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| Mikey Madison |
Enough bouquets have been bestowed upon Sean Baker's Anora that I am not going to belabor the point. The players are uniformly superb. As with the ignored and equally gripping Red Rocket, Anora points towards the growth of Baker as a visual artist. However, it is Mr. Baker's editing that gives the right amount of propulsion to what is essentially a tale concerning transactional relationships and romantic disillusion. It is not a romantic comedy, it upends romantic comedy.Cody Calahan's Vicious Fun, from 2020, is a Canadian comedy horror film that aims for yuks rather than chills. A nerdy horror scribe (oxymoronic?) stumbles upon a serial killer support group in 1983 with fatal results. Calahan lovingly apes the tone and look of 80s horror in this slight, but winning film. The ensemble work is first class, particularly Evan Marsh, a master of spit takes, Amber Goldfarb, Ari Millen, and David Koechner. Gints Zilbalodis' Flow, the Latvian film which recently won Best Animated Feature at the Oscars, follows the adventures of a cat a in flood filled world devoid of humans. The film meanders pleasantly. The lack of a strong narrative lets the viewer be immersed in Zilbalodis' 360 degree world building which is similar to that of a video game.
Scott Derrickson's The Gorge, currently streaming on Apple+, is mindless, yet enjoyable sci-fi pulp. The film stars Anya Taylor-Joy and Miles Taylor as professional assassins tasked with culling mutants which were the result of a chemical weapons mishap. Thanks to the chemistry of the two leads, the film succeeds as a romance even though its premise is thoroughly idiotic. Ms. Taylor-Joy, in particular, has never been as playful and frisky. Sigourney Weaver is in support in a paycheck role.
Errol Morris' Chaos: The Manson Murders is a succinct summation of the notorious cases. Youngsters with little knowledge of these examples of grisly true crime and 60s paranoia will be the most edified. Morris is still a nervy director and he gives the film the tabloid style the subject demands: the viewer is treated to shots of glass eyes and maggots. The primary talking head (Tom O'Neill), a co-writer of the book which is the basis of the film, attempts to link Manson with the CIA's MKUltra program. The direct link between the two, even Mr. O'Neill admits, has not emerged.
Ken Loach's The Old Oak, like all the British veteran's films, teeters on a tightrope between warm humanism and sententious socialist solidarity. A northern English community welcomes Syrian refugees, some warmly, like the owner of a titular pub, and some not so warmly. Loach types his nationalistic villains so broadly that they resemble cartoons. The acting varies wildly. I did like the Durham Cathedral sequence and the concluding glimpse of that town's Miners Gala. The latter would prove to be a fitting cap to his career if this should prove to be his swan song. I will give Loach credit for staying true to his Marxist principles even to the point of getting tossed out of the UK Labour party.
Dominque Abel and Fiona Martin's The Falling Star is a lame Belgian comedy, seemingly a mixture of Tati, Kaurismäki, and Quaaludes. The cinematography and production design are assuredly smart, yet the picture is thoroughly unenjoyable. The spirited cast is up for anything, especially dance numbers, but the plot wouldn't pass muster for a Monogram Pictures musical. A film that strains for humor.
Edward Berger's Conclave is a thriller that doesn't thrill. Full of middlebrow musings on impotent issues, it is the most boring commercial film to feature the Sistine Chapel since Carol Reed's The Agony and the Ecstasy. The elderly actors make this static spectacle watchable, particularly Stanley Tucci, but Berger's direction is as anodyne as it was in his version of All Quiet on the Western Front. The film's moral stands, against religious fundamentalism and gender rigidity, are feeble rather than febrile. Ultimately, an underwhelming filmic experience.
Aram Avakian's 11 Harrowhouse, from 1974, is a British based heist film that lands with a resounding thud. Part of a brace of films from that era that attempted to rethink noir conventions (including but not limited to Play It Again, Sam, Chinatown, Gumshoe, Pulp, The Sting, and The Long Goodbye), the film's attempts at humor and suspense are woeful. Leads Charles Grodin and Candace Bergen have only a negative chemistry. Trevor Howard overacts as if he was in a hurry to leave the set. Grace notes are provided by James Mason and John Gielgud, but this disaster finished Avakian's career as a commercial director. He was a very good editor. A flick to avoid.
