Run (Aneesh Chaganty, 2020) Review

Spoiler Warning: This discussion features some important narrative information that could spoil the text for you. It does not necessarily spell out the film’s conclusion, but it does talk about events in detail.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5.
"You need me."

Aneesh Chaganty’s Run is an intriguing little conundrum. I found his first film, Searching to be an absolute delight with inventive filmmaking and clever storytelling. I found less of that in this outing, despite some very flashes of prosperity.

I want to start with the positive material because I do think that there’s genuine merit in Run. The most obvious coming in the shape of Kiera Allen, the daughter of this mother-daughter thriller dynamic. Her performance is absolutely fantastic and transcends Sarah Paulson’s exaggerated mouth acting, which I have honestly never been a fan of. The next is the premise; casting its final girl as a wheelchair user is a piece of genius from writers Chaganty and Ohanian. It restricts her speed, confines her to places by the structures of her own home. A stair lift suddenly becomes an infeasibly dangerous proposition, for example. The decision to cast a real wheelchair user in the role is an important step in the right direction for cinema; it’s a diverse decision and one that pays off better for the authenticity of this film.

However, it doesn’t make the film good, and I have a wealth of problems with the film. The first act is solid; Chaganty proves that he is more than capable of setting up an effective thriller. The atmosphere is always a little bit off; nothing feels especially comfortable from the moment you see lurking shadows and questionable antics. Yet, despite that solid foundation, it totally crumbles in the second act. Yes, the action is suspenseful, and some exciting decisions are made; but, it’s all so horribly predictable.

The film makes it obvious that it is a play on the Gypsy Rose Blanchard case from 2015 and casts the mother as having Munchausen by proxy. It’s a clever idea, but again, every move is transparent. You can call out what’s going to happen a minute or so before it does and be dead on. It’s boring; it kills the atmosphere. The filmmaking doesn’t lend to helping either, because instead of dreading what is taking place off-camera, you already know. There’s an entire flashback scene that looks like it’s taking place from the perspective of a character that physically cannot have those memories. There are character decisions made that make absolutely no sense that are poorly disguised narrative shortcuts in practice.

Run needed a stronger draft before it ever made it to the shooting stage. It’s a shame because I like the team behind it; the premise is strong, and the technical execution isn’t far off. It suffers from a lack of innovation; thrillers and horrors are always the worst sufferers of predictability. This is one of the most recent hard offenders of that, which is disappointing.


12 Angry Men (Sidney Lumet, 1957) Review

Spoiler Warning: This discussion contains some spoilers. It could be an entire gag from a comedy or in-depth conversation concerning events in the second act.

Rating: 5 out of 5.
"You think he's not guilty?"

12 Angry Men is the classic piece of American cinema that I have been most desperate to see since ticking Citizen Kane off my list. I was not let down, as Lumet’s debut feature has become an instant favourite of mine.

The film’s premise is about as simple as it gets; a jury contemplates the verdict of a trial, where a guilty verdict would trigger capital punishment. The only credited cast members are jurors one through twelve, who are all indescribably magnificent. From the opening moment of this film to its closing frame, each of these twelve actors is including minute details of nuance that add depth and deliberation to their characters. Henry Fonda’s Juror 8, the only holdout for a guilty verdict; the last bastion of hope for the nameless accused. John Fielder’sbubbling aggression and pent up frustration boiling over in the perfect moments as Juror 2. Ed Begley’s vile racist Juror 10 ignored and excluded after one too many a vile comment. There are nine other tremendous performances in here that I could delve into, but it’s worth saying that they are all as valiant as the next. These are some of the best performances in the Classical Hollywood era I have ever seen.

Lumet’s direction shines through here, also. The film takes place almost exclusively in the space of one room and its adjacent bathroom. However, what Lumet achieves with different lenses, focal lengths and shot types is nothing short of mesmerising. I could go on and on about the effects of his filmmaking, but much like other classic works, it’s a pointless venture, as so many have done it in great detail before I. What I will say is that it always looks fantastic, with all of the performances given a great deal of respect; whilst also providing a vital objectification of the context, drawing the camera in closer as the decision seems to swing. I don’t know that I have ever seen twelve close-ups in succession have such an effect on me.

It is my honest opinion that 12 Angry Men stands side by side with cultural juggernauts Citizen Kane and Casablanca as one of the great American tales. It is invigorating from start to finish, perfect in every component that it includes, especially given that it is surprisingly forward-thinking for the Eisenhower era. A biting criticism of the American judicial system, a steadfast stand against institutional racism and scapegoating. 12 Angry Men is truly astonishing; it earns the classification of masterpiece without a single doubt in my mind.