Now trapped in the house, some of us have suddenly been granted that elusive free time that had previously prevented us from digging into that renowned auteur’s back catalogue, or watching that film that everyone you know was recommending you see, but you didn’t because of some stubborn, rebellious impulse. And yet, in spite of the fact that the mythical free time tree has now been proven real, we still find ourselves in the virtual equivalent of shuffling around Xtra-vision, browsing through the same half-dozen shelves of films, absolutely refusing to make a decision. Here’s your weekly nudge in the right…
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After his quarter-century exile from feature filmmaking, writer-director Richard Stanley returns with Lovecraftian passion project Color Out Of Space. It adapts H. P. Lovecraft’s short story of the same name, where an asteroid strikes a remote New England farm, unleashing an incomprehensible alien entity which begins to infect the bodies and minds of the family it finds there. The combination of the excellent source material and Stanley—who even when his films were run ragged by studio interference remained a strikingly distinct visual stylist—should have made for an abundantly weird film, and yet the results are disappointingly orthodox. There is potential,…
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In the dystopic locomotion of 2013’s Snowpiercer, Bong Joon Ho charted social hierarchy along the X axis. His new film, the Palme d’Or-netting Parasite, swaps horizontal for vertical, delivering a nasty update of the upstairs/downstairs formula for the South Korean service economy. It starts, quite literally, underground. A teenage brother and sister sprinting through the Kim family’s basement flat in a panic, trailing phones along the ceiling to snag a stray thread of WiFi. Their ground-level window offers a view of shoes and trouser bottoms, the alley’s pissed and pissing. The smog of city fumigators seeps in, fogging the domicile like…
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At the beginning of Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse, Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson) arrives on a remote island with his superior, Tom Wake (Willem Dafoe), to tend to the titular beacon. Their path, along steep craggy cliffs in howling winds, was difficult, but there will be no relief inside either. As Winslow bumps his head on the low ceiling of their shared upstairs quarters, Wake is already urinating into a chamber pot, farting and barking orders about Winslow’s duties. Life on the island is hard. Winslow’s tasks are back-breaking and seemingly never-ending, everything but the more rewarding nursing the light itself – a…
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Uncut Gems, writer-directors Josh & Benny Safdie’s fifth feature together, starts full throttle and only occasionally lets up. It is fixed to the world and worldview of Howard Ratner (Adam Sandler), a jeweller for the stars in New York’s diamond district: a chancer and grifter, thriving in an ecosystem of insatiable avarice. As it becomes rapidly clear, he is a man that gets both a hit and an identity from triumphing over the constant barrage of knife-edge negotiations and impossible odds. Or, failing that, just surviving them. Ratner juggles his family life, with kids he is provisionally interested in and…
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Is this film a Ford, or a Ferrari? Le Mans ‘66 (titled Ford v Ferrari in other territories) is pretty clear about which one it would like to be. Ford is ugly; Ferrari is beautiful. Ford spits its cars out with production-line urgency, in drab plants overseen by Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts), a wounded capitalist nursing second-generation anxiety, whose generous girth symbolises his enterprise’s quantitative bloat. Ferrari’s vehicles, on the other hand, are products of artisanal care and Mediterranean exuberance. Ford is efficiency; Ferrari is eros. James Mangold’s film sides with the dreamers. It opens with a quasi-mystical voiceover…
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“Yeah you’re gonna die, it’s a matter of time. That ain’t the question; question is if they have good stories to tell about you when you’re gone,” opines Tyler (Shia LaBeouf). The hot-headed, low-rung outlaw on the run (he torched a rival crab trawler’s gear), is giving life lessons to his accidental travelling companion, Zak (Zack Gottsagen), a 22 year-old with Down’s Syndrome making his own escape. The Peanut Butter Falcon, the first feature from American writers and directors Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz, is an open-hearted yarn about good stories and good times, a rough-it-out best-pals adventure that moves with leisurely charm. Tyler is Zak’s guide, road buddy and…
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Joker lands in cinemas this week – as heavy with hype as Batman’s toolbelt with gadgets. Not that gadgets and superheroism play a big part in this origin story, which shows the backstory of Batman’s arch-nemesis. Instead, following in the footsteps of the violent adaptations Logan and Deadpool, Joker is a bracingly bleak, gorgeously shot departure from the conventions of the comic book spin-off movie, anchored (if not dominated) by a magnetic central performance from Joaquin Phoenix. The film unfolds in a 1970s-feel Gotham City that’s politically and socially tearing itself apart. (The first evidence of unrest is mounds of uncollected…
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Science fiction has undoubtedly been a bit lacking in quantity and quality in recent years, and so you could be forgiven for getting excited after watching the trailer for Ad Astra, the latest from The Lost City of Z‘s James Gray, which translates from Latin as ‘To The Stars’. And it is indeed very impressive on the visuals and production front, especially with the stunning opener and its ‘space antenna’ scene. But once we get into the thick of the film’s story, with its space noir, whodunnit feel, it turns rather predictable, possibly hollow and scientifically ridiculous. An all-star cast couldn’t save this…
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“I don’t need to tell you about loss”, Nicole Kidman’s grieving mother tells the grown-up Theodore (Ansel Elgort), her one-time foster guest when his mother was killed in a bombing. But actually, she does — she, or someone — anyone — needs to tell us something interesting about it, because no-one else is making the effort. Adapted from Donna Tartt’s Pulitzer Prize-winning 2013 novel by screenwriter Peter Stroughan and director John Crowley, The Goldfinch is a wounded bird in a box office tailspin, and you can see why. It is a silly, bitty and a little embarrassing, too desperate to be “about” things, too unrelaxed to…