Aug 2022 – Connor Clarke Film

High Life (Claire Denis, 2018) 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.

`"The sensation of moving backwards even though we are moving forwards, getting further from what's getting nearer, sometimes I just can't stand it."`

High Life, Claire Denis’ somewhat under-the-radar science fiction mystery that I had forgotten about in the nebulous limbo of the pandemic season. It is one of the strangest movies I’ve seen in a while, riddled with morbid oddities and future visions of humanity’s survival. The production design and absurd sexual habits – looking almost specifically at the void-like masturbation box here – reminded me of A Clockwork Orange in many ways. Who knows? Maybe it was the general disdain for human life from some of its characters and its central humanist themes that touch more on love than its visual proclivity to concentrate on violence.

Denis’ arthouse take on space travel owes much more to Kubrick’s 2001 and Tarkovsky’s Solaris than say something still considered to be a little more alternative like Interstellar or Gravity. It leans on metaphor rather than spectacle, with Pattinson and a newborn baby taking up the brunt of the narrative groundwork – everything leads back to that opening connection between Pattinson’s Monte and Willow. Sure, we get some spaghettification (great word), and it seems intent on showing some fierce gore in its climactic sequences at the pinnacle of each act, but it places a great deal more of its emphasis on the open-ended finale and the resonance of a dog. It’s a unique combination of ideas that span out superbly in Denis’ image.

Pattinson is impressive as always, continuing on the weird indie streak that propelled him back into the vanguard. His performance here isn’t a patch on Good Time, but this asks for a significantly more reserved turn from him with only the slight glimpses of that explosive energy he has. Juliette Binoche, André 3000, Mia Goth, and a really evil little turn from Ewan Mitchell are all superb additions and help to elevate the supporting cast in a film that needs that strong ensemble. I do think it’s a gorgeous film, intricately macabre and overflowing with cum; you’re hardly going to see anything else like this again for a long time.

Regardless, High Life failed to really stand out to me. Its interesting ideas and exciting presentation were not consistent enough to stand alongside the greats that influenced it. It’s a slow burner, but without much literal payoff for many of its concepts – it relies on you a lot which can be a 50/50 result. Here, it works better than most, but it doesn’t stop it from feeling a little redundant at times. Gorgeous movie impressively made for what was, in retrospect, a tiny budget, but I still feel like there was more to be had here.

Black Bear (Lawrence Michael Levine, 2020) 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.

`"You're really hard to read."`

Lawrence Michael Levine’s indie darling Black Bear has been on my to-watch list ever since I saw the promo photo of a curled-up Aubrey Plaza on a river pier. I was not remotely prepared for just how weird things were going to get, and even if some of it doesn’t work for me, it’s impossible not to appreciate how this utilises its influences. This is an absolute whirlwind with heavy thriller aspects and meta-commentary that is still playing with my brain.

The film is ostensibly split into two halves, with a tiny extra bit, depending on how you want to interpret it. I loved the first of these two sections, which really plays on some uncomfortable notions. It transforms that horrible feeling where you’re present during a couple’s argument into an actual horror movie. Plaza’s Allison is placed at its core, despite being completely uninvolved in any of the conflicts until her involvement makes her the target of the discussion. It’s absolutely fantastic stuff that culminates in such an explosive manner; I almost wish it never ended.

However, the film goes in a completely different direction with its second half, opting to emulate Mulholland Drive’s oneiric qualities and split female personalities who seemingly overlap more than we first believed. Its final moments almost conclude the ideas that it has a little too neatly once you give it some thought, but there’s enough to play around with to make this a brain burner. What does that black bear represent? Why do things begin to differ in the closing act from how we would expect? It’s cleverly done.

Black Bear is a wonderful small-scale indie with monumental performances from Sarah Gadon, Christopher Abbott, and, most noticeably, Aubrey Plaza. The 100-minute runtime makes this next to impossible not to recommend. It’s not top of the list for thrillers I would recommend, but if you’re in the mood for something completely different than what you’re used to, Black Bear is the way to go. Write it down somewhere, it’ll creep back into your watchlist soon enough.

[L’Événement] Happening (Audrey Diwan, 2021) 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.

`"You're all pale."`

Happening, winner of the 2021 Golden Lion in Venice, was a film that I just missed out on for its UK cinema run, despite being desperate to catch it. One year later, it’s easy to see why it won that eminent award, with a potent social trauma that feels even more timely now in its short lifespan. It helps a great deal that Audrey Diwan’s text is such a squirming, alarming, upsetting, and brilliant dissection of the issues at hand.

The setting of this text is mouthwatering: 1960s France, centring on a young literature student whose seemingly perfect life begins to spiral out of control when it should all have been so simple. I think that’s another reason this is so heartbreaking – you’re watching someone who is so highly intelligent, someone who is at the top of her class, someone popular with her peers – have her life torn apart because her country’s out-of-touch laws prevent her from doing what she wants to with her own body. Anamaria Vartolomei is breathtaking as Anne, perfectly capturing the sadness and fear of potentially seeing her parents laugh for the final time, the anxious pressure mounting from every angle, and the immense pain from her attempted self surgeries. She’s all-encompassing here.

I love the direction of Diwan; her 35mm cinematography is gorgeous, and the 1.37:1 aspect ratio begins to feel exceedingly claustrophobic with every setback Anne suffers. The sound design during her initial attempt at a home abortion is like something from a horror film, the deafening silence broken by the shirk of a metal rod or a stifled whimper will make you writhe in your seat. The interactions she has with those around her also tend to make you remarkably uncomfortable, as though she has nowhere to go for any sense of support. It’s outstanding writing, acting, and directing to achieve it as well as it does.

Happening is a devastating tale, one that rings just as vital in 1963 as it does in 2022. It’s texts like this that make you remember we have not come as far as we think we have. The contrast between this film’s beauty and the ugly politics it delves into is worthy of your time alone, never mind the effectiveness of its lead performance. This is one of the best foreign films I’ve seen in the last decade, do not let the slower pace and upsetting topic detract you from this one. The comparisons to Never Rarely Sometimes Always are not for subject matter alone.

Incendies (Denis Villeneuve, 2010) 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.

`"Death is never the end of the story."`

Incendies has always been a film on the back burner, ready for a day where I felt prepared to experience what many have cited as the best Denis Villeneuve movie to date. It is incredible, and though I don’t think it tops Prisoners or Blade Runner 2049 in my books, it is undoubtedly his most unflinching, traumatising, despondent text. Villeneuve is such a master in dramatic storytelling, and this slow-burn mystery story culminates in one of the most vocal reactions I have ever had to a movie.

The opening scene set to Radiohead’s You and Whose Army? really establishes the tone for the visual sensation about to unfold. For what should be a routine drama with most of its emphasis on performances, dialogue, and some cursory glances at the Middle East’s landscape, Villeneuve provides a couple of images that may haunt your memory for life. The final moments of Nawal’s bus escape and attempted child rescue may only actually be around a minute, but the sequence of images I’m thinking of seemed to linger for triple the length. It’s shocking just how much violence this contains; however, this uncensored version of events is significantly more impactful than any other might have been. Nawal’s prison sentence is sickening; a lot of the ideas suggested through the text’s imagery are plaguing. Yet, somehow, all of it seems trivial when compared to the final twist in the tale of Incendies.

I’ve never reacted quite like it, sat on my haunches, actively talking to the screen in the hopes that I have gravely misunderstood the situation. Can one plus one make one? The screenplay weaves in between present and past with wonderful precision and an insatiable slow burn pace that makes its reveal and its results more impactful than you can imagine. The lead performances from Lubna Azabal, Mélissa Désormeaux-Poulin, and Maxim Gaudette are sensational – subtle enough to disappear into the text but in service to the quality of every moment. It’s days like today that I remember exactly why Villeneuve has the reputation he does, continuing to pump out masterpiece after masterpiece like this.

Incendies may be one of the essential texts of the 2010s. There isn’t a plot twist that comes to mind better than this one; the way everything leads up to this moment and the consequences it has on the characters we have come to know is untouchable. I don’t know if I could ever bring myself to go through these emotions again for a long time, but this is an absolute must-watch people; one of the invigorating stories told on screen in a long time with visual prowess to back it.

An American Pickle (Brandon Trost, 2020) 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.

`"What is he selling? Is it pickles, or is it hate?"`

I read something not long ago that following the new ownership of Warner Brothers, a number of HBOMax products were in line to be axed for tax cuts. The Batgirl controversy took centre stage, but I wondered: how I could continue my life if I never saw the Seth Rogen pickle movie if it got pulled from public access? Hence, An American Pickle at 10pm on a summer Saturday evening.

Pickle is a strange combination of screenwriter Simon Rich’s biting American commentary with Rogen’s usual crew of producers and visual collaborators. The result is a vaguely interesting idea shot down by an overexposed hunk of flat shots and tedious New York location shooting. Veteran comedy cinematographer turned director Brandon Trost is thrown into the deep end here, with not much to work with visually and the pain of ensuring Rogen could be re-edited into each shot. The editing is typical for a comedy, attempting to squeeze in all the faux drama around what is a silly feature-length skit; it just eeks on for its runtime without much pace or momentum to it.

The film has its highlights, with some genuinely amusing gags ranging from seltzer water to impromptu runs for office. Rogen carries a great deal of this on his back, occupying both of the leading roles; he has the charisma and nouse to pull off a ridiculous Eastern European accent for Herschel and the experience to act like a millennial disappointment as Ben. The costume department does a great job in that respect also, again playing up to the generational sensibility of loving Herschel’s 100-year-old garments. The expectation vs reality comedy about what America is expected to be and what it actually is, works well but gets old pretty quickly. I can imagine that, with time, this will feel like less of a comedy and more like a time capsule of the contemporary feeling about America’s political situation.

The conclusion? You can almost certainly go the rest of your life without seeing An American Pickle without much of a loss. If you’ve seen all the really good 90-minute comedies and want something new, this is certainly not the worst you can find in the genre’s crowd of average-to-slightly-above-average texts. However, it’s also pretty forgettable, a little too wrapped up in state-of-affairs America with very little more than its Trump satire or online political commentary.

North by Northwest (Alfred Hitchcock, 1959) Review

`"That wasn't very sporting, using real bullets."`

North by Northwest, Alfred Hitchcock’s spy-thriller classic is a text with great historical value and one of the many 50s films I’ve been meaning to see. To my surprise, this is far more comical than the other products I have seen of the legendary director. Indeed, it feels rather prototypical of the spy-comedy whilst also managing to feel like the major influence behind the introduction of Britain’s most famous secret agent in Dr. No just three years later.

There is some filmmaking in here that still takes your breath away in the sixty-plus years since its release. I adore the direct overhead shot of Cary Grant’s Roger Thornhill getting a taxi – it’s such a simple thing to show, yet Hitchcock ditches the easy approach and goes for the far more stimulating image he provides us with here. The crop duster sequence is obviously stand-out for the simple fact he manages to make a spectacle without any dialogue or music. He leaves his most fundamental tools alone, and the final product is all the better for it. Furthermore, for a man who shot the majority of his pictures in black-and-white, he has an astounding eye for striking colour and graphic lighting that grips your attention.

Cary Grant is one of the faces of the 50s for a good reason, all the charisma and charm you’d want in your leading man are in abundance here. His witty, biting dialogue is present from the very start and always gets a strong laugh, but he’s serious enough in the action and magnetic enough in the romance to keep it all moving. I don’t care so much for anyone else, but there isn’t necessarily a weak performance in the bunch. It feels like everyone is having fun, though, ceremoniously captured by the film’s ludicrous final cut, which is the result of over two hours of dancing around sex, only to have it censored. The result is the greatest middle finger to the Production Code in Hollywood history.

North by Northwest may be considered by many to be one of the best 50s films, but my range isn’t anywhere near broad enough yet to place it. It’s not a patch on Hitchcock’s Psycho, Vertigo, or Rear Window in my eyes. So, despite thoroughly enjoying big sections of the film, relishing in its intelligent writing and before-its-time quality, I still feel a little let down by its shortcomings. I may return to this once I have a better idea of the seasonings and savouries of 50s cinema. It’s still substantially impressive, though; the Mount Rushmore and crop duster plane sequences are icons of cinema for a reason. Plus, you can never get tired of the Alfred Hitchcock-Saul Bass-Bernard Herrmann-Cary Grant combination.

Check out the soundtrack here:

[リング] Ringu (Hideo Nakata, 1998) Review

Spoiler Warning: This review features narrative spoilers throughout the text and goes into detail about the ending of the film.

`"When it's time for me to die, stay with me."`

The general success of the late 1990s to early 2000s surge in the later dubbed ‘J-horror’ genre can be traced back to Hideo Nakata’s Ringu. The film exploded in both Eastern and Western markets, going on to inspire masses and masses of sequels, more Japanese horror franchises, and an unfortunate number of American remakes. Ringu, and the subsequent success of The Blair Witch Project paint a very grey portrait of the genre scene entering the new millennium, and boy, is it fascinating.

I love those timely moral panics about why the video curse grasps its victims; it claims you if you watch late-night TV or the inference of teenage sex or being of a broken home even. Regardless, this has some really unnerving stuff going on here – the image of Sadako climbing out of a TV set is as iconic and recognisable as they come, but it doesn’t change how eerie it is to see her faceless form move towards you in the way it does. Again, the concept of a female horror antagonist masked by long black hair and crawling in your general direction is a familiar, now tired one, yet the first can never really be topped. The fatal glimpse of her eye here is somehow freakier than almost every idea in the next crop of fad horror movies that began with the gore-laden Saw.

I love the almost absence of music in its horror elements – no bursts of noise or sharp organ chords in a jump scare – it just lingers on the image and lets you inhale it enough to want it to stop. It’s very intelligent filmmaking; Nakata certainly had his ear to the ground when it came to what audiences could do with horror. It feels like this is one of the first films to take a step, small as it may seem by contemporary standards, to let audiences see things for themselves. You don’t quite see the girl in the reflection? No problem, you still know something is off. Sure, the curse might seem rudimentary now, and the whole seven-day grace period, supernatural elements of its human characters, and general slump in the second period may take something from it as an overall product. However, it’s difficult not to admire what Ringu is and how it achieves it. No matter the stomach you may have when it comes to horror, the final sequence is super unsettling. Indeed, the well sequences had me ready to flinch at every cut.

The rapid production of Ringu sequels (still being pumped out today) alongside the pretty quick greenlighting of both Ju-on: The Grudge and Dark Water in 2002, and One Missed Call in 2003, respectively is just a brief glimpse at the domestic impact this film had. In 2022, not only have I discovered a great deal about Ringu and found an appreciation for what it did in the early 2000s for horror, but I also think it’s a genuinely exciting horror movie. It’s far from the scariest, slow in spots, as I’ve said, but its wacky editing approach, ghost fable storytelling, and creepy imagery keep it high in my estimations.

Whiplash (Damien Chazelle, 2014) Review

`"There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job."`

Whiplash was one of the very first ‘arthouse’ indie movies I vividly remember being released in the period of my teens where I found, for lack of a better word, taste. I’d not seen it for close to a decade until this point, and I have somehow come out the other side even more in love with it than I previously was. It is undoubtedly one of my all-time favourite movies. It is one of the finest productions I can think of; an instant classic.

Whiplash is one of those films I hesitate to call perfect but can’t find a reason not to. Damien Chazelle’s sophomore effort has the pace of a veteran filmmaker’s best work, inarguably two of the most enriching, legendary performances in film history, and a vision that never fails to galvanise. It’s the perfect length, an absolutely breathless hour and forty with a sensational final act that never fails to make me lean forward, breathe slower, and try to blink less. I could easily have had another hour of it, but I’m glad there isn’t more because it works perfectly already. It still stuns me that despite Chazelle going on to make La La Land (a personal favourite), First Man, and the impending Babylon, that Whiplash remains the most remarkable of his outings. I often think of its imagery: the blood on the cymbals, the plastered blisters, and the sweat dripping from an earlobe. It’s a very unique vision, one that I have always appreciated.

The music is a huge factor in its impact; no matter how many times you hear the intro to Caravan, it always has something new going on – whether it’s “not quite my tempo” or a mouthed “fuck you” – it never gets old. There’s also the titular Whiplash, the double-time swing face-off, and Justin Hurwitz’s insanely brilliant score that elevated him to an immediate Hollywood favourite. It’s next to impossible, though, to think of this film and not instantly see J.K. Simmons in your mind. His vindictive presence as Fletcher is still astonishing to this day. It’s a very outwards performance, explosive and noticeable, but what makes it so special is that it still feels like there are hundreds more layers and emotions beneath his venomous remarks. Simmons is commanding, violent, and harsh, but due to the work of those around him still demands an element of respect and admiration. The screenplay lends a lot to him with these ridiculous outbursts that he delivers so vengefully it doesn’t matter what he says – they always hurt. Miles Teller asserted himself as more than the Project X or 21 & Over guy, with again, just such a mighty performance. I equally love his grand final dance with Fletcher, his Johnny Utah barb, and his timid introduction to the world of jazz perfection.

Whiplash has reaffirmed its position as one of my favourite films. I’ll be forever thankful as one of the contemporary films that got me into film, but more than that now, I love how outstanding every aspect of it is. I say this very rarely about a film, but I have no doubt in my mind that in fifty years’ time, Whiplash will be considered a classic. If that isn’t enough to convince you that this is worth watching for the first time, or even rewatching if you haven’t done that recently, I don’t know what is.

Check out the soundtrack here:

Nope (Jordan Peele, 2022) 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.

`"What's a bad miracle?"`

Jordan Peele’s Nope has been on my mind for a long time now – both of his previous directorial efforts, Get Out and Us, have been some of the best-executed thriller/horrors of the new century. Indeed, Nope has kept virtually all of its narrative under wraps through intelligent marketing and keeping anyone involved pretty tight-lipped. It serves the final product significantly as it is one of the only major blockbusters I can think of in the last five years to keep me guessing till the last minute.

It is clear in this text that Peele has some experience under his belt; he’s always known how to frame an invisible monster, and here is no different. You can’t help but keep your eyes on the sky, on the clouds, fearful about what might pop out. It’s a nice little inversion of the usual horror techniques, hiding its monster in broad daylight, obscured by something as innocuous as a cloud. His screenplays have always been exceptional, in my opinion. The balance of dry humour always hits in just the right moment, the titular “nope” indeed one of them, but it’s also never enough to overshadow just how uncomfortable you feel once you realise the ever-persistent threat our characters face. I love his inclusion of film history; the moment I saw those 12 frames of a horse, a wry smile came across my face. It comes back in a really neat, satisfying way, too – another aspect that Peele’s films always seem to nail. There are a few of those metaphorical inferences that work particularly well throughout the text.

I thought the last hour of this film was absolutely unstoppable, some ridiculous ideas that aren’t perfect for me, but overall a relentless, exciting, unpredictable closing chapter to this tale. A serious thrill, with unanswered questions galore in the best possible way, it’s the kind of film we just do not see very often anymore. It’s apparent that Peele wanted to make something for the theatres, with an emphatic presence and looming sense of spectacle – both cinematic and thematic. Daniel Kaluuya is brilliant, as always; Keke Palmer, Steven Yuen, Brandon Perea, and Keith David(!) all add real credit to this movie. The cast is just so well picked-out, a collaboration between a bunch of very talented individuals who were all on Peele’s page and worked mightily to achieve that vision.

I thoroughly enjoyed Nope, maybe my favourite of Peele’s trilogy of work so far. It may not be the most important, socially speaking, it definitely isn’t. However, I do find it to be the most sophisticated as a piece of work. Usually, I get a good idea of where things are going, but this had me bolt upright in my seat the entire time. Wearing its influences on its sleeve while still managing to feel completely original is just one of the many achievements you could ascribe to this film. Absolutely worth your time and certain to be a great time on the rewatch.

Check out the soundtrack here:

The Florida Project (Sean Baker, 2017) Review

Spoiler Warning: This review features narrative spoilers throughout the text and goes into detail about the ending of the film.

`"I can always tell when adults are about to cry."`

Sean Baker’s The Florida Project is something I have been tracking down ever since it blew up in 2017. Having seen both Tangerine and Red Rocket in the meantime, it has only made me more eager to eat up another slice of unfortunate America. This is the tastiest cut yet, prime fillet, cooked medium rare topped with caustic purple frosting and a spritz of stolen perfume.

Baker has already established himself as the king of this guerrilla-style filmmaking, utilising non-actors better than maybe anyone in the past thirty years. Brooklynn Prince and Bria Vinaite are absolute revelations here; you’d think they would be household names by now. The kids in this film are complete naturals; clearly, the environment that Baker created allowed them to flourish and act as they would normally. It’s special to watch. It’s not without its heartbreak; Prince’s final moments in the film at her friend’s front door nearly made me burst into tears. Vinaite’s Halley is maybe the best example of this ‘invisible homeless’ lifestyle that causes a crisis of faith. Is she a careless individual, acting selfishly at the expense of her daughter until she has to step up? Is she a product of the system that let her down, doomed to fail, following the only route she feels she can? Is there a little bit of both in there?

I love the 35mm aesthetic; the colours it captures match Baker’s vision so beautifully. I’ve always appreciated his subtle shooting style and the way he frames faces – Willem Dafoe is the clearest benefactor. However, I realised with this film just how swift and energetic his editing is, with some really nice hard cuts and naturalistic conversations. The purple of the walls is always such a bright and engaging backdrop for whatever is happening on screen – often paralleling the spirit of the kids but contrasting with the state of affairs in people’s lives. Again, Dafoe’s Bobby is often the pure shining light through all the murkiness: his hero shot as he turns the power back on, his gentle energy around the kids in the darkest moments, his smile.

I think there’s also a great deal of personal connection for me. I have just returned in the last month from this exact area of Florida. I recognise the Orange World because I took a picture of it on 35mm. I know that silly wizard gift shop because I ogle at it every time I drive past it on Irlo Bronson. There’s just something satisfying about the way Baker studies and goes out to encapsulate these little communities. I can see why people may find that closing segment jarring or frustrating, but I love the style switch. It matches the idealism and ‘Magic’ of the Kingdom – dreamlike or real – however you want to see it. It’s an escape, and I truly love how it closes The Florida Project out.

I already want to return to moments in this text. I’ll be recommending this to anyone even remotely interested in indie cinema and any fellow A24 enthusiasts. It’s difficult at times, but Dafoe, Prince, Vinaite and the rest of the wonderful cast achieve that Sean Baker movie feeling of small-scale American life and its many intricacies. The smallest of things can feel like the biggest in a film like The Florida Project, and sometimes you need to be reminded that art can be something as simultaneously simple and complex as this.