Dream Scenario

In cinemas now

Norwegian writer-director Kristoffer Borgli’s feature debut Sick of Myself was noteworthy for its amusingly dark analysis of influencer culture, but was mired down by a deep-rooted cynicism which prevented it from unearthing a deeper meaning. Nonetheless, there was enough evidence in that opener to suggest that Borgli has a great film under his hat.

Dream Scenario, featuring Nicolas Cage at peak peculiarity, is almost that picture. Its screenplay focuses on an unmemorable biology teacher (Cage) who briefly becomes an internet sensation on account of his random appearances in hundreds of stranger’s dreams. Like Sick of Myself, the film can be interpreted as a misanthropic analysis of contemporary society’s relationship with critical and/or social acclaim, specifically how people feel they are deserving of it, irrespective of whether they have talents befitting of it.

Produced by Ari Aster and Lars Knudsen, the film is at its most effective when its protagonist is coming to terms with his new-found (and short-lived) fame, with highlights including the many and varied dream sequences (which are the perfect foil for Cage’s specific brand of oddity) and a meeting with a flash but empty-headed marketing agency that have some very underwhelming but amusing ideas on how to capitalise on the public’s unexpected intrigue. Indeed, I’ve not laughed so hard in a cinema since last year’s The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, confirming the notion that Cage is enjoying something of a purple patch right now.

Unfortunately, the film’s final act doesn’t entirely hold together, with Borgli’s pessimism once again taking centre stage and detracting from what is otherwise an intriguing analysis of societal quirks and the modern phenomenon of cancel culture. While I’m not one to deny a director their right to a modus operandi, Borgli’s habit of following up engrossing commentary with a churlish point and snigger at people who are already incredibly easy to dismiss has the disappointing habit of cheapening his otherwise excellent work.

While Dream Scenario is an excellent, highly amusing picture on the most part, I found myself once again wondering what could have been if its director’s screenplay had lasted the course.

How to Have Sex

In selected cinemas and available on Mubi

With her work as DP on Charlotte Regan’s outstanding Scrapper, Molly Manning Walker demonstrated a penchant for the sort of kitchen sink realism that has distinguished British independent cinema for many years. This predilection is continued in her directorial debut, which follows three teenage girls as they embark on one of kidulthood’s most well established pastimes - a boozy holiday abroad.

While that may sound like a bit of raucous but ultimately harmless fun, How to Have Sex soon establishes itself as one of the year’s most powerful films and an unflinching and timely analysis of sexual assault and how it too often goes unnoticed, let alone punished. The film is charged by a highly impressive performance by Mia McKenna-Bruce, whose subtle changes in expression say more about her character’s plight than words ever could.

Manning Walker does an excellent job of creating an instant and uneasy sense of foreboding which is characterised by Nicolas Canniccioni’s authentic depiction of the grim debauchery that is synonymous with the sort of alcohol-fuelled vacation the film’s central characters embark on. The sight of McKenna-Bruce’s quietly traumatised character walking the abandoned, litter-strewn streets of Malia alone the morning after the night before is one of the most depressing sights I’ve seen this year, and is just one of many moments within How to Have Sex that linger long after its credits have finished rolling.

In today’s age of misinformation, where brazen misogynists such as Andrew Tate and conspiratorial hacks like Russell Brand continue to attract apologists, tales that so powerfully reinforce the importance of sexual consent are more essential than ever before. This is a highly impressive and often deeply uncomfortable picture that establishes its writer-director as one of the most vital visionaries working in cinema today.

Classic Review #52: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Available on Netflix

If the preceding Chamber of Secrets could be construed as a somewhat darker turn for the Harry Potter series, its successor can rightfully be viewed as its most cinematic entrant. With Chris Columbus stepping down from directorial duties to take up an executive producer role, it was left to a future Academy Award winner, Alfonso Cuarón (Gravity, Roma), to take up temporary residency as the franchise’s creative lead.

The result of this alteration, unsurprisingly so for viewers familiar with Cuarón’s work, is a film that is compellingly different from those it succeeds, with both the director and cinematographer Michael Seresin electing for a visual style that, through use of wide-angle lenses and real-life locations, is far more preoccupied with the space its characters inhabit than the events necessarily taking place around them.

This has the dual benefit of delivering a picture that is aesthetically richer than anything we had previously come to expect from the franchise, and also alleviating the collective burden of its lead actors who, as a result, deliver their strongest performances to date. Aiding the vision of Cuarón and Seresin is Jany Temime, whose addition as costume designer coincides with a look for the film’s characters that is far more in keeping with their status as students progressing from childhood to adulthood. In the Prisoner of Azkaban, the interactions between the students of Hogwarts feels more authentic and subsequently relatable, which only serves to increase the emotional connection between them and the audience, particularly as Steve Kloves’ screenplay begins to delve deeper into Harry’s traumatic past.

As is the case with all of the Harry Potter films, its stars are underpinned by an exemplary supporting cast, with additions including Gary Oldman, Emma Thompson, Michael Gambon (here making his formal bow as Albus Dumbeldore after Richard Harris’ passing), and David Thewlis, who arguably steals the show as Remus Lupin, a new teacher that is harbouring an unfortunate secret. The film’s special and visual effects are also typically triumphant, with this film marking the debut of series standouts such as Buckbeak and the chilling Dementors.

More mature in tone and ambitious in scope, the Prisoner of Azkaban remains a high-point for the series and sets the stage perfectly for its high-stakes successor.

Fingernails

In selected cinemas and available on Apple TV+

The sophomore feature of Greek writer-director Christos Nikou (Apples) is centred on an unusual premise whereby couples can determine their compatibility by undergoing a test which culminates in both partners having a fingernail removed. Sadly, irrespective of how intriguing that setup might be, Fingernails never manages to move out of second gear.

It’s fair to assume that Nikou’s intention is to craft a picture that fuses romance with science fiction in a vein not dissimilar to cult classics such as Ex Machina, Her, or The Lobster, and the requisite ingredients are certainly in place for him to achieve this. After all, Fingernails is helmed by three indie darlings (Jessie Buckley, Riz Ahmed, and Jeremy Allen White), all of which deliver committed performances that belie the limitations of the story they are trying to tell.

Nonetheless, the best efforts of the film’s leads is not enough to overcome the lack of chemistry that its screenplay provides them with. Buckley’s character is a particularly puzzling conundrum, in the sense that the film is centred on her quest to understand what constitutes true love, and yet her self-centred actions make her a protagonist that is incredibly difficult to root for.

Above all else, the big issue with Fingernails is that its motivations never become truly apparent, with Nikou alluding to an array of concepts - such as the ubiquity of online dating or the threat of routine and importance of continuously working on a relationship - but never honing in on any of them. What we subsequently get is an oddly unaffecting picture that fails to make the most of the talent at its disposal.

Classic Review #51: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Available on Netflix

The Harry Potter series got decidedly darker in its second instalment, as its titular hero attempts to prevent another attempt by the villainous Lord Voldermort to return to his human form. Ordinarily, such a tonal shift would be welcome but the Chamber of Secrets is weighed down by an excessive run-time and the fact it asks its fledgling star Daniel Radcliffe to do too much heavy lifting.

Director Chris Columbus and screenwriter Steve Kloves’ faithfulness to J.K. Rowling’s source material is mostly admirable and a big part of the reason why both this film and its predecessor did such a good job of establishing the author’s wizarding world. However, this film arguably sees them take their fealty too far, with its duration likely to test the patience of even the most eager of fans.

Radcliffe’s struggle to transition into more mature dramatic territory are more a consequence of circumstance than anything else, but do leave you yearning for the effective comic relief of Emma Watson and Rupert Grint, who have the good fortune of being able to continue with their characters’ shtick from the preceding Philosopher’s Stone. Also bringing laughs aplenty is Kenneth Branagh, who would have stolen the show as the delightfully useless Gilderoy Lockhart were it not for Jason Isaacs’ scene-stealing turn as the nefarious Lucius Malfoy.

The film’s special and visual effects, although now somewhat dated, are also impressive, with the characters of Aragog and Dobby remaining firm favourites, although the appeal of the latter still remains lost on me. Essentially, what we have here is a flawed but nonetheless effective sequel which achieved its mission of sustaining the franchise’s momentum, with a whopping $926 million grossed worldwide.

Bottoms

In selected cinemas now

There is a long lineage of comedies that all, to varying degrees of effectiveness, capture the incomparable awkwardness of being a teenager. Naturally, some of those films live longer in the memory than others, and Emma Seligman’s riotous Bottoms falls into that category.

Co-written by Seligman and Rachel Sennott, who previously collaborated on the former’s Shiva Baby, the film follows two gay high school seniors (played by Sennott and Ayo Edebiri) who, in an attempt to hook up with their crushes, decide to set up a fight club. What ensues is a rip-roaring subversion of gender stereotypes that is often laugh-out-loud funny and far bloodier than you’d ever expect a comedy to be.

Sennott and Edebiri are both outstanding in the lead roles, brilliantly evoking the desperation that comes with being a teen outcast. Their painstaking attempts to fit in, which is predicated on a hilarious tale about a non-existent summer spent in a juvenile detention centre, become more agonising to witness as time goes on and ultimately culminates in one of the most absurdist ends to a film I’ve ever seen.

Both actors are underpinned by a stellar supporting cast that includes a stand-out performance from former NFL star Marshawn Lynch as a straight-talking teacher that agrees to be an advisor to the girls’ club. Props should also go to Ruby Cruz, who delivers a slightly more nuanced turn as a club member with a penchant for making bombs, and Nicholas Galitzine and Miles Fowler as the villainous but altogether hopeless jocks that attempt to halt the club in its tracks.

Above all else though, what’s great about Bottoms is that it truly feels as if it was made for contemporary audiences, a sentiment which has been echoed by Seligman herself. While it is depressingly unsurprising to learn that it was initially rejected by various studios, it's safe to say that the cinematic landscape looks all the more healthy for having defiantly inclusive films such as this amongst its canon.

Anatomy of a Fall

In selected cinemas from 8th November

Justine Triet’s meticulous courtroom procedural has generated plenty of buzz since being awarded the 2023 Palme d’Or and, despite its testing running time, it’s fair to say that the praise is well deserved. Co-written by Triet and Arthur Harari, Anatomy of a Fall is centred on Sandra Hüller’s novelist and the accusation that she murdered her husband (Samuel Theis), whose body is discovered by their blind son (Milo Machado-Graner).

What ensues from this opening salvo is an assiduous examination not only of the murder case, but also the marital dynamic between Hüller’s widow and the deceased. In both senses, Triet and Harari’s screenplay leaves no stone unturned, diving deep into the academic and economic inequalities that can cause a relationship to fissure, and how contemporary society consumes ‘true crime’ stories of this nature. Regarding the latter examination, Triet and cinematographer Simon Beaufils’ use of oscillating visual styles gives the film one of its most intriguing qualities, such is the manner in which it seamlessly switches from a more traditional cinematic aesthetic to the sort of frantic and pursuant style favoured by news broadcasters.

However, the greatest asset of Anatomy of a Fall is undoubtedly the quality of its acting, with Hüller delivering an extraordinarily authentic performance that is deservedly garnering awards buzz. Nonetheless, while it is her stellar work that provides Triet’s picture with its dramatic anchor, it is certainly not the only display worthy of note, with Swann Arlaud and, in particular, the aforementioned Machado-Graner standing out.

Any tale involving dead bodies and suspected foul play will leave audiences longing for twists and turns, but Anatomy of a Fall is an admirably grounded affair that remains committed to exploring the complexities of the societal dynamics that lie at its epicentre, and is all the more memorable for it.

Talk to Me

Available on Netflix

A24’s penchant for original and deeply subversive horror is well established, and Talk to Me (a co-production of Bankside Films, Causeway Films, and Talk to Me Holdings) only serves to underline those credentials further.

The directorial debut of Danny and Michael Philippou (previously best known for their YouTube channel RackaRacka) is a highly original feature that follows a group of Australian teenagers as they discover the ability to contact the spirit world via a mysterious embalmed hand. Although its narrative never veers too far beyond that initial premise, the film effectively builds tension through its use of unsettling practical effects and sound design, as well as a stellar lead performance from Sophie Wilde.

Indeed, Wilde’s character is far from being par for the course, in the sense that her actions are fuelled by the deep-seated trauma she feels as a result of her mother’s recent suicide. This means that, even as Talk to Me veers into more typical genre terrain, it retains a crucial element of believability that makes its events all the more chilling. Also helping proceedings in that sense is the Philippou’s refrained use of gore, which ensures that their picture, unlike other recent fare such as Evil Dead Rise, is never overwhelmed by gratuitous bloodshed.

Like all of the best horrors, Talk to Me uses an original premise to muse on complex themes (in this case grief and trauma) that are intrinsically human and therefore uncomfortably relatable. The fact that it does this in a manner that is distinctively modern (its characters are seldom without their smartphones) only serves to make it all the more impactful, marking its directors as ones worth keeping an eye on.

Classic Review #50: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

Available on Netflix

The maiden voyage of the Harry Potter franchise hasn’t necessarily aged well, given the myriad of technological advancements that the film industry has undergone in the last 22 years. Nonetheless, it most definitely achieves its most pressing purpose, which is to successfully establish and immerse its audience in the world of J.K. Rowling’s treasured novels.

And, while Rowling’s name isn’t one worth celebrating nowadays, the author’s insistence that the cast of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone be composed of British and Irish actors was an undoubtedly savvy one, as it ensures Chris Columbus’ adaptation is a faithful one. While Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, and Emma Watson certainly weren’t the most accomplished of child actors to ever be put to screen, their respective performances as Harry, Ron, and Hermione never feel anything less than authentic.

Then again, who needs outstanding lead actors when you have a supporting cast that includes the likes of Alan Rickman, Richard Harris, and Maggie Smith? The USP of the Harry Potter series has always been the ensemble of actors it attracted, although all of the aforementioned thespian powerhouses are arguably overshadowed by Robbie Coltrane’s affable performance as Hagrid in this particular franchise entry.

With an iconic John Williams score and some truly excellent set designs to boot, it’s not hard to see how this film overcame its limitations to become the highest grossing film of 2021, grossing a staggering $974 million at the worldwide box office.

Evil Dead Rise

Available on Netflix

The fifth instalment of Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead franchise was an undoubted commercial triumph, grossing more than $146m worldwide against a production budget of $15–19 million, and even managed to achieve the rare feat of being a mainstream horror that successfully courted critical favour.

On face value, it’s not hard to see why Evil Dead Rise would be a hit with the majority of cinemagoers. It is unashamedly bloody and often downright scary, a claim that is underpinned by the fact that more than 6,500 litres of fake blood was used during the making of the film.

My issue with the picture is that none of its gratuitous violence is earned. The screenplay concocted by director Lee Cronin (The Hole in the Ground) is riddled with wooden, exposition-laden dialogue that contributes to some truly rotten acting from what is a largely unheralded cast, resulting in a film that, despite all of its gruesome machinations, is completely devoid of stakes.

This is a shame because the setting of Evil Dead Rise - a dinky apartment in a run-down tower block - is pretty ingenious, lending itself brilliantly to the franchise’s central plot device of an innocent person being possessed by a dark and murderous entity. However, none of the prior relationships of this film’s unfortunate soul are well established, leaving her malevolent about-turn to feel inconsequential.

While Cronin definitely has a knack for unsettling body horror, his storytelling leaves a lot to be desired, as is evidenced by the moment in which his film directly copies one of the stand-out moments from Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. While undoubtedly intended as a homage, it was a scene which just made me wish I was watching a horror film that earns its gore.

Classic Review #49: Up

Available on Disney+

I’ve watched Up a handful of times now and its opening sequence never fails to make me cry. People that know me well will know that’s not the mightiest of feats, but I do reserve my tears for genuinely moving stuff, and the opening to Pete Docter and Bob Peterson’s animated masterpiece is just that. In around 10 minutes, we bear witness to life’s rich tapestry - the innocence of youth, the thrill of falling in love, and the bittersweet contentment of growing old. Put simply, it is one of the most breathtaking cinematic arrangements ever put to screen.

Thankfully for the younger element of Up’s audience, what happens from thereon is more keeping with Pixar’s modus operandi, as we witness the adventures of cantankerous widower Carl (Ed Asner), effervescent wilderness explorer Russell (Jordan Nagai), and their delightful canine companion Dug (Peterson). Their story is a sweet, life-affirming one about the importance of adventure and moving ahead, even when your heart is rightfully still anchored in your past.

Accompanied by another stirring Michael Giacchino score, Up was only the second animated feature film in history to receive an Academy Award nomination for Best Picture, underpinning its credentials as one of Pixar’s greatest triumphs.

Killers of the Flower Moon

It’s almost difficult to start a discussion about Martin Scorsese’s latest feature. There is so much to draw from it and so much riding on it that it’s hard to know where to start. However, I think that’s almost a good way to sum up the film. It is so haunting and colossal that I left the cinema utterly speechless after the spiralling epic I’d just witnessed.

Now, I know a lot of people have been put off by the run time for Killers of the Flower Moon, but I can safely say that it flew by. Usually with long films, even ones I loved (like last year’s Babylon) I almost always start to feel the time by the halfway point. However, this film managed to be so utterly engrossing that it felt more like two hours than three and a half. The production design, screenplay, and gorgeous, sweeping cinematography were an absolute beauty to behold on the big screen (seeing the movie in IMAX also definitely helped), it was like seeing a monumental painting in a museum.

Scorsese immediately manages to suck you in from the very first moments. The opening scenes set the tone and establish the themes of identity and culture so perfectly, particularly through a fantastic score from Robbie Robertson that manages to be subtle, yet piercing.

Now, I would be amiss if I didn’t mention the fantastic performances. Obviously, we get the usual greatness we’ve come to expect from DeNiro and DiCaprio, but Lily Gladstone is the stand-out here, perfectly embodying all the pain, tension, and fear felt by the Osage tribe.

For all it’s grandiosity, I can’t shake the feeling that most people will wait for the Apple TV+ release to watch Killers of the Flower Moon. But if you’re on the fence, I implore you to witness it in the cinema. It’s a fantastic, timeless tale of race relations, betrayal, and history being swept under the rug. It unfortunately rings too true today, so I am so grateful that the story is being told and I hope that it will encourage more films like this to be made.

The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar

Available on Netflix now

Netflix’s acquisition of the Roald Dahl Story Company for an eye-watering $686 million means that we would be wise to expect further adaptations of the author’s work to follow from the studio in the coming years. Last year’s Matilda the Musical was a commercial and critical success, and this interpretation of one of Dahl’s lesser-known works is also something of a minor treasure.

Written, co-produced, and directed by Wes Anderson, The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar is a charming parable that is charged by a fastidious performance from Benedict Cumberbatch and underpinned by the work of a stellar supporting cast that includes Ben Kingsley, Dev Patel, Ralph Fiennes, and Richard Ayoade. Though the live action nature of this short contrasts with Anderson’s only other previous Dahl adaptation (2009’s Fantastic Mr. Fox), the director and his long-term DP Robert Yeoman’s trademark brand of meticulously curated quirkiness once again proves a seamless stylistic and tonal fit.

There are three other Anderson-directed Dahl adaptations - The Swan, The Rat Catcher, and Poison - for die-hards to sink their teeth into, with the success of this short-form experimentation raising interesting questions about how we might consume streamed cinematic content in the near future.

Classic Review #48: Coco

Available on Disney+

Making emotionally resonant films that are also wildly entertaining has long been the modus operandi of Pixar, with their track record of doing so enough to make any other studio envious. Coco is arguably as fine an example of this as any other picture, it being a wondrous paean to family, heritage, life and, perhaps most impressively of all, death.

Co-directed by Lee Unkrich (Toy Story 3) and Adrian Molina, the film follows a young boy named Miguel (Anthony Gonzalez) whose dream of following in the musical footsteps of his feted great-great-grandfather (Benjamin Bratt) sees him accidentally transported to the Land of the Dead, where he unexpectedly learns a great deal about his ancestry and the importance of upholding familial traditions.

The creative team were allegedly inspired by the work of Hayao Miyazaki, and it’s not difficult to spot the artistic influence of Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle, particularly within the ways in which the film playfully depicts childlike interactions with otherworldly inhabitants. Perhaps more importantly, Coco feels like a genuine celebration of Latin American culture, an accolade which is underpinned by the fact that it is the first film with a nine-figure budget to feature an all-Latino principal cast.

Charged by stunning animation, toe-tapping original songs, and a lush score from Michael Giacchino (Up), this is an effortlessly sweet movie that makes for a soothing meditation on memory, and the importance of keeping those we have lost alive in our hearts.

Fair Play

Available on Netflix

This feature debut from promising writer-director Chloe Domont has been likened to the sort of erotic thrillers that very briefly characterised 1990s cinema. However, unlike flicks such as Basic Instinct or Fatal Attraction, Domont’s film is generally characterised by a realism that is befitting of its subject matter, that being workplace misogyny and spousal jealousy.

Fair Play is focused on a young couple (played impressively by Alden Ehrenreich and Phoebe Dynevor) whose relationship unravels when one of them receives an unexpected promotion at the hedge fund firm for whom they both work. Their gradual uncoupling provides the film with a palpable air of tension that is felt most keenly during its opening act, when Ehrenreich’s character attempts to insincerely support his partner, despite the fact that he is smarting at his own perceived professional misfortune.

It’s disappointing to see Domont’s screenplay come apart at the seams as rapidly as it does, with its final act seemingly more concerned with shocking its audiences through acts of gratuitous violence than it is honouring the preceding tone of the film. This misstep is best characterised by a deeply unpleasant sexual assault scene which, whilst sadly believable, feels like an unnecessary turn of events, given that the motif of the picture is by that point already well established.

Nonetheless, Fair Play is timely enough to provoke worthwhile conversations about the vast amount of work that still needs to be done to positively redefine contemporary gender politics and make men more accountable for their actions. It’s just a shame that it has to resort to such nastiness to make its point.

Classic Review #47: Stop Making Sense

In selected cinemas

Jonathan Demme’s feted documentation of Talking Heads performing in their halcyonian heyday (otherwise known as 1984) remains as exhilarating today as it doubtlessly was back then, an immersive insight into the seldom-seen creativity of the band and in particular its leading man David Byrne.

Shot over four nights at Hollywood’s Pantages Theatre, Stop Making Sense is a true passion project, with the show conceived by Byrne and the film’s modest $1.2m budget raised by the band themselves. Such enthusiasm to adequately express one’s artistic impulses is certainly evident in the final product, with tremendous energy demonstrated throughout, be it through gleeful smiles or, in Bryne’s case, frequent laps around the stage.

Aside from Demme’s technical excellence as a director (which was later conveyed in films as stellar as Philadelphia and Silence of the Lambs), perhaps the biggest takeaways from this most welcome re-release is Talking Heads’ enormous influence on contemporary guitar music, with the concert’s stage setting evoking memories of acclaimed acts such as Arcade Fire, and Byrne’s spasmodic stage presence clearly resembling that of Radiohead’s Thom Yorke.

Above all else though, the band’s commitment to their audience and craft serves as a joyous antithesis to the dreary self-importance of many bands of a similar stature, reminding us that there’s never any excuse not to give your audience a good time. Although, with belters such as Psycho Killer, Burning Down the House, This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody), and Once in a Lifetime in your arsenal, how could you not?

Classic Review #46: Boiling Point

Providing a vehicle for Stephen Graham’s uncommon talents is about as clear a no-brainer as any director could wish to receive; the Scouse thespian has that rare ability to make viewers feel as if they aren’t actually watching someone act, but rather peering into the actual life of the characters he portrays. That is certainly the case in Boiling Point, Philip Barantini’s film about an incredibly tense and fateful night in the life of a chef working in one of London’s trendiest restaurants.

What makes Barantini’s drama ingenious is the way it is audaciously filmed in one-shot, a stylistic choice which, rather than being gimmicky, ensures that each scene – no matter how trivial it might seem – develops the arc of every character. Graham is the obvious standout but he is joined by a fine supporting cast, with Vinette Robinson particularly excellent as his long-suffering sous-chef.

As its title suggests, the film simmers along right up to its dramatic conclusion, inviting you to share in the anxiety and claustrophobia that is clearly being felt by its central players. It is a delicious slice of independent cinema, one that reminds us that original concepts will always triumph over flashy effects. And it is another crowning moment for its leading man, who continues to excel as the sort of tortured everyman that we can all, in some shape or form, relate to.

Flora and Son

Available on Apple TV+

John Carney has won plenty of plaudits for previous works such as Once and Sing Street, which incorporated original musical pieces into grounded tales about ordinary Dubliners, and his latest, a twee comedy about single mother Flora (Eve Hewson) and her strained relationship with her teenage son (Orén Kinlan), is certainly made from the same mould.

In an attempt to quell her child’s delinquency, Flora swipes an abandoned guitar from a skip and gifts it to him as a belated birthday present. However, when the gesture is emphatically rejected, she decides to embark on her own musical journey with the aid of Jeff (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), an online guitar teacher residing in California, with whom she quickly makes an emotional connection.

Hewson demonstrated her comedic chops in the stellar Bad Sisters and it’s therefore unsurprising that Flora and Son is at its most engaging when it is centred on the mother and son dynamic that lies at its core, with Kinlan demonstrating plenty of potential in his role as a passive aggressive teen that keeps his surprising musical talents well hidden.

Unfortunately, the film does not work as well when its focus shifts to Flora and Jeff, whose budding romance fails to convince (chiefly because it never escapes the confines of a Zoom call) and is bogged down by the sort of punishing tunes that you’d expect the likes of Ed Sheeran or George Ezra to subject you to. In that respect, Flora and Son feels like a back of a cigarette packet job from Carney and his long-term musical collaborator Gary Clark.

This is a shame because it feels like there is a decent film laying dormant in here somewhere, although the aforementioned work of Hewson and Kinlan is enough to keep you somewhat engaged throughout the picture's modest runtime.

Dumb Money

In cinemas now

Craig Gillespie demonstrated his appetite for an underdog story with 2017’s I, Tonya and showcases it once again with Dumb Money, a retelling of the stranger than fiction events of January 2021, when a group of zealous Reddit users caused the stock price of GameStop to reach 30 times its original value.

This manoeuvre, known as a ‘short squeeze’ in the financial industry, had major consequences for a number of hedge funds and the brokerage Robinhood, whose decision to temporarily halt people’s ability to buy GameStop stock rightfully led to accusations of market manipulation and a series of class actions being filed against them.

Gillespie’s film makes for a fun, though not entirely original, recreation of these events, with its stellar ensemble cast ensuring it is mostly greater than the sum of its parts. Paul Dano’s performance as Keith Gill (known as DeepFuckingValue or Roaring Kitty on social media), whose live-streamed stock analysis played such a critical role in this short-lived phenomenon, is dependably excellent, while America Ferrera (fresh off her brilliant performance in Barbie) and Shailene Woodley are the standouts amongst a supporting cast that also includes comedic heavyweights Nick Offerman, Pete Davidson, and Seth Rogen.

If anything holds Dumb Money back, it’s the fact that, in a year when Air, The Beanie Bubble, and Tetris have also attempted to give us quick-witted flicks about niche business tales, it feels more than a little familiar. While it’s arguably a lot more engaging than any of those films, it’s a long way off the subgenre standard set by The Big Short and The Wolf of Wall Street, despite its best attempts to recreate the defiantly effervescent tone of such films. Nonetheless, its performances and slick use of contemporary hip-hop bangers (I’ll never tire of hearing WAP in a film soundtrack) makes it worth the price of entry.

Expend4bles

In cinemas now

There has been much talk as of late about the burgeoning role of artificial intelligence within the film industry, and rightfully so. Technology has the potential to be a boon to any industry, but it should never come at the expense of human creativity. And yet, after watching the fourth and allegedly final instalment in The Expendables franchise, I couldn’t help but wonder whether our future robot overlords could have done a better job than the shitshow concocted by director Scott Waugh and screenwriters Kurt Wimmer, Tad Daggerhart, and Max Adams.

While that final comment is of course said with tongue firmly in cheek (I fully support the SAG-AFTRA strikes), it really is unfathomable that any professional filmmaker or writer could be happy with putting their name to something as extraordinarily turgid as Expend4bles. If its title alone is not enough of an affront to your senses, then its derisory CGI, overly misogynistic dialogue (which is enough to make you wonder whether the Me Too movement ever happened), ludicrous plot, and/or leaden action sequences will be.

With many of the franchise’s former stars nowhere to be seen, it’s left to the dependably bad Jason Statham and a disinterested Sylvester Stallone (who literally goes AWOL for the majority of the film) to helm proceedings, and the results are about as dull as you’d expect them to be. Admittedly, there is a self-awareness about Expend4bles that somewhat insulates it from criticism, but its shortcomings are far too apparent for it to ever be anything other than a bad use of one’s spare time.