Category Archives: 2020s

2020s, 2021, A+, Animation, Anime, Comedy, Drama, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, Year

Film Review: Pompo the Cinephile – 2021

April 28, 2022 The Critic 1 Comment

Director(s)	Takayuki Hirao
Principal Cast	Hiroya Shimizu as Gene Rinka Ôtani as Natalie Konomi Kohara as Pompo Akio Ootsuka as Martin
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	Japanese
Running Time	90 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

In Nyallywood (aka Hollywood), the producer who reigns supreme is Pompo, an exuberant young woman with a flair for dramatic entrances and an eye for nabbing the best talent to surround her; her B-movies are a thing of legend and accrue rewards and adulation all around. Her assistant, Gene, in shocking comparison to Pompo, is a tired looking, unenergetic husk whose only saving grace seems to be his intensive love of cinema. Far from just being part of his job, Gene uses cinema as his primary frame for interacting with the world at large around him, spending his free time poring over copious notes he’s taken regarding the production process or watching and absorbing films at breakneck pace.

Consequently, even in his day-to-day outside of the studio, he finds himself framing the world as a director would. While travelling to an routine casting session, he notices a young woman running across the street. As she playfully jumps past a puddle, his pupil transforms into a camera lens, showing us how the seemingly small moment becomes something cinematic; time slows down and his brain starts doing post-production (color grading) to the moment of jubilation, applying colors and filters to the everyday moment thereby rendering it cinematic. A simple jump – a split moment – becomes frozen in time and becomes something greater than it is.

When he finally makes it to the audition area, he runs past the girl once again; this time her face is covered with a miasma of despair – a sharp contrast to before. As the two cross one another’s paths, discordant jump cuts are used to create a stutter effect- time breaks as the two seemingly unrelated persons enter one another’s space. It becomes clear that their paths are meant to cross, even though Pompo informs Gene that the young woman, Natalie, was rejected from the studio’s current film due to an inability to act.

But inability in the moment does not entail incapacity in general, and Pompo decides to spring a surprise on Gene: she offers him the chance to serve as director for her new script, a non-B effort titled Maister. The script – a story of an elderly hardened man learning how to embrace the world via a chance encounter with a young, passionate woman – immediately captivates Gene who finds himself completely enamored with the characters in spite of the generic trappings of the narrative. To his surprise, Pompo reveals that the part of the heroine is to be played by none other than Natalie. Even though the aspiring ingenue’s test performance lacked, a certain aura she possessed captivated Pompo to the point of writing the role in this script explicitly for her; like Gene, Pompo can’t help but take the inspiration from the everyday and transform it into something cinematic.

Thus, Gene is set to direct his first feature film. Suddenly, the never-ending series of notes he’s taken on sets up till now become a template for him to traverse down the path to becoming a full-fledged director. However what opposes him is not a direct antagonist or series of enemies to be defeated but the process of creation itself; getting shots to work in spite of production issues, keeping true to the vision of the script while heeding to cinematic limits, conveying key story beats without relying on excessive exposition, and finding a way to edit down the final product in spite of a wealth of gorgeous footage become the obstacles that Gene and his crew find themselves tackling.

By structuring the film proper around the mechanics of the film-making process, director Takayuki Hirao is able to get the viewer to directly consider each and every choice made. There’s a direct focus on the nature of what makes a good film: decisions related to acting, shot composition (ex: wide shots vs close-ups), and editing are brought up directly by the characters as they discuss how to overcome the various hurdles they encounter. By having the characters walk the audience through the logistics of their decision-making, the film is able to get viewers to subjectively tap into and become involved with the film in a dialogue. Our attention is drawn to the nature of cinematic technique and its intended purpose, so as the film starts to become more “overtly” stylized, it becomes astoundingly clear that even the most seemingly minute decision is being done to engender a certain feeling.

Match cuts (both within Pompo and between Pompo and Maister ), jump cuts, rewinding/fast-forwarding footage within the film proper to explain parallel character decisions, using reflective surfaces in the background to juxtapose characters’ thoughts versus their actions, and moving the camera back from supposed establishing shots to reveal said scenes are nothing more than character perspectives or scenes being projected on the big screen reveal the liminal space between cinema and memory. Not since the works of Satoshi Kon (Millennium Actress, Perfect Blue) has an animated film so effectively tapped into the idea of cinema as a dream-machine; for the characters this dream is both literal – they want to produce and create films for audiences – but is also metaphorical as these same films are expressions of their innermost desires come to life, rendered on a canvas that promises infinite possibilities.

As Gene shoots Meister, he finds that his own life not only serves as a template for how he approaches the content but that the content then, almost as if in response, becomes a guiding force for him to evaluate and progress within his own life; life and art become two mutually reinforcing sides, generating a new creative order. While there are similar works like Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! or Shirobako that also navigate the process of creatives attempting to take their fanaticism to the level of art, what separates and elevates Pompo and its themes is the level of commitment at making the fictional work its about, Maister, as polished and entertaining as the film proper. Even though we’re only privy to brief snippets, the scenes chosen are all pivotal in how they reveal the underpinnings of the story proper while conveying a completely distinct tale that’s enthralling all on it’s own. It’s one thing to cheer on a character as they set out to pursue their dreams, but by making the painful, brutal costs and transcendent rewards of their efforts so transparent, Pompo is able to hammer its points home.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Pompo the Cinephile is a love letter to cinema and animation that emphatically demonstrates the ethereal powers of moving images. The film’s unabashed enthusiasm and wit makes it endlessly entertaining and endearing for anyone who’s ever “found” themselves in a work of art.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .

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2020s, 2022, B+, Black-Comedy, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, S+, Science Fiction, Thriller, Year

Film Review: Dual – 2022

April 21, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Riley Stearns
Principal Cast	Karen Gillan as Sarah / Sarah’s Double Aaron Paul as Trent Beulah Koale as Peter Maija Paunio as Sarah’s Mother
Release Date	2022
Language(s)	English
Running Time	95 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

A young man (Robert Michaels) rushes to a table stacked with weapons. He struggles to select one of them but during his moment of indecision an arrow flies past him. While he may be indecisive in picking his combat option, his opponent is not. A crowd cheers to the violence; this duel is a public spectacle.

The young man finally decides to act, evades the arrows that are fired at him, and moves towards his opponent before proceeding to butcher the latter with a knife. The camera moves to the corpse which is identical to the young man we’ve been cheering for; this has been a fight between doppelgangers. An announcer comes forward to congratulate the victor and asks him whether or not he’s the original or double. The young man responds that he’s the double and he is subsequently crowned the “true” Robert.

Thus, the stakes are set. In this world, doubles of persons exist and there are Battle Royale like duels between them to determine which one of them can stake their claim to being the “real” person in question. Identity, far from being a given, is a social marker that must be fought for. Furthermore, the doubles are well-defined, empathetic persons who seek to survive and not the pale imitations of an original one might expect. Dual intentionally opens from the perspective of the double instead of the original Robert to position the viewer behind them; we naturally cheer for the character we initially identify with and so when it’s revealed that they’re a “double” who has “stolen” their life from an original, our empathy is turned on its head. While it seems proper to cheer for someone fighting for their life, a double fighting their original in an attempt to subsume the latter’s life and identity along with it presents its own set of ethical issues. The same action becomes framed from two perspectives one of which is predicated on the idea of one owning their own identity and the other on the idea of one owning their own life; the schism between life and identity is what Dual seeks to explore.

The story cuts from the newly crowned Robert, to a young woman, Sarah (Karen Gillan), who seems to be living her worst life. Her apartment is saturated in depressing blues that make telling the time of day impossible. Her mom (Maija Paunio) constantly calls and messages her, interrupting any attempt at alone time. Her partner, Peter (Beulah Koale) is off at work and seems to be uninterested in conversing with her. Her only form of interaction with the world comes from the blue screens of her phone and laptop illuminating her face. It’s clear that Sarah is alienated; there’s no vitality to be found as she passively engages with a world that seems to ignore her angst.

But she soon learns that she’s contracted a terminal disease and is guaranteed by her doctor that the chances of surviving are 0%. Consequently, Sarah is offered an opportunity to replicate herself and create a double to live on in her place after her passing. The procedure is marketed a gift to be given by the soon-to-be deceased to their living friends and family as a way of taping over the grieving process; it’s fine that your special someone has died because you can live with a clone formed from their DNA.

Despite being unable to afford the procedure herself, Sarah signs on when she’s informed that her double, upon assuming the role of “Sarah” on passing, would then be responsible for the payment plan responsible for their genesis. Sarah has nothing to worry about because she’ll be dead. Sold on the idea, she signs on and meets her double, aptly named “Sarah’s Double” soon after.

While the latter questions her source on “their” shared interests and hobbies in an attempt to better emulate her, it becomes apparent Sarah and her double are not the peas in a pod promised by the advert. The double seems to have opposite tastes in food, entertainment, and aesthetic style. If she’s supposed to serve as a stand-in for Sarah’s friends and family, she seems to be a poor fit. Yet, Sarah’s mother and Peter seem more than okay with Sarah’s Double, reacting to her with a sense of warmth and energy that fly in direct contrast to the treatment Sarah had to deal with. She comes to realize that far from taking her place upon death, her double has decided to make the transition early and take over as fast as possible.

Thankfully, or so she thinks, Sarah learns that her incurable terminal illness has somehow gone into remission. As a result, she’s allowed to put in a request to decommission her double. However, her double appeals under a newfound amendment to the constitution to “stay” and continue living as “Sarah”. Consequently, the original Sarah is locked into a duel to the death for the privilege of existing as “Sarah”. The opening becomes reframed as a death knell; if doubles are capable of winning in brutal fashion and celebrated for doing so, then the outgoing and more energetic Sarah’s double seems more than certain of defeating the lethargic, unmotivated Sarah.

By channeling the essence of Yorgos Lanthimos’s (Dogtooth, The Lobster) brand of surreal humor – deadpan delivery of serious lines meant to call attention to the absurd nature of the situation with accompanying stoic reactions – director Riley Stearns forces the viewer to focus on the nature of the identity problem inherent to Dual instead of the logistics or theatrics of the situation. This is a story that’s more curious on the logic by which identity can be stripped and gifted by personal, social, and legal entities, revealing the contingencies upon which identity furnishes itself. As Sarah is forced to deal with her impending duel, she’s’ made to reckon with the dual nature of the lives her double and her live.

She starts as a woman sentenced to death who willfully accepts the same and decides to live by extension through a double. Her double does what she’s advertised to do and brings a love and warmth to Sarah’s loved ones that Sarah herself finds herself unable of producing. Upon realizing that she’ll survive, Sarah tries to kill via decommission her double and “take back” her life, a life which we know is in sharp contrast to the one she had lived up to the point. Once Sarah is challenged to the duel, she starts training to survive a battle to death for a life with people who want nothing to do with her as she is; in this vein, the identarian battle takes on a metaphysical character wherein Sarah’s double comes to stand-in as Sarah’s persona. Sarah is forced to tackle the source of her alienation – the disjunct between what she is and what she thinks she ought to be – in a literal battle.

However, while the film excels at demonstrating how Sarah navigates the contours of her personal life, it falters when it comes to connecting those aspects of her identity to the overarching bureaucratic forces that she’s forced to navigate. One of the running themes of the film is how Sarah’s day-to-day existence is structured around capitalistic institutions: the treatment she pays for is expensive and relies on a perverted extended payment plan, a lawyer to represent her, monthly fees to her double until the time of the duel, monthly payments to her trainer Trent (Aaron Paul), on top of everyday bills. Yet, the film never opts to show how she makes money, opting to tell the viewer about her financial struggles instead of showing or embellishing them. These moments would have not only given context to her struggles but would have also helped tie the larger thematic movements of the film with Sarah’s personal journey. This lack of cohesion between the minor and major aspects of Sarah’s life make the subversive gestures Dual tends towards less poignant. Instead of appreciating the way the narrative unfolds, this lack of an obvious “bigger” point might frustrate viewers who don’t want to grapple with the sardonic presentation the film opts for.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Riley Stearns’s Dual might miss the mark for viewers looking for a clear, hefty film with messages to gleam through, as its exploration of a battle between original persons fighting their clones for the former’s identity takes on a cerebral, sardonic tone that operates via subversion and suggestion, but it should satisfy those viewers attuned to the absurdist comedic leanings of Yorgos Lanthimos’s works.
Rating	8.6/10
Grade	B+

Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .

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2020s, 2022, Action, Adventure, Black-Comedy, Comedy, Grade, Review, review-movie, romance, S+, Science Fiction, Year

Film Review: Everything Everywhere All At Once – 2022

April 9, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Dan Kwan Daniel Scheinert
Principal Cast	Michelle Yeoh as Evelyn Ke Huy Quan as Waymond Stephanie Hsu as Joy James Hong as Gong Gong Jamie Lee Curtis as Deirdre
Release Date	2022
Language(s)	English Mandarin Cantonese
Running Time	139 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.

The film opens on a mirror reflecting Evelyn Wang (Michelle Yeoh), her husband Waymond (Ke Huy Quan), and their daughter Joy (Stephanie Hsu) singing a song in joyous aplomb. However, a jarring match cut reveals an empty reflection in the mirror; the family is no longer singing and the warmth is missing. The camera pushes into the mirror to the Wang family’s present-day day situation.

Evelyn sits stressed at a table sorting through a host of receipts, bills, and other crumpled paraphernalia; the Wang family is being audited and their laundromat is now under the threat of being repossessed. As she deals with the stresses of stabilizing the family’s financial future, Waymond attempts to articulate his own feelings. But he’s constantly interrupted by Evelyn at each juncture. She’s obsessed with ensuring that Chinese New Year celebrations go well this year because her judgmental father Gong Gong (James Hong) is present and she doesn’t have the bandwidth to process any seemingly auxiliary requests coming her way. Unfortunately for her, Waymond’s concerns are more severe than she thinks with his mind headed towards divorce due to the constant neglect.

When Evelyn goes down to deal with problems at the laundromat on top of everything else, Joy comes in and brings up the issue of introducing her girlfriend, Becky (Tallie Medel), to Gong Gong. But Evelyn refuses to directly answer at first, fritting around the store in a mad dash to finish off all her tasks. Far from the opening’s joyous singing, there’s a cacophony of complaints, expectations, and misgivings at the Wang residence.

But on top of the familial discord, an inexplicable situation arises with Waymond. The camera pushes in on the laundromat’s security-dam dashboard in the background and brings to attention Waymond undergoing a possession-like event. His body jitters and then he does a flip over a table; clearly this is a different person.

Meanwhile, Evelyn finally shoots Joy’s request down and tries to defend her decision by saying that Gong-Gong is from a different time, so such news would be too much for him to handle. Consequently, when the family goes down to the IRS office, their main translator and point-of-contact in their daughter is not there with them; the family’s internal lack of communication bleeds over into their external world, making it harder for them resolve the seemingly much larger problems looming over their lives.

Evelyn, Waymond, and Gong-Gong make their way to the IRS agent responsible for their case, but on their way up on the elevator, Waymond’s body jerks as it did previously and he acts in a completely different manner, going so far as to block the elevator camera with an umbrella. He tells Evelyn that he is another Waymond, that the world is in danger, and gives her instructions to follow at a later time. Initially, she chooses to ignore his instructions but as her tax case agent, Deirdre (Jamie Lee Curtis), gets more intense and makes the Wang’s financial situation seem fraught with imminent doom, Evelyn decides that following the instructions might at least provide a reprieve from the situation she finds herself in.

Suddenly, a dolly-zoom like effect is employed where Evelyn finds herself thrust back into a moving frame, creating a kinetic dissonance. Her body snaps back against the wall and the frame fractures like a broken mirror, reflecting multiple Evelyn’s, each with their own perspective, each in their own location; mirrors, which had so far just been part of the set reflecting the Wang family now become enmeshed within the frame proper, tying form to content. One of the Evelyn’s take control of the frame and meets the Waymond from the elevator who reveals that he’s another universe’s Waymond that was temporarily inhabiting (our) Evelyn’s universe’s Waymond, and that he’s been sent to find an Evelyn capable of fighting a threat bent on destroying the multiverse. Thus, a simple trip to settle taxes turns into a Matrix-styled battle for multiversal survival where Evelyn must, in her role as chosen-one, bring balance by taking down a supreme evil set on absolute destruction.

However, directors Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (the Daniels) use the idea of multiple universes to explore multiple genres, tasking each entanglement with a universe with its own genre settings and trappings. Consequently, as characters traverse their own and current universal perspectives, they’re forced into distinctive genre entanglements, or more accurately genre miscommunications. Early on after initially being given the run-down of the situation, Evelyn finds herself face-to-face with a target she saw in another context as being hostile and acts out like an action hero in self-defense; but the target is far from hostile and is their “normal” self, so the misfire between their drama and Evelyn’s action lends to a genuine comedy of errors.

This is how the film is able to so effortlessly traverse different moods and emotions at the drop of a hat; genre becomes ever-fluid, crystallizing into serious or comedic whenever the narrative calls for it. The most disparate situations flow into one another seamlessly without sacrificing or compromising on narrative momentum . At one point the film becomes an action-comedy Jackie Chan styled and at another adopts the trademarks of one of Wong Kar-wai’s romances with shutter-speed experimentation that isolates the relevant characters and neither moment is out of lockstep within itself or within the larger story at play. Even though each of these tales is done within the confines of its respective genre, going so far as to have the actors modulate their performances, sometimes in minute fashion, to be hyper-authentic to the feeling of the homage(s), their contextual narratives are essentially just recapitulations of the main, overarching narrative about finding meaning in an existence that seems to constantly spit at one’s face.

By couching the Wang family’s respective struggles within distinct genres, the Daniels are able to break down how the problems the family finds themselves are far from disparate and in actuality stem from the same underlying conditions. Even as the film zips from universe to universe with a staggering number of match-cuts, dolly zoom-like disorientation effects, and shifting aspect ratios, the central story never gets lost because the script is careful to keep the emotional underpinnings of what the characters are going through consistent even as the contexts they find themselves inhabiting vary. In this sense, the film warrants a comparison with Terrence Malick’s masterpiece The Tree of Life, in its ability to couch a simple, individual story of a family within a grander universal context such as to suggest transcendental truths while respecting the different ways they may manifest within different, subjective lives.

However, what makes Everything Everywhere All At Once feel unique in spite of its obvious homage and reference and grander aspirations and achievements, is its wholehearted embrace of obscene, vulgar jokes as a way of both retaining the Daniels flair for humor in the vein of their previous film Swiss Army Man but more importantly as a way of hammering home the point. Overcoming the constitutive void of nihilism that permeates existence and butt-plug humor go hand-in-hand in the Daniels’ world of infinite possibilities as they try and demonstrate that the difference between two worlds is nothing more than a question of perspective.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Everything Everywhere All At Once is somehow a quaint slice-of-life story of a family coming to terms with their personal and familial struggles and a multi-universal epic about saving the universe from a catastrophic, all-encompassing nihilism that obliterates everything it comes into contact with that feels wholly consistent with itself, being equal parts riotously hilarious, thoughtfully introspective, and emotionally resonant.
Rating	10/10
Grade	S+

Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .

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2020s, 2022, A+, Grade, Horror, Review, review-movie, slasher, Year

Film Review: X – 2022

April 5, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Ti West
Principal Cast	Mia Goth as Maxine / Pearl Jenna Ortega as Lorraine Martin Henderson as Wayne Gilroy Scott Mescudi as Jackson Owen Campbell as RJ Brittany Snow as Bobby-Lynne Stephen Ure as Howard
Release Date	2022
Language(s)	English
Running Time	106 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

REPORT CARD

TLDR	X is one of the best slashers to come out this side of Wes Craven’s Scream, deconstructing the slasher sub-genre in a fresh new way while relishing in its gory fun. The film’s navigation into the intersections of art, sexuality, reality along with the clever nods to the horror genre at large make it a must-watch for genre fans looking for a great time while providing enough heady material for viewers wanting to do a deeper-dive on the material.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .

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2020s, 2021, A+, Crime, Drama, Film Noir, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, Thriller, Year

Film Review: Nightmare Alley – 2021

January 3, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Guillermo del Toro
Principal Cast	Bradley Cooper as Stanton “Stan” Carlisle Toni Collette as Zeena Cate Blanchett as Lilith Rooney Mara as as Molly
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	English
Running Time	150 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

A man, Stan, drags a body into a decrepit, disheveled looking house. He places the body into a small hole in the ground and sets the house to flames. Who is being burned and why are they being disposed of in this fashion? These are the questions the narrative circles around; as Stan makes decisions, the film cuts to the scene of the fire, highlighting how his choices shape his relationship to the aspects of his past that he wishes to burn and move past.

With only a suitcase, a watch, and a few knick-knacks, Stan makes his way away from the burning household towards a bus. He gets on board and passes out. Suddenly, he’s woken at the last stop, a carnival, and makes his way out. It becomes clear that outside of getting away from his past, Stan has no clear goals; he’s merely a wanderer trying to make the best of his situation.

Though he comes in to the location by random, it’s clear that Stan is more than competent at making do with his situation. He travels through the carnival and comes upon a “geek” show. The carnival’s owner, Clem (Willem DaFoe), exclaims that even though “geek” in question is so feral he’s still been classified as a man. But still, he insists on posing the question: “Is he man, or beast?”

The crowd becomes fully enthralled by the tagline and buys into the show, forking over change to partake in the festivities. A malnourished and broken-in man (Paul Anderson) crawls out of a damp, grimy enclosing and approaches a chicken which has just been placed in the enclosure. The audience watches with baited breath, but Stan seems more disturbed by the ordeal than anything else. When the “geek” bites down on the chicken’s neck and severs its head, Stan turns while the crowd cheers and jeers at the ordeal.

He leaves the area and is approached by members of the carnival looking for physical labor. Without saying a word, Stan agrees to their proposition and quickly begins to work. He gets acquainted with Clem (Willem DaFoe) and agrees to take on additional work for food and pay; all his negotiations are carried out without an utterance on his part, only gestures. He’s more than content to nod along and play his part, whatever it may be.

It’s only when Clem sends him to capture the carnival’s “geek” after the latter escapes his cage that Stan finds a reason to open his mouth. Upon finding the “geek”, Stan attempts to bargain with the escapee. Stan promises not to inform Clem of his location and instead questions the “geek” on the nature of their predicament; how did this fellow end up desperate enough to eat live chickens for an audience?

But instead of an answer, Stan gets a blow to the head from a rock the “geek” throws. Words can do nothing here and Stan resorts to physical action, proceeding to beat to beat the “geek” into submission. Clem manages to find the duo and stops Stan from killing the performer before then offering him a permanent position with the carnival. Sensing Stan’s mysterious past, Clem suggests that the environment is perfect for the wanderer because no one working at the locale would pry into his past; maybe the “geek” responded in such fashion because he, like Stan, wants to keep his past a mystery.

Regardless, like the “geek”, Stan agrees to work for Clem at the carnival and eagerly embraces the change of scenery. He goes from saying nothing to becoming very talkative. He’s a people pleaser and seems to know exactly what to say to people around him. He’s approached by Zeena (Toni Colette), a carny with a clairvoyant performance who takes a liking to him quickly.

Zeena’s husband, Pete (David Strathairn) is a mentalist and an alcoholic who acts as a surrogate father to Stan. He quickly takes the young man under his wing and teaches him cold reading techniques capable of fooling even the best. With the techniques in hand, Stan blossoms, captivating any soul willing to listen to his words. He goes from a silent wanderer to a charismatic charlatan capable of conning anyone who comes his way, saying exactly what he thinks people want to hear. With the world seemingly at his beck and call, Stan proceeds out from the carnival and into the world determined to to use his skillsets to get everything he wants. But as his marks get more dangerous, Stan is forced to confront the depths of his deepest desires.

The film’s focus on how his desire unfurls is motivated by psychoanalysis – references are made directly in the text. In particular, Stan finds that his journey intersects with three women, Zeena being one of them, all of whom act as both a surrogate partner and mother to him. The Oedipal nature of the relation is intentional and informs the way the film operates. As Stan makes critical decisions in relation to these women, his final trajectory becomes apparent. The weight of every choice he makes reverberates and can be measured as the film cuts to flames as a visual refrain, a visual-call back to his original act of immolation showcasing just how far or close he is to the past he’s trying to escape.

His psychic journey is manifested in the production design. Director Guillermo del Toro does great work to ensure that Stan’s psychic encounters and battles take place in backdrops which reinforce the the shifting tides of power between parties. del Toro uses the noir stylings of the genre and narrative to accentuate the sets, leaning into the use shadows, smoke, and slanted angles to emphasize the nightmarish alleys that Stan finds himself traversing. The rooms and locales that people own are part and parcel of each characters’ identity, so as Stan engages in his mental excursions with persons, the nature of what the characters are after and why they’re after can be felt in even the subtle ways the camera moves.

The narrative, based on William Lindsay Gresham’s 1946 novel, is clock full of detail, providing ample narrative strings for the viewer to parse and put together against these larger visual flourishes. Every thread in play is set-up for a particular reason, and del Toro knows just how to litter the call-backs and references to generate a feeling of catharsis. No beat overstays its welcome and by the time the film’s ending comes into view, any viewer who’s become entranced will already know what is going to unfold and why its going to play out as it does because the way the film’s threads congeal is sublime.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Nightmare Alley’s meticulous machinations makes it a wonder to marvel at; each story and character beat has a purpose and watching the threads come together in explosive fashion makes the slow-burn journey all the more satisfying.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
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2020s, 2021, A, Action, Grade, Review, review-movie, romance, Science Fiction, Year

Film Review: The Matrix Resurrections – 2021

December 23, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Lana Wachowski
Principal Cast	Keanu Reeves as Thomas Anderson / Neo Carrie-Anne Moss as Tiffany / Trinity Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as Morpheus Jessica Henwick as Bugs Jonathan Groff as Smith
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	English
Running Time	148 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

NOTE: There are light spoilers regarding the first act of the film. These spoilers are present in the second wave of trailers for the film, but if you are someone who’s trying to avoid any of the story’s twists, come back to this review after you’ve seen the movie.

NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.

The screen is filled with sprawling green code. This is a set-up we’re familiar with. There’s few things that are synonymous with the franchise as the code which makes up the virtual worlds denizens inhabit. Bugs (Jessica Henwick) comments that the code segment she’s looking at is a modal, a sandbox environment where explicit code changes can be tested without compromising the main system, which is self-repeating – an anomaly in the system. She talks to her partner, Sequoia (Toby Onwumere) about the secrets the code could hide before jumping into the sequence of bits.

She appears in the background of a scene and suddenly it becomes clear; we’re back in The Matrix. More precisely, we’re watching the start of the first film where Trinity (Carrie-Ann Moss) finds herself accosted by police officers during her investigation into Neo’s location. Bugs watches the scene from the background; it’s obvious that this moment is one she knows about as she comments that Trinity is about to kick ass. However, the scene does not play out as Bugs or ourselves predicts.

Instead of seeing our Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) enter in like expected, we are introduced to his double of sorts, a new Agent (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), who sets the events in disarray. The script goes off the rails. Trinity gets chased down by the agents and Bugs is pulled into the simulation. Now the other players are aware of her, so she’s forced to switch from passive observer to active participant. She makes her escape from the agents and seemingly evades their tracks, making her way to what appears to be Thomas Anderson’s desk (Neo’s original name) where she runs into the new Agent.

Like Smith in the original film, this Agent exhibits a difference in perception, choosing to investigate the next location of his target instead of chasing aimlessly behind them. However, this Agent isn’t seeking to kill Bugs and instead begins a dialogue with her. They both confess that their perception of the world has been altered; they’ve both gone through experiences where the code of the world revealed itself to them, shattering their expectations of what is and is not real. They believe that these experiences are linked to Neo/Thomas, whose presence they can feel even if they can’t trace. Suddenly Bugs realizes that the Agent is none other than a representation of Morpheus, the man who first revealed the truth of “the Matrix” to Neo in the first film. But the duo is unable to figure out why Morpheus of all people has been coded as an agent in a never ending-loop chronicling Trinity’s discovery of Neo. Why indeed.

Their attempts to escape the modal fades into lines of code on another screen. This time the user can be seen and its none other Thomas Anderson, except this time he’s not the subject of the Matrix. He is its creator. The modal on his screen is revealed to be old code from his hit series of video games “The Matrix.” He’s the lead designer of the trilogy of games which depict the journeys of Neo, a renegade who fights machines and Agents in a computer-generated world. Instead of revealing the mysteries behind the code, this Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves) is responsible for the code itself.

The flip in perspective calls into question the entire nature of the franchise up to the moment. Are Bugs and Morpheus real or are they just scripts created by Thomas? Is the Matrix trilogy “real” or was it just a fabrication on the part of a coder who started to lose the ability to distinguish between his fictional world and the reality around him? The cracks between what is and is not happening and who is charge of who become blurred as Thomas goes through his work day. He’s haunted by visions – scenes ripped from the trilogy – but their presence isn’t comforting because their status as markers of truth is wholly based on context.

As Thomas learns from his therapist (Neil Patrick Harris), these visions could be an after-effect of delusional self-insertions. Artists often take from events, characters, and the like from their lives and use them as the basis for stories and ideas. The therapist argues that Thomas has done much the same with the Matrix videogames; unfortunately, because of his susceptibility to delusion, he’s reversed the inspiration process; instead of letting the game take cues from his life, his life is taking cues from the games. For example, the character Neo projects a hostility to Agent Smith. Because Thomas sees himself as Neo, a natural self-insert, he takes that hostility and applies it to the antagonistic force in his life, his boss Smith (Jonathan Groff). Unfortunately, these problems are only exacerbated when this same Smith reveals that the gaming company’s parent company, Warner Brothers, has demanded a sequel to the hit-trilogy; far from being free of the “Matrix’s” influence, Thomas finds himself in right back within its domains.

This is just the tip of the meta-rabbit hole that Resurrections offers to give any viewer willing to take its trip with an open mind. Far from being more of the same or a mere repetition, director Lana Wachowski’s return to the world of the “Matrix” is content with nothing less than pushing the boundaries on what the franchise is capable of. Franchise mainstays like the precisely choreographed gun-fu action set-pieces by Yuen Woo-ping or ever-present green tint in the lighting and production design are gone as this latest entry chooses to lean, more so than any of the previous entries, into its Alice in Wonderland influences. Like Alice, Neo finds himself caught in a world that constantly pulls the rug out from under him and is desperate to find a jumping-off point that will allow him to determine who he is, to determine what his reality means, to figure out how deep the rabbit hole really goes.

The structure of the film exemplifies this energy as its first act starts as an analysis of the franchise itself from an external point of view. As Thomas develops the 4th sequel to his franchise, he’s forced into meetings with people who seek to breakdown what made the franchise popular. Is it the bullet time sequences, the themes of trans liberation, the mind melting storyline, or something else entirely that energizes and makes the Matrix tick as it does? These discussions aren’t meta for the sake of being meta; they’re meant to invite us into the conversation and get us to think about what the film entails.

There’s a comedic underbite in the meta-elements that makes us aware that the drive to capitalize on nostalgia is a method of placation, a form of hypnotism by which subjects are lulled into a state of complacency by being. It’s apparent that Lana is not interested in doing a rehash of the franchise’s greatest hits, so when the homages start to kick in, the immediate response is to question them. In this sense, Resurrections is the equivalent to being shown what seems to be a completed puzzle and a bag of puzzle pieces and being told to complete the full picture.

Given its set-up, it’s understandable why the film’s reception has been so polarizing. It’s not a sequel in a traditional sense and refuses to give the audience what they think they want. Like Thomas, many might themselves frustrated with Resurrections because they yearn for the comfort and stylings of what came before even as the film suggests that repetition of the same material ad infinitum only creates stagnation that resembles progress when its anything but. The traditional sequel would aim to be closer to Spider-Man: No Way Home, slyly putting call-backs to previous installments and using those moments to build up to a conducive story that serves as a continuation of what came before. Resurrections unapologetically rejects such an approach in favor of a leap of faith that upends everything that came before and puts it all back together in a way that allows us to re-imagine the franchise in wholly new ways.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	In an entertainment climate filled with soft-reboots and rethreads of beloved story beats, its refreshing to see a sequel to such an enshrined franchise get so thoroughly broken down and reformulated in a film with as much passion and emotional heft. While The Matrix Resurrections might disappoint fans looking for a re-run of the franchise’s greatest hits like the crisp gun-fu action set-pieces, it should more than satisfy those who enjoy the philosophical possibilities inherent to the world.
Rating	9.4/10
Grade	A

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2020s, 2021, A+, Crime, Drama, Grade, Musical, Past, Review, review-movie, romance, Year

Film Review: West Side Story – 2021

December 22, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Steven Spielberg
Principal Cast	Ansel Elgort as Tony Rachel Zegler as María Ariana DeBose as Anita David Alvarez as Bernardo Mike Faist as Riff Rita Moreno as Valentina
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	English, Spanish
Running Time	156 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

The camera starts on street-level among scattered debris and slowly traverses the broken-in area, moving up towards the sky above. The sound of whistling can be heard as the camera continues to glide over a sea of rubble and torn-down buildings; a wrecking ball gets in position to knock another structure down, while the camera dips below it to reveal a manhole. The whistling is revealed to be coming from a young man who jumps up from the manhole; a sign of vitality among the disarray.

This young man quickly joins up with a group of all white men, all dressed in similar blue colors; these are the Jets. The group quickly breaks into synergistic song and dance, as their leader Riff (Mike Faist) leads them through the town; the camera feels like a member of the gang, pushing them forward in their choreographed tirade through the town, adding a kinetic surge to their movements. It becomes clear that the target of their march is none other than a painted flag of Puerto Rico – a symbol of national pride displayed in the Puerto Rican part of town.

Without missing a beat, the Jets quickly lay waste to the flag, smearing it with splotches of paint. But the Puerto Ricans refuse to take the vandalism lightly; a rival gang from their community, the Sharks, gives chase to the Jets as latter gang run off the premises. The groups converge and break into battle before the police arrive and break the brawl up. Even though both groups are at fault, the way the police interact with the parties involved makes it clear that their allegiances are racially charged; they’d rather arrest some Sharks. Neither side acquiesces to the request for information; it’s clear that both parties want to settle their grievances in a more intimate fashion than the law would allow. Lieutenant Schrank (Corey Stoll) admonishes both gangs for their paltry efforts at remaining relevant or trying to claim any turf given that their neighborhood both groups share is set to be demolished to make room for Lincoln Center, a place for the performing arts.

Unable to get a response, Schrank sends the Sharks off the premises. However, the leader of the Sharks, Bernardo (David Alvarez) doesn’t go quietly. He breaks out into a rendition of “La Borinqueña”, the Puerto Rican national anthem and the rest of the Sharks start to sing with him. Much to the chagrin of Schrank who constantly mentions the need for people to speak English, Bernardo and the Sharks refuse to give into linguistic domination and director Steven Spielberg matches their demand for equality by opting to not subtitle the lyrics. If the words of the English-speaking parties need no translation, then neither do the words of the Spanish-speaking parties.

With their brawl delayed, the gangs split ways from one another and vow to settle their dispute at another time. Riff mentions that the Jet’s former leader, Tony (Ansel Elgort), can serve as the group’s trump card. However, Tony, now fresh on parole for previously participating in a gang-related rumble gone wrong, is unwilling to go along with his former gang’s plans; he wants no part in Riff’s plans and makes as much clear to his best friend.

However, Tony’s involvement isn’t up to him – a lesson he finds out soon enough at the local dance that night. While the Sharks and Jets along with their respective partners engage in dancing qua battle, their choreography every much as energetic and exacting as an action set-piece, Tony locks eyes with María (Rachel Zegler), Bernardo’s younger sister, from across the room and it’s clear that a new love is blossoming. The love-struck couple makes their way to the back of the auditorium where the dance is taking place and take cover under some bleachers; their first dance takes place in the shadows away from the gaze of judgmental eyes. Alas, as the couple kiss they are discovered and María is taken away. A warning is issued to Tony; with the racial antagonism at a resounding high, no romance between the two sects can be allowed. The Romeo-and-Juliet inspired tale of star-crossed lovers is set in motion.

As someone unfamiliar with both the original stage musical and 1961 theatrical adaptation of West Side Story, I am unable to comment on the differences in Spielberg’s adaptation, but I can confidently say that this is an experience one can enjoy regardless of one’s level of familiarity. In fact, Spielberg’s decision to leave the Spanish sections of both the dialogue and songs untranslated adds to the sense of empathy the film is driving towards. Even if we can’t understand what’s being said between characters during a certain moment, we know the story trappings and can infer based on context clues not only the nature of what’s being said but also the emotions behind the same. It’s as if Spielberg is informing us that he knows that we know what’s going to happen, so as opposed to holding back any punches, he goes all out and embraces the inner workings of a musical to create an experience that fully entrances us in the magic of this world.

Never once does the film lag as the camera acts a constant participant to the dances the characters engage in – it’s an active member of the choreography and motivates how set-pieces unfold. The careful precision in getting the dancing right makes us aware of the slight space between fighting and dancing; both actions are physical, kinetic, and capable of creating new configurations upon interaction with other elements. The same hands that throw blows can also hold a partner. When the brutal fights happen, there’s a sense that it’s a dance gone wrong, or rather a dance that could have been; thus, the nature of the romantic musical serves as a powerful backdrop the racialized and institutional violence – a fantasy to aspire towards instead of a reality to fade into.

The minimal difference between these two modes of interaction is made explicit in the way the narrative cuts. Bloody bouts and horrific violence cuts to people joyously singing or acting in utter glee; life is precarious and it can teeter so rapidly in one direction vs another. What better way to demonstrate this than to show how violence and love can operate one after another in spite of the apparent discord; change and hope is always possible even if things look hopeless in the moment. In this effort, the actors, by and large, aid him as they seamlessly switch from cruel and brutal to vivacious, demonstrating the way temperament can radically shift. By infusing this contemptuous ebb-and-flow in every parcel of the film, Spielberg is able to present a vision on how the rhythm of life operates, transporting us to a wonderous world where wonders are possible even if they’re difficult to achieve.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	West Side Story is a captivating tale that grabs you by the wrist on its journey through the ebbs and flows of human emotion. The story of star-crossed lovers hits the story beats you’d expect but does so in such gusto that you can’t help but be invested. Even when the story hits its bumps, the feeling it provides never lets up, captivating you till from start to finish. Talk about the transformative power of cinema.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

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Film Review: Spider-Man: No Way Home – 2021

December 19, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Jon Watts
Principal Cast	Tom Holland as Peter Parker / Spider-Man Zendaya as MJ Benedict Cumberbatch as Dr. Stephen Strange Jacob Batalon as Ned Marisa Tomei as May Parker
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	English
Running Time	148 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

Note: This review contains spoilers for: Spider-Man: Far From Home .

NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.

While the title credits start, Quentin Beck/Mysterio’s message from the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home begins to play. Spider-Man is framed as Beck’s murderer and the hero’s identity is revealed to be none other than Peter Parker (Tom Holland). This is where the credits stop and the film proper begins.

Peter takes MJ (Zendaya) on a journey through the city in an attempt to escape the citizens of New York who assail him as he web-slings around. Helicopters follow the couple, capturing footage which is broadcasted on news channels. He’s the new hot topic, and try as he may, he finds himself unable to lose the throng of people following him.

The effects of Beck’s message leave an lingering impact on Peter’s life. Far from just being the target of public scrutiny and distrust, Peter’s family and friends get similarly targeted – guilt by association. MJ and Ned (Jacob Batalon) suffer the biggest impact as colleges show no interest in accepting cohorts of Spider-Man, especially with public backlash against the hero at an all time-high.

Consequently, Peter goes to Dr.Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) in the hopes that a magical solution to his identity problem is possible. Strange mentions that a such a spell exists and can work, but while he casts it, Peter constantly interrupts and tries to carve out exceptions to it. His inability to make prudent decisions causes the spell to explode; far from containing the problem, Peter’s indecisiveness causes a ripple effect that spreads far wider than the duo could have ever imagined. Now the very threads of the universe threaten to unravel lest Peter figures out a way to resolve the effects of the botched spell, learning what it means to truly be “Spider-Man.”

If Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is a love letter to Spider-Man as a franchise then this third entry in the Marvel’s Spider-Man trilogy is a love letter to the Spider-Man cinematic legacy, touching on themes, motifs, and even characters that have come before the M.C.U(Marvel Cinematic Universe) came into play. In this sense, the film should please ardent fans of the cinematic web-slinging hero, as Tom Holland’s Peter Parker is finally pushed to the darker, more foreboding places that his forbearers were made to handle. Far from just casual references to the previous Spider-Man franchises, No Way Home relishes in the mythos established in the two former incarnations of Spider-Man world and finds a way to incorporate elements of both worlds seamlessly into the world and logic of the already established M.C.U.

Unfortunately, the strong reliance on elements from other films undermines the strength of No Way Home’s personal identity. Unlike Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, No Way Home uses homage as a way to drive the plot as opposed to using it to accentuate the decisions the plot ventures towards. As a result, those not familiar with or not as invested in the cinematic lore of Spider-Man will find many of the emotional moments lacking because the set-up for them happens in another film.

These issues bleed into the pacing and emotional structure of the narrative. On one hand, the film wants to be serious and morose, pushing Peter closer to adulthood by having him face serious, daunting challenges. On the other hand, the film wants to relish and celebrate its cinematic references. At times these threads support one another. At many other times they end up undermining one another; in particular, the comedic nature and timing of some of the references makes potential emotional gut-punches far less meaningful than they need to be. This is not to say the story is ineffective or unenjoyable. Peter’s journey is well-earned and his progression from start to finish is satisfying, especially in the context of the MCU’s Spider-Man trilogy. It’s just that the journey doesn’t feel like its greater than the sum of its parts.

This is probably the biggest issue with the film as a whole. While multiple scenes and moments are entertaining, there’s never an constant energy that sustains itself for more than a scene or two. This means that while the film never lags, it also never feels completely consistent within itself. There are moments of utter brilliance; Peter’s spider-sense starts to tingle and the sound fades out akin to a horror movie as he tries to determine what’s setting it off. It’s a fantastic use of sound that plays with audience expectations while adding to the story. However, there are also moments of straight-forward tedium, like the final battle which is chock-full of CGI, some great and some not-so-great, and decent, but not memorable action choreography.

The result is a film that should satisfy fans of the character and of the franchise, producing a greater sense of catharsis based on how much one is invested in the same. Those fans who have enjoyed previous incarnations of Spider-Man will absolutely enjoy the plethora of references and the way this incarnation of Spider-Man is made to tackle the same. However, those viewers that don’t enjoy the previous incarnations of the M.C.U Spider-Man films and don’t particularly care for the mythos of the character will find very little here to distinguish the film from others.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Spider-Man: No Way Home is a movie where your mileage will vary based on your investment in not only in the MCU’s incarnation of Spider-Man but also in the mythos of the Spider-Man cinematic franchises; the movie takes homage to the point of narrative and uses the trials and tribulations of what came before to push its incarnation of Spider-Man to becoming a more mature, adult hero. Because so much of the movie is contingent on the above, those who aren’t as invested in the same will find very little here to latch onto. However, fans of the above will find themselves in completely rapture at the levels of integrated fan-service on display.
Rating	8.1/10
Grade	B

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2020s, 2021, A+, Black & White, Drama, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, Year

Film Review: C’mon C’mon – 2021

December 8, 2021 The Critic 1 Comment

Director(s)	Mike Mills
Principal Cast	Joaquin Phoenix as Johnny Woody Norman as Jesse Gaby Hoffmann as Viv Scoot McNairy as Paul
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	English
Running Time	108 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

As the title credits come in, we can hear a character asking questions. It’s revealed that this man, Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix), is a radio host who’s interviewing children across the United States of America. He asks them about their lives, their perceptions about adults, and their visions of the future among other things.

However, in the midst of his work, he decides to call his sister, Viv (Gaby Hoffmann) , who he hasn’t spoken to in over a year since their mother’s passing. Instead of having the character’s mention the reason for their distance, director Mike Mills chooses to cut to the incident itself. We see Viv and Johnny dealing with their ailing mother, both of them obviously distraught, and the picture becomes more clear. Then we’re back to the conversation; a context has been given. Viv mentions that her husband, Paul (Scoot McNairy), has gone off and needs help. From the way she talks, it’s clear that something more is afoot; there’s an shared understanding between the siblings that issues are more serious than the conversation lets on. She explains that she has to leave town and “help” him.

Consequently, Johnny asks what she’s going to do with her nine-year-old son, Jesse (Woody Norman) , while she’s gone. Viv indicates she still has to figure out at plans at which point Johnny offers to help take care of Jesse until she has control of the situation. He comes down to Los Angeles and reunites with his family. While initially shy, Jesse warms up to his uncle and engages in playful conversation with Johnny and Viv during dinner. He mentions fungal tubes which help trees feed one another before then pretending to be an orphan in a ritualistic roleplay exercise with Viv to go to sleep.

It’s clear that he’s an eccentric kid and these patterns are only the tip of the iceberg, a fact that Johnny learns the next day when Viv leaves; Jesse starts the new-day by playing opera music loud enough to wake Johnny from his slumber, inaugurating the relationship between the semi-estranged uncle and nephew. Thus, the sad, and reticent Johnny is forced to dance to the beat of Jesse’s eccentric and kinetic approach to life while the latter joins the former in his interview campaign. Furthermore, far from just interviewing kids, now Johnny finds himself on the other side of the interview as his nephew probes and questions him in an attempt to bridge the gap between the two.

The interplay between the “professional” interviews by Johnny and the children he talks to and the “personal” interviews between Johnny and Jesse form the basis of the film as the narrative deftly interweaves between the relevant threads. In this sense, it can be said that the film is largely plotless. There’s no huge overarching goal for the character’s to move towards and the film never rushes to get to the next big set-piece. Instead, the film takes it time to develop the relationships between its characters in both a personal, intimate fashion and a larger generational, geographic fashion. By swapping between the larger interviews done by Johnny towards children to the smaller interviews done by Jesse towards Johnny, the film is able to find a universality in its particular story. These shifts also give the audience an opportunity to ruminate on what’s happening; as questions and answers stack up, avenues for deliberation open up as we take what’s being said to heart. We may not get answers but we’re constantly left thinking about the weight of what’s being discussed.

The decision to present the film in black-and-white, in addition to giving the film a classic, timeless feeling, gives Mill’s the opportunity to push the boundaries on how interconnected ideas, sensations, and places can be. The dark and grayscale background makes the white letters that grace the screen pop out and linger. These textual additions come in three forms: location titles, titles of works being read from, text conversations between Viv and Johnny.

Location titles are presented in the largest text and are even more important than they would otherwise because the film is attempting to show the diversity and uniqueness of every locale. Once in a location, the film cuts to multiple environmental shots involving both the cityscape and natural formations in between the respective interviews. We can feel the identity of each unique city which makes the content of what’s said in those cities more pertinent – diverse opinions take on their own texture but reinforce a universality inherent in thought as they echo one another in the most important ways.

Additionally, the titles of works pop up at least 3 times during the film as Johnny reads both fictional and non-fictional works out-loud. These works are presented in the second largest text size and take inform the viewer that a shift between media forms has happened. We’ve moved from the diegetic world of the film to a description of another work. In this sense, the boundaries between works and fiction and non-fiction become blurry, as the nature of the narrative seamlessly moves without us becoming immediately aware of the same. The choices of the works also gives Mills an opportunity to “cheat” in some thematic guidelines for the work, helping the viewer figure out manners by which to parse the film in more digestible manner. In particular, one work referenced talks about the nature of interviewing and how it gives a platform, a vantage point for subjects to express themselves. Dissemination of such thoughts gives them a chance to go in and affect the world.

Finally, the text conversations between Johnny and Viv pop up in the lower register of the frame in white letters. The use of texting against the black-and-white aesthetic introduces a kind of anachronism within the film’s texture – modern methods of communication taking place in an older time. Our conversations are just as timeless as those enshrined conversations in the past. These texts are presented in the smallest sized font.

Thus, a certain kind of textual taxonomy presents itself as a parallel to the story proper. Places serve as locales where works can arise from and give context to and works are nothing more than conversations between an audience and the work itself. But these works are no more transcendent than the conversations we have with one another – they’re just an extension. Like the fungal tubes Jesse mentions, every part of the film feeds into an other to make a cohesive whole that functions as a whole greater than the sum of its parts. In this way, Mills is able to transform the largely plotless, mumblecore-adjacent C’Mon C’Mon into a commentary and invitation to contemplate the ways in which we connect with one another.

That being said, none of the film would work if not for the free-flowing and polished work of the actors. While the adult actors deserve credit for the empathetic way they demonstrate their struggles and tribulations at both taking care of themselves and the young voices around them, the child actors deserve a hearty amount of praise for keeping up and playing off the adults so well. In particular, Woody Norman is able to keep up blow-for-blow with Joaquin Phoenix, making the emotional moments between their two characters heart-warming and poignant. The emotional current generated by the characters’ respective relations give the meandering plot a consistent thread to follow, giving the audience something to latch onto when the story feels like its going nowhere.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	C’Mon C’Mon is the feel good movie of the year and should be able to warm even the most serious of viewers by the time it ends. While the story about the semi-estranged uncle and nephew getting to know one another largely meanders, it manages to reach out to the inner child in each of us, giving its audience a space in which to dream and hope again.
Rating	9.6/10
Grade	A+

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2020s, 2021, Action, Adventure, B+, Drama, Epic, Fantasy, Grade, Marvel, Past, Review, review-movie, romance, Science Fiction, Superhero, Year

Film Review: Eternals – 2021

November 10, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Chloé Zhao
Principal Cast	Gemma Chan as Sersi Richard Madden as Ikaris Salma Hayek as Ajak Lia McHugh as Sprite Kumail Nanjiani as Kingo Barry Keoghan as Druig Lauren Ridloff as Makkari Don Lee as Gilgamesh Angelina Jolie as Thena Brian Tyree Henry as Phastos
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	English
Running Time	157 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

A text crawl informs us that a Celestial, a deity like figure, named Arishem, has created 10 Eternals – Ajak(Salma Hayek), Ikaris (Richard Madden), Sersi(Gemma Chan), Sprite(Lia McHugh), Kingo (Kumail Nanjiani), Druig (Barry Keoghan), Makkari (Lauren Ridloff), Gilgamesh (Don Lee), Thena (Angelina Jolie), and Phastos (Brian Tyree Henry) – for the purpose of eradicating Deviants, malevolent creatures which seek to eradicate intelligent life in the universe. While the Eternals are tasked with protecting sentient beings from Deviant devastation, they are prohibited from intervening in those beings’ affairs in any other manner. Doing otherwise would be tantamount to sacrilege, a violation against the will of Arishem.

This will is interpreted by the group’s leader, Ajak, who serves as the liason between the Eternals and Arishem. An orb embedded within her body functions as both a transportation and communication mechanism with the Celestial. The device flies from her chest and opens a cosmic portal which seamlessly transports her to wherever Arishem resides, bridging space and time between the two figures. Her frame is dwarfed by the red giant which exudes power and exemplifies a scale the Marvel Universe hasn’t seen on the big screens since Dr.Strange. This bridging sequence is repeated as Arishem continues to deliver orders at key intervals throughout time.

Being the group’s intermediary with Arishem, the others come to Ajak for guidance, treating her as both a stand-in for the Celestial himself and a mother-figure. However, in spite of her guarantee that the group’s actions are in line with their given purpose, many of the Eternals begins to lose faith in what they’re doing, especially once the messages from Arishem stop coming in. With no explanations or timeline for absolution, the group finds the task of protecting the humans becoming more emotionally taxing. Because they’re forced to take care of and nurture humanity, many of the Eternals come to love their wards. Consequently, they experience great existential confusion when they’re forced to wait on the side and watch the species tear itself apart at one moment and then save it at the next.

Eventually, the toll becomes too much and Druig, an Eternal with the ability to control minds, questions Ajak on why he can use his powers to save humans from untimely demise by Deviants but can’t use his powers to stop needless infighting between groups of humans, whether it be in the form of genocides or wars. Instead of ascertaining and soothing his sense of dread and sorrow, Ajak reiterates that the will of Arishem deems non-interference for all non-Deviant related matters and is the guiding principle behind the group’s purpose for being. Clearly unsatisfied with the answer, Druig sets off which prompts Ajak to break the group apart momentarily. With all visible Deviant threats apparently gone, she tells the family of immortal, ageless beings to find a purpose to their lives, a meaning to supplant the gap induced by the disjunction between Arishem’s command and the reality they live in. It’s at this point the group splits up, going forth in their own unique ways to determine what exactly their orientation towards humanity should be.

Flash forward and the film cuts to present time. Sprite, Sersi, and the latter’s human boyfriend, Dane (Kit Harrington), find themselves under attack by a newfound Deviant. Unlike the creatures they fought in the past, this one seems particularly clever and doesn’t fall for the Eternal duo’s usual battle tactics. Thankfully, Ikaris, the strongest fighter in the group, shows up at the nick of time and chases the chimera-like monster off after finding himself unable to thwart it in combat. With a newfound threat found, Sersi and co. team up to go and gather the crew back together to fulfill their purported reason for creation.

Given it’s set-up, it’s easy to forgot that Eternals is the 26th entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (M.C.U). The text crawl, on top of being the franchise’s first, makes no over mention to previous ideas or entities in the franchise, and by and large, outside of a few references to the Avengers and Thanos, the movie operates similarly, presenting itself in such a fashion that even those unfamiliar with the franchise can jump into this movie. In this way, the film’s status as a Genesis story of kinds gives it a markedly new starting point to jump off and explore from.

Unfortunately, the M.C.U doesn’t want to let Eternals forget where it came from and it’s in this disjunction the problem lies. On one hand, the story wants to be a moody, existential cosmic drama in the vein of Cloud Atlas that explores the nuance of how relationships and sense of identity permeate and inform one another over space and time. On the other hand, the story is forced to fit into the patented Marvel formula, complete with hollow, formulaic one-liners that elicit momentary laughs while adding nothing to character or narrative and action set-pieces that feel tired and uninspired. The result is a decent, yet disappointing film that has individually great moments which don’t congeal in the way one would want.

This lack of inspiration is apparent in the the film’s structure which proceeds to become increasingly mundane as its patterns bear little of the creativity that the visual design of the film otherwise implies. Sersi’s road trip to finding the other Eternals follows a tired formula where the characters drive in present day towards a member of the group, and then the story cuts to a flashback of a previous historical epoch where everyone was together. There’s no thematic or narrative throughline connecting these moments together; their presentation order could change and the emotional beats of the film wouldn’t be altered all that much.

Decisions like these are a shame, because the content of the flashbacks and the story proper have more than enough in them to elicit emotional responses from the audience. Director Chloé Zhao, if anything, brings her sense of lighting and color to the film, creating fully immersive time periods that feel lived in and distinct from another. However, the creativity seen in the sets and world-building are completely absent from the way those worlds intermingle and bleed into another. By the time the third flashback cuts in, you start to question why the film wasn’t just told chronologically to begin with. The jump to the present so early on does very little when so most of the story and the emotional heft driving it lies in the past.

On that note, when the film jumps from the past to the present the first time, it uses the image of a knife to match the cuts. An ornate dagger that Sersi gave humanity centuries ago becomes a picture of the same object on her phone. It’s apparent that she’s taken the picture to document her connection and love of humanity; it persists just as strongly as the dagger exists. Her documenting obsession is even called out by Sprite, indicating that this is typical behavior for her.

In spite of this, no such cuts are ever utilized again. Instead of utilizing Sersi’s intimate connection with humanity and her desire to “snapshot” those moments via photographs as a way of delving into her and ,by association, the Eternals’ multifaceted relationship with people, the movie mentions the detail, shows it to us once, and then never broaches the subject again. Imagine if this picture-taking was extended as a motif to connect the flashbacks through the drive. Sersi sees or thinks about a connection to the past, pulls it up on her phone, and then the movie could cut to that time and place where the connection was first made. This would help demonstrate the way emotions carry over and change over time while explaining what exactly Sersi sees and envisions in people. Such details would do little to change the larger beats of the story, but they’re the kind of touches that help elevate pieces to the next level. W treats Sersi as its de-facto protagonist while absolutely squandering her ability to frame the story given her connection to the past.

While this explicit criticism sounds pedantic, the sentiment behind it is endemic of the movie. Because moments in the film are strung to one another without a gravitas befitting the subject matter, larger thematic movements and emotional beats lose the cathartic potential their existential narrative set-ups would entail. This means, while many of the individual components of the film are up to par, especially the visual design of the world and the characters proper, they don’t add up to something spectacular.

It’s a frustrating issue because the content of the film and its visual style are elements. Even though I would have preferred a mini-series to explore the characters and their respective relationships with one another, their mannerisms and interactions with one another are clear enough to get invested in their ultimate struggles. The cast is clearly enjoying themselves, bouncing off one another in a fashion that feels close and familial, even if the story’s structure doesn’t give them the time needed to give off the ranges their characters’ deserve.

Consequently, even though the last third of the film is highly derivative of previous Marvel movies, there’s more than enough to keep one invested in the impact of what’s going on. There are enough distinctive narrative choices leading up to the final confrontation that make it interesting to think about it thematically and, surprisingly, the action is some of the most cohesive and well-thought out in the franchise, both in terms of visual clarity and in regards to the characters’ powers and respective skill-sets. Even though some of the story threads are treated a bit too on the nose, the final way even thing wraps up is more than satisfying.

If Eternals is proof of anything, it’s that more experimentation is necessary, as the final script definitely feels like Zhao was forced to make choices she would not have otherwise. Nothing else would explain the discord in the film’s identity between trying to be a meditative art-house adjacent film and a superhero blockbuster meant to please the masses. The end result definitely leans towards the latter, but enough of the former shines through to give the movie a unique identity, that tantalizes the audience with a vision of what could’ve been while delivering good enough.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Though its story beats don’t subvert expectations as expected, Eternals’ technical execution and presentation makes it well worth watching, especially for those fans looking for a bit more metaphysical heft in their superhero film. While the film definitely feels like studio executives took a few too many corrective measures, destroying the possibility for the film to truly push boundaries in a meaningful sense, director Chloé Zhao still manages to instill a humanity and photographic beauty that helps the movie stay fresh in the sea of its peers. If nothing else, the depiction of Celestials is something that any fans of the franchise should be excited about.
Rating	8.3/10
Grade	B+

Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .

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