Tag Archives: movie reviews

Review: Cold War

cold war

I don’t often wish that movies were significantly longer than they already are, but I think Cold War easily could have added another 20-30 minutes to its run time. And not in the sense where I just wanted to spend more time with the characters (although also kind of that). It’s because a scant 89 minutes didn’t feel long enough to tell this story in a fully satisfying way.

Following the “romantic epic” model, Cold War bounces between years and countries to tell the complicated love story of Wiktor (Tomasz Kot) and Zula (Joanna Kulig). But the story moves at such a clip that it’s not until the second act, taking place largely in Paris, where it feels like the film finally gets the space it deserves to let the story breathe.

Obviously it was Pawlikowski’s intention to present the story more in snippets or as fragments of a relationship. I’m just not sure I agree with him that that was the best way.

You may be surprised to learn, though, that my review of the movie is a positive one. The truth is that I liked everything else about the film so much that I still think it’s ultimately a success, and quite a visual achievement in particular. The black and white cinematography (as was the case in Pawlikowski’s previous film, Ida) is absolutely stunning, heightening the tension, longing, and volatility of many a scene.

The performances, too, are excellent. Kot is equal parts sadsack and dreamboat (to great effect), while Kulig deserves every word of praise she’s been getting for her turn. Zula is a fantastically complex and fiery character, and Kulig brings both the charisma and depth to carry her off perfectly. (I’ve been seeing a lot of Jennifer Lawrence comparisons, but there are many moments where she seemed to me the spitting image of a young Gena Rowlands.)

It was a thrill simply watching the central relationship play out. While I did feel the narrative structure made Cold War feel remote at times, ultimately the spirited performances and dazzling visuals brought it right back into the here and now.

Review: Sorry to Bother You

sorry to bother you

When I saw a quote on the cover of Sorry To Bother You’s DVD case proclaiming it to be “Get Out on acid” (courtesy of Dana Harris from Indiewire) I thought that was a bit of topical marketing hyperbole. Turns out it’s actually a fairly accurate assessment.

Boots Riley’s debut film tells the story of Cassius Green (Lakeith Stanfield), who finds himself quickly rising in the ranks at his new telemarketing job. As he gains more and more success it comes at the cost of his more socially-minded roots, alienating him from his union pals at the company (Jermaine Fowler and Steven Yeun) and his activist girlfriend Detroit (Tessa Thompson). He also begins to learn more about the extent of corporate greed and… well, things spiral from there.

Sorry to Bother You mines its social satire through a dystopian-esque world that is equal parts whimsical and bleak. In this version of reality, for example, citizens revel in a show called I Got the Shit Kicked Out of Me. (So in other words it’s heightened, yes, but not THAT many steps away from our current reality.) Riley recalls the work of Michel Gondry and Spike Jonze in his off-kilter, daydreamy visual innovation, lending Sorry to Bother You a bite and creativity that only strengthens the very blunt statements Riley is making.

In fact, I’d argue that there are actually a few too many ideas at play at times, muddying Riley’s otherwise clear vision. Had certain ideas or plot points been pushed further (and others done away with entirely) they could have made even more of an impact. His social commentary is vibrant and important, but it feels like he’s still figuring out the best ways to cohesively convey it.

Some reviews seem to feel that Sorry to Bother You gets a bit too, well, weird for its own good by the end. But while things certainly escalate quickly and go in unexpected directions, that’s part of the appeal of this bold film. And the fact that this got a wide release in theatres is perhaps a minor miracle. It’s an insanely ambitious first film and while it doesn’t entirely stick the landing, it works far better than it should and promises all sorts of exciting things to come.

Review: All These Sleepless Nights

All These Sleepless Nights

It’s tempting to spend this entire review pondering whether All These Sleepless Nights is really a documentary or not. Of course, there’s much more to Michal Marczak’s film than questions of form. But those questions also turn out to be pretty compelling.

Low on story and heavy on style, All These Sleepless Nights provides a slightly voyeuristic look at a group of mostly directionless young adults living in Warsaw, Poland. We spend a lot of time wandering the city streets with them, witnessing their often mundane encounters. We also watch as they use a combination of sex and drugs to lull themselves in a passive state of detachment, adding an even more meditative tone to the movie.

The film’s two main subjects are Kris and Michal, two quasi-handsome, vaguely charismatic friends whose hedonistic and egotistical behaviour unsurprisingly puts some tension on their interpersonal relationships. There are love triangles and some conflict throughout, but All These Sleepless Nights is more about conveying a mood and capturing a mindset, rather than telling any sort of conventional narrative.

It may seem like a pedantic distinction, but going into All These Sleepless Nights thinking of it as a documentary or as a narrative will affect the way you experience it. There’s room for grey areas and blurred lines, yes, but the film’s heavy stylization complicates things. Is this meant to be an accurate document of youth, or a constructed interpretation of it? The answer is undeniably somewhere in the middle. And while it may sound like that formal non-commitment would obscure the film’s impact, it actually increases it, adding to its already hazy, dream-like aura.

All These Sleepless nights has played at documentary film festivals such as True/False and Hot Docs, yet on IMDB it’s classified as a drama rather than a documentary. In viewing it, I found it difficult to view its subjects as anything other than “characters”. The way the scenarios play out (some of which feel quite obviously staged), the subjects’ sometimes less-than-natural reactions, the reliance on the musical soundtrack, and the impeccably lit cinematography all really prevent the film from feeling like something that was captured on the fly and in real time. But again, that isn’t really a knock against it. Marczak (who has been upfront about the fact that aspects of the film were manipulated, re-shot, and improvised, rather than simply “documented”) has crafted something that feels authentic, if not completely grounded in reality. If a film involves real people and strives to represent the authentic feelings they experience (but uses unconventional means to do so) who’s to say it’s not still non-fiction?

Ultimately, though, these questions fade to the background as you’re watching All These Sleepless Nights. You get lulled into the film’s hazy tone, basking in the beautiful visuals. Marczak, also a cinematographer, cultivates one striking image after another. The film is absolutely worth seeing just for that, though don’t go into it looking for any real narrative thrust.

Atmospheric and distinct, All These Sleepless Nights captures the strife, power, and mundane feelings of youth all in one arty little package. It may not appear to say much on the surface, but its impact lingers.

Review: The Levelling

The Levelling

The Levelling, the debut feature of English director Hope Dickson Leach, is understated and solemn, but also crackling with emotional intensity.

At just 83 minutes long, the story is slight – at times too much so – but it feels like the perfect length for this quiet slice of life that writer-director Leach is conveying.

The Levelling is set during the Somerset Levels floods of 2014, which jeopardized the livelihoods of many in the area. However, that real-life event largely serves as a backdrop (and metaphorical tie-in) for Leach’s fictional story. It follows Clover (Game of Thrones’ Ellie Kendrick), a veterinary student who returns home to her family’s farm after the sudden death of her brother, Harry (Joe Blackmore). In the immediate aftermath of Harry’s death, their father (David Troughton) struggles to come to terms with it, so Clover must take care of the farm while also trying to piece together exactly how her brother died.

The Levelling is largely a film about grief. While the mystery-of-sorts surrounding Harry’s death serves as a loose plot to propel the movie along, the main focus is on the ramifications that incident has on Clover, her father, and their relationship. Leach’s examination of loss is delicate, saying more with silence, characters’ body language, and cinematic atmosphere than she does with words in the screenplay. The Levelling has a tone that is understated and a little grim without ever feeling morose. Leach’s handle on the material is too steady to venture into melodrama and The Levelling is all the more captivating because of it.

Also greatly helping to convey the film’s subtle narrative themes is Kendrick, whose performance is nothing short of stunning. Her face is so expressive that it’s easy to know how Clover is feeling without it ever feeling too obvious or exaggerated. Clover is a very internalized character, which doesn’t always translate on screen, yet rather than her introversion feeling like a hurdle for the film to get over, Kendrick sinks her teeth into it, finding other ways to inhabit the character. Despite the film’s other strengths, it seems doubtful this character study would have worked without a strong lead actress like Kendrick.

The Levelling may not grip everyone, but I found that its quiet impact lingered with me, hitting in unlikely ways for a seemingly low-key movie. Let the beautiful cinematography wash over you and accept the story for what it is. You might find that it says some unexpected things about human nature in the process.

Review: The Belko Experiment

The Belko ExperimentYou’d be forgiven for thinking the premise of The Belko Experiment sounds familiar. Following a group of American employees at a Colombian office building, a typical day at work quickly becomes a sadistic social experiment when the workers are instructed to start killing one another in order to avoid being killed. It’s a little bit of The Hunger Games, Lord of the Flies, and Funny Games rolled together, all somehow set inside an off-kilter workplace comedy.

Director Greg McLean (Wolf Creek) begins the proceedings by sardonically showing us the sanitized office setting of Belko Industries, but don’t let the film’s mild set-up fool you. Once the office building goes into lockdown, the pleasantries quickly vanish, making way for the bloodshed and exploding heads. There’s no other way to say it: The Belko Experiment is very violent. However, for those who aren’t too squeamish, there’s a decidedly tongue-in-cheek approach to the film that does help ease some of the brutality of what’s being depicted on screen. It’s more camp than torture porn; decide for yourself if that’s a good thing.

The Belko Experiment seems like a bit of a surprising choice to get a major release, having gotten its start on the festival circuit and featuring no A-list names. It doesn’t aspire to be much more than a high-concept, low-budget cult film, and it seems like it’ll have far better longevity on Netflix than it will at the box office. I suspect a lot of its pumped-up profile has to do with the involvement of James Gunn (best known for directing the Guardians of the Galaxy films), who takes on writing and producing duties here.

The irony of that, of course, is that the script is easily the film’s weakest element, never quite finding the balance between schlock and social commentary. The set-up features the sort of cardboard characters and snarky one-liners that we come to expect from this grade of horror flick, and then once the shit starts to hit the fan, Gunn never pushes the “moral dilemma” aspect hard enough, which should be at the film’s core. It instead becomes a matter of who’s going to turn into the big, bad villain that everyone else has to defeat. There’s a smart film buried within Belko that we get hints of, with its wry commentary on corporate life, and it would have been nice to see more of that, rather than a reliance on overworked clichés.

One aspect of The Belko Experiment that works both for and against it is the cast, which is huge. Clearly Gunn gave some of his friends a ring, because there’s no other explanation for how the film manages to land a character actor trifecta of John C. McGinley, Tony Goldwyn, and Michael Rooker. (Google it if the names don’t sound familiar – you’ll know all their faces.) All three of their characters are written to varying degrees of ridiculousness but are very fun to watch.

John Gallagher Jr. (The Newsroom, 10 Cloverfield Lane), meanwhile, might seem like a weird choice for the lead role but perfectly balances the everyman aspect of his thinly-written character with the badass “action” direction he has to go, all the while bringing a bit of genuine emotional heft to the proceedings. Most of the other actors are in the film too briefly to make much of an impression, and at least half a dozen of them could have been trimmed without anyone really noticing. It’s just another example of how Belko largely squanders its potential, settling for low-brow pulp when it had all the goods to be something more.

That’s not to say that there aren’t aspects of Belko that work. McLean has a firm handle on the direction and carries the viewer through smoothly, even as the plot becomes outlandishly chaotic. And while the film fails to deliver on its premise in terms of the explanation provided for why the “experiment” is happening, it does manage a gut-punch of an ending. (It’s also a suspiciously sequel-friendly one, but I guess we can’t begrudge them that.)

Gunn has talked about how long The Belko Experiment percolated in his mind before getting made, and it does end up feeling overworked, never quite hitting any of the marks it seems to want to. However, the ride is still a mildly fun one – assuming your idea of a good time is at least a little bit twisted.