300 Words on "Overlord" (2018)

In today’s media market which is more competitive than ever, the role of movies has changed. We are still living in the age of the blockbuster, when pure escapism reigns supreme at the box office. In many respects, this pervading trend feels like an extension of the days of the Hollywood B-movie. Overlord is the perfect example.

From its black-and-white opening and vintage graphics, Overlord knows precisely what kind of film it is. The potent result of the unholy concoction of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Saving Private Ryan, Overlord is a loud, brassy, and confident exploitation film which has no pretentions to be anything other than what it is. The film revels in its brightly-colored violence of the kind most often supplied in Hollywood by Quentin Tarantino or Robert Rodriguez. In fact, Overlord recalls those directors’ collaborative effort, From Dusk till Dawn, in more ways than one.

Interestingly, Overlord manages to be surprisingly reverent to its dark subject matter. Its opening paratrooper sequence is made of powerful stuff and sets the stage for the rawness which is to follow close behind.

Despite this, Overlord is ultimately a silly movie. Its characters for all pretty flat (despite half-hearted efforts to build them up as people), the story is built on clichés, and there are passages which are liable to drag as we wait for the next scare. However, Overlord knows these things and has no issue with them. If Overlord had sneaked into a gritty Grindhouse theater in 1974, we would already be calling it a cult classic and film fans the world over would be singing its praises. And, to be prophetic for a moment, I see Overlord attaining cult status in time. Its unpretentious blend of action, horror, and thrills is absolutely entertaining from start to end.

Thoughts on "The Other Side of the Wind"

To a modern viewer, the making of The Other Side of the Wind may be more interesting than the film itself.

Directed by Orson Welles, star of the silver screen and director of such undisputed classics as Citizen Kane (routinely called the greatest film ever made) and Touch of Evil, The Other Side of the Wind was Welles’ final motion picture. As was his prerogative during the latter part of his life, Welles produced the film independently, and shot it over the span of five years; filming as much as he could at a time with his assembled cast and crew and then breaking for an even longer period of time in order to finance its completion.

Welles successfully produced a handful of movies in this unorthodox but ultimately effective manner. 

The Other Side of the Wind was not one of them.

Running into financial and legal challenges before the film could be edited and distributed, Welles lost the rights to his own movie and was forced to abandon the project. The film that was to be his final masterpiece went unseen for generations.

That is until now.

Reassembled after more than 40 years, film buffs the world over can finally view Orson Welles’ mythic final project on Netflix.

The Other Side of the Wind tells the story of Jake Hannaford (John Huston), an aging, boundary-pushing film director (obviously modeled on Welles himself) who is in the midst of completing his experimental opus. Screening what footage he has shot for friends and industry professionals at his 70th birthday party, Hannaford quickly begins to make more enemies than allies, and it appears as if he will never finish the film.

The biggest question which goes annoying unanswered in the film is: what is this movie about? It appears that in his lifetime, even Welles was uncertain. Some have suggested that Welles’ vision metamorphosized time and time again in the five years that he was working on the project. And this is certainly reflected in the film. The Other Side of the Wind comes off as scatterbrained and incoherent in places with plot threads being picked up and dropped at random.

Yet, through all of this, The Other Side of the Wind manages to hold a hypnotic quality over its audience. Even if one does not fully comprehend what the meaning is behind the images playing out on screen, the pictures which Welles and his longtime cinematographer, Gary Graver, have painted with the camera are fascinating and haunting nevertheless.

In many respects, The Other Side of the Wind can be regarded as a primary document, providing a unique perspective into the changing cultural landscape of 1970s Hollywood. The days of the big studios and even bigger movie stars had faded quickly and Welles – who had returned to America from self-imposed exile in Europe to complete the movie – must have felt lost. That changing tide is reflected beautifully in the film, and Welles satirizes the key players of this cultural revolution within the film.

Just as Huston’s Hannaford is a stand-in for Welles, Peter Bogdanovich – who in 1975 was a young, up-and-coming director and close friend of Welles’ – plays Brooks Otterlake, a young, up-and-coming director and close friend of Hannaford’s.

What else is the film about? Welles manages to comment on toxic masculinity, points out the futility of the muse in an artist’s life, critiques new-wave experimentalism, and still finds time for a shoot-out and brawl which makes The Other Side of the Wind a densely-packed two hours.

Orson Welles was always on the cutting edge of moviemaking, and his last film reinforces that sentiment, showcasing techniques which would not become standard for several more decades. The Other Side of the Wind is no Citizen Kane but it is a strange, haunting film which even after 40 years is not ready to give up all its secrets. 

Thoughts on "Bohemian Rhapsody" (2018)

I liked Queen a lot before Bohemian Rhapsody but I like them even more now.

The biopic of Freddie Mercury and the band which catapulted him to international superstardom is a moving, powerful portrayal of their collaboration but also the story behind their music.

What makes Bohemian Rhapsody both a good film and important one?

Perhaps it’s summed up best in the words of Queen themselves – they’re a band of misfits playing for a band of misfits. A former baggage handler at Heathrow Airport, a dentist, an astrophysicist and an electrical engineer join forces to create some of the most eccentric – but wildly popular – music of the 1970s and ‘80s.

Bohemian Rhapsody in essence proves that (as cliché as it may sound) anything is possible.

At the heart of the film, just as he was at the heart of the band, is Freddie Mercury played to pitch-perfect perfection by Rami Malek. Malek simply disappeared into his role, and supplied with recordings of Mercury’s voice to lip sync along with, often it was difficult to find the point at which Malek ended and Mercury began.

Though Mercury’s story was the beating heart of the narrative, Bohemian Rhapsody never overlooked the other members of the band or their important contributions to their legacy. Gwilym Lee’s guitarist Brian May, Ben Hardy’s drummer Roger Taylor and Joseph Mazzello’s bassist John Deacon are all given moments to shine just as much as Malek’s Oscar-worthy turn as the Queen front man.

Behind the camera is director Bryan Singer who was infamously fired from the film during production.

Singer throws every visual storytelling technique at the film, employing split-screen, flying colorful text and montage after montage to name but a few. The result can be dizzying and distracting at times, however they remain exciting and engaging visuals nonetheless which liven the film even in its darkest moments.

It is clear that the creative team behind the film are ardent Queen fans as so much attention to detail was taken in their recreation. Music videos and live performances are restaged with an incredible eye for detail right down to the costumes the members wore.

And truly nothing can top the emotional, climatic performance at Wembley Stadium as part of the 1985 Live Aid concert which was presented in such remarkable detail that one is likely to feel as if he or she is there among the more than 70,000 people seeing Queen perform live.

Bohemian Rhapsody is a powerful and poignant film which gives voice to the marginalized and overlooked – a band of misfits.

In doing so, the film not only reaffirmed my love for Queen but for all artists who dare to tell their stories through music.

300 Words on "Halloween" (2018)

The incandescence of the original Halloween has burned brightly for 40 years. Through every sequel, reboot, remake, and countless imitators, the brilliance of John Carpenter’s original masterpiece has not been eclipsed. David Gordon Green’s first foray into the horror genre seeks not to extinguish that flame but preserve it and let it burn.

Jettisoning every franchise convolution of the last four decades, Green and co-writers Danny McBride and Jeff Fradley restore their film to the eerily effective, simplistic nature of the original. In tone, Halloween 2018 is the closest that any have come to utilizing suspense and tension to manipulate the audience since the first. There are plenty of scenes in the movie where Michael Meyers lurks just out of focus in the corner of the screen while we wait for him to strike again. It is an intense and visceral kind of horror which has become a lost art in modern movie-making.

But, Halloween knows that its monster is only as good as those fighting it, and to combat evil once more is Jamie Lee Curtis reprising her role as Laurie Strode. Curtis is the highlight of the film and she delivers a nuanced, carefully-crafted performance, and through her delicate portrayal the audience – like never before – gets to witness the consequences of the terror which horror movie protagonists must endure.

What Halloween does choose to pull from the original’s follow-ups is an increased body count and heavy reliance on blood and gore, but it is hardly a major blight to the film. And, as all the film’s action is underscored by music composed by a returning John Carpenter, even if the squeamish must avert their eyes, the film will still be a treat for the ears.

Halloween 2018 is at once an affectionate homage to its illustrious predecessor and a film which stands on its own. Today in a market which is (happily) flooded with horror, Halloween is unique: a slasher film which feels just as rooted in today as it does in an age which is long gone. 

300 Words on "Bad Times at the El Royale" (2018)

It’s cliché to say that a movie is like a rollercoaster ride. But there are few descriptions which would be more fitting for Drew Goddard’s darkly comedic noir thriller. Few times in recent memory have I been pushed to the literal edge of my seat while watching a film, and even when I have been, being pushed there has never been so exciting.

Bad Times at the El Royale begins intimately but grows ever bigger and grander. What may have on the surface appeared to be a tautly-wound, claustrophobic thriller quickly turned into something else entirely. Some have called the film derivative of Tarantino, the Coen Brothers, or Wes Anderson, but Bad Times at the El Royale is its own breed entirely. And it is confident in that.

Aside from contributing one of the most original screenplays I have seen in a long time, Goddard directs an ensemble cast with no weak links. Jeff Bridges, Cynthia Ervio, Jon Hamm, Lewis Pullman, Dakota Johnson, and Chris Hemsworth turn in absolutely stunning performances, and each is given an opportunity to shine. Their collective screen presence lends weight to some truly phenomenal sequences. The ones which still leap to mind play out almost entirely without dialogue, each ratcheting up the film’s tension until the El Royale seems less like a picturesque, swanky ‘60s hotel and more like a pressure cooker about to burst.

Bad Times at the El Royale is an extremely clever, riveting movie experience. I found myself immediately swept up in each surprising twist and bending turn, gasping as each new revelation was dropped on us, and at the end of the film’s epic 140-minute runtime, I admit to feeling a little breathless. Perhaps not too unlike a rollercoaster ride after all. 

300 Words on "A Star is Born" (2018)

It isn’t hard to forget that this marks the fourth time that A Star is Born has gone before the cameras and going into it, I confess to wondering whether another go-round was necessary.

I was proven that it absolutely was.

The movie firmly grasped the general ideas of its previous iterations and impeccably updated them to the modern day. Never once while watching was I looking for the seams; the story woven by screenwriters Bradley Cooper, Eric Roth, and Will Fetters never felt like it was tired or overdone, leaning on the prestige of its predecessors to survive.

Watching A Star is Born felt like attending a concert. The precise camerawork and choreography of cinematographer Matthew Libatique and first-time director Cooper devised for the film’s rock concert centerpieces placed the viewer directly on the stage in a way which made the music resonate more loudly and the stage lights flash more brightly than one could imagine them on a projector screen.

But for all the glitz and glamor of A Star is Born, it never lost sight of its focus: the relationship between boozing musician Jack (Cooper), and his protégé-turned-love-interest, Ally (Lady Gaga). In their central performances, Cooper and Gaga were simply stellar, assuming their parts fully and totally disappearing into them. I can heap much praise on A Star is Born, but perhaps the greatest testament to its sheer power as a film is in its central performances. Cooper and Gaga may be internationally-known superstars but there were times while watching when I totally forget their existence as performers.

A Star is Born is a poignant look behind the shiny veneer of the music industry and it was absolutely engaging throughout. To put it simply, the film is honestly one of the most powerful movie-going experiences I have had in quite some time. 

300 Words on "The Meg" (2018)

Every modern shark movie – good, bad, or ugly – is compared to Jaws. Well, The Meg is no Jaws. While Jaws is a tense thriller directed with style and engaging, real characters, The Meg is two very silly hours of adrenaline-pumping action and adventure.

However, I expected little else and wanted nothing more.

Based on the novel by Steve Alten, The Meg is the very definition of popcorn entertainment. This is, after all, a movie in which a prehistoric, 75-foot-long great white shark terrorizes the scientists working at a state-of-the-art underwater research center and their only hope for survival is Jason Statham. And it delivers on the goods.

The Meg is a fast-paced two hours – its plot is relentless as it charges from one set-piece into the next; never seeing the need to come up from its shark-infested waters for air. Packed between scenes of ultra-modern submarines racing through the depths in pursuit of the Meg, there are actually a few genuine thrills to be had as well. The Meg uses the vast expanse of the ocean to its advantage, and I admit to finding myself on the edge of my seat in scenes where Statham and the rest of the cast found themselves adrift in the open ocean at the megalodon’s mercy. It is also worth noting that for a CGI-filled blockbuster extravaganza, the computer-generated graphics are pretty decent; certainly some of the best for a recent shark movie.

As other reviewers have pointed out, if you are looking to find fault in The Meg it is there. But if you are willing to simply check your brain at the door and appreciate the film for the fun B-movie that it is, then you will be in for a good time. The Meg may not rival Jaws for its spot on the food chain, but then again, it probably never swam out of the depths to do so. 

300 Words on "The Mummy" (2017)

Over a year ago, I wrote a piece which acknowledged my excitement for 2017’s The Mummy, and wishing my best to Universal’s proposed Dark Universe – their answer to the overwhelmingly popular Marvel Cinematic Universe – The Mummy being the first chapter in this new saga. Well, I never ended up seeing The Mummy; dissuaded from doing so by the scores of negative reviews which greeted the film’s opening and now, more than a year after its premiere, I can finally offer my own take on the film which sunk the Dark Universe before it even began.

The hatred which greeted The Mummy was probably not warranted. The film isn’t that bad. In places it is a fun, cheesy B-movie. But as the spectacular, prestigious start to a franchise that Universal wanted it to be, The Mummy proves to be even more lifeless than its titular risen-from-the-dead monster. There is some artful cinematography, but The Mummy is the prime example of a film designed by committee, showcasing very little art and simply reeking of corporate greed.

In the midst of all of this is the always-welcome Tom Cruise who seems to spend the majority of the movie looking straight down the barrel of the camera in disbelieving confusion (probably unable to believe that he was actually cast in this film), and even his presence – alongside Annabelle Wallis, Sofia Boutella, Russell Crowe, and Courtney B. Vance – cannot entirely salvage the film. And if the stunts which Cruise et al. perform were to be the jaw-dropping highpoints in the movie (and perhaps rival Cruise’s other death-defying spectacles of the Mission: Impossible franchise) than they surely underwhelm.

The Mummy just feels sloppy and rushed; the product of a studio desperate to throw their hat into the ring when it was obvious they were not ready. There are some decent moments to make you chuckle or jump in your seat, but they ultimately do not do enough. And just as quickly as it was born, so died Universal’s Dark Universe. 

300 Words on "The Fog" (1980)

In the late 1970s, John Carpenter was put in an unenviable position. His previous film, Halloween (1978) was a terrific success and was already beginning to redefine the American horror genre. How, then, could he possibly follow up such a revolutionary and genuinely scary film? Carpenter chose to do so with The Fog.

The Fog – it is easy to say – does not match Halloween as a cornerstone of the genre, however there is much to applaud all-the-same. Carpenter’s decision to portray an old-fashioned ghost story on screen was a bold one; the kind of story which raises goosebumps on the skin while sitting around the campfire. Indeed, the film begins with John Houseman’s old seadog telling just such a tale to a group of kids around a fire, and the scene sets the tone for the exact type of film we are about to see.

And though the old-fashioned sensibility of The Fog feels worlds away from the modernity of Halloween’s horror, the shadow of Carpenter’s masterpiece can still be felt. Much of the cast of Halloween turns up in The Fog (Jamie Lee Curtis, Charles Cyphers, and Nancy Loomis) and cinematographer Dean Cundy photographs scenes in the same foreboding manner, lending the creeping fog the same menacing presence as Halloween’s stalking Shape. Additionally, Carpenter returns to compose the film’s score in his traditional understated, electronic style. Carpenter’s eerie soundtrack underscores the film’s tense moments brilliantly, and his choice of employing a classical piano underlines The Fog’s Gothic roots.

The Fog will probably not keep you up at nights, but it is nevertheless an entertaining and engaging foray into Gothic horror from one of the greatest filmmakers to dabble in the genre. It may not be regarded with the same reverence as Carpenter’s other films, but it remains an overlooked minor gem in his catalogue of undisputed classics. 

300 Words on "Hereditary" (2018)

(Possible, Mild Spoilers)

I don’t get scared at horror movies. I am able to watch them, enjoy the thrill, and then move on. The best horror films, for me, are the ones which can actually frighten me; the ones which can genuinely unnerve me, and which prove difficult to leave behind. Hereditary, the debut film of director Ari Aster, is one of those movies. Indeed, Hereditary is chock full of ideas which are nothing short of terrifying.

It’s a word I do not use lightly.

From the start, Hereditary sets out to create an atmosphere of unrelenting dread, and that palpable sense of foreboding is simply unrelenting throughout the film’s two-hour running time. Not since the Australian horror film, The Babadook (2014) have I seen a film which is so convincing and so real in its portrayal of grief, loss, and its devastating repercussions. However, Hereditary separates itself from its Aussie predecessor in that it boasts a labyrinth-like plot, which manages to at once invoke other genre classics as diverse as Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist, and The Wicker Man (both 1973).

This most unique of plots – which builds upon the tropes used ad nauseam in countless other horror movies but which undercuts or subverts them to tremendous affect – is also brilliantly acted. The centerpiece of the film is the poignant performance by Toni Collette as a grieving mother, but she is complimented by Alex Wolff as her son, and Gabriel Byrne as her uncomprehending husband.

Director Ari Aster proves himself incredibly adept at pulling audience’s puppet strings with Hereditary. Overflowing with spine-chilling images and gruesome set pieces, it’s a formidable film to say the least. Critics have already called the film a modern classic, and the praise is certainly not hyperbolic.

For my part, it’s a horror film which genuinely scared me. And that is praise enough. 

Thoughts on the Marvel Cinematic Universe and "Avengers: Infinity War" (2018)

(Potential Mild Spoilers)

More than once as I caught up on the previous 18 films in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) in preparation for the latest installment – Avengers: Infinity War – I found myself thinking the same thought: I am becoming just a face in the crowd.

To simply call the Marvel films successful would be a great understatement. Collectively, they have grossed more than Star Wars, Harry Potter, and the 24 installments in the James Bond series, and they are adored the world over. The Marvel movies have become a staple of popular culture; t-shirts bearing the insignia of Captain America’s shield are just as common now as vinyl recordings of Guardian of the Galaxy’s “Awesome Mix.” And now it’s not difficult to see why. Marvel has cornered the market when it comes to entertainment which combines adventure and laughs and – perhaps most importantly – spectacle. While the action in these action/adventure sagas may not match that of the Bond or Mission: Impossible films, Marvel compensates with the sheer scale and scope of each of their movies.

The latest – Infinity War – is no exception. In fact, it may very well be the height of spectacle for the series as it assembles as many of the diverse threads of their epic tapestry bringing together all of their heroes in one film. One needs only look at the film’s poster which is simply overflowing with star’s names (Robert Downey Jr., Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, Mark Ruffalo, Scarlet Johansson, Benedict Cumberbatch, Tom Holland, Chadwick Boseman, Chris Pratt, and Josh Brolin to name only a few) to know that this is not your typical ensemble action flick. And though unlike the previous two Avengers films, the heroes may not congregate to do battle together, their separation into smaller groups allows for multiple storylines to carry on simultaneously and never allows for a dull moment.

What Infinity War does best of all, though, is give its scenario emotional depth and weight, and I think that it cannot be a coincidence that the directors of this film, Anthony and Joseph Russo, also directed my other favorite installments in the MCU, Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) and Captain America: Civil War (2016) both of which never let their epic stories overshadow their emotional core. Indeed, there were moments in Infinity War when it was almost heart wrenching to see what happens to the characters we have come to know and love throughout the rest of the series.

Avengers: Infinity War leaves the story open to be concluded in further installments of the MCU proving that the comic juggernaut will not be relinquishing its grip on the movie market anytime soon. Until recently I may have rolled my eyes at the notion of a lengthy future for Marvel, but now I don’t mind too much. The studio is releasing consistently good content, and if they continue to entertain millions – myself included – that’s not so bad, is it?

To be convinced, it was worth acquiring my anonymity.

*

For Marvel fans who may be reading this and wish to know where I stand on the other 18 films in the MCU (with the exception of The Incredible Hulk) which I have not seen, I have ranked the Marvel movies below from favorite to least favorite:

Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Avengers: Infinity War

Captain America: Civil War

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

The Avengers

Ant-Man

Spider-Man: Homecoming

Thor: Ragnarok

Iron Man 3

Doctor Strange

Captain America: The First Avenger

Iron Man

Guardians of the Galaxy

Black Panther

Thor

Thor: The Dark World

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Iron Man 2

300 Words on "A Quiet Place" (2018)

I can’t remember the last time I was in a movie theater that was so silent.

A Quiet Place is, simply put, a triumph of modern horror, avoiding so many of the worn-out tropes of the genre and telling a unique, character-driven story. The film seems to affirm my belief that the very best horror movies are the ones which are built upon the simplest of plots, and storylines do not get much simpler than a family (quietly) fighting for their lives against monsters which hunt them through sound.

It is not the monsters, however, that makes A Quiet Place such riveting viewing: it’s the tightly-written script by John Krasinski (who also directs and stars alongside his real-life wife, Emily Blunt) which leans upon suspenseful set-pieces to tremendous affect. Seldom has the upsetting of a lantern, the creaking of floorboards, or the ticking of a simple egg-timer elicited such thrills from an audience who were undoubtedly anxiously chewing their fingernails just as much as I was.

The film’s screenplay also strongly built up the characters of the family and from the outset they emerged as likable, empathic characters whose plight we feel for. Of course, this is almost entirely done visually, so much of the movie carried out in virtual silence. A masterclass of visual storytelling in an age when so many movies rely on exposition-laden dialogue to convey its ideas, the silence of A Quiet Place not only sets it apart from so many other mainstream films today but managed to subvert the horror genre trope of the loud-noise jump scare and make it feel justified and rightfully scary. Even if the acting, direction, beautiful cinematography from Charlotte Bruus Christensen, and brilliant sound design were not as excellent as they were, A Quiet Place would still be a very clever horror film.

And that, in itself, may have been enough to stun some into silence. 

300 Words on "Ready Player One" (2018)

One of Steven Spielberg’s greatest strengths as a director is his presentation of material which can only be described as epic. From the beginning of his career, Spielberg has pushed the envelope when it comes to the use of technology in his filmmaking; the results creating spectacles which can rightfully be called jaw-dropping. And though his latest, Ready Player One, may not showcase all the hallmarks which have come to exhibit a Spielberg production, that spectacle is on full display.

And my jaw was on the floor.

Any viewer who goes into Ready Player One prepared to embrace its fun, fast-paced glorification of popular culture is in for a fun time: from spotting the Easter eggs placed for sharp-viewed viewers to find, to it’s graphics and cinematography which feel just like something out of a video game, Ready Player One is a feast for the eyes. And the ears - the film’s retro soundtrack consisting of one ‘80s earworm after the other. It is so easy – not unlike the players of the film who enter the virtual reality world of the Oasis – to get lost in it all.

The spectacle, therefore, more than makes up for the cliched storylines and trite dialogue which drives the plot forward, and though some exposition is dropped like half-ton weights upon the audience, it was never long before we plunged once more into a set-piece which had me on the edge of my seat and grinning from ear to ear.

Ready Player One is unconventional Spielberg for sure, but it surely cements his place amongst the very best auteurs to step behind a camera. Though it may call back to the classic films of the past (The Shining, Back to the Future, and Spielberg’s own Jurassic Park just to name a few), I feel that it has potential to be considered a classic on its own someday very soon.

300 Words on "Red Sparrow" (2018)

The world of the spy thriller is an inherently intriguing one. The mercurial landscape of shifting alliances, double-crosses, and shielded secrets makes for engaging and exciting viewing in just about any espionage adventure. What happens, however, when a movie has too many secrets, double-crosses, and shifting alliances? It’s very likely to turn out like Red Sparrow.

While the plot of Red Sparrow is pretty straightforward compared to some of the more complex plots weaved in spy thrillers, the movie feels needlessly bogged down by its hefty script which makes its two-hour-twenty-minute run-time feel even longer than it is. It is a film which requires much of its audience; prerequisites for any viewer including having an ironclad stomach. Even I must admit to having found the copious amounts of gratuitous sex and violence in the film to be extreme, and director Francis Lawrence does nothing to stylize the bloodletting on screen to feel like anything other than a moment of shock for the masses.

Where the film was stylized, however, was in its breathtaking cinematography, editing, and musical score – all of which complemented each other so well and gave Red Sparrow an at once lush and gritty aesthetic of the sort which put me in mind of David Fincher at his best. But, as noted above, director Lawrence is no master like Fincher and, though he coaxed a good performance from lead Jennifer Lawrence (whose Russian accent is actually quite excellent), there were no few occasions when I felt that a truly skilled hand was behind the camera.

Red Sparrow was an engaging watch – its genre almost guaranteed that – but I was left feeling rather hollow, and unsatisfied. Though it is clear that Red Sparrow wanted to bring the beloved Cold War thriller firmly into the modern day, this attempt at doing so fell just short. 

The Strange Case of Brian De Palma

Once upon a time there lived a group of directors…

Steven Spielberg. Martin Scorsese. Francis Ford Coppola. George Lucas. The names read like a veritable who’s who of the new wave of American filmmakers, each one doing their part to revolutionize the world of film and go on to attain international fame and recognition to this very day. Of this revered group who emerged during the 1970s, one name is quietly neglected, seemingly forgotten despite his numerous contributions to world cinema. His name: Brain De Palma.

After watching the recent HBO documentary on Spielberg which went in-depth on the relationship forged by this group of young directors, I was compelled to take a deeper dive into De Palma’s body of work. Why, I had to wonder, could this one director be so easily forgotten today when he inhabited a sphere alongside so many luminaries of his time – and perhaps all time. The simple answer to this question is that De Palma lacked the talent of Spielberg, Scorsese, and Coppola. This sentiment seems to be verified if one takes a look at his filmography on Rotten Tomatoes (admittedly a source always to be taken with a grain of salt) and sees a number of his films with very low ratings. However, this is circumstantial evidence at best to say that De Palma is a poor director because after having taken that deeper dive myself, I can honestly say that Brian De Palma is one of the most underrated and unique directors to ever work behind a camera.

De Palma (left) photographed with Steven Spielberg (center)
and Martin Scorsese (right)

Where do I begin, then, in this critical reevaluation of Brian De Palma as a director? Perhaps by using his own words: “I like stylization. I try to get away with as much as possible until people start laughing at it.” When one watches a De Palma film in isolation, only the most overt of his stylistic decisions are easily read. Who, for instance, can forget the camera spinning around and around John Travolta’s sound studio replicating the spinning of a reel of tape in Blow Out (1981), or the impressive thirteen-minute long one take which opens Snake Eyes (1998), never actually allowing us to glimpse the pivotal, fixed boxing match? While these scenes are likely to linger in the mind, if one studies De Palma closer, one will notice his repeated techniques - like overhead shots which look down on all his characters like some omniscient presence and his habit of placing large, disorienting objects in the foreground of his shots giving them great perspective and depth - are common to all his movies.

These methods pulled time and time again from the De Palma playbook give all of his films a unified, distinct look, something which few other famous directors can lay claim too. While other auteurs may be known for their style of writing or thematic approach to film, De Palma capitalizes on the visuals created from his movies. And, what is fascinating to take notice of is how consistent he was throughout his career employing these approaches to his films. De Palma’s second mainstream feature, Phantom of the Paradise (1974) shows De Palma’s early fascination with those overhead shots and sweeping long takes. Perhaps even more so than his contemporaries, De Palma – from the beginning – was forging a style all his own. Even in his later, more commercial properties like Scarface (1983), The Untouchables (1987), and Mission Impossible (1996), De Palma is able to pull a few novelties from his usual bag and tricks and hide them in plain sight.

A masterpiece of suspense in the midst of Mission Impossible (1996)

The three films mentioned immediately above are unique in the canon of Brian De Palma’s films as they represent a departure from his usual genre work. From the outset with his first true film, Sisters (1972), De Palma has had a predilection towards the genres of thriller and horror, no doubt spawned by the Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock who De Palma cites as his primary influence. Indeed, De Palma’s earliest films owe a great deal to Hitchcock whether it is overt – the use of the Psycho strings used throughout Carrie (1976) – or more subtly. Dressed to Kill (1980) is itself one long homage to Psycho from the casting of well-known blonde actress who is murdered little more than a third of the way into the movie, down to a psychiatrist’s explanation of the killer’s motivations acting as the film’s resolution.

Blow Out is the obvious highlight of this period for De Palma, a grand homage to the kind of thriller for which Hitchcock was so well known, but De Palma’s script manages to balance the tributes to Hitchcock alongside an equally engrossing political conspiracy and the story of a twisted serial killer; both tropes being ones with which the Master only ever flirted. Hitchcock, himself, called De Palma’s films mere fromage instead of homage, but De Palma’s movies stand tall and as heretical as it may be to claim, the elevator murder in Dressed to Kill is executed just as well and packs just as much of a punch – if not more – than the similar shower scene in Psycho.

Directing John Travolta and Nancy Allen in Blow Out (1981)

Of course, not every one of Brain De Palma’s films has emerged quite as strong as his early thrillers, but every director has missteps and De Palma should not be judged on The Bonfire of the Vanities (1990) alone. Indeed, throughout his career, De Palma has seen some positive press; when John Carpenter released his horror masterpiece, Halloween in 1978, some critics put it down as simply being a cheap imitation of De Palma’s style mixing suspense and out-and-out horror. Even today, I believe, the reevaluation of De Palma’s career is beginning: the 2015 documentary De Palma shed some light on what made the director tick and allowed him to defend even such lambasted films as Bonfire, and Kenneth Branagh’s more recent adaptation of Murder on the Orient Express (2017) pulled from the same cinematic stockpile which De Palma has made his own employing many long takes, POV, and overhead shots.

Perhaps the only reason that Brain De Palma has seemingly never generated the same praise as the others he ran with in the ‘70s is the simple reason that his film never revolutionized the artform in some way. De Palma was never granted a project which turned into the proto summer blockbuster like Jaws (1975); his original projects never had the same grand, operatic vision as Star Wars (1977); his films were less thematically challenging than Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1976); and his gangster movies were never embraced with the same universality as The Godfather (1972).

That in no way diminishes the films he created, though. Almost always operating on a far smaller scale than those others and dabbling in territory which they would seldom touch, De Palma created a series of visually striking, and memorable films. Once seen, it’s unlikely that one is going to easily forget a Brian De Palma movie. 

300 Words on "Phantom Thread" (2017)

Why did I like Phantom Thread so much?

I guess the best place to start would be the powerhouse performance from Daniel Day-Lewis, who had me mesmerized whenever he was on screen. Even with the most minute of movements like sewing a piece of fabric – which as high-class dressmaker Reynolds Woodcock – Day-Lewis does a lot, he was able to imbue the action with so much meaning and gravity.

Giving a performance just as striking is Vicky Krieps as Alma, the object of Woodcock’s affections. Krieps delivers a nuanced, mannered performance which packs so much sublimating, dark emotions that when finally glimpsed, feel so incredibly justified.

The original screenplay written by director Paul Thomas Anderson is no less intriguing. Any viewer who expects an intricate, labyrinth-like story from Phantom Thread may come away feeling cheated, but the screenplay is layered and complex all-the-same. I often found myself wondering just where the story was going with no idea what was in store for these mesmerizing characters. Anderson’s screenplay is swathed in an intangible uneasiness and I found myself riveted by its strange – at times inexplicable – sense of foreboding.

Complimenting that mood is outstanding, lush cinematography which lovingly lingers on the colors and textures of fabrics in just the same way that Day-Lewis’s Woodcock surely would. And the score – seemingly one long symphony – composed by Johnny Greenwood is just as fitting.

I left the theatre unable to put into words my feelings for Phantom Thread and few movies are able to do that to me, but I now see clearly that I, not unlike the characters of the film, fell under the spell of Phantom Thread. A beautifully-acted and produced enigma, Phantom Thread proves to be an engaging and ultimately disquieting picture. Its defies its audience to understand it all at once.

My silence leaving the theatre seems justified. 

300 Words on "Darkest Hour" (2017)

Watching an actor transform and totally disappear into their character on screen is thrilling. I derive a certain amount of fun out of trying to see behind the make-up and manufactured accent looking for something which I recognize in portrayals of this kind, but few, I think, have been quite as seamless as Gary Oldman in Darkest Hour. Indeed, there were moments when outfitted in the period costume and chomping on a cigar, that Oldman and Britain’s war-time Prime Minister could have been one and the same. Oldman’s performance is central to Darkest Hour, and he has rightfully been lauded for his work here as he brings just the right amount of larger-than-life magnetism and subtle character to one of the most recognizable (and often portrayed) figures of history.

Oldman is surely the most memorable and watchable member of the cast, but he is supplemented by a fine directorial sense under the hand of Joe Wright who enlivens some of the film’s slower, and more historically arcane bits with some inspired cinematography. Darkest Hour, I say without hesitation, boasts some of the most striking visuals for any film of 2017, and from its opening overhead shot of a bickering Parliament, I was intrigued.

Darkest Hour has been accused of being by-the-numbers Oscar bait, but I could not disagree more. The film stands on its own as an intelligently-written historical drama which makes for an interesting complement to other Oscar-worthy films depicting the era such as The King’s Speech (2010) and Dunkirk (2017). Unlike those other films, however, Darkest Hour doubles-down on the historical content but never loses sight of what it truly is: a character study, and it emerges as an engaging – and surprisingly moving -  piece showcasing Gary Oldman in what is surely the pinnacle of his achievements as an actor.