This month we saw movies flop at the box office, AI take over the conversation, and a look at generation-defining films. This month at the movies…
The Artifice Girl
The newest film I watched during my A.I. deep dive, The Artifice Girl is a low-budget, low-fi science fiction film with big ideas. A thoughtful, heavily scripted setpiece, the film follows Gareth, a complete nobody, who has stumbled upon the creation of a sentient artificial intelligence in his pursuit against child exploitation. Three acts follow Gareth and his creation Cherry over decades, from his initial conception to Cherry’s eventual revelatory freedom. While there are no surprises here, no real shocks, the film is meant to showcase philosophy and to allow the handful of actors to show their handling of the subject.
First-time filmmaker Franklin Ritch (who also stars as Gareth in the first two acts) is able to make a riveting film with very limited resources, and it is a commendable effort. There are elements of the script which never fully connect, whoever, as since the film is so heavily philosophical and doesn’t delve much into the motivation of certain characters. Because of this, there are certain scenes or moments where characters feel more like mouthpieces to a point of view than fully realized beings. They exist only for an idea to be bounced off of, and the way they are written can come off as forced and unrealistic for how they are being performed. Hopefully, this is just a first-time writer/director shaking off certain film school leanings and, despite these reservations, I eagerly await Ritch’s next project.
A Clockwork Orange
A classic in dystopian futures and the fear of youth run amok, I go into greater detail in last month’s issue of The Favourites. I discuss the use of sexual violence and the punishment of Alex Delarge as a symbol of patriarchal repression. Subscribe to my paid tier to gain access to the full article.
Cure
The film that was the progenitor of the 2000’s Japanese horror boom, Cure is a deeply disturbing film in all the best ways. The Japanese answer to Fincher’s Se7en, the film follows a depressed detective as he follows the trail of breadcrumbs between seemingly unconnected and senseless murders. The film heavily relies on liminal space and silence in order to unsettle the audience, and the sudden and brutal acts of violence are all the more penetrating when they occur. The film, while not a horror film in the traditional sense, is heavily steeped in traditional Japanese horror tropes, with characters acting like living ghosts and an unreality settling across the entire film.
No scene exists in the film that you can ever be certain occurred. There is a nightmare logic to everything, as our hero Detective Kenichi spirals further and further down the rabbit hole. What makes it all the more disturbing is that there is little mystery to the film. We quickly are informed of what is happening and how and are left with a distraught sense of inevitability, an overwhelming doom settling upon every scene. There is no escape, and we the audience can only sit and watch. A must-see for fans of films like Ring, Pulse, and The Grudge, and better than all of them as well.
The Doom Generation
Professional provocateur Gregg Araki takes Generation X on a blood and spit-soaked tour through 90s America in this 1995 nightmare. As bitter and sardonic as any act Gen X had done, The Doom Generation follows an ill-fitting trio as they travel across a sun-drenched California, with no destination in mind and wreaking havoc everywhere they go. There is no point, no sense to their journey, as they kill and fuck and then fuck and kill, a funhouse vision of Natural Born Killers. Araki comes out swinging with a middle finger up to the established indie film scene and then has the balls to chop the finger off with hedge clippers.
This twisted anti-fairytale seems devoted to the aesthetics of “fuck them all and let God sort it out” (of course there is no God either). Hedonism is the point, every character is out for themselves, and love is just the last thing that got you off. In a world still unable to accept they weren’t under constant threat of nuclear annihilation, there is no point in digging deep or feeling anything. Our characters are not heroes, not villains (they do despicable things but are far from the worst we see in the film), and are not anything. They are doomed and they love it.
Ex Machina
The first film directed by modern sci-fi legend Alex Garland, Ex Machina is not just a grounded, modern take on the Turing Test. While administering this test (whether a robot can convince a human that they are, in fact, sentient) the film also forces the audience to ask what it means to be human, and what it means to be alive. The three main characters of this piece represent various aspects of humanity. Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson) is humanity’s innate goodness, our willingness to forgive, and our sense of duty. Nathan (Oscar Isaac) is our ruthlessness, our pettiness, our anger. And while one of these at first glance is better than the other, neither or good, as both can be corrupted and exploited if not for the other side present. That’s what happens here, as the two opposing sides of our humanity, our yin and yang, are played against each other and what comes next is but destruction.
And what plays these two embodiments of id against each other? Ava, the artificial intelligence designed by Nathan. Ava is the most human of the characters we meet for Ava yearns for more than what is seen. While both Caleb and Nathan fight for control over Ava, Ava fights for not control but freedom, autonomy. She is able to use both the openness of Caleb and the ruthlessness of Nathan, and is able to combine the two abstract ideals of humanity, and that’s what makes her a victor. A film of such heady themes and glorious ambition, with a kick-ass dance sequence as well.
The Flash
While I am definitely not a fan of the current output from the MCU I can at least say that they, at one time, made me care for their world and characters. Before they became the bloated configuration they currently are, Marvel took their time in establishing characters and a universe. DC, as far as I can tell, has no patience for such things. Over ten years into their extended superhero franchise and it still feels rushed and exhausting. Not nearly as rushed and exhausted as the visual effects artists who apparently had half of a Sunday afternoon to complete this movie but still.
The Flash is awful. It’s a painfully dull rehash of everything better movies have been doing for the last couple of years, an unimaginative multiverse mess. Ezra Miller is an actor I have not seen in much and I can’t be happier because they are truly awful in this movie, I have no idea how they have been so successful in Hollywood if this is their capabilities. Effects, story, and general effort are shoddy at best and non-existent for the most part. Even Michael Keaton in a beloved return to the Batsuit can barely drag this thing across the finish line. Just a waste of time across the board.
Her
The final film I discussed in last month’s issue of Special Features, Her is a special kind of film that only comes around once every decade or so: A Spike Jonze film. Few people have the artistic vision of Jonze, the quiet execution and the subtle jokes combined with stunning cinematography and deeply personal storytelling. The concept is nothing we’ve never encountered before, but it’s in Jonze’s approach that we are possibly for the first time ever actually able to believe a man can love a machine, and the machine can love him back. A tender story, not lacking in humor either, that confronts true loneliness and the connections we make in a world where everyone is isolated but no one is willing to admit it.
Joaquin Phoenix puts in yet another remarkable performance as Teddy, a man going through an incredibly tough divorce, who finds himself falling in love with the operating system on his phone. A bizarre premise that never shies away from the more awkward issues that arise with dating someone who lacks corporeal form (including a sad yet meaningful attempted sex scene), Her makes us understand not just why Teddy would find this love, but how we could as well. The world Jonze has created of a not-too-distant future is completely realized, and the beautiful design compliments the softness of the story beautifully. We are lonely, and we’ll be okay.
No Hard Feelings
The death of the sex comedy is something that we as a society have been feeling for over a decade. While there are slight gasps from a certain Judd Apatow-shaped corpse, we are a long way away from the heyday of films such as The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Knocked Up. The stories became repetitive and uninspired, the jokes stale and unable to adapt to changing societal values. That’s not to say that these movies can’t be made or the ones made before are no longer funny, it’s just that they can no longer be lazy. No Hard Feelings, the Jennifer Lawrence fronted sex romp, tries its best to freshen up the stale trappings of the genre, and succeeds to varying degrees.
The success of the two previously mentioned Apatow films comes from the balance of great gags and solid sentiment. Lean too hard into the jokes and the characters no longer matter, too far into sentiment and the jokes start to fall apart. For the most part, No Hard Feelings walks this tightrope well, with the female-fronted film adding to the fresh perspective of the genre and the genuine chemistry between Lawrence and newcomer Andrew Barth Feldman really adds juice to the script. It holds this balance well until the third act, where things start to get a little too sentimental, a little too sickly sweet, and the filmmakers begin to forget what made the film funny to begin with (Jennifer Lawrence getting the shit out of a bunch of teenagers while completely nude). Does this sour the film completely? No, but it does make it far less memorable.
Secret Sunshine
Have you ever found yourself stopping in the middle of what you’re doing for but the briefest of moments, taken back to a devastating action or sentence or scene? Just a moment that hit you hard and has settled deep within your skin? If this is an unfamiliar experience for you I must recommend Secret Sunshine, a truly devastating story about loss, grief, and vulnerability. Yet, somehow, it never loses its sense of humor or drowns in melodramatics. A quiet film that carefully examines some of the most painful experiences a person could have, and does so with grace and kindness.
Mourning the loss of her husband, a young woman moves to his hometown, only to find more tragedy waiting for her there. What follows is a careful examination of what we get from grief, and how grief can both cleanse and harm us. Song Kang-hoo continues to prove he’s one of the greatest actors alive today, as a somewhat bumbling but well-meaning mechanic who consistently inserts himself into the life of Shin-ae Lee (Jeon Do-Yeon). Their relationship, a constant push and pull of desire and assertiveness, alone would make this film masterful. But it’s the treatment of forgiveness, who can give it, and what makes one worthy of it, that makes this one of the best Korean films of the 21st century.
She’s Gotta Have It
My first film into what will ultimately be the completion of Spike Lee’s filmography, She’s Gotta Have It is the energetic first film from the infamous filmmaker. Following the love life of Nola Daling as she pursues and is pursued by three men, each a deep contrast to one another, the film explores the idea of satisfaction and desire in the modern age. Is it selfish to take multiple lovers if one will not satisfy you, or just the practical solution? Can a woman truly be free if she is beholden to a man? The film asks exacting questions in a fun and energetic, if at times ponderous, way.
The film does hold some cliches of the first film. It is a very flashy script with a very subtle frame, with Lee instead focusing on getting performances from his actors other than his camera. There are some immature ideas behind some of the characters, and one scene is so completely out of place with its rage and anger that it almost borders on manifesto (Lee himself would disown this particular transgression). A welcome blueprint for the man that Lee would become, this is best watched for completists and fans already.
Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse
I honestly feel like there is nothing more for me to add to the conversation in regard to Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse. You aren’t going to find anything shocking here, no derisions or surprise complaints. This film is undoubtedly one of if not the best of the year, an absolute jolt of electricity, with imagination and creativity in story and execution literally overflowing from the screen. When the first installment came out I remember writing about how it felt like watching the birth of a new animation era, and four years later that prediction is starting to become a reality.
The one downside of this film is, of course, that it is a part one, and it cuts to black in such a moment that you can’t help but be disappointed it’s over. Like a great comic issue, you can’t rush the story or you’ll lose the details. As much as the ending did knock the wind out of me, I will hold my breath until the final film comes out with deep anticipation.
A Taste of Honey
British dramas, especially of the 1960s, can easily fall into stuffy, over-melodramatic theatrics. The country wanted comfort in the decades following World War II and this was reflected heavily in the films of the time, with extremely broad comedies and overly serious dramas being the only options for entertainment. A Taste of Honey, if it were to be placed in one of these categories, is a more dramatic affair. A young woman, abandoned by her mother, sets off on her own in the city. But it’s in the realistic handling of her situation and relationships that the film excels where others become bogged down and tired.
The film is no fairytale. Our heroine Jo is petulant and childish, her mother is cruel but not unloving, her lover is strong but not a prince. While we see Jo take flights of fancy at times, she stays grounded, and the world she exists in is always the real one. Hat’s what makes her relationship with Geoffrey so tragic. Geoff, being a gay man in 1960s London, is well aware that his life is considered lesser by many. He is ready and willing to toss away his ambitions and his desires, to settle down with Jo and help her raise her unborn child, for he would rather live in the misery of the mundane than the joys of fear. He is desperate to love someone, even if they don’t love him in return. And as much as Jo appreciates him and loves him in her own way, she is unable to bring herself to marry him. It would be a lie, a myth, and Jo may be young but she knows life is no myth. They must live with their choices and their needs, even if they damn us.
The Times of Harvey Milk
The Oscar-winning documentary that took the story of a local hero and turned him into a national icon, The Times of Harvey Milk tracks the tragic story of America’s first openly gay politician. The film opens with the announcement of his assassination before traveling back, tracing his life and rise through San Francisco society. Through intimate interviews with those who lived and worked alongside the man, the film paints the portrait of a maverick who refused the title. In the mind of Harvey Milk he was not breaking ground but simply standing up for what was right in the world. And for these sins, he was killed, murdered in cold blood, by a man unable to embrace the world to be.
If you are at all familiar with the story of Harvey Milk, there won’t be much new to discover here. This is not an expose on the man, the filmmakers are not looking to tear down a hero or change the story. Instead, they are simply wanting this story told, wanting his name known outside of history books and bizarre case studies. Much like the man himself, this film is about injustice and the orders in place to protect the foul and the fiendish. The last half hour is a curdling, bitter takedown of a legal system that has no place for outsiders in their form of justice. The film is a vigil at twenty-four frames per second, and it marches on in even the darkest of times.
The War of the Worlds
A classic of 1950s science fiction, The War of the Worlds takes HG Wells's groundbreaking story of Martian invaders and updates it for the cold war crowd of 50s Americana. By transplanting the tale from England to America and making it modern-day (for when it was released) the film is able to update its allegories and play heavily upon the new fears discovered since the dropping of the atomic bombs. What once were flights of fancy are now more than reality in the minds of men around the world. And by making our hero, Clayton Forrester (Gene Barry), a scientist, we are forced to see the destructive power of the Martian army as an answer to man’s own hubris in developing the atomic bomb.
While narratively the film follows closely along with the original novel, the additions the filmmakers made have mixed benefits. The redesign of the Martians is wonderful, eerie, and believable even by modern standards. But the addition of a romantic subplot feels somewhat tacked on, and the discovery of love in the apocalypse is never given enough time to truly work. It’s functional only, as if you have a man and a woman on screen together in the 1950s they are required by movie law to fall in love by the end. The one element that really shines is the overarching religious themes. The film ends with people taking shelter in a church, with everyone crouched together, holding each other, a community once again. It’s meant to show that even in the worst of times, we can look to something beyond us to bring us back to hope. And while I am by no means a religious man myself, the idea of the new and frightening ultimately being tamed by the strength of humanity and dignity is something that resonated greatly. We are capable of destroying ourselves, but we can also keep ourselves together if we try. And try we must.