AI, although they do lose marks for burdening their robotic antagonist with a name as appallingly lame as ‘the Entity’.

Minor quibbles aside, McQuarrie and Jendresen and, in particular, Dead Reckoning Part One’s special effects team create a thriller that chomps through its aforementioned runtime, delivering a series of set pieces that are progressively more spectacular, with Cruise’s stellar work underpinned by a game supporting cast that includes series regulars Ving Rhames, Simon Pegg, and Rebecca Ferguson and a debuting Hayley Atwell, Esai Morales, and Pom Klementieff (whose side character role is far more entertaining than it has any right to be).

With Lorne Balfe’s score helping keep you on the edge of your seat, there are insane stunts, sharp dialogue, and even a few surprise deaths to be enjoyed here. And, with Barbie and Oppenheimer also helping fill global cinemas, this contributes to a stellar summer for true cinema lovers.

Stan Lee

Available on Disney+ now

This career retrospective of the late Marvel Comics head honcho Stan Lee, an undoubted pop culture icon, is a frustratingly glib procedural that doesn’t really shed any more light on its topic’s life than a brief perusal of Wikipedia would.

Perhaps director David Gelb was operating under the well-known weight of the MCU straightjacket, but there is a distinct lack of critical thought within this documentary which, given the ubiquity of Marvel as we now know it and its subsequent impact on cinema, leaves the whole affair feeling like something of a missed opportunity.

Nonetheless, Lee’s own narration ensures that his passion for comic books is sufficiently conveyed, and Gelb’s experimentation with 3D miniature tableaux, which he uses to recreate certain moments in Lee’s life, make this a fleeting visual delight. Alas, the unwillingness to meaningfully evaluate Marvel’s impact on contemporary culture makes this an unfittingly dull experience.

Return to Seoul

Available on Mubi now

The merits of this unusual picture, written and directed by Davy Chou, are not always apparent over the course of its near two-hour runtime, but do come to the fore after the credits stop rolling. Return to Seoul is a tale about a French woman’s return to her native homeland of South Korea in the hope of finding her biological parents, and is a thought-provoking analysis of the emotionally oscillating experience of adoptees.

Ji-Min Park, a visual artist cast by Chou in her first film role, delivers a vibrant and at times entrancing performance in the lead role of Freddie, whose alienation in her country of origin makes for a fascinating viewing experience. Chou’s self-penned screenplay, allegedly inspired by the experiences of friends and his parents, who fled Cambodia prior to the Khmer Rouge’s occupation, does justice to a complex and deeply personal topic, so much so that there are moments in Return to Seoul, such as its sobering final scene, in which we are asked to merely sit within the depth and complexity of its protagonist’s feelings.

This means that the film can occasionally test viewer’s patience, although Thomas Favel’s vibrant cinematography and Jérémie Arcache and Christophe Musset’s hip score ensure there is always an effortlessly cool air to proceedings. Supporting the aforementioned Park is a stellar cast which elicits fine work from Oh Kwang-rok, Guka Han, and Kim Sun-young, all of whom play some part in embellishing on the difficulty of Return to Seoul’s unconventional, yet incredibly common, topic.

Pensive to the last, this is one of the film’s most unusual, challenging, and ultimately rewarding pictures.

Barbie

In cinemas now

Growing up is hard. There are so many choices to make, pressures to face, and a desperate need to be liked. Particularly in today’s society, where social media and politics are arguably more prevalent in young people’s lives than ever before.

However, I feel like this is something a lot of people forget, or simply choose to not think about.

Greta Gerwig’s Barbie is all about the difficulties of growing up in a world in which so many gender stereotypes and expectations are forced upon you. It’s about the divide between men and women, and how to cope as a woman in a world governed by men. It’s about micro-aggressions and how they are normalised by the patriarchy. And it’s about motherhood and the sacred relationship between mother and child.

And that’s what makes Barbie so unbelievably special. It really pushes the boundaries, not just with its commentary on gender and the human condition, but also because it doesn’t glorify the Barbie brand at any point. I’m very surprised Mattel even allowed a lot of the jokes present here (someone even drops an f-bomb at one point?!). On that point, I’d like to clarify that Barbie is certainly not for children and if you think that’s the case, you may want to re-evaluate that.

On top of the fantastic story and concepts at play, the performances are also superb, with Ryan Gosling’s Ken and Michael Cera’s Allan being particular stand-outs for me. And, as you may have seen in the marketing, the set and prop design is absolutely off the charts, with every little thing in Barbieland making it feel as though you’ve been dropped into one of the play-sets.

The colours pop, the music’s energetic, the jokes hit, the emotional beats hit even harder, making this a total must-see for any audience.

Sundance Film Festival: London 2023 - Passages

Passages is the latest project of Ira Sachs, following his trend of heated queer romances, dense with sexuality and constant interpersonal drama. It takes place in the city of love, and follows impulsive film director Tomas, played by Franz Rogowski, as he cheats on his boyfriend (Ben Whishaw) with a woman (Adèle Exarchopoulos), and then progressively makes things worse over the course of the film. It’s an interesting study of a completely self-absorbed and chaotic character, who seems to get by on confidence and self-assuredness alone. It’s almost a comedy setup, and indeed there are many moments of sometimes unintentional comedy surrounding Tomas and how he deals with the scenarios he constantly puts himself in.

But Passages is not a comedy, and it takes itself pretty seriously. The fact that the main character is a filmmaker should immediately signal that this comes from a personal place. And if that already isn’t indicative of the film’s intimacy, about every 15 minutes there’s a sex scene to remind you. There is nothing earth-shattering or politically charged about it – this is a story of a small man and his small world, and the small people within it, and the small ways in which he loses all of it. There’s a kind of mundane helplessness underlying it all – Tomas cycling between the same three or four locations, wearing the same clothes, having the same interactions over and over again. A larger-than-life character constrained by a tiny universe, with the only avenue to excitement resulting in people getting hurt. There is no redemption, no final twist, just the single, sad, predictable life of an entertaining personality.

Ira Sachs very transparently makes films that he wants to see – so that means beautiful people having sex and being terrible to each other, which is pretty great. There is a straightforwardness to it - even with the heavy emotions, subject matter, and explorations of sexuality, it’s easy watching, in the same sense an old-style melodrama can be. In making what he wants to see, Sachs appeals to an unexpectedly broad audience, specifically queer, who have been historically starved of this kind of film. It’s the age-old relatable tale of the impossible human struggle for greater meaning, told through sexually charged romance.

There is little doubt that Passages will strike a personal chord with many. For everyone else, it’s an excellent self-contained parable with a slow, tender atmosphere to it, perfect for moody viewing.

Sundance Film Festival: London 2023 - And the King Said, What a Fantastic Machine

And the King Said, What a Fantastic Machine, a title alluding to Edward VII’s reaction to Georges Méliès' filmed staging of his coronation, is a documentary from Swedish filmmakers Axel Danielson and Maximilien Van Aertryck, analysing the human relationship to cameras in both historical and contemporary contexts. Presented as a long montage of clips from the 1870s to the 2010s, the film almost comes across as a human highlight reel of the last 150 years, told from the perspectives of what we as a species have decided to film and photograph. It is a meditation on the omnipresence of the camera, on its inherent bias and limitations, and on the incomprehensible number of images it can produce in the internet age. But the film struggles to have an opinion on all of this.

It is somewhat odd for a documentary partially about the inherently one-sided perspective of modern media to appear to take an objective standpoint. Fantastic Machine is about cameras, but the film doesn’t present many outright conclusions about its subject. Instead, much of the runtime consists of concepts and clips being presented to the audience to form their own opinions on – is this the product of an inconclusive research project, or done as an exercise in critical thinking? Either would be valid within the broad and labour-intensive nature of this film’s production, as a central theme could easily be lost in a project that covers this much ground. But remarkably, Fantastic Machine stays basically consistent in its message, and uses the topic of the camera as an avenue to explore the damning limitations of human perspective, where what may seem like an incomprehensible amount of content to us is but a pale blue dot on the black surface of the universe, photographed by Voyager 1, 3.7 billion miles away. There is an existentialism within this topic that is touched on very briefly, but would have been great to expand on, perhaps providing a hard-hitting conclusion to a purposefully messy and densely saturated film.

So why isn’t this aspect explored more? The irony of Fantastic Machine is that it appears to denounce media’s role in the degeneration of attention spans, but still partakes in it. The goal is noble – to reach school-age generations and teach them media literacy. But what is most memorable about Fantastic Machine isn’t its legitimately thought-provoking subtext, but the clip of the guy who came in for a job interview at the BBC and was mistaken for a tech expert. It’s the videos of the Russians climbing skyscrapers, or of YouTube videos from the 2000s of people falling over. The message, which is there, is almost hidden behind layers of quick, stimulating videos, where meaning has to be carefully and sometimes tenuously extracted. If appealing to short attention spans, a clear and concise message needs to be repeated constantly, not clouded with irrelevant short-form content.

Despite this, Fantastic Machine is a thoughtful, wide appeal look at media that is distinctly modern and will likely serve as an interesting time capsule of the content and attitudes of our period. Unfortunately, just as it begins to scrape the surface of its wider philosophical implications, it ends on a pig sniffing at a camera in the mud.

Oppenheimer

In cinemas now

Few filmmakers have thawed the boundaries of mainstream cinema like Christopher Nolan has, the British director having repeatedly shown that there is a market for intellectually stimulating big-budget pictures. His latest, Oppenheimer, is perhaps his most daring release to date, it being an extensive, three-hour character study of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the physicist who pioneered nuclear weaponry as the scientific head of the Manhattan Project.

Like all of Nolan’s work, Oppenheimer is a meticulously researched affair (Nolan’s screenplay was adapted from Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin’s 2005 biography American Prometheus) and a visually daring spectacle, one that justifies its creator’s insistence that it be seen exclusively in cinemas. The film’s narrative is typically non-linear and focuses on various aspects of Oppenheimer’s life, from his extraordinary scientific achievements to his philandering sexual exploits and moral unease with the socio-political ramifications of his life’s work.

Cillian Murphy is astounding in the titular lead role, making for a diminutive screen presence whose oscillating but always subtle facial expressions say more than his words ever could. It is a towering, awards-worthy turn from an actor who has long deserved the status of a leading man, one that is underpinned by a supporting cast that can only be described as an embarrassment of riches. Of those side players, it is Emily Blunt, Matt Damon, and - in particular - Robert Downey Jr. that stand out, although this always remains very much Murphy’s picture.

Oppenheimer is also laudable for its astonishing special effects, virtually none of which were created using computer-generated imagery. Nolan and cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema’s decision to shoot in both IMAX and traditional 65mm large-format film, as well as IMAX black-and-white analog photography, ensures the film of an engrossing aesthetic that is never more profound than during its Trinity Project scene, which was remarkably created using actual explosives.

What is perhaps most impressive about this biopic though is the measured way in which it tells one of the most morally complex life stories of all time. While the film is unafraid to explore the spiritual agony that its subject endured in the wake of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it never casts judgement on him, which makes for a rewardingly subjective and emotionally challenging viewing experience.

Indeed, one cannot help but be impressed by Nolan’s ability to take historical fact and transform it into an epic thriller, and long may such subversion continue.

Sundance Film Festival: London 2023 - Going Varsity in Mariachi

Going Varsity in Mariachi (directed by Sam Osborn and Alejandra Vasquez) documents the exploits of the varsity Mariachi band of Edinburg North High School in southern Texas. Taking place over a year, it frames their competitive journey as an underdog story, their low-income school competing against much more intimidating and well-funded rival bands, tracking their highs and lows as they face defeat and pursue victory. It’s a relatively straightforward, enjoyable premise, filled with great music and interesting people, exploring a fairly esoteric topic that people are very passionate about in a very specific part of the United States. Particularly for an international audience, it’s a window into a series of communities most people would never have even thought of, done in an effective, empathetic way.

What becomes apparent as the film progresses is that much of the nuance and humanity was left on the cutting room floor, and what is left is School of Rock with a mariachi tint. You have to subconsciously remind yourself at points that what is happening is indeed real in order to best appreciate it. Perhaps the best moment of the film was when the coach, Abel Acuña, is giving a pep talk after a disappointing performance, acknowledging the film crew and stating boldly that the stardom and prestige of the documentary had made his band complacent. Even though the film never disguised the presence of the camera, and indeed the camera was often directly addressed, it felt like a brief, solitary breaking of the fourth wall that placed this band and this school back into reality, as a group of real teenagers existing in the same space as the filmmakers, which may be the only time that happens.

Perhaps it’s to conform to American Hollywood sensibilities and expectations, perhaps it’s to appeal to a wider – and younger – audience, which should be applauded. But Going Varsity in Mariachi feels unusually linear and simplified. It does not feel like an exploration of Hispanic culture as it does an exploration of American high school culture, which I fear is the natural result of editing a year’s worth of footage into a feature film.

Varsity in Mariachi is great, and uplifting, but it begs for a deeper humanist touch, and for an extended cut.

Nimona

Available on Netflix

This subversive computer-animated picture is an underdog story in more ways than one. Its titular character, voiced with delightful anarchy by Chloë Grace Moretz, certainly fits that bill, being a shape-shifting demon that elects to come to the aid of Riz Ahmed’s shunned knight, who has been accused of a murder he did not commit.

Nimona, adapted from ND Stevenson’s graphic novel of the same name, also has an intriguing production history that makes its critical and commercial success all the more impressive. Originally the brainchild of Blue Sky Studios, a subsidiary of 21st Century Fox, it was ashamedly canned by Disney following their acquisition of Fox due to an alleged discomfort with the film’s overt LGBTQ+ themes.

Thankfully, it was revived by Annapurna Pictures and Netflix and the result is one of the year’s most delightful films. If Nimona’s brave, timely, and crucial motif isn’t enough to draw you in, then it is at its most basic level a really enjoyable action film, with superb voice work from the aforementioned Moretz and Ahmed.

Co-directors Nick Bruno and Troy Quane (Spies in Disguise) play with mediaeval convention in a manner not dissimilar to Shrek, although their film retains a modern sensibility that makes it all the more relatable to contemporary audiences. As well as the intriguing animation, Christophe Beck’s energetic score keeps proceedings moving along at an effervescent pace.

This is truly the sort of animation that we need to see more of, one that can teach younger audiences about uncomfortably complex, but no less vital, issues that our societal trappings will undoubtedly force them to confront in later life. I absolutely loved every second of it.

Pretty Red Dress

In select cinemas now

This endearingly unusual feature debut from Dionne Edwards offers a daring challenge to societal norms and toxic masculinity, told to the sound of one of the year’s best original soundtracks.

Edwards’ screenplay is focused on Travis (played excellently by an impressive Natey Jones), a young man who, upon his release from prison, returns home to his partner Candice (Alexandra Burke) and teenage daughter Kenisha (Temilola Olatunbosun), only to find himself struggling to reassert his position as the head of their household.

This is due to a number of complex factors, including Candice’s attempts to balance an uninspiring day job with a gruelling audition to play her idol Tina Turner in a new West End show, and Kenisha’s difficulty navigating the complexities of adolescence and her own sexual identity.

Most interesting of all though is Travis’ complex relationship with his own sexuality, which sees him regularly drawn to the film’s titular red dress, which he bought as a gift for Candice but is compelled to regularly try on himself. Sadly, this freeing experience coincides with a downward spiral in Travis’ mental health, his partnership with Candice, and their relationship with Kenisha.

Pretty Red Dress spins a lot of plates and consequently often feels like a complex affair, with many questions asked about the boxes our respective societies place us within. Emotionally, it is an oscillating experience - in some parts joyous, others extremely upsetting - but it always retains a sense of spirit and purpose that marks it out as one of the year’s most intriguing and rewarding pictures.

Jones, Burke, and Olatunbosun are all nothing short of a revelation, while Edwards marks herself out as a filmmaker worth keeping an eye on.

Wham!

Available on Netflix

Wham!, in a similar vein to many 1980s pop groups, are rarely given the artistic credit they deserve, despite their chart-topping credentials. This documentary, directed by Chris Smith of Jim & Andy and Fyre: The Greatest Party That Never Happened acclaim, seeks to reassess that status quo via a feelgood career retrospective that is almost entirely constructed from archive footage and audio interviews with the band’s stars, George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley. 

Wham! does a particularly good job of giving justice to Ridgeley’s role within the band, which has understandably often been mistaken as being little more than Michael’s understudy. Instead, we learn that, when an impressionable young teen, Michael was guided by the altogether more confident Ridgeley, to the point where he defied his own father’s wishes and pursued a career of pop stardom.

Given Michael’s genre-defining output since, it’s fair to say that music owes a lot to Ridgeley, whose humble demeanour makes for an empathic interviewee. While Wham! doesn’t exactly break new ground for its genre, it is a highly engaging watch that provides an ample reminder of its subject’s considerable talents.

One Fine Morning

Available on Mubi

One Fine Morning, written and directed by critical darling Mia Hansen-Løve, is a curious analysis of grief, womanhood, and agency, told through the eyes of Léa Seydoux’s widower, who we find navigating the almost impossible task of balancing raising her young daughter (Camille Leban) and caring for her terminally-ill father, who is suffering from a cruel and rare neurodegenerative disease. 

Seydoux, who has long established herself as one of the most intriguing leading ladies of today, is a revelation in the role, telling her character’s pathos-laden tale through a series of subtly devastating gestures and facial expressions. Her arc is made more complex by the decision to embark on an extramarital affair with her late husband’s friend (Melvil Poupaud) who, despite the depth of his feelings for her, is unsure about leaving his family.

Such a smorgasbord of tension leads viewers to expect One Fine Morning to be as tense and upsetting an affair as Eric Gravel’s Full Time, another excellent French feature about the challenges of contemporary parenthood. Hansen-Løve’s film is a decidedly more subtle affair though, with the protagonist’s situation rarely changing over the near two-hour runtime. Such restraint is always an impressive artistic choice, but it does cause proceedings to feel slightly ponderous and, dare I say it, even dull at times. 

Still, the performances of Seydoux and her supporting cast, coupled with Denis Lenoir’s gorgeous framing of Paris, means that One Fine Morning always remains an engrossing visual affair at the very least.

Inland

In selected cinemas now

Inland is about a troubled man (Rory Alexander) who is exiting from a mental hospital after an episode prompted by the past disappearance of his mother. He reunites with Sage and dishevelled mechanic Dunleavy (Mark Rylance), who attempts to be an old family friend and potential step-father. The film culminates on the central struggle between “The Man’s” hallucinatory psychosis, induced from a visit to a sex worker which resembles his mother, and the promise of a mundane yet admirable life that Dunleavy bestows to him.

The plot from this small setup sprawls out into every possible direction, going everywhere and nowhere at once. It is too innocuous to be a psychological study, too vague to be a folk horror, and too lethargic to be a thriller. It has nothing to say on the various topics it brings up, whether it be infidelity, the loss of parents, mental health, or the emotional barriers of masculinity. It is not a film that aims to say something important on its subject, but a collection of aimless scenes meant to feel constantly unsettling, as if a dark fairy tale has sprouted its roots around you. Instead, you feel as if you may have missed some important line or scene that would make the experience make sense. But simply, there is no message or statement, just scenes.

The film isn’t a total failure, as it features some incredibly beautiful and effortlessly claustrophobic cinematography. The same can be said about the ethereal and folktronic soundtrack that permeates every quiet drive through the forest. There are also brilliant spots of acting from Mark Rylance (who carries the film on his back solidly), while Rory Alexander provides a passable performance.

Sadly, Inland is ultimately just skin with the bones not to be seen. A beautiful folk horror aesthetic with no message, intent, or objective other than to mildly unsettle. It’s a film that feels like a short student film that was birthed into existence through the audacity of its production team. This film has a shocking number of producers including Sting's wife, with the film only having a cinema release because of Mark Rylance's presence.  All eyes should be on cinematographer Ravi Doubleday and the rest of the camera department as they have done some stellar work here. As for first time director Fridjof Ryder, I hope he can deliver on his aesthetic promises on his next feature.

Classic Film Review #37: The Amazing Spider-Man

Across the Spider-Verse has been out for just over a month now and has completely taken the world by storm, so much so that it made me want to go back and revisit some other films in the webhead’s canon, particularly those of my favourite live-action Spidey, Andrew Garfield. 

The 2012 reinvention had largely been frowned upon until the recent release of No Way Home prompted a reappraisal from some sections of the internet. However, I’m here to tell you that it has always been the case that Marc Webb’s first film is possibly the purest live-action adaptation of the character to date. 

It wouldn’t feel right for me to start this review by not talking about Garfield’s performance as Peter Parker. The most common criticism I hear of this interpretation is that he’s simply ‘too cool’. And, on the surface, this may appear to be the case. He rides a skateboard, he’s well-dressed, he stands up to bullies, etc. But, what people forget about is all the loneliness and guilt perfectly shown through the script and the performance.

One of my favourite things about this Peter is that he doesn’t become the hero straight away and that he is fuelled by revenge for perhaps longer than the audience is comfortable with. He’s not completely black and white. It’s only during the attack on the bridge that he truly earns the title of Spider-Man. The saving of Jack is perhaps one of the most inspiring Spidey sequences, as Peter reassures him and eventually successfully delivers him back to his father, leading to the eventual payoff of the crane sequence. I think people forget that the story is full of these hopeful scenes that really capture all the reasons why Spidey as a character is so special. 

On top of that, we’re treated to the fantastic score by James Horner, who never disappoints, and here he captures the more subtle, quiet moments, whilst also nailing the more bombastic superhero stuff we’ve come to expect from this genre. In fact, this theme was so perfect that Michael Giachinno and Jon Watts chose to use it again with Andrew’s appearance in No Way Home. 

The performances from everyone else are also stellar. Of course, everyone loves Emma Stone’s Gwen Stacey, but a surprise for me on re-watch was Sally Field as Aunt May. While she doesn’t get a whole lot to do, her scenes with Andrew Garfield really establish a relationship the likes of which we rarely see between these two characters. My mind goes back to the scene between them in the kitchen when Peter first comes home late bruised and beaten from his search for Ben’s killer. It’s almost difficult to watch at times and both actors completely sell it. 

Now, of course, this film does have it’s problems, such as its wonky pacing and underwhelming villain. But, as someone who has seen all the deleted scenes and the behind the scenes content, it’s clear that these problems appear due to the amount of interference from Sony, and not because Webb didn’t try hard enough. At the end of the day, I think it’s clear just how much love and care was put into this version of Spider-Man, from the costumes to the VFX, to the performances. It may not have ended up being perfect, but it is a very memorable and enjoyable watch and I think it all clearly came from a place of great love for the wall-crawler, so I couldn't have asked for anything more.

Run Rabbit Run

Available on Netflix now

Fans of Succession know only too well that Sarah Snook is one of the most formidable leading ladies around today, but even the Australian thespian’s considerable powers cannot breathe life into Daina Reid’s formulaic psychological horror.

Run Rabbit Run is focused on a fertility doctor (Snook) who becomes troubled by the strange behaviour of her only daughter (Lily LaTorre), who claims to have memories of a past life that is intrinsically linked to her mother’s past. While this makes for an interesting premise, director Reid and screenwriter Hannah Kent only peruse its potentially deeper meaning, instead drawing upon tiresomely predictable genre tropes that aren’t anywhere near as unsettling as you’d hope them to be. 

Snook and LaTorre’s work is committed enough to make Run Rabbit Run a fleetingly engaging watch, and Bonnie Elliot’s cinematography ensures that the film looks more prestigious than its events would otherwise warrant. Sadly, however, none of that is enough to prevent this from being filed under the long list of forgettable straight-to-Netflix pictures.

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

In cinemas now

Cynics might suggest that the only reason the fifth and final installment of the Indiana Jones franchise exists is to retcon the near-disastrous effects of its universally derided predecessor (2008’s Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). Brief research into the production history of Dial of Destiny will tell you that’s not the case, but that doesn’t stop James Mangold’s film feeling like an exercise in damage control. 

Right from the off, we are transported back in time to 1944 to witness a de-aged Indie take on some oafish Nazi officers in a whip-smart action sequence that is in keeping with the spirit of the series’ most treasured entries. Though I’m still very much uneasy about the use of de-aging technology, this is easily the most effective case of it I’ve seen to date and really sets hopes high for a return to form for cinema’s most (or perhaps only) celebrated archaeologist. 

It’s a crying shame then to find that Mangold’s screenplay (which was co-written with Jez and John-Henry Butterworth and David Koepp) cannot sustain the entertainment of its opening act, despite the best efforts of Harrison Ford, who is every inch the star he always has been. Its narrative, which is centered on an ancient artifact that allows its users to travel back in time, leaves the film open to the pitfalls of Hollywood’s tiresome obsession with time travel and leads to a final act that is, without indulging any of its detail, frankly preposterous. 

Of Ford’s game supporting cast, Toby Jones is easily the standout, though Phoebe Waller-Bridge (good here but in perilous danger of getting the Miranda Hart treatment from lazy execs) and an entertainingly hammy Mads Mikkelsen also deserve credit. Nonetheless, with a whopping production budget of $295 million, it’s hard to see the Dial of Destiny as anything other than yet another expensive nostalgia act.

Full Time

In selected cinemas now

The global economy has made for bleak reading for some time now, with the cost of living increasing at a frenetic pace for all but the usual select few. Full Time, written and directed by Éric Gravel, offers both a timely and painful reminder of this, documenting the everyday dread of making ends meet via the eyes of Laure Calamy’s single mother. 

Calamy is outstanding in the lead role, which sees her juggle an arduous daily commute from her suburban home to central Paris, an exhausting and poorly paid job as the head maid at a luxury hotel, and the unique struggles that come with being a parent to young children. Her preparation for the role allegedly involved interacting with real-life maids who had gone on strike in objection to their working conditions, and such commitment can be seen in her engrossing performance. 

Irène Drésel’s pulsating, synth-heavy score, along with Gravel’s assured direction, also does a fine job of transforming these ordinary travails into the sort of nerve-shredding, tightrope-esque experience that one would expect to see in a far less realistic picture. In that sense, Full Time evokes memories of recent Safdie brothers films such as Uncut Gems and Good Time.

This film truly belongs to Calamy though, who does a wonderful job of conveying the oscillation of emotions that come with just trying to get by and do right by yourself and the ones you love. It is an achingly familiar and altogether convincing display that, sadly, many will resonate with.