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Reviews
After Yang (2021)
After Kogonada's Existentialistic Trip
The heartbeat of "After Yang" seldom rises above resting, and yet this quiet meditation on the human condition in relation to our growing intimacy with technology is never cold; in fact, instead, Director Kogonada unfolds a warm cerebral science fiction fable of a family grappling with the loss of an almost-human technological being, a "technosapien". In the wake of this grief, Kogonada's intellectually searching and masterfully open-ended screenplay poses a lot of questions without any clear-cut answers. However, none of these reflections on the nature of us, as humans, are thoroughly explored, but, rather the entire discussion of and around them is reframed from a different point of view, Yang's point of view. Even if the shift in perspective is the point, sometimes the scale and magnitude of the questions and ideas being thrown at the wall by the script become disjointed and ultimately unsatisfying, as with the tea scene.
Kogonada's exercise in existentialism won't have you on the edge of your seat, but it does manage to hold the audience's attention for its curt hour and a half run time. It successfully pulls this off, under its unlikely tonal circumstances, due to its stunning production design that builds a world of the future... that may be too good to be true. The story is anchored by a trio of incredibly natural performances by Collin Farrel, Jodie Turner-Smith, and Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja as After Yang's central family, albeit it's Justin H Min who gives a crucially lasting impression as Yang. Trust me when I say: you'll be holding onto every scene he anchors. Additionally, Kogonada, with only his second picture, is paving a distinct visual style with his cinematography, which is as good here as it was in "Columbus". Yes, this is undeniably a Kogonada film, and that's a good thing.
The one clear takeaway from Kogonada's cozy sci-fi is the refreshing statement of the definitively positive impact technology has on our lives presently, and perhaps as this movie predicts, an even greater impact in the future. This is seen in the unexpectedly glorious opening credits where Yang's family is having a dance battle with families across the globe, an activity that strengthens their familial bonds. More importantly, the greater example of this, in which the crux of the plot structure exists, is why Farrel and Turner-Smith bought Yang in the first place: to connect their daughter to her Chinese heritage. A goal that Yang clearly achieves, despite his worries and doubts about whether he could honestly claim the ethnicity, for he knows of Chinese facts, history, and proverbs but has never lived or experienced authentic Chinese culture. Few stories have ever felt so non-judgmental in their depiction of the love we divert into technology, even in spite of the possibility that we could be brought closer to it than our own families, and even fewer have dared to suggest that these things could possibly love us back.
The Man with the Answers (2021)
Sweet but Forgettable
"The Man with the Answers" isn't saying anything new, nor is it treading fresh ground; in fact, it fits squarely within the 'traveling and falling in love' genre, a-la "Before Sunset, but, to its credit, the film is covering this familiar territory in an entertaining and enjoyable fashion. Sadly, despite its watch-ability, Stelios Kammitis fails to generate the magic of his contemporaries: Woody Allen in "Vicky Christina Barcelona" or a Luca Guadinigho in "Call Me By Your Name". This general attitude can essentially be applied to every aspect of the film, save the cinematography and Vasilis Magouliotis's performance in a subtly powerful turn as Victoras (the only true standouts in the film). Side note, this is a very subdued film, from the directing, the screenplay, the acting, and even the romance, due to the effects of these choices, I don't believe the emotional impact is as great as intended. Everything else is good but not great and, by extension, ultimately forgettable.
The Lost Daughter (2021)
Ferrante Would Be Proud
Elana Ferrante, the anonymous Sicilian author of "The Lost Daughter, has dedicated her entire career to the honest depiction of the complexities of what it means to be a woman. In this regard, Maggie Gyllenhall was wildly successful in her adaption of "The Lost Daughter", delivering a marvel of a screenplay that is able to tap the essence of Ferrante's work by offering an unflinching glimpse into the idealism of motherhood and then tearing it to shreds. The writing of Ferrante, infamously dense, is not easy source material to adapt into a cinematic format, instead of typical plot-driven fiction, she opts for a more heady and internally based story structure, which is why it's such a feat that Gyllenhall is able to make her script even remotely entertaining.
However, the script alone isn't what makes this movie good. It has a significant assist by three actresses: Olivia Colman in the titular role, Jessie Buckley as her younger half, and Dakota Johnson as a new mother of intrigue. Olivia Colman has clearly reached the new golden era of her career with stunning back-to-back performances: The Favorite, Flea Bag, The Crown, The Father, and now once again we find ourselves lauding her much deserved praise. Colman turns a mother, with plenty not to like, into a character that you just can't tear your eyes away from. Colman so deftly manages the swirl of emotions and outbursts of anger her character was prone to without ever showing her cards. Jessie Buckley, as her younger half, arguably gives the only warm performance in the entire film, a sharp decision in contrast to Colman's cold exterior. The merging of their singular character is helped by the incredible editing of Affonso Goncalves. Not only doing wonders for their character but the story as a whole by shuffling the order of events. Side Note: The audience is able to feel Colman's suffocation around children so thoroughly, not only because of her acting but because of the intimately claustrophobic cinematography and the unbearably well-designed sound mixing (which never lets you forget when there's a crying child in the background).
For all Gyllenhall does right here, there are a few missteps that make it hard to truly love this film. First, due to the very subtle nature of the script and the "beneath the surface" aspects of the performances, you can feel a bit emotionally isolated from all of the characters. I found myself constantly questioning if you actually cared about what's happening to any of them when it's obvious we should have. Second, the ending doesn't quite work, with Dakota Johnson invoking her mafia husband, as this was a barely established plot point that wasn't nearly developed enough to use as a cornerstone in one of the final developments in the story.
The Lost Daughter is an uncomfortable raw character study and vicious critique of what society expects from motherhood that's missing just a few key elements to seamlessly blend its story, message, and audience connectivity together.
The House (2022)
Evil Wes Anderson???
A singular frame is the sole requirement to understanding Wes Anderson's vast influence over nearly every element of "The House''. From the animation style to the production design, one can't help but notice his touch. So, it should come as no surprise that because of its derivative nature Baeza, Bahr, Swaef, and Roels's directorial collaboration features many of the same highlights and pitfalls of Wes Anderson's latest: The French Dispatch. The two films even share a very similar story structure: three short stories loosely connected, in Anderson's case through a newspaper and in Baeza and Company's case through a shared setting, a house; however, unlike The French Dispatch, "The House'' never tries to tie the narratives together through a 4th storyline, a smart decision since even Anderson couldn't successfully pull that one-off. Finally, also similar to The French Dispatch, each short story is well crafted but to varying levels of success.
The Consequences of Material Obsession: The best of the bunch. A rare example of when messaging, story, and animation style perfectly mesh together, not only coexisting but enhancing the effects of each. The animation style here is particularly unique and deserving of a shoutout as it's one of the reasons why the horror elements of the story work so well.
The Excruciating Stress of Opening your Work to the World: The worst of the bunch. It's the only one of the three stories that struggles with a pacing issue and it's to the point that the whole movie begins to slog. Additionally, while the message of its story, the hallucinatory level of stress associated with bringing a creation one has devoted their entire life to into the outside world, only for it to be torn apart by people who never cared and never will, is a potent message... it just doesn't work in context with the other two shorts, whose messages are intimately tied with our idea of a "home". In contrast, the idea presented in this story could have used several other settings to tell the narrative and not just a home. However, to its credit, the final longshot of this short will surely offer a visceral reaction to any viewer.
The Grief of Saying Goodbye to a Home, The Earth: The middle child. A commentary on the grief one feels with losing an inanimate object: the grief never dissipates but one must learn to control it otherwise you'll fail to truly live. In my opinion, it has the best depiction of complex real characters while also offering visually stunning images. Sadly, this short story lacks the most originality of the three. Not only in its commentary, but also in its visual style, it's a little too similar to another of Anderson's work "Fantastic Mr. Fox"
"The House" is a strange, beautiful, and horrifying experience from start to finish, featuring three short stories suffering from the Goldi-locks syndrome.
È stata la mano di Dio (2021)
Sorrentino and Fabietto
There is something oddly amiss with Sorrentino's semi-autobiographical love letter to Italy, his youth, and his film-making journey; however, no matter how hard you try, it's nearly impossible to pinpoint exactly what's gone awry. You'll be hard-pressed to levy the criticism of a distant emotional connection to the characters with the audience. Especially, when at first glance Sorrentino is doing everything right: the first half of this movie is brimming with life, family, laughter, and in the latter Sorrentino rips the rug out from underneath us, leaving the viewer to basque in a void of melancholy. But... the emotional distress never really comes or even lingers around to haunt you; instead, one is just left to admire a stunningly breathtaking portrait of Italy and the humanity of its occupants. So, with all the elements here why doesn't it work?
A case could be made that Sorrentino has structured this picture in the wrong way for an audience to understand and appreciate fully. Sorrentino, due to the personal nature of this story, has knowledge and information that we don't, hence, creating the possibility that he is viewing a very different picture than the audience. For example, the first scene in "The Hand of God" doesn't focus on our Sorrentino stand in Fabietto but instead, on his future muse Patrizia. The issue with this is it's never established why Patrizia is important to the story, to Fabietto, and as an extension to us as the audience until three-quarters through the film but, by then it's far too late, and the emotional impact has missed its chance to resonate. This issue is present again with Fabietto's parents, where their emotional connection and purpose to Fabietto's journey isn't revealed until far past a crucial event in the story. Additionally, a scene near the latter half of the movie, where Fabietto meets his inspirational director, flat out doesn't work. The scene is unsuccessful for a multitude of reasons but primarily the emotional weight along with the litany of realizations that Fabietto is finally understanding, we as an audience are not experiencing in tandem.
Even with these problems, Sorrentino has not made a bad movie, in fact, quite far from it. This is an enjoyable watch and the audience has three things to thank for that: 1, Sorrentino's subtle technical prowess (props to Daria D'Antonio the cinematographer for her sweeping vistas along with sound mixer Emanuele Cecere and Sound Editor Silvia Moraes for transporting the audience to Italy), 2, incredibly natural and lived-in performances by the ensemble of actors (Filippo Scotti as Fabietto gives a coming of age performance for the books to rival Saoirse Ronan in "Lady Bird" or Matt Damon in "Good Will Hunting" and Marlon Joubert as Marchino drips with physicality in a rare alluring way), 3, a script which although ordered wrong has humanity cracking through it in every line. Lastly, Sorrentino gives the audience a lot to chew on, even if it was delivered in a messy way, and the metaphor with the little monk alone is reason enough to check out Sorrentino's latest.
Procession (2021)
The Process of Procession
"Procession" presents a radical new concept regarding the reasoning to craft a story: to create something, not about people, but for them. Greene offers cinema as a medium of therapy, a tool of processing, to 6 survivors of sexual assault at the hands of the catholic church with each crafting a short film about how they wanted their stories to be told and seen. In the wrong hands, such a delicate matter could have been a disaster but instead, Greene illustrates a devastating portrait of men who never quite healed. Men who are still fighting from sunrise to sundown to release the anchor that keeps them entrenched in their pasts. Greene achieves this feat through a number of avenues. First, is his intelligent and restrained decision to focus shots on how these events have racked the bodies of the survivors, second, was the score by Keegan Dewitt and Dabney Morris, which provides a lot of heavy lifting to the emotional gravity of the film, third, was how incredibly well-edited the short-films are with the rest of the documentary; side note, this can especially be felt in the final 10 incredibly moving minutes of the documentary. However, where Procession begins to falter is with the short-films presented by the survivors, which although clearly therapeutic, isn't the most effective cinematic tool due to their inexperienced quality. Many times they will take you out of the documentary altogether but on the other hand, the project wouldn't be possible without the shorts so it's a catch-22. All in all, Greene has made a riveting documentary that even with its short-comings is still incredibly effective but more importantly, and perhaps impressively, has made the lives of 6 men all the better for it.
Spencer (2021)
Stewart and Larrain
For many Kristen Stewert will be a breathtaking revelation in her portrayal of Princess Diana. Her mannerisms, her voice, and her posture are all pitch-perfect; this isn't an imitation but instead the inhabitation of a beloved figure. Stewart, led by Pablo Larrain's daring directorial efforts, is able to effectively put the viewer in Diana's shoes as she's suffocated by the constraints of the royal family. Her increasingly desperate attempts to break free will leave the viewer physically uncomfortable, an impressive feat on behalf of Larrain and Stewert. This strong sense of empathy is in part achieved through the psychological elements of the film. Which, although present, with the pearl necklace and the spirit of Anne Boleyn, these aspects were still widely under-used as the film could've benefitted from the eccentricity that they brought with them. Other issues plaguing the film also boil down to the script, and it's not that anything is written badly, in fact, the dialogue here is strikingly on queue, but instead what the film decides to spend precious time on. For example, the theming of this film - a trapped free spirit - can become increasingly repetitive, as a result, the film will occasionally drag. The screenplay does receive bolts of energy when it chooses to focus time on the relationship between Diana and her children, something you wish it would have done more of by the end of the film. Especially when considering how those humanistic moments provided lifelines to the audience, in terms of, allowing the viewers to emotionally connect with the film, an aspect Larrain is constantly at risk of losing. However minor faults aside, Larrain and Stewert aren't the only things that make this film work. The score by Jonny Greenwood, even when sometimes heavy-handed, is definitely one of the best of the year, the production and costume design are worthy of all the accolades I'm sure are coming its way, and amazingly the cinematography by Mathon stands out as the best craft of the film. Pablo Larrain's vision remains just as strong here as it was in Jackie, delivering yet again another curveball of a peculiarly great biopic that should've leaned into its instincts just a bit more.
The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun (2021)
An Unfinished Delicacy
A film that is visually ravishing: the production design, the cinematography, the blocking, etc. It is all some of the best ever to grace the silver screen. Desplat also proves once again why he is considered one of the greats, turning in another perfectly tuned score that manages to always keep the film at a brisk pace. To the delight of many, myself included, Wes Anderson stays true to form here and this may be the strongest his aesthetic has ever been. Cast Standouts include; Timothee Chalamet, who blends seamlessly into Anderson's chessboard; Frances McDormand, as always... does she ever give a bad performance; Benicio Del Toro, has the best storyline of the three and it wouldn't work without his inspired choices; Lea Seydoux, who, of course, is perplexingly enigmatic in all the right ways. While the directing, crafts and acting are a marvel to behold the story fails to ever accumulate into anything meaningful. Instead of creating an overarching plot, Anderson opts for basically three vignettes, framed from the perspective of journalists, which in turn keeps the viewer from ever emotionally connecting with a single aspect of its near 2-hour run time. In short, Anderson has served us three delectable short stories all on one plate; however, it's missing a few key ingredients to make it worthy of the title... Movie.