From 65 to The Zone of Interest

January 2024 at the Movies

An extra busy month of film watching as I desperately attempt to catch up with some of the best (and worst) films released in 2023. Combined with some neo-westerns, some bizarre Hong Kong horrors, and some personal favourites, this was January 2024 at the movies…

65

When the trailer for the sci-fi action film 65 dropped, many people seemed excited by the idea. It’s a high-concept film you rarely see made with this big of a budget anymore, an original story of an astronaut crashing on a prehistoric Earth and having to face off against dinosaurs. Space lasers versus raptors? What could possibly go wrong? Add in Adam Driver, an actor who constantly gives fantastic performances and often uses his star-power to get projects off the ground, and we have a recipe for a fun, light entertainment thriller.

To anyone still wondering how they could get dinosaurs wrong, I simply point to any of the Jurassic World films. Dinosaurs as a villain are compelling, but nearly impossible to make work on the big screen. Without compelling human characters, the audience has to rely solely in the spectacle of the beasts, and rarely are they able to carry an entire film. In 65 Driver does his best to make his character compelling, and the interplay between him and the lone other survivor of their crash Koa (Ariana Greenblatt) does form a tentative father-daughter relationship, the script is never able to create genuine moments for him or Greenblatt. With only two human characters the film is robbed of tension because the likelihood of them not surviving each scenario is nil, and there lies little intrigue into how the story will end. A premise that could work, a film that simply doesn’t.

American Fiction

American Fiction is a brilliantly blistering race satire that expresses the simmering rage of being forced into boxes by a society that doesn’t even respect you. Thelonious “Monk” Ellison is a pompous, unlikeable intellectual who prides himself on his literary knowledge. Despite writing numerous books, he fails at commercial success, and is constantly at odds with the societal ideas of what constitutes a “black” author. He decides to mockingly write the worst novel of his career, a generic, overwrought, exploitative portrayal of poor black life. And, much to his dismay and our pleasure, the novel becomes a runaway success, rocketing his fake gangster persona into fame. Beside his story of faux fame, we see Monk as he reconnects with a distant brother and a mother in failing health following a series of family tragedies. The two stories interweave with each other in solemn and hilarious ways, a combination fitting for a film about the inability to conform.

Jeffrey Wright is fantastic in this film, with a quiet rage found in the disgruntled intellectual simmering under many scenes. His performance and the great script from director Cord Jefferson (based on the novel “Erasure” by Percival Everett) can carry this film far. The frame itself is rarely daring, with one or two shots particularly standing out, but with such sharp dialogue and performances much can be forgiven. The supporting cast ranges from the hilariously obtuse Issa Rae as an author unaware of the tropes she plays into, to Adam Brody as a larger-than-life Hollywood producer, and Sterling K. Brown in a funny and painful portrayal as Monk’s distant, recently out brother Clifford. The family drama aspect plays perfectly against the satire of the novel storyline, portraying the stories Monk wants to tell against the stories he’s forced to tell. A film that will have you laughing from the opening scene, while grabbing your heart by the end.

The Boy and the Heron

The Boy and the Heron, the purported final film from master animator Hayao Miyazaki, is yet another deeply imaginative, inventful, and touching work. Following a young boy who, following the death of his mother during the war, moves to the countryside to live with his aunt (whom his father is to marry). In this new environment, his mother’s childhood home, he discovers a hidden world of magic just beyond the veil of our reality, and he teams with a deceitful trickster that is the titular heron to explore this world and save his aunt from an unknown fate. During this quest, he’ll encounter a kingdom of parakeets, an ancestor who has a destiny set aside for our young protagonist, and the child version of his mother, who also discovered this world decades before.  

This is not a world, nor a movie, that I found to be completely coherent, but the worlds of Miyazaki are not simply put together. They are puzzles, layers of stories being weaved in every scene, stories not being told at this moment but stories nonetheless. They are complete, aged, and lived in, and with that comes elements we may never understand (thus is the beauty of his work). The original Japanese title for this film is How Do You Live? and I feel that title is important to know when considering this film. In the final third of this film, looking back at all the trials and tribulations Mahito and his newfound friends have faced, the film boils down to this final question. How do you live? What do you choose to carry with you, and what do you allow to hold you back? We all face tragedy, big and small, and we must decide how it shapes our souls. Stripped of its imagination and more comedic beats, The Boy and the Heron will still linger with you if you allow it to ask this question of you. Give and take, bend and break, the choice is yours.

The Boys in the Boat

George Clooney is running out of goodwill, at least as a director. His charms continue to work for me whenever he appears on screen, but behind the camera he proves time and time again that he is visionless. One great film (Good Night, and Good Luck) and one good film (Confessions of a Dangerous Mind) at the beginning of his directing output is all he has to show in terms of quality, and with his latest film The Boys in the Boat we have to ask: does Clooney have anything to say?

A lifeless, uninspiring hack job of a film, The Boys in the Boat tells the true story of the 1936 University of Washington rowing team, who went from the lowest-ranking boat in their division to gold medal-winning Olympians. A tale that is touching in the way any underdog sports story would be, the film is completely surface level, with little to no insight into what makes these men underdogs. Clooney and writer Mark L. Smith briefly take note of their lower class compared to the other rowing teams, but this is barely an afterthought, a wisp of thematic resonance. Instead of diving into the lives of these men and the hearts that lead to their victory, we know nothing about them outside of “they like rowing”. A truly bland film, bordering on a parody of inspiration.

The Cat

Asian cinema is somewhat renowned for its more outlandish nature, particularly when venturing into genre filmmaking. With The Cat, we see that reverence for the grotesque and bizarre on full display. In this Hong Kong science fiction film, we follow a trio of aliens (one of whom is the titular cat) as they team with a local writer in order to fight off an evil alien with the ability to possess humans. With sight gags inspired by Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, and insane, inventive pus and gore, the film is a deep dive into hilarity and depravity all in one.

The final film by Lam Ngai Kai (infamous director of the ultra-gore cult hit Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky) this is not a film you watch for plot, or characters, or really anything to grab onto on an emotional level. For long stretches, this film is a bore, a burden to hold your attention, beyond just being as confusing as can be if you’re actually attempting to follow the plot. So don’t go in for those things (who needs emotional stakes in films anyway?) Instead, come to this film as a gorehound, a fan of practical effects you’ll see nowhere else, a fan of rotting corpses and people being digested in real-time. Come to it for a horror you can only find in the low-budget end of 1992.

The Color Purple

The Color Purple has a massive legacy within American culture that I am not even on the precipice of comprehending. From a novel that is considered a new American classic, to an earlier adaptation by one of the greatest American filmmakers of all time Steven Spielberg, to a stage musical on Broadway, the tragic story of the Harris sisters is one well embedded into the public consciousness. With this one has to ask, what does a new musical adaptation of this story provide?

Unfortunately, the film is never able to answer that question itself. While exuberantly filmed and performed with gusto and grace by the cast, the film falls short of the high standards placed by its predecessors. It’s an unfair comparison, for certain, but even taking the film on its own merits it lacks a sense of purpose. The music is great, with strong performances from Fantasia Barrino and Taraji P. Henson, and the choreography specifically is wonderful. But the music does not meld with the story we’re told, and at times detracts from the message we’re meant to receive. In the scenes between the songs you’re waiting for the film to come to life again, and once we enter back into the real world we miss the heightened emotions of the belting songs. In no way a poorly made film, just one that won’t be remembered.

The Delinquents

A dissection of the heist film and slow cinema, The Delinquents traces three threads that branch off from one man’s actions. Moran, a morose bank employee, steals money one day only to confess the next. We see him serving his time, never revealing where the money went, surviving in prison only by remembering his summer love outside the walls. We see Roman, his colleague who has stashed the money away, promising to split it with Moran once he’s served his sentence. Roman, a married man with a young son, begins to unravel as the promise of a different life enters his mind. In the third and final track, we see the woman of Moran’s heart, a woman who has never thought of him again, living a life with another man.

These three stories weave in and out from one another, tracing different explorations of love and temptation. A film about the promises we break and the desperation that burrows under the skin of everyone. The slow cinema aspects of this can make it a languid, flaccid watch, taking exciting ideas and peeling them out at a snail’s pace. At times this allows us to sit with drastic decisions, at others it unintentionally robs the moment of guile. Ultimately an uneven film that is too interested in exploring filmmaking and not enough in exploring its interiority.

The End of the Tour

Having never read Infinite Jest, the famous novel written by David Foster Wallace, I was somewhat hesitant to watch The End of the Tour. I wasn’t certain if the power of Wallace, a fame-fearing literature professor who suddenly became a voice for the milieu of the 1990s, would resonate with someone unfamiliar with his work. But the performance of Jason Segal, and the direction of James Ponsoldt, sells Wallace as not just an intellectual of a generation but a flawed, deeply thoughtful figure. The framework of the film, following a young Rolling Stone reporter (Jesse Eisenberg), as he interviews Wallace on the road promoting his novel, allows us to see him in various situations, and we can see the man and the myth played at the same time.

Segal and Eisenberg both ooze a natural charisma, their quiet, resilient energy feeding off of each other. Few play neurotic quite as well as Eisenberg, and his desperation for the approval of a man who’s achieved his dream makes their interactions both playful and strained. This is not a film about a legend, instead focusing on the quiet moments that seem to fade as fame takes over. The camera is still and quiet, staying close and unafraid, and the script allows our players much space to breathe. A quiet, sensitive film about a quiet, sensitive man.

Fair Play

The erotic thriller is a genre that has fallen almost completely out of the modern film lexicon after its heyday in the 1980s and ‘90s. With Fair Play, first-time writer-director Chloe Domont attempts to revive the genre with a cutthroat and engaging film. Set in a high-pressure hedge fund, Fair Play pits our two leads Emily and Luke (Phoebe Dynever and Alden Ehrenreich respectively), secret lovers, against each other after a promotion of one. Putting a strain on their relationship in and out of the office, the script attempts to walk the narrow line between an exciting office thriller and a commentary on modern gender dynamics, only to end up falling flat on its face.

The film opens with incredible energy and quickly establishes the chemistry between our leads. But as the film attempts to invent tension between the two, both characters completely lose that charisma that was abundant in the opening. By halfway through the film they feel like completely different people, and by the end, it feels like we’re watching a completely different movie that is incapable of resolving the tensions previously established. Trying too hard to be both a sexy, no-holds-bar romp and a smart, twisted commentary on the corporate life of a woman, neither element gets fully fleshed out. A disappointing (and, by the end, openly hostile) film.

Ferrari

Michael Mann is a filmmaker whom I can have trouble connecting with. What many consider to be his masterpiece, Heat, I found bloated and overwrought. What many consider to be a weaker effort, Collateral, I thought was thrilling and inspiring. So when his long-gestating biopic on Enzo Ferrari finally saw the light of day I was intrigued but not necessarily excited. Even the addition of Adam Driver in the titular role couldn’t win me over. And in the end, my hesitations were only partially founded. Mann once again overextends a story, reaching broadly between the public and private life of Ferrari, and attempts to make connections that never completely make sense. Still, there is much meat to chew on here and Ferrari ends up being an exciting watch if not a particularly deep character study.

Driver does not bring much depth to the role, relying on his physical size and well-pressed suits to do much of the work for him. While we see some moments of brilliance from him, particularly when in scenes with Penelope Cruz (who is brilliant as Enzo’s estranged wife Laura), when not given the proper support Driver seems to flounder. Unfortunately, outside of the scenes with Cruz, that support simply isn’t there, particularly in scenes with his lover Lina Lardi (a completely out-of-her-depth Shailene Woodley). But it’s in the race scenes that Mann proves why many consider him to be one of the greats, as few can film a race as excitingly and vividly as Michael Mann. Combine this with one of the most shocking and brutal moments on screen in 2023 and we have a film that breaches greatness but is never able to maintain that level.

The Hudsucker Proxy

The Coen Brothers are some of my favourite filmmakers, and throughout their near forty-year career they’ve made many films considered masterpieces, from The Big Lebowski to No Country for Old Men. One film that has seemed to fall through the cracks of general cultural awareness is their 1994 screwball comedy The Hudsucker Proxy. A send-up to the screwiest of screwball comedies from the 1930s and 40s, the film follows a young and naive business school graduate Norville Barnes (Tim Robbins) as he is made president of a manufacturing company as part of a stock scam on the part of the CEO Sidney J. Mussburger (Paul Newman). Combine the naive, affable, and unassailable attitude of young Norville with a spitfire news reporter (Jennifer Jason Leigh) and the broadest comedy the Coens have ever attempted, and you get The Hudsucker Proxy.

In recent years it seems this film is gaining somewhat of a cult following online, a following I am not going to be joining anytime soon. I so want to be someone who this film works for, but it simply tries so hard to emulate a specific style that it fails at both that style and at the Coens trademark affectations. The Coens are almost always able to take a genre and meld it into something that fits their worldview. Only the Coen’s could make Miller’s Crossing or The Man Who Wasn’t There. With this film, while there are moments of Coen lunacy, the film is completely obsessed with fitting into a previously established mold. It comes off as a hookey ripoff instead of a true Coen’s take. A disappointment, and as close to a bad movie as the Brothers ever get.

The Iron Claw

One of the best films of last year, The Iron Claw tells the all too American tragedy of the Von Erich family. Four Texas-born sons, raised under the resentful and forceful hand of their failed father, pursue a career in professional wrestling. Though they achieve more success than most would ever dream of in the ring, the price falls heavily on the boys, and tragedy rips apart a family. With stellar performances from all the cast, director Sean Durkin’s camera is in pursuit of the raw energy and masculinity that these men are forced to embrace, and the danger of that embrace is seen constantly through the stark lighting and focus on the brutality of the body,

Zac Efron gives a career-best performance as Kevin Von Erich, the eldest brother who watches his siblings as fate falls prey upon them. Efron’s face holds so much back, constantly watching, waiting for the next horror to befall them, but unable to do anything to stop it. Holt McCallany is stunning as their father Fritz, a complete brute, uncaring and manipulative in every way. Fritz is the titular iron claw, an unmovable object of oppression, constantly demanding more from his sons who have given him everything and more. The moments of pure grace, including a reunion scene and a scene with a new generation, are truly astonishing to see. A primitive, gut-wrenching tragedy.

Jungle Fever

My slow consideration of the career of Spike Lee continues with his 1991 feature Jungle Fever. Following the exploits of Flipper Purify (Wesley Snipes) as he begins an affair with an Italian-American woman and the fallout from his indescritions. When the affair is revealed, both he and his lover Angie (Annabella Sciorra) face societal backlash for crossing the unspoken (or, as is the case, the heavily remarked on) colour barrier. Their trials and tribulations are intercut with the life of Flipper’s drug-addicted brother Gator (Samuel L. Jackson) as he constantly looking for his next score.

The film is filled with the trademark energy and rage that we are used to seeing from Lee, but unfortunately, it’s the unfocused rage we’ve seen before. Lee has a lot of strong opinions on a lot of aspects of life, from interracial relationships to the decay of the inner city to the roles of masculinity within the black community, and in Jungle Fever he’s unable to wrangle all these ideas into a completely cohesive film. Snipes and Sciorra are absolutely dynamite on screen, with this being a great showcase for the range Snipes has when given a juicy role. But Lee’s attempts at combining the Flipper and Gator storylines into a single vision only leave both feeling half-cooked, not to mention the countless side characters who, while a treat to see, are never given a full life because their stories are consistently cut short. A messy screed against the compliancy of normalcy.

Missing

The newly invented genre of the screen-thriller is an interesting study in the combining of multimedia art and film. Framing the film around a computer screen, one you’re probably reading this on right now limits the filmmakers in broad ways and takes away many aspects audiences have come to expect from films. But creativity is born from limitations, and with Missing (the sideways sequel to the 2018 film Searching…) we see the filmmakers utilizing social media and our over-reliance on technology to surprise and shock us.

While this film pales compared to its predecessor, the story of a teenager desperately searching for her mom who goes missing on a trip abroad is still a highly engaging mystery. Storm Reid is compelling as our lead, a smart teenager who is way over her head but still capable of problem-solving, a modern-day Nancy Drew with a required knowledge of true crime thrills. Aspects of the story stretch credibility, which given the format is already a little tenious, and one twist in particular doesn’t completely land, but the film is smart enough for the majority of its run time to keep you guessing. A fun, if slight, addition to this budding genre experiment.

Peter Pan & Wendy

The Disney remake machine keeps churning, despite our pleas for it to end. Last year the company took yet another classic, a tale that has been told many times by many different artists, and transformed it into Peter Pan & Wendy. Featuring the talents of director David Lowery and with Jude Law hamming it up as the detestable Captain Hook, there was a chance this film could’ve escaped from the black hole of charm that is the majority of these live-action remakes. Alas, the film could not overcome the basic problem that this story, at this point, needs a reason to be told again, and this film does not have it.

A complete retread of the Peter Pan story we’ve all come to know, with nothing unique or interesting to separate it from any other telling. Lowery, unfortunately, doesn’t have anything to add to this story of childhood and whimsy, instead hoping our nostalgia for the property will carry the film. Filled with unconvincing, lifeless scenes, and an ugly, brown colour palette that makes the film dull and unappealing to watch, we sleepwalk through the paces. Never once does Lowery challenge the conventions, and never once does he push back on the nostalgic embrace. The only highlight is that of Jude Law as Captain Hook and his band of pirates, who are a bright spot of comedy in a deeply dreary film.

Quadrophrenia

I was a little apprehensive when I first decided to watch Quadrophrenia, the Who’s 1978 film about an angsty British man in 1960s London. Having previously watched and absolutely disengaged from their more popular film Tommy, I was worried this would be another over-indulgent, nonsensical rock journey. But, to my pleasant surprise, Quadrophrenia has much more in common with Dazed and Confused than Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The film sees Jimmy (Phiil Daniels) as he sleepwalks his way through early adulthood. He hates his job, hates his parents, can’t talk to girls, and only seems to come to life when with his mod clique, riding scooters and taking drugs. After a weekend of debauchery that he felt was truly life-changing, he finds himself even more isolated than ever before.

Living heavily in the shadow of the Angry Young Man films Britain was producing in the 1950s and 60s, Quadrephrenia is an excellent echo of these previous films. Highlighting that the more things change, the more things stay the same, and focusing on the bitterness and disappointment that come with growing up and entering a world of broken promises and taxes. Jimmy is a child, unwilling to change or take responsibility, and is punished for his dream of holding onto the far-fetched freedom of adolescence. He wants to remain a fucked up innocent, a party animal and doesn’t understand why the world seems so keen on moving forward. In the end, he has to decide if holding onto youthful rebellion is worth everything you’ve ever had, or if joining the world is as bad as it seems. Honestly, I can’t even be certain I could make that choice now.

Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire

I am not a fan of Zack Snyder. I haven’t watched all of his films, most notably having skipped the entirety of the DC superhero flicks, but I have watched Sucker Punch, Watchmen, and 300, so I’m confident in my conclusion that Snyder’s excessiveness is not something I appreciate. Still, the idea of a massive budgeted, original sci-fi epic had me intrigued. Throw in some actors I generally appreciate seeing a screen such as Djimon Hounsou and Corey Stoll, and I thought if nothing else this film could be a romp. Unfortunately, I completely forgot that Snyder does not romp. Snyder does not romp, he does not joke, and he does not humor us. Few directors are so broodingly self-serious, and so what should be a fun space adventure is instead a deeply dull, uninventive bore.

As for originality, that too is something this film completely lacks. Much like The Creator from last year, Rebel Moon - Part One does not have a single original idea, instead cobbling together patches of other, much more successful films. With a little Dune, a little Hunger Games, and a massive helping of Star Wars, the film feels like a child playing out his favourite scenes with no concern for story or plot. The acting is arch without ever becoming entertaining, the cinematography ugly and bland. If this was a film that was meant to kickstart a brand new franchise the engines have been flooded out the gate.

Ride in the Whirlwind

A Western released in the dying days of the genre, this 1966 film follows a group of cowboys mistaken for cattle rustlers. As they are pursued across the barren desert by a group of mercenaries, they encounter outlaws, rattlesnakes, and isolated families. The closer they get to escaping, the more precarious the situation becomes. Written by Jack Nicholson (who also co-stars) and directed by Monte Hellman, the film should be a pulse-pounding race against time, but fails to ever dig into the story or characters in a particularly interesting way.

While it’s always intriguing to see stars before they became legends, Nicholson gives a rather flat performance here, while Harry Dean Stanton (a personal favourite of mine) is seen in a smaller but far more substantial role. This is the perfect type of film for a remake, as the bones of the story are great. An exploration of identity and the roles we play in the ruthless and unforgiving Wild West as a story well worth telling, but the lack of scope in this version doesn’t do this story justice. A solid idea that falls far from its potential.

Showing Up

A love letter to those who have chosen to make art at the cost of comfort, Showing Up stars Michelle Williams as Lizzy, a sculptor and administrator at a local arts school. We follow her throughout a week as she attempts to prepare for her upcoming show, all while the inconveniences of daily life impede upon her creative process. This is not a film of high emotion or drama, instead teasing out its tension from the common occurrences we may be experiencing ourselves. A landlord who doesn’t listen to us, parents who can’t seem to do what’s asked of them, a brother who may have gone off his medication. It’s about responsibility, to ourselves and to others, and how we handle the minute pressures of the world.

All of this is centered specifically around the creative process as well. Writer-director Kelly Reichardt can show the little sacrifices artists make, the comforts given up in the pursuit of expression, and does so honestly and without sentimentality or martyrdom. The process of creating something wholecloth is both frustrating and rewarding, and in the final moments of the film when  Lizzy is able to show the world her art it’s not an ultimate catharsis. All her problems don’t magically disappear, but for a second the world can stop and appreciate her. A quiet, delicate film about a quiet, delicate process.

You Hurt My Feelings

Considering her immense success on television it’s always seemed strange how few times Julia Louis-Dreyfus has crossed over onto the big screen. An absolute dynamite comedic actress, her film output has been few and far between, and commonly filmmakers don’t use the Emmy winner to her full potential. So when she does decide to grace the cinemas, in a lead role, while reuniting with previous collaborator Nicole Holofcener (Enough Said) one must be excited. Telling a grounded, adult drama, You Hurt My Feelings follows Louis-Dreyfus as Beth and Tobias Menzies as Don, a married couple. Beth is a novelist who’s suffering from writer’s block, while Don is a therapist who’s also struggling to overcome workplace ennui. Overhearing Don talking about not enjoying her new book (one he has beforehand praised), the drama takes place between the two not in huge blowups or meltdowns, but in the quiet conversations between people who love each other.

The film asks what it means to love and be loved, and whether the truth is important when expressing that love. While both Menzies and Louis-Dreyfus are smart and capable, the real star here is the slick and soft script. Witty and insightful, Holofcener embodies every character with a great sense of interiority and integrity. The world is well-crafted, and the dialogue is equal parts humorous and genuine. A lovely film that gets the little things as right as it does the important things, this is a film that only grows in my estimations the longer I sit with it. Lovely and warm without being cloying.

The Zone of Interest

It’s always remarkable when you know you’re wrong about a film. I know I’m wrong about The Zone of Interest, Jonathon Glazer’s critically acclaimed (and Oscar-nominated) holocaust film. Following the family of Rudolph Hoss, the commandant in charge of Auschwitz, as they live day in and day out beside the notorious concentration camp, the film is a blistering condemnation of the banality of evil. We see the family welcome guests, eating lavish dinners, playing in pools, all while we see smoke from burning bodies blossom behind their heads and singular gunshots ringing constantly in the background.  

The power in this film is not what is on the screen, but just out of frame. The sound design is immaculate and torturous, haunting every second of screen time. As for the frame itself, Glazer shoots this in consistent stills, long shots with wide scopes. Cut together like surveillance footage, we as viewers are at a distance from the actions presented to us, forcing us to be observers of the terrors this family is active participants in. The editing and the sound are what have made this film a powerful piece of art for many people. For myself, while I respect this as art, I find the distancing failed to resonate with me, and that the repetitive nature of the storytelling, while intentional, didn’t lend itself to the grander message of the film. In the final frames of the film we are treated to an eviscerating, breathtaking vision of the future, and in those frames the film comes to life in ways I had been waiting for for the entire run time. A fantastic art piece, but a lesser film in terms of emotional resonance.