Poor Things (Movie Review)

 

⭐⭐⭐⭐1/2

Yorgos Lanthimos is certainly no stranger to making his audience feel a strange whirlwind of perplexing and almost unidentifiable emotions throughout the varying lengths of his films. His first film Dogtooth is a deliberately unpleasant experience that acted as an allegory for what it's like to live in a household of overbearing parents and unrealistic expectations that enforce an almost diabolically cold world view. I can't say I enjoyed watching it, but it is certainly a film that has stuck with me since I saw it. This coldness is something that many audiences will struggle to resonate with, and I will admit that I myself, while appreciating and admiring Lanthimos's boldness, wasn't fully on board with. I enjoyed The Killing of a Sacred Deer but I was relatively lukewarm on The Lobster, which also boasted a unique concept that I personally didn't feel like was explored as well as it could've been.

Enter Poor Things, Lanthimos's most ambitious project of his unique career thus far. Funnily enough, this isn't the only movie released in 2023 to feature a doll-like girl to roam around in an unfamiliar world, soaking up the mechanisms of a modern industrialized society and forming her opinions on sex, work, gender roles and more (the other film that fits this description is Greta Gerwig's Barbie, which I and many others enjoyed). However, Lanthimos wants to explore many of the same topics Gerwig did but in a much less accessible manner and I am all the more thankful that he is so unafraid to do his own thing in the face of endless commercialism. 

The alternate steampunk aesthetic that Robbie Ryan created, which was inspired by Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula, was such a joy to look at and it so wonderfully captures all the feelings of being dropped into an unfamiliar world, much like what a child would feel upon entering the world for the first time. Colors burst onto the screen at so many points throughout the movie, especially during the second and third act. Jerskin Fendrix's score, much like the film around it, was surprisingly catchy and simultaneously creepy, comprised mostly of monotonous strings and repetitive melodies that match the off-putting vibe that Lanthimos has captured here.

So yes, while the film boasts an amazing aesthetic and sound, the greatest strengths lie in the film's humor and in Emma Stone's performance. Lanthimos lets the humor bubble to the surface in many scenes, and the humor is boosted significantly by Mark Ruffalo, who's comedic timing and delivery are actually spot on. I especially liked Godwin's (Willem Dafoe) burp bubble, which had the whole audience laughing every time in happened. The humor is what separates this film from Lanthimos's other projects for me, which were far too serious and cold considering how intentionally silly the concepts were, especially in, say, The Lobster. I absolutely loved the bulldog birds and the body-less horse carriages. As for Emma Stone's performance, this is nothing short of career best work from an actor with such a wide range. Throughout the course of the film's ever-so-slightly overlong 141 minute runtime, the progression of her performance from child-like, both in movement and in line delivery, to posh and elegant as the plot progresses alongside her was beyond impressive, and the recognition and praises she is receiving are more than earned. Her performance and the humor keeps the film consistently watchable even when the pacing loses a tiny bit of steam in the second act. 

It's clear to me that Lanthimos feels a lot of compassion towards the central character here, which is what makes it work so much better for me than some of his other projects. Bella's journey to adapt to the modern world, and her observations of how women are treated in a world run by men devoid of compassion, produces poignant, thrillingly original and often quite funny results. Even if these sorts of movies aren't typically your thing, if you were one of the millions who saw and liked Barbie, you owe it to yourself and to women to see what all the fuss is about with Poor Things. 

Mulholland Drive - The Land of Lost Dreams

 

"Hey, pretty girl. Time to wake up." 

But I don't want to. I've seen Mulholland Drive quite a few times over the years, and I never fail to take something new away or to be continuously riveted by it each time. The final fifteen minutes of this film send shivers down my spine and give me goosebumps all over every single time. There are so many moving parts and hidden layers to this film, some only uncovered in a single line of dialogue that may seem trivial and inconsequential. However, as with all great filmmakers, every line, every detail, and every creative decision are crucial to understanding the meaning of this nightmare. 

David Lynch's opus opens up with a fever dream dance sequence, which we can later deduce is the jitterbug contest that made Diane Selwyn (Naomi Watts) interested in becoming an actress in Hollywood. Lynch's version of Hollywood retains a dreamy and surrealist atmosphere that we would later see in Inland Empire, which I would consider to be a nice double feature with this. However, the difference is that this is a puzzle where the pieces fit together. Following this, the next notable thing that occurs is a car accident that occurs just before a mysterious woman (Laura Harring) is about to be assassinated by two permanently unnamed men in suits. Alone, she wanders through the hazy night and into the city, but she doesn't remember who she is or why she is in Los Angeles. What follows is nearly two and a half hours of some of the most poignant, devastating and fascinating filmmaking ever captured. I can honestly say it's my favorite film of all time.

Freud's perspective on psychology is arguably misogynistic and inarguably outdated, as hardly any psychologists use the psychoanalytic approach anymore, but one thing that can't be denied is that his ideas on psychology have produced some incredible pieces of art and storytelling. Mulholland Drive stands out as being among the very best. The first section of the film, which takes up the significant majority of the runtime, plays very much like a dream. The overwhelming bright colors, the strange and almost stilted line delivery from Betty (the dream version of Diane) and the doughy eyed examination of Los Angeles all feed into this incredibly nuanced fantasy that Diane has. With that in mind, to understand this film, we need to work backwards. 

The second section of this film, which I would argue begins during Rita and Betty's visit to the Club Silencio theater, where Betty begins to tremble during the performer's explanation that everything the audience is hearing and seeing is an illusion. This is the moment in which the fantasy world begins to implode as it collides with reality. Diane's fantasy has been carefully constructed by her unconscious desires, and they craft a narrative that satisfies all of her insecurities and accomplishes all of the dreams that never worked out. The first and most important part of what the fantasy addresses is her intense desire to have Camilla sexually and also to become her. She is named Rita in the fantasy world. In reality, Camilla was the one who attracted the eye of the famous movie director and not Diane, and she left her to be with him, which causes Diane such immense and overwhelming jealousy that she is unable to cope with it. Not only does Camilla wind up representing her shortcomings from a romantic perspective but also from a career perspective too. I personally find it impossible to not feel very sorry for Diane, as what she is experiencing is a whirlwind of emotions that permeates modern life more than it has in any other point in human history.

To address the romantic aspect of her life in the fantasy, Camilla loses her memory, which gives Diane the opportunity to rescue her and make her fall in love with her again. It doesn't simply stop at making Rita fall in love with her, but she goes out of her way to humiliate the director Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux) in every way imaginable. His creative role as a filmmaker is stolen from him by gangsters, his wife is cheating on him and throws him out of his own house. Oh, and he loses all of his money. On first viewing, it's comical and seems to be totally uncalled for, as you can't help but feel bad for this guy being humiliated and belittled in every aspect of his life for seemingly no reason. On repeat viewings, it becomes more clear why Diane's mind is going so far out of her way to annihilate him. To top it all off, he is starstruck by her when she enters the room during the auditions for the lead role in his next movie, which is being meddled with by mobsters. However, she has to leave because she promised to help Rita investigate the mystery of her own forgotten identity, which serves as Diane's unconscious providing her with a reason for why her dreams of becoming an actress never worked out the way she wanted. At this point in the fantasy, Rita and Betty begin to merge into one. They investigate the apartment of a woman named Diane Selwyn, who died sometime ago. It is later revealed by the end of the movie that this is in fact Betty/Diane, as she is lying in the same bed in the same position. As the two of them escape, the camera blurs the two actresses together, signifying that her unconscious has succeeded in molding Rita into exactly what Betty/Diane wants her to be.

Romance and the agonizing jealousy stemming from it aren't the only things that Diane's fantasy addresses, as there are many layers and nuances to it that carefully fix what she perceives as wrong her life. Circling back to the end of the film, I think a clue that we need to take into account is that the waitress in the cafe, who is played by the same woman, has a name tag of Betty in the real world, and a name tag of Diane in the fantasy world. This can be interpreted in many ways, but the way I have interpreted this over the years is that Diane, in the real world, is in fact working as a waitress while trying to get her big break as an actress in a city filled with an endless supply of people just like her: individuals trying to stand out in a system that forces you to be stagnant. Unfortunately for Diane, the farthest she was able to reach was getting smaller parts in some of Camilla's films, with the most notable seeming to be the one Camilla and Adam made. The scene where Adam instructs the actor on how to kiss Camilla the way he wants by demonstrating it on her himself enrages Diane, as we see by her piercing facial expression. It's a masterful performance by Watts, who transcends any adjective I could use to describe what she accomplishes here. 

With her job as a waitress in mind, Diane's fantasy constructs a narrative that whoever gets these roles only got them because they were rigged; that the only reason an actor got the leading role is because mysterious and inexplicable forces pulled invisible strings to give them that opportunity. An unnamed and unexplained group of men who appear to be mobsters infiltrate the movie that Adam is making, and when it becomes clear that he doesn't want to cast the girl they want (who is named Camilla Rhodes, and looks like the woman who kissed the real Camilla in front of Diane at the engagement party near the end of the film), they sabotage Adam in every way imaginable in the ways touched on earlier. 

Betty shows herself to be a fantastic actress in the scene where she auditions for her first film. She makes a comment to Rita that the scene is lame, but she nonetheless pours her heart and soul into the audition. She decides to play the scene in a much more sexual and provocative manner than she rehearsed, ultimately allowing herself to be fondled by the actor (and leaning into it) in order to give herself that much more of an edge to get the role. I think she internalized this detail when she sees Camilla and Adam kiss during the scene discussed earlier, and takes it as if Camilla only got the role she wanted with Adam because she allowed her sexuality to be taken advantage of by powerful men in Hollywood. I'm not accusing Adam of being a sexual predator, as this is all speculation, but this is simply my interpretation of how Diane internalizes what she sees in the real world that shapes her fantasy world.

Unable to cope with her jealousy and longing to not only have Camilla, but also to BE Camilla, she uses what is left of the money that her aunt left her to hire a hitman to kill her. He tells Diane in the same Winkie's restaurant from near the beginning of the film that she will find a blue key in the spot he told her it would be at when the job is finished, which is eerily similar to the blue key found in the fantasy. Diane is racked with what I can only imagine is an overwhelming and tremendous amount of guilt, combined with the stress of being watched by the police. In one of the funniest scenes in the film, Diane's fantasy comforts her by presenting the hitman as a clumsy moron who failed to kill Camilla, which is evidenced in the following scene when he asks a woman if she has seen a brunette who speaks Spanish on the streets. The old people let out of the box by the creature behind the diner (which I believe is meant to be a humanoid manifestation of the lost dreams found throughout the streets of Hollywood; a recurring motif in all of David Lynch's films) are actually the same old people we see dropping Betty off from the airport when she first moves to the big city towards the beginning of the film when we are first introduced to Betty as a character. The old smiling woman is her aunt; the same aunt who left her the money to go to Hollywood to pursue her acting dreams, which adds a cruel and ironic layer to how her guilt manifests itself, and it makes for one of the scariest endings to a movie you'll ever see. Diane commits suicide as she runs from her hallucinations by shooting herself in the head. In the fantasy world, Diane is dead via what looks like pills, which is Diane's way of fantasizing about preserving her beauty in death.

Ultimately, what Diane's unconscious is doing for her is comforting her. If she didn't become a movie star, it was because it was rigged against her from the start. If she can't have Camilla, it's because she was stolen from her by someone else. Mulholland Drive is a film about Hollywood being a land of lost dreams, filled with unfulfilled aspirations and jealousy on every corner of every street. Such can be said about basically any city in the 21st century, though. I live in San Jose, a mere six or seven hours north of Los Angeles, and it's almost identical in that sense. This happens in every city you've ever been in. You pass by people with dreams that will never be fulfilled. It's ironic; in modern urban life you are surrounded by people at all times, and yet, there is no lonelier place.

At some point or another, we are all Diane Selwyn.

Get to Know Me: My Favorites of all Time

Hello everyone! I realize this probably should have been the first blog post, but as movie lovers know, it’s never a bad time to share your favorite movies. The best part of having this as a hobby is being able to recommend great movies to others. Few things in life are as enjoyable to us cinephiles than when someone gets back to us on something we suggested to them telling us how much they enjoyed it. It goes without saying that it also feels amazing to show a friend or family member a movie you love and watch their reactions to all the best scenes and moments. There are literally countless great films from all over the world, in more languages than any one person could ever hope to speak in their lifetime. Of course, this means that there are many more great films than are listed here, so this is in no way an attempt to act like my taste is in any way more refined than anyone else. Without further ado, let’s get into it! To provide some structure, these won’t be ranked except for the final ten entries, and, this is just a matter of personal preference, so I’m also not necessarily saying that any of these movies are “better” than the others as these all represent what is, to me, as good as movies can be. This list will more or less be a surface level introduction on my thoughts for each of the movies, but I would love to write a more in-depth retrospective review on them as I revisit them!

20. Taxi Driver (1976) Dir. Martin Scorsese

Kicking off the list is Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver, starring Robert De Niro in one of his many career defining roles, and this is not the last time he and Scorsese appear on this list. While Scorsese and De Niro initially set out to make a film about the seedier parts of New York City, they realized that the movie they were making was about the man at the center of it all. It’s a difficult movie to watch, not necessarily because of the content or violence, but because there isn’t a singular thread that runs throughout the film’s plot throughout the course of the runtime, which renders the film difficult to decipher on first viewing. On repeat viewings, the film’s descent into nihilism and masculine fantasy become more harrowing and unsympathetic, resulting in one of the most fascinating character studies in cinema. 

19. The Wrestler (2008) Dir. Darren Aronofsky

Darren Aronofsky is a filmmaker where all reactions are reasonable. There are those who love the raw and undeniable emotional power that many of his films have, but there are also those who don’t see his movies as anything other than glorified and pretentious misery porn. While I definitely think the latter group’s criticisms are certainly valid at times, The Wrestler is innocent of all such claims. It’s such a heart-wrenching portrayal of aging and self-destruction, anchored by a career best performance by Mickey Rourke. The story parallels Rourke’s own personal battles, capped off by a staggeringly beautiful finale that is sure to pack an emotional punch. 

18. Lawrence of Arabia (1964) Dir. David Lean

I’ll admit that I’ve only seen this film in its entirety once, but that one time was fortunate enough to be in a packed theater full of respectful moviegoers. David Lean is no stranger to the historical epic that we just don’t see too often anymore, and Lawrence of Arabia stands out as his opus, though Bridge on the River Kwai is a close second. The ambition in scale and the filmmaking is staggering, most particularly in a sequence in which a legion of horseback riders charge a town in the desert, and the wide angle gives us a complete view of everything that is happening. It’s literally impossible to not be in awe of how many moving pieces are operating at once to create such a sequence. Clocking in at nearly four hours, it is certainly a commitment, but one that Lean and Peter O’Toole make more than worth your while. 

17. Heaven’s Gate (1980) Dir. Michael Cimino

Michael Cimino’s Heaven’s Gate is arguably the single most notorious box office flop of all time. It was such a commercial failure, that the studio that funded it went bankrupt after its release. In addition to being a commercial failure, the film was also relentlessly attacked by critics on release. Pardon me sounding like a conspiracy theorist, but I believe there was a coordinated attack on this film due to how scathing and cynical this film’s portrayal of American history is. This is nothing short of an evisceration of American mythology, one where there is no liberty and justice for anyone unless you are rich. An absolutely monumental cinematic achievement, and it features some of the best looking cinematography you’ll ever see. 

16. Scarface (1983) Dir. Brian De Palma

Remakes are a funny thing, because they can easily be ripoffs that reek of being little more than a lazy way for a studio to make some money, but they can also become cornerstones that redefine a genre and far surpass the original film. Brian De Palma’s modernization of the gangster classic is so much more intelligent than has been given credit over the decades since its release. Pacino’s deliberately two dimensional acting demonstrates such a clear understanding of narcissism, the perception of blue collar crime versus white collar crime and more that I’m amazed this isn’t talked about more in the conversations of greatest movies ever. The final shootout is iconic, but it’s everything else that sets it up that makes it one of the greatest gangster films of all time. 

15. Once Upon a Time in the West (1969) Dir. Sergio Leone

The first of two times you will see Sergio Leone on this list. As far as filmmaking techniques go, I feel that he had more or less perfected what he wanted to accomplish by the time he got to For a Few Dollars More, but while the Dollars trilogy is undeniably fun and exciting, there isn’t much in the way of contextualizing the violence in real American history. Leone casts against type, having Fonda play a merciless hired killer who was hired by a railroad tycoon to force a family off of its land so he could build a railroad through it. A perfect example of when style meets substance, and without a doubt my favorite western of all time. 

14. Pulp Fiction (1994) Dir. Quentin Tarantino

This might be a safe or easy choice to include in a top movies list, but at the end of the day, if you love a movie, then that’s all that really matters. It’s so endlessly quotable, and while it may seem like this is a film about nothing, it is about the importance of learning from the nothingness of our everyday lives. There isn’t an overarching narrative that connects every day of our lives, which reflects the plot of this movie. Every main character in this film, with the exception of one, learns something that helps them grow as a person. This is also one of the funniest movies ever made, but obviously in a very twisted way. 

13. The Shawshank Redemption (1994) Dir. Frank Darabont

This is another entry that may seem like a safe choice, but the emotional impact is rarely equalled, and it has one of the most satisfying endings in cinematic history to boot. The way this has so much empathy for prisoners and humanizes them to such an intense degree requires a level of compassion few filmmakers possess. As an author, Stephen King shows us that he mines so much humanity from situations that seem so hopeless. Combine that with a cast and crew bursting at the seams with empathy, and you’ve got a recipe for a classic. I won’t deny that this is probably an emotionally manipulative movie, but is that not the filmmakers’ jobs to a degree, at the end of the day? 

12. Apocalypse Now (1979) Dir. Francis Ford Coppola

Francis Ford Coppola’s passion project that nearly broke him lands at number 12 on my list, and it’s because of the sheer audacity of this film that lands it so high. I adore movies that follow this sort of structure, where the characters go on a physical journey to a place or person that represents a psychological transformation. This LSD trip of a war film is mesmerizing to behold on every viewing, and I had the pleasure to see the release of the Final Cut in a packed theater back in summer of 2019. Having seen all three versions of the film, my recommendation is to seek out the theatrical cut that was originally released back in 1979. For me, the extra footage doesn’t do too much for the film’s story other than hurting the pacing as it takes multiple detours. I love Martin Sheen’s performance, even though Brando’s Kurtz is what often gets discussed the most despite the limited runtime. 

11. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975) Dir. Miloš Forman

Perhaps one of the most important movies on the list, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest opened the eyes of the public to the atrocities that mental hospitals were committing against the people they were supposed to be taking care of. Unbelievably heartbreaking, and I seem to be in the minority of people that think the movie outclasses the book. Mac is a more compelling protagonist for a movie to be centered around and the performances from Jack Nicholson, Louise Fletcher, Will Sampson, Brad Dourif and the rest of the cast complement Miloš Forman’s sympathetic and humanistic direction so wonderfully that it makes it impossible for the film to not linger long after it ends. This is so important because this represents a demographic that was discarded and dehumanized for decades and increased social awareness of the truly sickening and barbaric methods these institutions used to “treat” the mentally ill. 

10. Boogie Nights (1997) Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

The rise and fall narrative is one that appears many, many times throughout cinema, but PTA’s masterpiece Boogie Nights plugs this narrative into a world that the vast majority are unfamiliar with. Roger Ebert called it an “epic of the low road”, and while I won’t get on here to be condescending towards people in the porn industry, it is still undoubtedly a somewhat shady industry to be involved in. It features an incredible cast boasting the likes of Mark Wahlberg, Burt Reynolds, Julianne Moore and more (haha), all giving truly wonderful performances that locate so much humanity in a demographic we might not think about too often in our lives. The filmmaking and storytelling style are both evidently inspired by Goodfellas, which is never a bad thing. 

9. The Shining (1980) Dir. Stanley Kubrick

This isn’t the only time Stanley Kubrick will appear on this list. The Shining is not only arguably his most popular film (despite mixed to negative reactions at release) and iconic movie, but it’s also genuinely terrifying. Nicholson’s performance as a man driven to madness by cabin fever and a scary hotel. I haven’t watched this in a while, so my thoughts aren’t the most cohesive, but the 4K restoration of this is absolutely stunning to look at and listen to. 

8. Goodfellas (1990) Dir. Martin Scorsese

 There isn’t much to say about Goodfellas that hasn’t been said already. It’s one of the most popular movies of all time, moves at a breakneck pace and is wildly entertaining from start to finish. Every rewatch, I’m always blown away by how consistently engaging it is. Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci always get props for how much they add to their characters in the film, but Ray Liotta provides such a great emotional anchor for the audience to latch onto. You’ve probably already seen it, but go watch it again! 

7. Chinatown (1974) Dir. Roman Polanski

Separating the artist from the art is an unavoidable debate when Roman Polanski’s name comes up. What he did is undeniably despicable, but that, at least to me, doesn’t render what he and Robert Towne are communicating about how the elites operate on their own intangible plane of existence by design, which is ironic for that reason in and of itself, but that is beside the point. The main protagonist, Jake Gittes (Jack Nicholson) is so easy to connect with due to how he is cynical and yet still cares about doing what he feels is the right thing for others. The film is overpowering in its pessimism due to how deliberately brutal and cruel the ending is to its audience. The first time I saw it, I had no choice but to sink into my seat and was unable to find the correct words to express my thoughts and feelings as the credits hauntingly began to roll, and honestly, it’s just as difficult on whichever rewatch you’re on, as well. 

6. American Psycho (2000) Dir. Mary Harron

I credit this film as being the film that got me into more abstract and more challenging films. To take it as an analysis of a serial killer is fun, but it misses the point of the utterly brilliant satire. There are so many layers to how cleverly this eviscerates the financial industry and more specifically Wall Street. One of the many possible takeaways is that a serial killer would blend in on Wall Street a little too well, but to me, what this is communicating more than anything is a critique on how toxic masculinity is rewarded in a world that celebrates being selfish and materialistic. Reading the screenplay, it would have been so easy for this movie to be absolutely terrible, but Mary Harron’s confident direction and an incredible, career-best performance by Christian Bale solidify this as one of the greatest pieces of satire ever made. 

5. The Godfather: Part II (1974) Dir. Francis Ford Coppola

Yet another movie on the list where there’s really nothing to say that hasn’t been said already. Everything about it is perfect, and the carefully crafted juxtaposition that damns Michael Corleone and sends him on a path to self-destruction is incredibly haunting. It helps that the flawless screenplay is carried by career best work from Al Pacino. 

4. Full Metal Jacket (1987) Dir. Stanley Kubrick 

One of the most fascinating aspects of the mythical filmmaker Stanley Kubrick is that you can ask five people their favorite film from him and you would get three to five different answers. Some will answer The Shining, 2001: A Space Odyssey, etc. I’ve even encountered some who put Eyes Wide Shut or Barry Lyndon in such regard, but for me, my answer is without a doubt Full Metal Jacket. I’ve watched a lot of war movies at this point, and while there are a lot of truly great films that cover the subject, I haven’t encountered any other film that understands that there are no heroes in war. War instead becomes an expression for warped masculinity, with violence and cynicism being fused together to simply laugh at the horrors and trauma rather than acknowledge how horrific it is. By the end of the film, Joker, played in a criminally underrated performance by Matthew Modine, realizes that the “thousand yard stare” is not something to be proud of, but rather an expression for the shame and guilt that killers with empathy should feel for the rest of their lives. The final shot of the characters walking into the darkness surrounded by fire is a perfect punctuation to this Jungian portrayal of what war does to someone’s psyche. 

3. Raging Bull (1980) Dir. Martin Scorsese

To me, the most searing and intense examination of masculinity, jealousy and the true toll these constructs take on one man when he is unable to overcome them. Robert De Niro’s performance is not only a career best, but he captures something within Schrader’s screenplay that functions as a more brutal, less sympathetic version of “God’s Lonely Man” that was pioneered in Taxi Driver, one of Scorsese and De Niro’s previous collaborations. Although I view this as Scorsese’s finest work, it is most definitely not one of his more accessible films. It’s not funny or fun in any way, really, and it’s extremely unsympathetic in its portrayal of its lead character. LaMotta is immensely unlikable, and it makes no qualms about showing him as a remarkably unpleasant person to be around for everyone in his life. There is so much anger oozing out of basically every moment of this experience, and the brutality of what goes on in the ring serves as atonement and catharsis for both LaMotta and the viewer. It’s a swarm of negative emotions that has never been replicated since, but it’s an incredibly profound experience and an exercise in empathy and compassion.

2. Once Upon a Time in America (1984) Dir. Sergio Leone

I won’t pretend that this is a film for everyone. It’s four hours long. It’s about a murderer and a rapist. It’s incredibly violent, especially towards women. A lot of people who watch this film won’t be able to look beyond some or all of these, and that is totally okay. But, for those who have the patience to truly listen to what Leone is communicating about the American Dream, the deconstruction of the gangster myth, as well as acting as a coda for Leone’s career of embracing cynicism by finding beauty in a world where death is treated so nonchalantly. The warm, golden cinematography as well as Morricone’s most beautiful score, capture grandiose melancholy, nostalgia and fantasy in a way I’ve never seen done before. De Niro’s beautifully understated performance often doesn’t get recognized as being among his best work, but it’s so nuanced and subtle that it demonstrates an understanding of the craft rarely seen. 

1. Mulholland Drive (2001) Dir. David Lynch 

I’ve gone back and forth on if this or Once Upon a Time in America is my favorite movie of all time, and while I believe that is the greatest movie ever made due to all the reasons I explained, there’s something about Mulholland Drive that has me wanting to come back to it so often. It’s a nightmare I never want to wake up from. It is without hyperbole that I say that David Lynch is my favorite artist of all time, and I absolutely love how his mind operates in storytelling. His surrealist, horror-esque approach to exploring unconscious fears is so unique, so chilling and so fascinating. It’s a difficult movie to fully understand on the first viewing, and, to think about it, it’s probably impossible to understand how all of this film’s puzzle pieces fit together on the initial viewing, but I was personally totally glued to the screen for every second the first time. I’ve never seen another film that explores jealousy in this type of way, but to say that’s all it does would be very reductive, as this also very much about the unconscious reasons we make for ourselves to explain why our dreams didn’t work out the way we wanted them too. A staggering and absolutely monumental cinematic achievement.

Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire (Movie Review)

⭐⭐1/2 

Science fiction has been in a bit of a pickle for a few years now, as it is extremely hard for filmmakers to create something that truly feels original without borrowing heavily from other franchises or standalone films. However, there is a difference between borrowing and being inspired and essentially blatantly ripping off. Zack Snyder, a filmmaker who I’ve defended for years now, and while he is clearly a competent filmmaker, it’s very hard to defend this. Right off the bat, there is no reason for this to be a part one, as Snyder has had no hesitations in the past of extending his films’ runtimes. There is nothing about this universe that can’t be told entirely in one lengthy movie. The long awaited Snyder Cut of Justice League clocked in at approximately four hours and was more than a complete movie, which could have benefited this as well. I’m probably just rambling now, but it really is somewhat baffling that Snyder was allowed to cut his movie in half with no discernible purpose. 

Calling this a ripoff doesn’t quite capture just how unoriginal this is. Nearly every facet of this is copied basically verbatim from Star Wars, right down to the costumes reminiscent of Nazi attire. Charlie Hunnam’s character is obviously a copy of Han Solo; the villain is obviously a copy of the Empire; the robot voiced by Anthony Hopkins is obviously a copy of C3PO and so on. There’s even a point where the characters draw a sword that is obviously a copy of a lightsaber. These similarities were so striking that I had to double check if this was a Star Wars movie at some point, and to my surprise, it was. Funnily enough, Snyder originally described this as “Seven Samurai in space” which was also what Lucas intended those original films to be. Originally pitched as a darker take on the mythical franchise in 1997 that was rejected, Netflix decided to give Snyder a shot to make what he pitched all those years before. 

Despite the elephant in the room of this being a ripoff, none of this is outwardly terrible. It looks nice and the production value is great, and the performances are serviceable even Charlie Hunnam’s accent is… interesting to say the least (I will clarify that I think Hunnam is a talented actor and that I have been a big fan of him since his Sons of Anarchy days). It has some nice emotional beats and the exposition dumps are put on hold for some well choreographed action. Unfortunately, this action is rendered somewhat toothless by the PG-13 rating. Many of Netflix’s movies are butchered by said rating, but there is still a palpable excitement in the action sequences that make the movie decent enough, even if there is an almost comical reliance on slow motion that has become a signature in Snyder’s filmmaking at this point, and while that may be a point of criticism for other moviegoers, it’s not something that bothers me in his films. 

It’s perfectly watchable, and that’s about it.

Saltburn (Movie Review)

⭐⭐ 

Satires poking fun at the rich are nothing new. Even as far back as the 1920s and 1930s, cinema was used to make fun of how disillusioned and disconnected the elites are from the reality of the working class. Films like Metropolis, The Rules of the Game, and then skipping ahead multiple decades, Parasite, The Menu and many more were all immensely popular. It’s a worthy topic to make a satire on given today’s political climate, but certain filmmakers, and more importantly, screenwriters, have a much better feel on how to actually hit their targets than others. 

Emerald Fennell is not one of these filmmakers. Fresh off of her Oscar-winning film Promising Young Woman, the film is undeniably stylistically bold, but what else is there really to this experience? Fennell’s screenplay feels cripplingly misguided in its depiction of the relationship between the elites and the working class. For starters, the rich family may superficially appear to be snobby and annoying, and they certainly are, but it makes it very clear that they are the victims in this story. Their little utopia is disturbed and dismantled when they include outsider Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan) into their lifestyle. There is even a scene in which he literally describes himself as a vampire, which is the kind of subtlety we are dealing with here. This framing of the rich as victims of outsiders feels extremely misguided and inaccurate, seeing as how we are facing unprecedented and unfathomable levels of wealth inequality, especially in the United States. 

And this leads us to ultimately undoes any effectiveness this movie may have. It isn’t necessarily in how the perspective and blanket portrayal of working class people are inaccurate, but that this film isn’t actually saying anything at all about class. While many of the aforementioned films and other notable satires about this subject focus on things like the deliberate exclusivity, inbred callousness and other subjects, Saltburn has absolutely nothing on its mind beyond being a weird movie. Keoghan’s performance is fine, but Fennell always makes sure to make a point in just how weird he is. Fennell focuses on how everyone whispers about how strange he is behind his back, and how kind and supportive Felix (Jacob Elordi) is to him in spite of his obvious strangeness. This compassion Felix shows to Oliver is just hard to buy, as Oliver gives him very little reason to want to be around him to begin with. 

Oliver’s motivations are also rather unclear, as we never find out if he is doing this because he is in love with Felix, or if it’s because he really is just a leech who wants to take all of the rich family’s resources. I think this would have worked much better if it zeroed in on the sexual fantasy element of Oliver’s plan. Fennell could have abandoned the class satire and instead turned this into a surrealist odyssey reminiscent of Mulholland Drive, but alas, what we get instead is a shallow attempt at satire that falsely assumes that wealth is worshiped not necessarily because that’s the only thing people strive for, but because you have no choice when you are born into a capitalistic society that prioritizes material over character. My first thought when this finished was that this must be a neoliberal's worst nightmare.

The Iron Claw (Movie Review)

 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

The Iron Claw is the latest biographical sports drama, exploring the true and unexpectedly tragic story of the Von Erich family, the Texas family who was largely responsible for the massive surge in wrestling’s popularity in the late 1970s and 1980s. The film is directed by Sean Durkin and stars Zac Efron, Jeremy Allen White, Harris Dickinson, Maura Tierney, Stanley Simons, Holt McCallany and Lily James. 

Wrestling is a sport not often explored in cinema, as the industry has often chosen to use boxing as a vehicle to explore warped perceptions of masculinity instead. There’s something more elegant and graceful to wrestling, rather than the strategic (and real) jabs and vicious competition in boxing. But, as with any great sports drama, this is a film that is about more than just wrestling, because what this finds within the ring is an expression of turgid masculinity that is hard to not find tragic even when you don’t consider the drama outside of the ring. 

I absolutely loved this whole movie from start to finish. The authenticity of the 1970s aesthetic was a treat to look at, complemented by a fittingly nostalgia-inducing classic rock playlist featuring songs everyone has heard, such as “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” and “Tom Sawyer”. The camera often focuses intensely on the sweat glistening all of these damaged men’s bodies, fetishizing the brutality without criticizing what it is that they are clearly so passionate about. Durkin’s screenplay clearly has a lot of empathy for its subject matter and it’s all the better for it. I went into this film completely blind to the real story, and if you are able, that is how I recommend you experience it as well. 

It may be easy to look at the physiques in the movie and think that this is another movie in which the actors’ physical transformations are the performances, and maybe one could argue that Efron specifically has been typecast that way for a few years now, but he accomplishes something that can only be described as career best work. Despite what I just said, his physique and passions appear to, at least on the surface, be hypermasculine, but he conveys a gentleness to all of the dramatic scenes that make it hard to not like his character despite some of his relatively inconsequential shortcomings as a husband and father. 

A thread that runs throughout is Kevin’s jealousy of his brothers, as his father notices their brutal work ethics more so than him, and seems to go out of his way to get shows for them. This jealousy escalates as the family’s fame becomes more and more widespread, and it’s put into perspective by Durkin’s script, which focuses on Kevin’s workouts, which include rigorous weight training and runs. Take that and combine it with how Kevin idolizes his father as the man who represents his family in the eyes of the country, and you’ve got a man constantly reminded of his own insecurities while desperately wanting to be able to do the same as his father. It may be easy to look at wrestling and dismiss it due to the fact that the “competition” is predetermined before the match begins, but we should ask ourselves if this is fundamentally any different than, say, a ballerina’s routine. Just because it’s a performance, that doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real.

Maestro (Movie Review)

 

⭐️⭐️

 

There’s a scene in Bradley Cooper’s sophomore directorial effort Maestro that perfectly captures what I view as the fundamental problem with this film. In the scene, Leonard Bernstein (Cooper) and Felicia Montealegre (Mulligan) are having a passionate argument with each other about how exhausting he is to be around, and it’s shot in one continuous take and from a distance. It’s an engrossing scene that both looks great and features some fine performances from its two leads, but the camera being far away from its focal points serves as an accidental reminder that so little of this has any intimacy, despite how pretty it looks and how showy it loves to be. 

In fact, most of this is frustratingly superficial. I didn’t know anything about Leonard Bernstein before the movie started, and by the end of the film’s 131 minute runtime, I don’t feel like I knew much about him afterward. Cooper chooses to focus the most on his marriage to Montealegre, which is a fine decision in theory, but I don’t feel like he or anyone else involved came even close to trying to express what they clearly wanted to. Even with regards to the composing, I have no idea what made Bernstein stand out as a composer from anyone else. 

I seriously question why Bradley Cooper even chose to make this movie. If I had to guess, it’s because he clearly wants an Oscar VERY badly. I mean, why else does anyone make biopics these days? There are a lot of fine impersonations, but this still plays out like a glorified, handsomely mounted reenactment of a Wikipedia page rather than any compelling drama. While the makeup is generally impressive, I found Cooper’s prosthetic nose and chin to be incredibly distracting, and this is definitely one of those performances where it’s hard not to focus on an actor “acting”. It is the very definition of Oscar bait, right down to the one word title with a double meaning. 

The best performance in the film by a mile is Mulligan’s, but I found her dialogue to be very unnatural and grating. Truth be told, I don’t know if this is how Montealegre actually spoke in real life, but it sounds overly elegant and posh and made it feel like I was watching a caricature born from someone’s imagination rather than what seems real. It’s fitting that one of the first scenes between Bernstein and Montealegre is a tender moment where the two rehearse lines from one of her upcoming performances, which is also accidentally symbolic for how annoyingly superficial all of this really is. Make no mistake, this is little else than a vehicle for Cooper’s and Mulligan’s obvious and undeniable talents, and it’s also crystal clear that Cooper wants an Oscar rather desperately. 

And speaking of compelling drama, I can’t for the life of me figure out what the actual conflict of this movie or Bernstein’s life is. He was clearly a gifted artist who devoted his life to it and was extremely successful by every measurable way of defining the word, and, despite some of his personal shortcomings, never seemed to be at any real risk of losing any of the things this success brought him. That being said, none of what I’ve said about this film is enough to make me not root for Bradley Cooper, both in front of and behind the camera as well. With his debut A Star is Born, he proved himself as a filmmaker who absolutely has the capability of mining raw emotional power from the text, but while this might represent what is debatably a formal improvement over his debut, this has almost none of the impact that film had. A disappointment, but I will always be interested in what Cooper decides to do next.