Deep Water

Deep Water is the much feted return of the starry erotic psychological thriller ™ to our screens and from director Adrian Lyne as well, the man who arguably kicked off the genre with 1987's Fatal Attraction. Add in a real life couple playing the couple onscreen and a streaming platform that allows films to be shown without the snips required to ensure a film gets a particular age certificate. This should have been a big ol' slice of filthy fun but the reality is about as horny as guinness fart on a packed bus.

If you're anyway online you'll be intimately acquainted with the numerous Sad Affleck memes floating around these past few years. You know them, Ben on a beach staring pensively into the uisce or having a sneaky smoke, looking like the weight of the world is weighing down on those broad shoulders of his. Deep Water is that meme stretched out to nearly 2 hours and yes, it's about as entertaining as that sounds. Ok, there's fun to be had here but it's the laughing at and not with kind. Ana de Armas does her sultry best as his onscreen wife but oh no, it just ain't happening. When a film's most memorable scene is a reminder that snails have to be starved before they're eaten..... yeah that's not a good sign. And we haven't even mentioned that ending yet. That bizarre, nonsensical final act.

Vic and Melinda Allen are a couple existing in a small Louisiana town. They've long fallen out of love but he allows her to take lovers to ensure that she won't leave him. She flaunts her infidelities in his face and he just watches impassively despite their friends and co-workers knowing exactly what's happening. One night at a party he jokes to her current lover how he took care of a former lover and it sets off a chain of events that well..... you'll have to watch this bland bullshit and find out.

There could have been fun had here. Patricia Highsmith's deliciously dark 1957 novel is the source material and despite being 65 years old it took way more risks with it's story than you'll experience here. If the film had the balls to stay true to the novel you'd have an ending that would make what came before more forgivable but all we get here is a ridiculous bicycle chase following a character appearance that will make you scratch your head intensely trying to figure out the hows and whys of how they ended up where they ended up. It's a laughably bad climactic moment but then soon after the film really strives for a profundity that just isn't earned at all. You'll get it, but you won't like it because the story has chickened out

.The thriller aspect of Deep Water fails miserably so how about the erotic part? Heh. We know the story calls for a distance between Vic and Melinda but there's no bit of spark here at all, no sense of why they'd ever have gotten together. Jesus even Gigli, the notorious Affleck/Jennifer Lopez turkey (gobble gobble!) from 2003 did better on that front, meaning the much feted sex scenes between them just feel limp and kinda pathetic. Surprisingly tame too considering they're directed by the man behind 9 & 1/2 Weeks, Fatal Attraction and Indecent Proposal. They just speak to the fact that modern day film audiences seem to have no appetite for cinematic boom boom. It's a pity and it means that the starry erotic psychological thriller ™ will probably be staying put in the late 80's/ early 90's once again.

Deep Water is streaming online now. You'll be glad you didn't pay to see it in a cinema.

Foscadh

You could call Seán Breathnach's new Irish language film Foscadh (shelter) a companion piece to Lenny Abrahamson's 2007 film Garage and Gerard Barrett's Pilgrim Hill from 2013. All three are starkly realistic looks at rural life and it's effect on the male psyche but thankfully Foscadh has some bit of optimism lurking under it's ambiguous shell. Not much, but enough to give you something to latch onto. It's a fine film but jesus, it will remind you of how lucky you have it.

It's the wank at the wake that really clues you into John's (Dónall O Héalai) mental state. His mam is lying in a coffin in the living room and he leaves the room to have some alone time. He's an adult orphan now, alone in his house in the middle of Connemara and he's a stranger to all those who know him. His uncle Paddy (Macdara Ó Fátharta, Tadhg from Ros na Rún) thinks he's a bit slow but others assume he's just been wrapped in cotton wool all his life by over protective parenting. A desire for chips one night sees him take a beating and his recuperation lets new friends enter his life, Dave (Cillian O'Gairbhi), his hospital roommate and his nurse Siobhan (Fionnuala Flaherty), both of whom may have ulterior motives.

Director Seán Breathnach, working off Donal Ryan's book, The Thing About September, has created a tale that will get into your bones like the damp, windswept locations it's filmed in. Years ago John would be derided as a gomey, a fool, the town weirdo and in more enlightened times we know it's not his fault but Foscadh never gives us any definitive answers, to anything really. Did his parents do a number on him? Why are these new people in his life so nice to him? Is it foscadh they're after or genuine friendship? Why has the town bully such a set on him? What's really going on in that head of his. There's just enough left unsaid and unanswered to keep the film buzzing in your head for days after. There's an air of unpredictability too that will leave you on edge on any number of occasions. A trespass you feel sure will end in tragedy, a night time encounter with an enemy, that drinking game. It's sickeningly tense at times.

Dónall O Héalai is magnificent as John. Just as good as he was in last year's Arracht but so different in his physicality that a casual film goer might never guess the same actor played both parts.Your nerves would be wrecked for him, when locals with their eyes on the future come sniffing around the land that's been left to him, when he's coerced into making his interest known to the opposite sex. Social cues don't exist in John's world, if you've never been taught to interact with the outside world you'll always struggle and that struggle will stay with you for life leading you into morally murky waters. At times it feels like a parable about the dangers of over protective parenting, a warning about coddling but Dónall's work will always leave you unsure in your thinking. 

The same goes for Cillian O'Gairbhi's Dave and Fionnula Flaherty's Siobhan. You're never quite sure where you stand with them. Has loneliness driven them towards John or is it the promise of a free gaff? Will they give him the tools he needs to become his own man or take from him? The wild and boisterous Dave might be easier to read but Siobhan's a vaguer presence with Flaherty doing great work especially during a beautiful campfire scene that points to true motives though then later scenes leave you wondering again. You've got to admire a film that leaves you the dots to join up yourself.

Foscadh is in cinemas now. It's really worth your time.

Red Rocket

X = minus B plus or minus the square root of B squared minus 4AC all over 2A.

Remember that? The dreaded quadratic equation. Spoken proudly by Strawberry (Suzanna Son), a teenage girl smitten with our protagonist Mikey Saber (Simon Rex), who at twice her age isn't pushing her away. It's one of many times Red Rocket nudges you with the reminder that we are watching a scumbag at work. And yet you won't be able to take your eyes off him. What is that all about?

Mikey's back home in Texas City, a city suburb of Houston, along the Gulf coast of Texas. He's a washed up ex-porn star with only two things to his name. The 20 odd dollars in his pocket and the "gift" that made him famous. He's burned all his L.A. bridges and only for his ex-wife Lexi (Bree Elrod) he'd have nowhere to even sleep. She has nothing but disdain for him now, having seen his true colours but he's wormed his way under her roof with a promise to help out financially. He's a user, other people are mere stepping stones to him and now he has two more in his sights, Lexi's naive neighbour Lonnie (Ethan Darbone) who has a car and Strawberry, the underage girl who works in his favourite doughnut shop, who he sets his sights on in an attempt to get back into the money.

Sean Baker stays on familiar turf with his latest look at the places we only ever drive by and the people who we never think about and he's made another stunner, his first feature film since 2017's The Florida Project. The lovable characters from there are wholly absent here, replaced by an irredeemable bastard who can believably charm the pants (often literally) off everyone he meets and Simon Rex (himself a real life ex porn performer) sells the part perfectly. You'll never once feel like you're watching an actor when he's onscreen, it's as naturalistic a performance as you'll have seen in an age, making it seem like we're watching a documentary rather than a feature film. The way he treats everyone around him will enrage you but he's so magnetic in his part you can see exactly why everyone falls for him. Baker never judges him either, he lays it all out for us to see and don't worry, you won't like him. If you do.... well that's a worry.

One of the first things Mikey does to make money is head back to his old drug connect Leondria (Judy Hill) to start selling for her again, and of course he gets high on his own supply, using stars and stripes rolling papers because he's, in his own words, a patriot. It's just another way for Baker to remind us that we're looking at the dark side of the American dream. It's not set in 2016 for nothing. The age of Trump was in full flow, America was rapidly becoming a place not to want to visit but to be horrified by and Red Rocket is a powerful glimpse at the people who inhabit a rancid little corner of it, a dump intertwined with the some of America's most famous symbols, pornography, drugs, oil and loads of doughnuts.

In cinemas now and genuinely worth your time.

The Duke

The Duke is a film that could have been made as an Ealing Comedy 60 years ago with Alec Guinness and Edie Martin in the lead roles. But back then they wouldn't have been allowed show the vigorous sex scene that kicks the third act into motion or hear lead character Kempton Bunton splutter the funniest use of the F-word in a long time. It's old fashioned fun that doesn't have to sand it's edges off anymore.

Standing up to authority is a Northern trait and Kempton Bunton (Jim Broadbent) is a fine practitioner of the art. He's sick of being told what to do and when to do it and his latest campaign is against the TV licence, a tax he sees as unfair to the poor and the elderly. His wife Dorothy (Helen Mirren) is mortified by his antics and raging with him as his mouth gets him fired from one job after another. His heart is in the right place though, he's socialist through and through and stands up against bullshit the second he sees it. A trip south to London to champion his latest cause sees him come home with a tasty souvenir - Francisco Goya’s Portrait of The Duke of Wellington from the National Gallery in London. It's been stolen and now it's hiding in his cupboard and a ransom note is winging it's way through the post.

Truth is stranger than fiction. A quote attributed to Mark Twain that feels perfect for this true story, the last movie directed by Roger Mitchell before he sadly passed away in 2021. Ok, it's not exactly the truth but the broad strokes are the same. A thief wandered into the National Gallery through a bathroom window one night in 1961 and stole a masterpiece. The police were baffled and concluded that it was a perfectly planned heist carried out by an experienced criminal. The juxtaposition of their conclusions and the reality of the situation is just one of many laughs in this gentle and amiable comedy. The courtroom set finale too, deep dives into the comedy of the situation and will leave you grinning from ear to ear as Kempton wins over everyone and I mean everyone. 

The story isn't without it's human side either. Kempton and Dorothy have suffered a loss in their past that would split many a couple apart. He's dealing with grief in his own way but Dorothy is trapped by it, unable to talk about it, unwilling to think about it. At first you'll wonder why Helen Mirren took a role that seems to consist of making breakfast and tea for her husband and son Jackie (Fionn Whitehead) and grumbling about everything but as she's forced by circumstance to face her pain her performance takes a quietly powerful turn. It's Broadbent's film though, he robs every scene. He's every eccentric Da you've ever met, every neighbour who's always scheming, that co-worker who'll always pipe up and make you laugh. He's a lovable rogue you'll side with always and he turns The Duke into a movie that's just the ticket in a time of seemingly constant misery.

The Duke is in cinemas now. It's very enjoyable. Bond fans will get a big kick out of it too.

Dog

“A filthy animal unfit for human company and a… Dog” That's Dog's tagline and with it comes comedic expectations. There's a few laughs here (and one cringeworthy moment that belongs to the American Pie school of comedy) but Dog is all about the aspects of war rarely spoken of. The collateral psychological trauma for everyone involved, soldiers on two legs and four.

Jackson Briggs (Channing Tatum in his first leading role since 2017) is sick of cheese, tuna, mayo and mustard, the ingredients he uses everyday as part of his Subway sandwich job. He's an army ranger trying to make ends meet until his next deployment but the chances of him being called back into combat are slim. He's dealing with a brain injury and the mental issues that are part and parcel of combat and his commanding officer doesn't want to take a chance on him. But Jackson ain't taking no for an answer so he's offered a deal - drive Lulu cross country to a funeral and if that goes well, there might be a travel slot open for him. Lulu's a Belgian Malinois military dog Jackson once worked with and she's suffering from PTSD just like he is and now both have to travel from Oregon to Arizona to say goodbye to a soldier both served with.

Channing Tatum is an immensely likable screen presence who can do it all. He looks the part with an AR-15 in his hands, he has great comic timing and he can dance like no-one's watching but can he carry a film by himself? Dog answers that last question in the affirmative. Usually in film's like this (Marley & Me, Turner & Hooch etc) the four legged friend steals the spotlight but here's it's Jackson you'll be watching. The army has left him behind, his psychological issues have taken family and friends from him, Jack Daniels is his night time companion. He's a fella on the edge, one who claims the military is his life but that same military has left him a wreck, used him up and spit him out. He's one step away from unraveling and Tatum sells his pain perfectly. Lulu's the same, harsh discipline has taken it's toll on her little shoulders, she's volatile and aggressive, not used to kindness at all. Both of them have become accustomed to a hard life but on their travels both react positively to the kindness of strangers. Maybe, just maybe they could be kind to each other....

While never exactly being a damning indictment of the unspoken wreckage of combat Dog says enough to let us know where it's politics lie and throughout our heroes journey south we get to know plenty about them, enough to see the damage caused and the damage both are capable of causing; a pot farm misunderstanding that shows us how good Jackson is at his job, a hotel chase that explicitly tells us about the racial biases in Lulu's training and how military life alienates soldiers from civilians in a way that leaves them incapable of integrating into normal life. It all sounds very serious doesn't it but thankfully Dog has a lighter side too. The sight and sound of Tatum tearing into 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight ' will never not be funny, or him trying to coax a smelly Lulu into a much needed bath or his frustration when she ruins what could quite possibly be the best night of his life. All very welcome flashes of light in what is a surprisingly dark story.

Dog is showing in cinemas now. It's a well told tale that's devoid of the usual mawkish tugging of heartstrings you tend to see in films about men and men's best friends. It's worth your while.

Death On The Nile

 

It's not very often a moustache gets it's own flashback but that's how Death On The Nile starts. The Western Front, Belgium, 1914. A baby faced Hercule Poirot (Kenneth Branagh who also directs) uses his smarts to save his platoon from certain death during a crossing of No Man's Land and ends up hideously scarred as a result. Hence, the moustache to end all moustaches. No better way to cover up.

23 years later Poirot is on holiday in Egypt and gets invited on a cruise by his friend Bouc (Tom Bateman). A boat trip up the Nile that will celebrate the Honeymoon of Simon Doyle (Armie Hammer) and and heiress Linnet Ridgeway (Gal Gadot). Along for the spin are friends, family, doctors, their favourite musicians and one very unwelcome guest, Jackie de Bellefort (Emma Mackay), Simon's ex-fiance who hasn't taken too kindly to being dumped unceremoniously for Linnet. As the boat chugs slowly through the crocodile filled waters by the temple of Abu Simbel a shot rings out and now the world's greatest detective has a murder to solve and a captive audience of suspects to give his beady eye.

Death On The Nile is slightly better than Murder On The Orient Express but that's damning it with faint praise. Branagh feels more relaxed into the leading role and the central mystery is slightly more plausible than the ridiculous one at the heart of the former film. But what's amazing about this film is the fact that it even made it to the cinema between Covid induced delays and numerous prominent members of the cast being accused of all manner of no-no's like supporting Israel's anti Palestine stance, anti vaxx sentiments (x 2), sexual misconduct and....cannibalism. Yup, remember all that stuff about Armie Hammer last year? There's a reason you didn't see him on the posters or in the trailers for Death On The Nile. His part here was too big to CGI out à la Kevin Spacey in All The Money In The World. So 20th Century Studios just brass necked it out by pretending he didn't exist. His presence does tend to overshadow proceedings at times but when you've a larger than life hero like Poirot onboard he'll take the attention away. 

It's an alright watch, a time passer that you'll have forgotten 24 hours later. It's the very definition of a 2.5 star film. If you enjoyed the ITV version with David Suchet you'll probably like this too. It's stacked cast will amuse you as they pop up one by one (seeing French and Saunders together again as Linnet's godmother and her travelling nurse is fun) but they all get very little too do apart from be either picked apart or decimated by the investigating detective. This is the Hercule Poirot show don't you know. His moustache gets more screen time than Rose Leslie (Linnet's maid) and Russell Brand (Linnet's ex-fiance) together. The standouts are Sophie Okenodo as Salome Otterbourne, a jazz singer who catches Poirot's eye and Emma Mackey as Jackie, the one character who brings a touch of unpredictability to the story. That is if you haven't seen the previous versions. Previous versions that while family friendly, felt gritty and earthy compared to this purely because they weren't riddled with cheap looking CGI that pulls you out of the story constantly. At no point in this will you ever believe anyone in the cast stepped foot in Egypt or even near water. It's all so pristine and fake and ugh. There's an awful lot to be said for location filming and if you are going to pull together a big star studded cast you could at least put them somewhere pretty.

Death On The Nile is out now. It will fill a couple of hours for you but in the end it just feels pointless, adding nothing new to the better, older versions. 

Nightmare Alley

For his 11th film director Guillermo Del Toro has left the supernatural behind. He's in film noir territory now adapting the novel of the same name from 1946. There's no giant human-like cockroaches here, no vampires who feed on other vampires by way of a sucker found under their tongue and definitely no ghosts who attack humans so violently that brains pour out of their fractured skulls. That said you'll still be shuddering as you leave Nightmare Alley. 

Animal lovers may meltdown but an early scene where Stan Carlisle (Bradley Cooper) watches a geek biting the head off a chicken in a circus freak show is thankfully, but very effectively, faked. He's walked away from his former life and has taken a job as a carny in the very same circus. He's always on the make, always looking out for people who's feelings he can worm his way into and soon enough two women are under his spell, one a young woman called Molly (Rooney Mara) who he has future plans for and another, a so called clairvoyant called Madame Zeena (Toni Collette). After he's learned her "psychic" bag of tricks he leaves the circus to start a new life with Molly and putting Zeena's knowledge to good use he soon becomes famous amongst the New York elite. Then one night he meets Dr. Lilith Ritter (Cate Blanchett) at one of his shows and a new plan starts to form in that head of his.

150 minutes. A ridiculous running time. It could have been worse though, rumour is GDT's preferred cut ran to 200 minutes. It's odd because some of it runs on for way too long but other parts of the film, primarily the first hour, set in the circus, would benefit from the extra minutes that make the second half of the film feel saggy. The world of the circus is beautifully drawn, full of awe struck wonder built on suffering and sadness, all grand guignol ghoulishness and brought to life by a group of actors (Willem Dafoe, David Straithairn and of course Ron Perlman is there, GDT's longtime muse) who in any other film would fill out a cast wonderfully, but here they sadly vanish halfway through. The relationship between Stan and Lilith becomes the film's primary focus and in places it slows the film to a crawl. The story starts feeling muddled but the as the third act comes into focus the story does gather up a nice head of steam that leads to that ending mentioned earlier and the full realisation (if you haven't seen the 1947 film adaption) that this is a full on morality tale in noir clothing. The story's dark cynicism and horrifying worldview get hammered home in a moment that will make you shudder with all it's hideous implications.

Bradley Cooper sells that final shot and every shot he's in up to that point, his Stan a multilayered creation, he's warm, he's charming, he's a master manipulator, he's vicious when needs be but he's also haunted by it, by his past, especially his very last act before he left home to join the circus. We don't find out why he did it but past brutality is hinted at and revenge is a dish literally best served cold, or freezing in this case. He's easily as good as Tyrone Power was in the original 1947 version, his movie star looks used to full effect to charm and corrupt all around him. Toni Collette and Cate Blanchett stand their ground against him, Collette especially in a part you'd happily watch way more of but Rooney Mara disappears into the scenery beside him, playing a part you'll struggle to remember anything about.

Nightmare Alley is in cinemas now. In usual Del Toro fashion it's dark, it's creepy and it's fantastic looking. It's also far too long and a bit messy but a killer lead turn from Bradley Cooper will keep you watching.

Belfast

The 15th of August 1969. The day Buddy (Jude Hill) lost his innocence. While running to dinner after being called in from play by his Ma (Caitríona Balfe) he finds himself caught in the middle of sectarian hatred when a Protestant mob storms his street to oust his Catholic neighbours. His family will be safe if they play the game but his Da's (Jamie Dornan) loyalty is called into question when he won't take part in the intimidation and violence going on all around them. Buddy just wants to play and learn and watch films, he wants to talk to the girl he likes in school and enjoy the company of his grandparents Pop (Ciarán Hinds) and Granny (Judi Dench) but real life is closing in fast.

Director Kenneth Branagh was born in Belfast in 1960 and his family moved to England in 1969 to avoid the violence of the Troubles. Buddy's his proxy here and so we get his view of a horrible time in Irish history through both rose tinted glasses and from a child's perspective. For his Ma and Pa, who never get first names because they aren't something that children ever call them, the tension around them is a constant source of fear and stress. For a 9 year old it's an annoyance and as such Branagh never lets the horror take over because we all know how bad it got up there, it's been the subject of a thousand books and songs and films and documentaries but we rarely get a glimpse at the lives lived behind the doors lining the city's streets, the people who weren't involved, those just trying to live normally and make sense of the chaos outside. One beautiful moment sees Buddy trying to learn about women from his Pop who openly admits he hasn't a notion either while Granny watches them from an open window just like the soldiers in the towers and helicopters above watch them. Happiness and horror side by side.

Like Paul Thomas Anderson's recent Licorice Pizza there isn't really much of plot as much as a collection of misty B&W (not watercolour) memories that will strongly evoke similar memories for the audience; the fear and exhilaration of indulging in and getting away with a spot of underage criminality, the joy of seeing your parents happy and the fear and confusion involved when they aren't, the tummy butterflies when you realise you fancy the girl beside you in class and that great feeling when the adults in your life stop talking to you like a boy and start talking to you like a man. Throughout we get these wonderful little moments between Buddy and his parents and his grandparents that get reinforced late in the day by that famous bible quote about putting away childish things from verse 11 of 1 Corinthians 13. He's not there yet though, the childish things are still important to him, to his parents who want him to stay a child for as long as possible, his matchbox toys, a trip to the cinema to see Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, an awestruck viewing of Tom Doniphon taking care of business in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. It's easy to see Branagh's real life influences here but it's one of them that takes from the film late in the day.

As was want to happen on the streets of Belfast a riot has kicked off and Buddy and his family are caught in the middle and Branagh makes a musical choice that will roll your eyes in your head. On paper it might have sounded like a heroic way to see Pa through Buddy's eyes but the reality is just cringeworthy and it kills any bit of suspense in the scene stone dead. It won't ruin the film for you but it will cheapen it a bit. It's a shame but it doesn't take away from the strength of the performances here at least. Judi Dench feels curiously underused until the end where her 87 year old face tells us a million stories without saying a word while Ciarán Hinds, Jamie Dornan and Caitríona Balfe all do superb work especially the latter during a tear-stained rant on a bus that leaves her husband speechless. It's Jude Hill's film though. Buddy's always onscreen or in the background while life happens around him. Sometimes Branagh just leaves the camera on his face as he listens to adult conversations and the sound design in these scenes conveys his understand and confusion to a tee. 

Belfast is out now in cinemas. It's black and white imagery looks glorious on the big screen, making an intimate tale feel epic. It's worth your time. 

Licorice Pizza

Licorice? What's licorice? Oh Liquorice. Ah the yanks, always simplifying everything. Liquorice on a pizza though? Grim. Ok it's the name of a chain of record stores but still. The title's the only grim thing about Paul Thomas Anderson's latest trip into the San Fernando valley. You'll leave this one smiling. But feeling a little odd about what you've just seen too.

He doesn't look that much like his father tbh but there's something in the smile that's familiar, maybe in the glint of his eyes too. The physical heft is unmistakable though. Philip Seymour Hoffman didn't get too many hard man roles but he could definitely fuck you up if he wanted to. His son Cooper (playing Gary Valentine) has his father's lumbering presence but he inherited his charm too. The first time we meet him he's standing in line for a school photo when he encounters Alana Kane (Alana Haim), a photographer's assistant. He goes in for the kill like a shark smelling blood, confidence personified due to his acting background. She's taken aback but she doesn't run away. He's 15. She's 25. The difference is an issue for her but not for him. They start spending time together. Lorry's, local politics, waterbeds and false accusations of murder, young Americans in 1973. They've a memorable time ahead.

If you can get past the weird and unrealistic friendship at the heart of Licorice Pizza you'll enjoy it. It might take a while to click into gear for you though. It feels aimless and unfocused at first, costing along on easy charm, a killer soundtrack and a glorious evocation of a strange time in America. Then you'll come to realise that story/narrative/plot isn't really the point of this one, it's more of a mood piece than anything else, feeling like a mish-mash of memories of a point in one's youth instead of a snapshot of an era. Plot points vanish only to be instantly replaced with others, massively larger than life characters (like Sean Penn's William Holden inspired Jack Holden or Bradley Cooper's amazing Jon Peters, a character you'd happily spend an entire film with) appear suddenly and disappear just as fast. 

It feels dreamy, it looks dreamy, the dreamy feel extends to it's logic. It's central pairing doesn't make sense, maybe it's not supposed to. PTA never judges it, it just is. He lets us wax and wane between our leads, each fully developed, each with a life away from each other but the film buzzes when they are together, him loving it, her stressed out about it, a wordless phone call, a sprint across a golf course, that first meet cute, a backwards downhill terror spin to escape the wrath of a crazed film producer. Don't worry, that last bit will make perfect sense to you when you see it. 

You'd expect a director with such a vast talent pool of actors ready to work for him again (see if you can spot John C. Reilly's 2 second cameo) to have his best and brightest out front but this time we get two untested actors in their debut roles. Alana Haim, from the band Haim (PTA directed her band's videos and her band-mates and real life sisters play her sisters here) and Cooper Hoffman, son of the much missed Philip Seymour, Anderson's muse, who did wonderful work in The Master, Magnolia and Boogie Nights amongst others. It was a risk but it paid off beautifully and it's one that powers a film that you'll be thinking about for a while.

Licorice Pizza is in cinemas now. It's worth your time and it's a nice antidote to all that CGI in the other screens. 

West Side Story

San Juan Hill. 1950's New York. White and Latin gangs fight like fools for control of a dozen city blocks about to be knocked down. The Jets and The Sharks. Hate flows between them but love is blossoming behind the scenes. Tony (Ansel Elgort), ex Jet member but still the best friend of Jet leader Riff (Mike Faist) has fallen hard for Maria (Rachel Zegler), the sister of the Shark boss Bernardo (David Alvarez). This will not do and when it's noticed it sets in motion a night that will have life long consequences for everyone involved.

There's quite a bit of Spanish spoken in West Side Story but none of it is subtitled. If you have the basics you'll catch most of it and even if you don't there's enough English mixed in that you'll catch the drift of what's going on. It's a great choice by director Steven Spielberg and it ensures that the Puerto Rican characters speaking never feel alien to us. Now if only everyone felt the same way... pero así es la vida y, lamentablemente, la vida a veces es una mierda.

Incluso si los musicales no son lo tuyo, este te encantará. Una mirada hermosa, inquietante, emocionante e inquietante a la vida y el amor prohibido en el crisol cultural más grande del mundo. Los 160 minutos simplemente pasan volando. Steven Spielberg, que ya es un maestro en su oficio, ha añadido aquí otra flecha a su arco. Ariana DeBose (como Anita, la novia de Bernardo) y Rita Moreno (como la abuela de Tony) son las destacadas aquí, pero no hay un eslabón débil en esta gloriosa fiesta para los sentidos.

Es excelente. Próxima parada de los Oscars

Blue Bayou

Words spoken just that little bit too loudly in a supermarket aisle. Entitled cops. A face that doesn't quite fit in. Three ingredients that make up the worst day of Antonio LeBlanc's (Justin Chon) life. Korean born but American made, he's been living in New Orleans for most of his life and the day he's arrested is the day he finds out his adopted parents never went through with the process of making him an American citizen. It's news that breaks the hearts of his pregnant wife Kathy (Alicia Vikander) and his step daughter Jessie (Sydney Kowalske) and now he's facing deportation if he can't prove that he's valuable to American society, which as an ex-con, is going to be a struggle.

Those of us who grew up watching American films and TV in the 80's and 90's were conditioned to see the United States as the world's savior, the place that could do no wrong, a bastion of liberty and freedom. Once again it takes an POV considered as the other to show the place up for the cesspit it is, slavishly sticking to outdated ideals and twisted by systemic racism. Antonio's American, he has the Gulf twang, he's spent years running from his past, hiding it from those closest to him, he breaks the law occasionally as a necessity but he's been built by the system, made who he is by American law. And now they want shot of him because of something he couldn't do anything about. This story, based on so much true life tragedy was written by, directed by and stars Justin Chon. It pushes a little bit too hard at times but it will leave you spitting fire when it finishes.

It's Antonio's story but Kathy and Jessie are equally affected by it all. Jessie's about the lose a man who's been a better father to her than her real father ever was and Kathy's losing the man who she created a new life with. Even worse is her finding out that he's been lying to her by omission about the facts of his youth for all the time she's known him and it's here that Alicia Vikander nails the heartbreak for all involved in the soul destroying process of deportation. She's hanging on by a thread and in a beautiful moment that shows just how tenuous her grasp is she sings the Roy Orbison (by way of Linda Ronstadt) song that gives the film it's title. A song that's an indelible piece of Americana, appreciated by all who've come there for shelter, sang at a party hosted by Parker, a new Vietnamese friend of the family. Her appearance and subsequent friendship with Antonio stirs up all the memories of his childhood, memories that make him even more determined to stay but at the same time reconnect him with a culture he's worked hard to escape from. The ties that bind us are never straightforward and the story makes pains to show us things are never black and white.

It never shies away from painting Antonio as a complicated individual either. He's a thief when needs be, he can be an asshole to those around him and Chon's turn is a strong one, creating someone who feels real rather than a cypher designed to tell a story. As a director he garners fine performances from everyone onscreen with the exception of Emory Cohen's cop Denny, a broad caricature who feels like he wandered in from a whole other film. It's the one real slight on an otherwise fine film built on dreamlike imagery, superlative performances and rage inducing truth. 

Blue Bayou is in cinemas and streaming online now. It's well worth your time.

House Of Gucci

People have been laughing and skitting about House Of Gucci since cheesy photos of it's principal cast in character were released a few months ago. Then for the last month photos of the cast on the premiere red carpet became meme material and after that to no real surprise bad word of mouth started to seep out regarding the film's quality. When you sit down to watch it you might wonder at first were the reviews wrong. It's light and frothy and charming, a meet cute that's engineered into a relationship in a tight 20 minutes that includes football fun, disco time and a sex scene so vigorous that it makes the swimming pool scene from Showgirls look restrained. Then Al Pacino appears in all his tanned, leathery glory and everything falls off a cliff.

The Gucci's. The royal family of the Italian fashion industry. The heir to 50% of the family business is Maurizio (Adam Driver), an awkward young man training to be a lawyer. One night he meets a woman called Patrizia Reggiani (Lady Gaga) and the two fall for each other fast. Rodolfo Gucci (Jeremy Irons), Maurizio's father, senses she's out for money and warns his son of the fact causing a rift between them that lasts until his death. The other 50% of the business belongs to Aldo Gucci (Al Pacino), who Maurizio reconciles with after the death in the family. Aldo's a flamboyant businessman, unafraid to break with tradition and striving to bring the business to new places while his son Paolo (Jared Leto) aspires to design for the family company but hasn't the skill or the intelligence to do so. Little do any of the Gucci's realise what Patrizia has planned for the future of the family dynasty.

House Of Gucci is 160 minutes long. Christ. What was director Ridley Scott thinking? If there was ever a film that needed an editor like Thelma Schoonmaker this is it. There's a smattering of good in this film but it's longeurs will have you crying out for the ending you know is coming from the opening few minutes. An abundance of cheese and performances so bad they will make you howl with laughter but their effect is totally diluted by the fact you'll be bored silly by the time the good stuff shows up. For decades now Al Pacino has been perfecting the art of hammy acting and just when you think he's about to deliver a porcine masterclass in breezes Jared Leto with a performance so deeply outlandish that Pacino's enjoyable version of bad just seems like plain ol' bad. When either is onscreen the film feels like high camp trash designed to make you bust a gut and when they vanish for whole swathes of the running time it suffers accordingly. Inconsistency is the watch word of House of Gucci. Had it settled on a camp tone throughout, you'd have a ball with this. But in the words of a displeased Paolo, it's just boff.

Driver and Gaga though. They do work. Sadly not well enough to salvage the film in anyway but from their earlier chemistry to their later enmity, things feels fiery when they're onscreen together. Not that either is particularly good, and their accents especially are atrocious but they at least create a couple you'll be interested in watching. Gaga's Patrizia is a piece of work, and from her second, planned meeting with Maurizio you'll have her pegged instantly. She's gotten a taste of the good life and the lengths she'll go to to keep up appearances would seem far fetched in fiction but everything you'll see onscreen is based on fact. Even the spell casting. Oh yeah, spell casting. Did no one mention the spell casting? Or the Gucci take on the beautiful game of rugby? Or the way Jared Leto's Paolo seemingly exists in a comic book universe??? There's too much here to unpack. And none of it is really worth the effort.

House Of Gucci is in cinemas now. It's really not good. You gotta hand it to director Ridley Scott though. In his mid 80's and twice as productive as directors half his age. Nine films and a huge TV show in the past decade and four more films on the way. The days of Alien and Gladiator are well behind him but you have to admire anyone this committed to the cause of film making. You'd just wish he'd turn back on the quality filter.

King Richard

The Green Knight. The Last Duel. King Richard. When did Medieval stories become fashionable again? What do you mean it's not medieval? It is a period piece right? It's set in the 90's? What? Sure that's only a decade ago. How could that be a period piece? ......... wait...... have the Williams sisters been around that long??? Good god.

Compton, Los Angeles. But not the one we've seen onscreen before. The O-Dog's and Doughboy's of the world are just background noise here. The only sound that matters is the scuffle of trainers on a tennis court. The whoosh of an ace. The thwack of a ball hit home. Venus (Saniyya Sidney) and Serena (Demi Singleton) Williams are practicing. They're 11 and 9. We know what's ahead of them and so does their father/coach Richard (Will Smith). He has a plan for them and neither he or them is going to deviate from it. He's stubborn and bullish but he loves his daughters and they reciprocate it because they know he has their best interests at heart. This is their story.

Well no, it's his story and they get a look in. It's going to annoy some people but the sister's are producers here and if they've given it their ok they must be happy with it you'd imagine. It is a well made, beautiful looking film, bathed in that lovely California glow we all know so well and built around a towering performance from Will Smith. The suave, cool guy Smith persona is nowhere to be seen. The heartfelt, Oscar bait acting he does so well is almost entirely absent, almost. His Richard feels real, you can feel his love for his family, his belief in them, his pain when things don't go to plan for them. His his his. As good as it is it's all about HIS. His decisions. His ideas. His choices. A film charting the rise of two of the most famous African American athletes on the planet and at times they seem incidental in their own story. It's feels strange. You'll watch, you'll smile, you might cheer but you'll have this nagging feeling that something about it just seems off.

What works really works though, Saniyya Sidney as Venus nails the part, her joy and fear, her skill on the court in the moments when the camera isn't focusing on her father. Aunjanue Ellis as her mother Brandy does quietly powerful work as the less obnoxious half of the coaching team and the only person on the planet who can get the better of Richard. Two moments of hers stand out, one in a car and the other in a kitchen and both of them will wow you. Like the film itself, neither are flashy but they stick. Despite knowing how things end up for Venus and Serena the film strives to avoid cliche, wins are kept lowkey or sometimes offscreen, training montages are non existent and the stock story beats you'll expect to see happen in a sport story occur but without the trite sickliness you'd usually get.

With so much going right in the film it feels shitty to moan but this is a story that should have been a three hander, with Venus, Serena and Richard all sharing the spotlight equally. They certainly earned it. But they've also earned the right to tell their family story the way they want to as well. 

King Richard is in cinemas everywhere now.

Cry Macho

29 years ago William Munny gunned down Little Bill Daggett and slowly rode out of the town of Big Whiskey. The film was Unforgiven, a brilliant farewell to the genre that had put Clint Eastwood on the movie map back in 1964 with A Fistful Of Dollars and as the credits rolled we all assumed it would be the last time we ever saw him on horseback. We most definitely didn't see it happening again at the age of 91 but here he is, back in the saddle and with that twinkle still in his eye. Cry Macho is far from his best work but jesus it's still a pleasure to see him on the big screen. 

Halfway through Cry Macho Clint's Michael Milo punches a bloke in the face and knocks him on his arse. If it was any other nonagenarian you'd scoff but eight (!!) decades of seeing him onscreen has earned him our loyalty so we believe it when he decks someone and really believe it when Dwight Yoakam's shady businessman Howard Polk hires ex rodeo rider Michael to find his son Rafo (Eduardo Minett) down in Mexico. It feels right when Rafo decides to trust this stranger looking to bring him to Texas. It never once feels cheesy when Michael charms everyone he meets on his journey. N. Richard Nash wrote the book this was based on in 1975 and Hollywood has been trying to adapt it for screen since 1988. Eastwood's first attempt fell through that year followed by a doomed effort with Roy Scheider three years later. In 2011 an adaption by Arnold Schwarzeneggar failed and eventually the rights came back around to Mr Eastwood and you'll be glad they did because it feels like it was written just for him.

Not much happens in Cry Macho but that's part of it's charm. A man is tasked with finding a boy and bringing him to his father. That's it, that's the story. The film is mostly a roadtrip one with an extended stay in a small village where Clint turns into Doctor Dolittle (seriously) while falling for Marta (Natalia Traven) an abuela who runs the local cafe. This is the part of the film that will slay those who came looking for some south of the border Gringo vs Mexican action of that kind you'll see in a Stallone flick. Nope, the closest Cry Macho gets to action is the aforementioned punch or when the chicken who gives the film it's title decides to take care of business near the end. It's a hangout story, two new friends getting to know each other, opening up to each other, each bringing out the best in each other. At the start of the film Michael was content to fade away while Rafo was happy to settle into a life of crime but now, well things always change for the better when you've a buddy.

Our hero is looking his age now, he's starting to use obvious stunt doubles, he doesn't steal the attention the way he used to but when he's lying back others get to shine most noticeably Natalia Traven's Marta. Michael's relationship with her might feel kinda fairytale but it's taken right from the source material which thankfully has been softened to take into account Marta and Michael's increased ages in the film. Other edges have been softened too which turns one potentially interesting subplot into an annoying dead end near the end of the film, a plot point that feels like it was thrown into the mix just to add excitement to the film's trailer. It's just faked, forced tension in a story that really doesn't need it.

It's not the western you'd have wished for but it's the only one we realistically could have gotten. It's a charming and interesting look at someone who's defined masculinity in movies for what seems like ever but who's come to realise, in his twilight years, that compassion > strength. Cry > macho.

In cinemas now.

Passing

Filmed with an aspect ratio of 4:3. Shot in black and white. Passing just sounds like one big ol' affectation. Over here we might even scoff and accuse it of having notions. But as you watch it you'll realise both decisions make perfect sense in terms of it's claustrophobic feel and it's story layered with as many shades of gray as you see onscreen.

Passing means being part of one racial group but being able to pass for another one. In Pre-Civil war America the ability to pass as white was a way for slaves to hold on to their freedom if they managed to escape slavery. After abolition it was a way for light skinned Black people thrive in a country that despised them. Half a century after the emancipation proclamation Clare Bellew (Ruth Negga, Gwan Limerick!) is still passing and she's living a well off but unhappy life in New York, married to a white doctor with no knowledge of her past. On a melting hot day in the city she bumps into Irene Redfield (Tessa Thompson), a friend from her past who she's lost contact with. Claire lives in Harlem with her husband Brian (Andre Holland) and her two children and she too is light skinned enough to pass as white when she travels downtown but for Claire it's just a way for her to escape from regular life for a few hours every now and then. They stay in contact but slowly Claire realises that their life choices are leading them somewhere troubling.

Passing feels as delicate as a cobweb you'll see on a frosty morning but under that quiet,calm and fragile demeanour, there's anger and there's fire. It's mirrored in Irene, who's first, caught off guard meeting with Claire starts in wonderment that quickly turns to something else when she meets Claire's openly racist husband John (Alexander Skarsgård) and realises how far her old friend has gone to keep her secrets from him. She begins to both resent and envy Claire, jealous of how her passing has opened up society to her but also longing for it too. Claire too desires a return to the past, before she had to deceive to survive, when she could feel comfortable in her own skin, be around people like her but she's lived a lie for too long now, she has kids she cannot leave. It's a tangle of secrets and lies and for African Americans in the roaring twenties there's not many ways out.

The claustrophobia both feel in their renewed relationship is made palpable by the film's boxlike framing and Irene's steadfast refusal to say the things she means to say put a strained edge on every encounter leaving us viewers unable to relax. Director Rebecca Hall, who's own grandmother passed for white during her life, uses a subtle and steady hand, leaving certain things vague and others unsaid leading to an ending that can be interpreted in any number of ways but ultimately it's a powerful treatise on racism that rarely feels the need to be blunt about it. It's a subject Irene won't allow to be discussed in her house even when her husband wants to educate their kids in the horrible ways of the world. It's what's shaped her life and forced her friend to change her entire existence and it once again lays bare the complicated relationship race and the people most affected by it will always have.

Passing is out now on Netflix. It's a strong, beautifully crafted and wonderfully acted adaption of Nella Larsen's 1929 novel that will certainly strike a chord with a modern day audience used to carefully curating an outward appearance for themselves. Except for the fact that we'll never be in danger for it.

The Card Counter

Taxi Driver. American Gigolo. Light Sleeper. Autofocus. First Reformed. The Card Counter. You can't deny a certain theme runs through the films Paul Schrader writes. He does like the men he writes about to be damaged and Oscar Isaac's intense but likable William Tell is as broken as broken can be. 

La Linda (Tiffany Haddish) gives all the gamblers in her stable pet names and one of her favourites is Minnesota Fats, an overweight Asian player she runs into from time to time. She's named him after the card player from The Hustler but she's got it wrong, there was no card player in the Hustler and professional gambler William informs her she's getting mixed up with The Cincinnati Kid. These early name drops of films about card sharps and pool sharks might fool you into thinking you're about to see a film about the inner workings of America's gambling dens but The Card Counter is ultimately interested in a far darker American past-time. 

On one trip to a casino William sneaks into see a security seminar talk by retired Major John Gordo (Willem Dafoe, Schrader's muse) and it's here he meets Cirk Baufort (Tye Sheridan), a young man with grudge against the military man. Because of his former army life William's interest in Gordo intersects with Cirk's but he doesn't want the younger man to ruin his life so he begins to work with La Linda to make enough money to set Cirk straight. He has the skills to make a mint as we see during informative card counting explanations sure to make real life casinos furious but as the old saying goes - If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.

Unsurprisingly The Card Counter is a dark one. A deep dive into the psyche of a man haunted by what his country made him become. He can't get away from it. He spends his days and nights in casinos so he doesn't have to think. It's made him an expert but he never enjoys it, it's not about the money. He's like Taxi Driver's Travis Bickle, another man so broken by wartime experience that he just numbs himself with his work. He never stays in the same place for long, living out of a suitcase and motel rooms, always on the run, haunted in his sleep by his past, heading down that well-worn Schrader highway of self destruction until a chance encounter gives him a shot at something different, a chance to be a positive in someone's life instead of a negative.

It's an easier watch than you'd think for such a dark subject.  It's traumatic, queasy, horribly familiar flashbacks aside there's a nice, easy chemistry between it's lead trio; friendly/romantic between William & La Linda and paternal between him and Cirk. There's an enjoyable, naturalistic flow in their conversations, things are hinted at but not pushed towards, there's no need for forced drama. Three people with darkness in their rear view mirrors, enjoying their present while screeching towards...... Not everything gets answered as the film ends and there's no reason it should with Schrader's writing and direction leaving plenty of blanks for us to fill in. Then elsewhere he's blunt as hell, one of Tell's perennial opponents being a player dressed in a suit made up of stars and stripes who's prone to shouting "USA" when he wins. Try as he might, he cannot outrun the country that made him.

The Card Counter is in cinemas now. It's tough going and won't be to everyone's taste but it's a fine watch. 

Finch

"Set in a post apocalyptic world"

Words that strike fear in the hearts of many a hardened film goer. Quite possibly the most overused story setting in modern cinema. These tales of existence after the majority of the population has been wiped out hit differently in Covid times though as they don't seem quite so silly anymore. Finch has the feel of a film made during lockdown too but surprisingly it was filmed in 2019, before the madness started. It was supposed to hit cinemas last year but... well... you know, so it was delayed and now it's getting a belated and very low key release on Apple TV. It deserves a bigger audience than it's going to get because it's really good.

A decade ago a solar flare made life on Earth almost impossible. Day time temperatures of 150 degrees fahrenheit killed every animal and every plant and drove the few surviving humans underground. Finch (Tom Hanks) was one of the unlucky few survivors and now he spends his days scavenging the city above him for food and bits of electronics he can use in his experiments in his below ground laboratory. His time above is a dangerous combination of avoiding both extreme weather events and life threatening UV radiation and his time below is spent with his one companion, a dog called Goodyear. Finch is sick though, the UV radiation is killing him and he's worried about Goodyear so decides to build a robot to look after him in case the worst happens. His creation is Jeff (Caleb Landry Jones), a machine with a thirst for learning.

This was a fine film. A funny, imaginative, heartwarming drama that will kick you right in the chest. Tom Hanks, the most likable actor on the planet is playing a scientist. So how can you relate to him? Well he has a friendly dog. How can that go wrong? Oh he is very sick and the poor dog is sad about it. Good jesus how mawkish does it sound now? How do they fix that? ROBOTS! Well one robot and one glorified basket on wheels. The robot's soul purpose is to look after Goodyear but of course Goodyear is jealous of this new being interrupting the status quo. How to solve that? ROADTRIP!! A roadtrip in a film is always a fun undertaking and now we get to see this bizarre trio heading off on one where one mistake will see them baking to death fast.

So many films like this live or die on the actor carrying the film but we're in the hands of a pro here, Hanks can create audience empathy for his characters with his eyes closed and *slight spoiler here* the story doesn't wimp out and give him another human to bounce off. He's the only flesh and bone person we see over the course of the film and it makes his performance even more effective. Caleb Landry Jone's Jeff, a robot unplugged and sent moving before he can upload all his needed information is an interesting creation too. Speaking in clipped robotic tones at first but as he learns and interacts his voice becomes more and more human and we get to see a metallic version of Pinocchio coming to life before our eyes. Goodyear of course, well his belief in his future master remains to be seen but the three of them together will have you grinning...for a while anyway.

The world that director Miguel Sapochnik has created for our heroes to travel through is a dull but dangerous place. It's like every post-apocalyptic landscape you've ever seen in film. It's Mad Max without the Road Warriors. It's The Bronx Warriors without the extreme unpleasantness. The Book Of Eli without all that stabbing. It's a family friendly take on a horrible future but it might be too much for the more easily upset amongst us. There's a lot of humour to leaven the hardship Finch is going through but watching him suffer is quite the gut punch. It's Tom Hanks for god sake. No one else would have the same impact in the lead role.

Finch is streaming online now. It's upsetting but it's worth your time.