 A champion for practical effects Director: Christopher Nolan Writer: Christopher Nolan Cinematographer: Hoyte van Hoytema Producer: Emma Thomas, Christopher Nolan by Jon Cvack After the success of watching Interstellar ('14) without seeing a single trailer, looking at a single screenshot, reading a single synopsis, and only accidentally seeing a tagline on a bus station billboard, not having a single clue what to expect, I was excited to see Dunkirk with the same strategy in mind (this time making sure I didn’t look at any bus stops); however, unfortunately having one person spoiling the triptych structure in an article title on Reddit. There was once a movement of epic war films that we haven’t seen since Saving Private Ryan (1998) and The Thin Red Line (1998), first brought about by The Longest Day (1962)and reaching its zenith with films like A Bridge Too Far, The Guns of Navarone (1961), and Where Eagles Dare (1968). Inglourious Basterds (2009) returned to the genre, offering the action over drama and yet bringing the high brow art of Tarantino and, as with all his films, standing tangentially to the genre than within it. Dunkirk isn’t exactly the epic war film I was expecting to see, and yet it provided the greatest iMax experience I’ve yet had, serving as one of Nolan’s best films. Similar to Nolan’s other explorations of time as, seen in Inception (2010) and Memento (2000), this film follows three separate storylines; all taking place at the infamous retreat at Dunkirk. One thing I kind of wish I read was a brief synopsis of Dunkirk, as having recently read about it in "Atonement" and its devastating history, and seeing the effects in the film (which left out much of the action from McEwan’s book), I realize how little we Americans know about the event. In an interview, Nolan reveals how it was a story that he grew up with; ingrained in English culture the ways D-Day is in American. Logline being that, in 1940, before America was even in the war and after an unsuccessful invasion across the English channel and into France, the German slaughtered the British forces, forcing them to retreat to Dunkirk. With the channel filled with German U-Boats, numerous Luftwaffe flying through the sky, and the German forces closing in, the United Kingdom was humiliated, refusing to risk anymore carriers to take the men off the beach, instead opting for a bunch of small fishing boats to make the long journey and retrieve the men. In the end Churchill would make his famous “We shall fight on the beaches” speed, of Iron Maiden Live After Death Fame. Not knowing about the great retreat or the method involved, it made me assume that this was much more about an immense battle per the likes of The Battle of the Bulge or Stalingrad. On the other hand, it’s a testament to Nolan’s prowess that - after gaining a more base understanding of where I was and what I was watching - he made me excited to start piecing together the story. It involves three narratives - one follows an ace spitfire pilot Farrier (Tom Hardy) and his partner Collins (Jack Lowden), taking place over a single hour; the second follows fisherman Mr. Dawson (Mark Rylance; in a brilliant role) who’s taking his boat across the channel with his son Peter (Tom Glynn-Carney) and George (Barry Keoghan; who will go on to do great things), taking place over a day; and the third follows British army pilot (Fionn Whitehead) who for once looks his character's age at only eighteen years old, determined to do whatever it takes to get off the beach as quickly as possible, taking place over a week. It takes a second to fully grasp how this structure plays out. One of the first criticisms I heard coming out of the film was an older man’s inability to follow the events by even midway through. It makes me where Christopher Nolan is simply interested in the idea of time within narrative, or how time is observed by particular characters within certain situations. A plane that’s only got an hour left of fuel left while trying to save as many men as possible is more pressing than hiding away in a boat for half a day, waiting for the tide to come in. I’d have to watch it again to see the way this might operate, though I suspect I might not find much. Instead I’d argue Nolan’s more interested in how time provides new forms of narrative, rather than any grand philosophic examinations. While I was expecting an epic battle sequence, instead Nolan focused on the more minute elements of the larger tragedy; using his hyper realistic style (with the vast majority of the effects being practical and it's wonderful) to, as he said in his interview with Peter Travers, “...capture what it’s like to be there.” Everything looks so real and so large on the iMax screen, with the ocean and beaches extending as far as the eye can see, that Nolan somehow takes what seems a straightforward story and weaves it into a challenging and yet accessible narrative unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Like most of his movies, and the reason I think he’s one of the best contemporary filmmaker, is his commitment to film language while being at the pinnacle of popular entertainment - he’s a High Art filmmaker, who while occasionally wandering into melodrama, is able to make you believe, or even certain, that what you are watching has actually or could actually happen. Dunkirk accomplishes the rare feat of ushering in a new style of Hollywood action filmmaking; especially in an age where the vast majority of these films abandon everything Nolan promotes - an over reliance on VFX and a strange homogenous language, looking as though the same voice extends throughout the majority of these films. Dunkirk has been criticized for celebrating war with others saying it celebrates valor. I think both are silly questions to ponder. It is action movie that celebrates those who dedicated their lives to the soldiers at Dunkirk, capturing the fear, worry, and events which surrounded the day. Nolan’s brilliance comes by abandoning any commitment to actual events, instead opting to try and position the audience as close as possible the experience. I resent those who refuse to accept anything beyond an anti-war message when positioning viewers as close as possible to the fear as possible might be a far greater way to demonstrate the horror and dangers. No one should ever want to feel that way, or wish that any of their younger citizens would have to. Few filmmakers have provided such a visceral experience, some pro-war, some anti, some celebrating veterans, and Nolan has joined their ranks. He created a war film that will be watched for the rest of cinematic time, living in the same ranks as any of the greats. BELOW: Great Vox explainer video about Han Zimmer's score Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 Gone within a year; never to come back Director: Jeff Orlowski Writer: Davis Coombe, Vickie Curtis, and Jeff Orlowski Cinematographer: Andrew Ackerman and Jeff Orlowski Producer: Jeff Orlowski and Larissa Rhodes Director: Jeff Orlowski Writer: Mark Monroe Cinematographer: Jeff Orlowski Producer: Paula DuPre' Pesemen and Jerry Aronson by Jon Cvack I’ve never combined two films in a single post before, and while I considered doing each separately, the stories are so similar in style and message that I imagine I would likely repeat everything I had to say about either. Both films were directed by Jeff Orlowski who's created a format that I’ve never really seen in a documentary, to the point where these could easily be long chapters in a 12-part miniseries. The stories are part adventure, part tech and part environmental documentary. The first film Chasing Ice focused on world famous nature photographer James Balog who’s determined to capture time lapses of the world’s major melting icebergs, figuring that only with visual evidence will anyone be able to convince Climate Change deniers of anything. He creates a company called the Extreme Ice Survey and immediately you understand the film’s another part Werner Herzog. While you grow to love the guy and his passion, at first Balog is at first an insufferable egomaniac; in which only a man of this type would elect to name his very serious ice research company with a name that sounds like a 90s bargain bin Steven Seagal movie. A large problem with climate change movies is that they need to ensure that everyone has the baseline knowledge of what’s happening. I loved Before the Flood, but I’ve also had heard most of the ideas time and again ever since Al Gore’s film kicked off the subject (BtF’s score and photography, notwithstanding). Instead, many documentaries have moved into more micro subjects - about water, trash, natural gas, oil, and so on. It’s a difficult position in that it’s proves how few people know about or accept climate change. In Chasing Ice and as Balog says the images can say it all, preventing the need for much explanation. The difficulty is getting the technology to capture those images to work, and in what’s less involved than its sequel, we watch as Balog and his team of interns and assistants march with across the world, setting up stop motion cameras along the major ice bergs. When they return a few years later, they learn that none of them worked. It’s a little suspicious as Chasing Coral has a strikingly similar disaster hit their cameras, in which when they put them underwater and come back to find them all out of focus. Chasing Corral involves Coral Reefs which, counter to the icebergs, I had no clue were dying at the rate they were. In 2016, somewhere around 29% of the world’s Coral Reefs were bleached; I never knew reefs were animals, involving a complex system of tiny polyps that rely both on protective creatures, sunlight, and a complex digestive system that keeps them alive and growing. As the film sums up brilliantly, just as if our bodies rose five degrees we’d have to go to the Emergency Room, rising sea temperatures of only a few degrees are causing coral reefs to essentially suffocate to death in rapid fashion. In this case Jeff joins “coral nerd” and young marine biologist Zackery Rag who’s determined to help demonstrate what’s happening to the scientific community. While not quite as Herzogian as Chasing Ice, instead he’s a guy that seems like he’d be one of your best buds in college - passionate, smart, and an overall likable person. Similar to the icebergs from Chasing Ice, where we got to witness an iceberg implode which was the side of Manhattan, in this film we’re seeing the beginning of aggressive coral reef depletion, which is occurring so rapidly that there’s very little time left to reverse course. Projections place the extinction at 2030 should present trends continue, and with little being done to combat the problem, it looks likely to occur. Similar to Chasing Ice, Jeff, Zach, and their team are determined to capture time lapses of the process, developing complex glass globules where the camera fits in, complete with a motorized windshield wiper to prevent any algae build up. They head down to the bottom of the ocean in order to anchor the devices, returning months later after the coral had already bleached, discovering that the cameras went out of focus within the first few shots, rendering thousands of photos useless. I’ve been in production long enough to understand that what can go wrong will go wrong, and so you can’t help wondering how after experiencing a similar problem in Chasing Ice that the filmmakers wouldn’t have checked the cameras a bit earlier to ensure it was all working. Nevertheless, they identity what went wrong and head off to Australia’s Great Barrier Reef which is nearly as long as the East Coast of America - and 29% of it is wipe out in this one year alone. When the footage has returned and Zach presents the photographs to a group of coral scientists at the preeminent coral science conference in Hawaii where there’s maybe two hundred people in attendance, possibly fewer, you realize that this problem has mountains to climb in that for something so devastating and vivid only a handful of individuals even really knew the scope of the problem. I had heard of reef bleaching, figuring it was a problem that was occurring in some remote areas of the world, having no clue how expansive and immediate it actually is. It makes you thankful that someone chose to put together a documentary like this, where Orlowski understood the importance of imagery over facts and figures in telling a story. It’s one thing to read an article about coral reef extinction and quite another to have breathtaking images open up the film, filling the story with subjects whose passion and knowledge enrapture you, until you then see the effects and speed at which these beautiful creatures can die and the toll it takes on those who care most. In one of the most devastating sequences, being at the Great Barrier Reef for months, Jeff and Zach witness the coral die before their very eyes; where when they began the shoot they were vibrant and healthy before fading white and dying, where the slightest touch would cause them to break up into pieces, falling to the ocean floor. Zach’s response has stuck with me ever since and could hit anyone who loves something and is forced to watch it die. Zach’s hero Ted Reef - a Coral Reef scientist whose television show Barrier Reef inspired Zach to become a scientist - has simple and straightforward advice for the young guy. Understanding the implications, where aside from the creatures, the collapse of corals could have tragic impacts on the entire food chain, Zach now has an ethical responsibility to do all that he can to explain and share his knowledge with the world; the way that James Balog has now dedicated a large point to sharing his knowledge about icebergs. A great gauge of a film is to imagine yourself as a kid before you ever realized you love film and think about how you’d see the film. The combination of great characters, cool careers, beautiful imagery, adventure, technology, and climate change’s urgency and need for fighters would have thrilled my mind; leaving me to want to go off and use the power of visuals to capture that problems that are going on to not just combat the problem, but to inspire others to do it too. After watching the two, I found myself wanting to make a similar film; to find a niche area of the world that’s dealing with the direct effects of climate change, finding both those who can explain why it’s happening and working with whoever I could to capture why it matters. I’m excited for what Jeff does next. While I was expecting your generic science doc, what I saw was the future of what science documentaries could be. BELOW: A glacier the size of Manhattan flipping over Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Pretty good clown, but would have been better if played by Tilda Swinton Director: Andy Muschietti Writer: Chase Palmer, Cary Fukunaga, and Gary Dauberman; based on It by Stephen King Cinematographer: Chung-hoon Chung Producer: Roy Lee, Dan Lin, Seth Grahame-Smith, David Katzenberg, and Barbara Muschietti by Jon Cvack I’ve grown increasingly fond of Stephen King over the years, having started out reading his memoir "On Writing" (which continues to be the greatest book on writing that I’ve ever read), specifically his ability to achieve a rare prose that feels as though it’s like a great friend speaking to you. Most recently I completed his deeply dark and disturbing "Pet Sematary"; a story that I had only known through the film adaptation, which having tried to revisit the film after reading the incredible book is so terrible that I couldn’t even finish the thing when revisiting. While any who are familiar with the movie and even the general premise of the book would recall the ability to reanimate the dead, the book offers a grueling and slow burn where we know the inevitable tragedy that’s bound to occur. As much as it’s a horror novel, there’s very little in the ways of terror until the last hundred pages of so (it’s over 500 pages long). It wasn’t a delayed horror so much as a perfect balance between endearing reflections on youth with the immediate terror of a killer spirit who takes the shape of a clown. At over a thousand pages it’s greatest strength is getting you lost within the relatively innocuous subplots before shifting back to horror. However, similar to my other experiences with some of King’s other work (namely, "The Shining"), it was the climactic sequence, where similar to the film, I was struggling to follow what I was suppose to be seeing and how the characters were dealing with it, often extending so far into the fantastical that I was pulled out of the novel that was otherwise realistic. I was most excited for the film back when True Detectives' Cary Fukunaga was attached, who then left the project with few details provided, though with such a heavy property, it’s clear there were disagreements over creative direction, with Fukanaga replaced by the far less exciting director Andy Muschietti. I think I’ll forever wonder what Fukanaga could have brought to the project, where at the very least, I anticipated a visual style likely more on par with Kubrick’s The Shining ('80). Similar to the book and miniseries, the film opens up with Ben and his brother Georgie, with Ben sick in bed, helping Georgie create a paper boat to use in the water runoff during a heavy downpour, eventually resulting in George meeting Pennywise the clown in the sewer who rips his arm off and pulls the kid down, disappearing forever. Counter to the book or miniseries, the film sticks with the kids, taking place the following summer as more kids begin to disappear from the community. Recently there’s been a trend of ensuring that all the tweens portrayed in films don’t veer too far off into offensive territory, with "Stranger Things" and Super 8 ('11) as two recent examples. For as much as they attempt to replicate what The Goonies ('85), Stand by Me ('86), and Now and Then ('95) accomplished, the film again falls victim to feeling as though it was written by a bunch of adults imagining how kids speak, rather than portraying them as how kids actually speak - saying offensive things with all the dirty and immature language. It comes close to correcting the problem, but again something was off, as though feeling that an executive made redlines in the dialogue, never wanting the kids to drift too far and risk blowing up social media over an offensive comment. "Stranger Thing"’s Finn Wolfhard was the closest the film got to showing real kids, but his departure from the nerdy and reserved Mike Wheeler from "Stranger Things" felt a bit too forced, especially in the way of his wardrobe where it felt as though they figured putting on glasses would allow for a more believable character shift, even though his overall look failed to meet the demands. I ended up liking him in the end and he’s by far the most interesting character, with the rest feeling more like personality tropes than fully fleshed out characters. I wasn’t sure if my expectations were fairly low after Fukunaga dropped out, then raising a bit when seeing how excited Stephen King was on Twitter, and again after hearing good things from a few trusted sources. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen the film and while I was hoping it might take position as some type of grand coming of age film, it felt just a bit too shallow, never capturing the essence of King’s book, nor the depth of his story. It’s a tragedy that it’s only going to be about a four to five hour film total (with the sequel), as it averages to just shy of a hundred pages being condensed into an hour film. It demanded a miniseries, or a phenomenal director. I will be left forever wondering what Fukunaga would have done with this, as I truly believe it’s one of the greatest unproduced tragedies in cinematic history; serving as the bridge between independent art house horror films and the mainstream, leaving David Gordon Green to probably be the one ushers it in with Halloween [I wrote this last year and was very pleased]). One the largest concerns is the fact that the clown or its essence seems to be included in every single scene, as though the one note from executives was a cowbell of more clown. While King’s book works through building from an atmosphere of dread that eases toward the supernatural, for two and a half hours the film relies on jump scares and pop outs, all building toward a climactic set piece that is large, fantastical, and completely unrealistic, where we know that only an office of computers could have constructed it. Even with those factors in mind, I was left wondering if my bias of having grown up with the original film, along with some of the greatest coming of age stories ever made, has affected my objectivity. I suspect if I was younger, maybe just getting into horror films - and if this was all that was offered in the genre next to the "Stranger Things" - that I’d probably like it. While the horror is overwrought at points, all the more disappointing for how little was in the book, it offers a pretty good look at growing up. It’s not a perfect adaptation, but I could see myself turning it back on in a few years and seeing how it goes. BELOW: Solid opening scene and one of King's best Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Surprisingly, I've been in the mood to revisit the film only a year later Director: Robert Eggers Writer: Robert Eggers Cinematographer: Producer: Rodrigo Teixeira, Daniel Bekerman, Lars Knudsen, Jodi Redmond, and Jay Van Hoy by Jon Cvack It was after seeing It Follows ('15) that I knew I was witnessing the birth of a new subgenre. Not since the 90s - with films like Scream ('96) and A New Nightmare ('94) - has horror take such a fascinating turn. Like any movement, it’s not about a single person enlightening dozens of others, so much as a broad movement that a handful of filmmakers discover independently. After the torture-porn died down there has been an interesting moving into home-invasion films (The Strangers ('08), The Purge ('13), You’re Next ('11), etc.), and a brief though voluminous period of found footage films (The Sacrament ('13) and Creep ('14) being two great ones amongst countless others). Throughout the last six months I’ve been seeing more single location horror (and independent) films, and yet with the exception of The Purge and Sharknado ('13), nothing has really caught on in terms of a new popular series per the likes of its predecessors Saw ('04), Scream, Halloween ('78), Texas Chainsaw ('74), and so on. Much of it is attributed to television, where the confines of an average ninety minute running time have been lifted, allowing at least a dozen episodes to provide just any many scares. I’ve tried "American Horror Story" and a few others, and while I’m sure if I grew up with them I’d probably be interested, I just can’t get into any of the series, as the dependence of consistent scares demands they insert so much into the episodes that the narrative grows redundant as a result. It seems natural that in a period where cinema is struggling for mass audiences and much of what it accomplished has now graduated over to television, that there'd be a niche for the cinephiles who remained; interested in high craft films with traditional formats. Cinema will always be around, but many of the tropes and limitations of an under two hour running time are starting to run dry. Blockbusters have destroyed the planet Earth more times than I can remember over the last twenty years and I’m not sure how much better it could look, other than audiences being integrated into the scene through virtual reality and again breaking away from cinema. In terms of horror, I was often left wondering where the narrative could go, as what Torture Porn accomplished was taking gore and blood to the utter brink of possibility (and an general audience's ability to consume it). Found footage films relied on lo-fi and low cost equipment, but now our phones can produce decent images, making anything that’s shot “found footage” to look relatively crisp and produced by comparison to only a decade ago. Old genres and films return with sequels or remakes, but rarely do these work, let alone kick off an entire genre. Horror has always been considered outside of Serious Cinema’s purview. As it often goes with great works of art, many of horror’s greatest pictures are now being hailed as works of genius. A 4k Night of the Living Dead ('68) print played at the Museum of Modern Art in New York and it was recently released on Criterion. One direction horror films had rarely strayed was into the hands of “Arthouse” or “Award Winning” filmmakers* (see below), and it was It Follows that made me realize the vast possibilities of merging high craft with exhausted tropes. Rather than simply subverting conventions per the likes of Wes Craven or Kevin Williams, David Robert Mitchell returned to the original tropes and created some of the most cinematic horror sequences I’ve ever seen, combining great ideas, photography, music, and sound design with perfection. I was bummed I missed The Witch in theaters, wanting to go, and for a range of reasons, ws never able to make it. I figure I had about six months to Scary Movie Month 2017 (which I’m currently in) and this was the film to kick it off. Sure enough, after spending a great birthday driving out to the Palms Desert for the night, playing scary stories and podcasts and then playing the film the night I got back. I had watched and read nothing about this film, having no clue what it was about other than involving Salem era witches. It opens with William (Ralph Ineson) as the father of a Puritan family, speaking what for at least ten minutes sounded like a foreign language, but was actually Old English mixed with a regional Yorkshire dialect and immediately I understood why the film was unique. Combined with the natural light photography and simple wardrobe and set design, it wasn’t about applying cheesy English accents and revealing wardrobe to the period, so much as attempting to tell a story with as much realism as possible; providing a film that was authentic as Dardennes or Rossellini. William and his wife Katherine have just had their fifth son Samuel, of what was previously four children, including Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), twins Caleb (Harvey Scrimshaw) and Mercy (Ellie Grainger), and a third son Jonas (Lucas Dawson). The family had left their community in order to forge a life of their own, facing a gloomy forest and an ailing farm, where their corn has succumbed to bacteria, leaving them with little to eat while forced to go on long hunting expeditions. One day while watching Samuel, as Thomasin begins hearing sounds in the wood and Samuel then disappears. So begins one of the most terrifying scenes of the film as we get the first taste of what lurks in the woods, watching through muddied images as The Witch who grinds the baby to a pulp in order to create a flying potion. The most exciting part of this Arthouse Horror movement is its embracing of sound design, understanding the power of experimental audio and surround sound and how it creates atmosphere, thus far epitomized by It Follows. Katherine grows suspicious of Thomison, blaming her for Samuel’s disappearance, progressing further into paranoia as additional members of the family begin to disappear and more signs point to their eldest daughter; particularly by the twins who, while I’m not certain, look like they had their faces distorted ever so slightly, and if not, is a pretty great idea if a character is never shown up close. After the family talisman of a silver cup goes missing and Katherine again points the finger at Thomison, William finally agrees to disown her under the justification that she’s now old enough to be on her own. Not wanting to leave his sister to die, Caleb follows her, soon getting separated and seduced in the woods by the witch taking the form of a beautiful woman. Having watched It Came at Night shortly after, I was left comparing Caleb to Travis (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) from that film, who was deep into puberty and incredibly horny, leading to his eventual downfall. Given the similarities between the films, it’s interesting that the two director’s found interest in exploring such similar characters. Caleb returns the next day with an unknown illness, later having a seizure where Harvey Scrimshaw provides an absolutely incredible performance from one of the better scenes of the film. Slowly each member of the family dies at the hand of the witch, until the chilling climax closes it out. My friend said while he loved it he’s not sure if he’ll ever watch it again. I understand the point, as this film is so dark and somber, that similar to It Came at Night ('17), I can’t imagine when I’d choose to watch this film over a“fun” horror film that provides equal amounts of scares. It points to the limits of Art House horror, and those who choose to approach the content with a more serious and high minded view. It’s easy for a fun (i.e., House of 10,000 Corpses ('03)), campy (i.e, Sleepaway Camp ('83)), or badass horror (i.e., The Thing ('82)) film to end on a cynical note, if not a completely bleak ending, as it seems much more geared toward allowing the fright to linger long after the film has concluded (if not to also leave room for sequels). I could see The Witch having a sequel, focusing on a different set of people in an equally remote area or town, but this film in particular left me feeling hopeless. It all feels and looks so real that aside from the gorgeous characters, their genuine responses allow for little excitement or enjoyment; they are despondent and death is inevitable. I’d have to be in a pretty twisted state of mind to elect to revisit such a dark movie; though if it was playing in theaters I’d definitely check it out, as it’s also one of the prettier indie horror films I’ve ever seen. *It’s really hard for me to describe what separates theses directors without seeming to insult or belittle one side over another. Arthouse at least seems to sum it up, given its wide range of interpretations. BELOW: Great scene, great accents Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of the 20th Century's most iconic images Director: Ezra Edelman Cinematographer: Nick Higgins Producer: Ezra Edelman, Caroline Waterlow, Tamara Rosenberg, Nina Krstic, Deirdre Fenton, Libby Geist, Erin Leyden, Connor Schell by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... Flipping to the defense, we have Johnnie Cochran in one of the most nuanced roles, playing a defense attorney mostly focused on racial injustice, often battling the City of Los Angeles. With Shapiro knowing that the only way they can win over public approval is by winning over the black community, he recruits Cochran to the campaign. In a brilliant series of Machiavellian (and pragmatic) twists, Cochran eventually ousts Shapiro’s “lead attorney” status, and takes over as the point person, both because OJ’s close friend Robert Kardashian knows that Cochran is a smarter man and a better “look” for the role. This of course sets off a petty and humorous (if it wasn’t so pathetic) battle for power that Shapiro continues to try and exert throughout the film - and, in fairness, accomplishes fairly well. Cochran, though, isn’t the virtuous man everyone believes he is. While the documentary shows an attorney who’s using the plight of black men to both remedy systemic racism and advance his own success, the series dives deeper into the man, showing us his history of domestic abuse, along with one of his most powerful moments - watching as President Clinton responds to the need for police reform as it pertains to black Americans. Cochran is shown in close up, with a tear dropping from his face; displaying a firm faith in his accomplishments. And yet Cochran also shows an uglier side of man - reflecting both those hungry for money or power, whether a businessman or a politician. We’re not sure what Cochran actually feels toward the black community, whether his quest for increased success is an added bonus, or the dominant focus. What we do know is that it at least plays a significant role, as his use of the media circus and ability to plant false or alternative narratives indicate. On the one hand, as he says, he’s simply playing to win, willing to use any means necessary; and on the other, given the black community’s response, it seems that as the case grows in popularity he feels a responsibility to provide them with the justice they desire. In an age of Trump, Cochran seems to have been the 90s liberal version of the same; willing to abandon justice and facts in order to prove a point. Something Darden, in one of a few of their great scenes together, criticizes, declaring that OJ - who was much more a pillar of the white community than black - will do nothing to remedy, but only perpetuate the problem of the rich and famous going free, while the poor and underrepresented are abused. Lately I’ve been thinking about how - whether the Trump/Russia election collusion is true or not - it could only exist within a world that contains the type of hyper-interconnectivity that we’re currently experiencing and will only continue to grow; in which objective facts are abandoned in favor of alternative headlines, which people read as fact, often without even reading the article at all. Mentioned in the film, the 90s brought about cable news and the 24/7 media circus that allowed this infotainment to be possible at all. Against a backdrop of dire racial tensions, specifically on the heels of the Rodney King Trial, the case wasn’t just an examination of guilt or innocence, but became a metaphor for white or black. What the documentary does far better than the series is demonstrate how OJ’s mission was to live a white lifestyle, essentially abandoning the entire black community in order to go golfing and surround himself by his rich, wealthy white friends. Thus, when he was convicted, Cochran, Shapiro and Co. were able to masterfully realign his allegiances, as white people were overwhelming convinced he was a murderer, and the black community renewed their allegiance; seeing him as the culmination of a racist system. In one of the great scenes and mistakes from Darden, who urges the court to prevent any witness or piece of evidence from utilizing the word “nigger”, Cochran chastises his request as it assumes that black people would be unable to remove their emotion. Honestly, I’m still on the fence with this one, as the word is the heaviest within the English language and it does seem that Cochran and Co. understood and exploited this fact. Then again, the word carries such weight that, similar to other racial epithets, it's worth exploring how it could sway objectivity, whether or not the the context is relevant. What both series do so well is demonstrate the tribalism that plagues America time and again; in which people often abandon all sense of reason or logic or objective thinking to join their team, somehow allowing the issue to drift away from a public spectacle and into a deeply personal concern. The numbers are truly incredible with how much the question of OJ’s innocence was divided along racial lines. Does this mean the black community was willing to ignore the facts in order to give a big middle finger to the system (sound familiar)? Or that white people joined a bigoted bandwagon, attempting to prove their own prejudice that black people are more likely to be criminals? Or is the larger concern the media and those who use or control it that often can drive a wedge that create such issues? While Made in America doesn’t offer even a semblance of the media deconstruction that the documentary does, it does show how the characters react to it. Whether using it for their own personal gain like Cochrane or Co., or falling victim to its sexism and superficiality like Marcia Clark, the fact that thousands of people got rich off this case - from the networks to the advertisers to interview subjects - shows that while it wasn’t a bunch of evil masterminds in a room trying to think of a way to create division, the very nature of the business model ensure it. The only way to keep eyes on a network, or engaged with the proceedings was to ensure that there was always more information or analysis. It had to remain entertaining, and entertainment relies on conflicts, demanding that each viewer choose a side. While no other court case has received the same level of attention, the divisions still exist, with more and more films, musicians, and apolitical sources like scientists or academics, getting pulled into the political infotainment narrative, forcing them and their discoveries to divide rather than unite. OJ seems to have been the harbinger of all of this, extending beyond the cable news and televisions and onto social media and our phones, becoming an increasingly present problem with no end in sight. At least stories like this can help people understand. BELOW: Perhaps the greatest example against asking a question you don't know the answer to Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Ezra Edelman Cinematographer: Nick Higgins Producer: Ezra Edelman, Caroline Waterlow, Tamara Rosenberg, Nina Krstic, Deirdre Fenton, Libby Geist, Erin Leyden, Connor Schell by Jon Cvack 2016 was actually one of the most disappointing years for film in recent times, where while there were many good films, none of them were great. Every year there are usually one or two films that provide that lingering, indescribable feeling; where it sticks with you for days or weeks after, leaving you with that wonderful experience that only great art can provide. I had forgotten about ESPN’s OJ: Made in America until it took home the Academy Award, reminding me that this is no longer a television event, but regarded as a 10-hour, five part feature film, demonstrating how arbitrary the category is. It leaves you wondering why a narrative mini-series couldn’t qualify for Best Picture, as series like "Band of Brothers" (2001) or "Show Me a Hero" (2015) could have easily and deservedly won. What made this film so powerful was that it showed the hypocrisy, contradiction, and nastiness on all sides; examining sociology, history, politics, and cultural criticism; providing one of the most insightful American documentaries I’ve ever seen. Having been only a tween during OJ’s trial, I honestly had no idea what the whole thing was about, other than it was a celebrity who got caught in a murder (I wasn’t a football fan), and got off, presumably innocent. I’m embarrassed to say that, until the doc, I had no idea that the whole event was such a monumental moment in America’s history of racial divisions. I had tried starting the narrative miniseries "American Crime Story" when it first came out, but only able to find a link on Vimeo late one night, I just couldn’t get past the initial fifteen minutes of TV-style editing, in which before a commercial break, the music builds up and cuts to black. Fortunately, my other friend said I should give it another go, and having finished OJ: Made in America a few months back, I figured it might be worth checking out. While it took a bit of time to get past those stupid TV editing tricks, it eventually levels off and provides a great supplement to the vast assembly of colorful personalities and diverse characters, examining the many issues that the documentary explored, while going a further into the personal lives of many individuals who were associated with the case On account of rehashing the entire event would likely take up pages and pages, I’m going to assume you’re fully aware and have seen at least one or both of these series so that I can straight to the good stuff. The majority of the series is focused on the trial itself, featuring the prosecution of Marcia Clark (Sarah Paulson) and Christopher Darden (Sterling K. Brown), offering two of the story’s greatest performances, along with Courtney B. Vance, who plays the defense attorney Johnnie Cochran, along with Robert Shapiro (John Travolta), Robert Kardashian (David Schwimmer), and F. Lee Bailey (Nathan Lane), amongst a few others. Of course, OJ Simpson is played by Cuba Gooding, Jr., in his best role since Jerry MaGuire. What’s fascinating is the humanity each of these characters provides - possessing both hubris and gross intelligence, driven by dreams of power and/or wealth which a successful trial could bring about. Looking to the prosecution first, we see Marcia Clark in a devastatingly human light, as an Assistant District Attorney and single mother going through a lengthy divorce, facing a loss of child custody for all the hours she puts in at the office - even though the reason she’s putting in all these hours is in order to provide a better life for her boys. Nevertheless, she understands what convicting OJ could do for her career, no less than her boss and District Attorney Gil Garcetti (Bruce Greenwood) who has Mayoral dreams, who believes the open and shut case will seal the deal. What we see is that Marcia’s own arrogance at least contributed to her downfall, as she refused to listen to Chris Darden’s advice that putting Detective Mark Fuhrman (Steven Pasquales; who discovered the infamous glove), who he suspected might have racist tendencies, could very well blow up in their faces. Yet Chris isn’t completely clean either, as his determination to have OJ try on the glove had equally dire consequences for the case - though if things transpired the way they did in the film, with Shapiro noticing the glove looking small, this could have happened regardless. Yet it’s clear that Darden also has lofty aspirations, as Brown conveys with his various looks and responses; as each time Darden is promoted he sees that his chances of reaching success are all the closer. There’s not anything wrong with these motivations, as in any industry - and Los Angeles, specifically - the drive to the top requires intelligence, and that intelligence is often aware of what opportunity can do what. What’s most fascinating is seeing the arrogance from Garcetti, Darden, and Clark all causing them to take their cold-hard facts for granted. Marcia isn’t helped by the overwhelmingly sexist atmosphere of what Judge Lance Ito (played brilliantly by Kenneth Choice) refers to as male-dominated professions. In one scene, after another conflict arises between the prosecution and defense, Ito says that the court will have to go late. But with the heated divorce proceedings, Clark needs to get home to her children. After the entirely male defense explains that such an excuse is ridiculous, Clark implores the judge that she’s trying to be a good mother, before scolding Cochrane for trying to bring her personal life into the courtroom. Later, and in one of the nastiest scenes, after Clark attempts to get a new awkward hairdo to rid of herself of the “bitchy” label that people keeping throwing around, Garcetti apologizes for the criticism before saying that he could refer her to a media consultant (i.e., beautician) that could fix the problem. Continued to Part 2... BELOW: One of many stranger than fiction moments Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of Joel Edgerton's greatest performance Director: Jeff Nichols Writer: Jeff Nichols; based on The Loving Story by Nancy Buirski Cinematographer: Adam Stone Producer: Jared Ian Goldman, Ged Doherty, Colin Firth, Nancy Buirski, Sarah Green, Marc Turtletaub, Peter Saraf by Jon Cvack Mud (2012) had gotten me excited for Jeff Nichols was headed. I thought it was one of the greatest films of 2013, ushering in a new era of Southern Goth, first explored in Shotgun Stories (2007), expanded in Take Shelter (2011), and continued with Midnight Special (2016). Except just as I had big problems with Midnight Special and its desire to abandon its own logic for sake of story, Loving piqued my interest by demonstrating Nichols’ attempt to move into Awards fare. I had recently read “May It Please the Court…” - a great book on the history of major supreme court cases, which discussed the Loving trial in which an interracial Virginian couple was arrested due to bigoted anti-miscegenation laws. Growing up, I had heard similar arguments from baby boomers about the issues of interracial marriage - in which racism was masked as a “concern” for the bi-racial children who would grow up “confused” about their identity, having an adverse effect on their entire lives; whatever this meant (even as a kid I didn’t understand this logic and Obama’s election didn’t help their case). I’m proud for having little recollection of anyone from my generation expressing similar reservations, ostensibly indicating that - while far from corrected - racism has improved over the last half century. While some Baby Boomers disagreed with interracial marriage while being against segregation, the Silent and G.I. Generations prior favored segregation while being against second class citizenship, the Silent Generation had some agreeing with second class citizenship while being against slavery, and prior to that some supported slavery while others didn’t. While there are significant problems remaining, I’m comforted that each generation has gradually improved their regard for the black community. The present phase seems to function as a denial of systemic or institutional racism; something I imagine we will reform, which the next generation will accept and, hopefully, continue to improve. While “May It Please the Court…” centered on the facts of the case and how it was argued, I was hoping that Loving would explore the public’s response. Unfortunately, Nichols made the odd choice of focusing almost entirely on the couple, excluding the scope of the case and the millions of people it would affect. By allowing us to enter the world of Richard (Joel Egerton) and Mildred Loving (Ruth Negga) we were able to see that a couple’s love and the desire for family is a universal emotion; shared by races and cultures the world over. Through providing empathy, we were able to look past the color barriers. The problem is that I don’t think this was what the world needed. Perhaps in the 1950s a film like this would have been effective, in which portraying the universal nature of love would have allowed others to see that skin color is all that separates whites from blacks. I think of the film No Way Out (1950), where Sydney Poitier as Dr. Luther Brooks had to deal with a pair of bigoted men who believed his race made him an inferior physician, refusing his service, later learning that intelligence is not at all hindered by skin color, though not before it sparks riots in the street. In Loving we get an exceptionally brief clip of the Civil Rights movement gathering in D.C., where Mildred wishes she could be, limited by her three children and that’s it. She does write a letter of Attorney General Robert Kennedy, who recruits the help of two ambitious, self-seeking lawyers Bernie Cohen (Nick Kroll) and Phil Hirschkop (Jon Bass) - clearly thrilled for the opportunity to argue in front the Supreme Court (and leaving you to wonder if it was Loving’s name that provided at least a minor political advantage toward offering their support). However, most of their scenes revolve around explaining the process of appeals and how they get to the SCOTUS, while offering some comic relief, and doing their best to convince the stolid Richard to continue fighting the cause. It wasn’t a mistake to focus almost entirely on Richard and Mildred’s relationship and history; it was just wasn’t what the story deserved. From a historical standpoint, this story had far reaching implications - for America and the entire world. Just as Brokeback Mountain and Moonlight (2016) have helped break down the binary attitude toward masculinity, allowing us to meet fascinating and accessible characters and extend ourselves into them, providing us empathy and understanding, Loving has done the same - the problem is that it’s just not what’s needed. The greatest films connect to the zeitgeist, no matter the story or topic. The country didn’t need to see and understand a loving couple, as it was SUPAC’s understanding of their relationship that led to Virginia vs. Loving’s success; the country had already accepted this. What the country needs is to see that justice can prevail, no matter how difficult or impossible it may seem. The fact that we are only in the courtroom, hearing arguments for seconds of this two hour and change film is absurd. I wanted to see the hate and bigotry; I wanted to see the riots in the streets, demanding justice; I wanted to see other interracial couples fearing for their families and hoping it could change. History has a funny of way of making things seem inevitable, when in fact, there is nothing inevitable about it. Currently, economic inequality is boiling beneath the service, affecting all races and cultures, and right now it honestly seems impossible to imagine it ever getting better. But history has proven that it will. To think that bi-racial marriage was ever illegal, in which a state’s justice system would imprison individuals entering to a sacred bond that any rational person could emphasize with, is difficult for me to comprehend. Yet at the time, and over ten years as this film portrays, it seemed unimaginable that anything could ever change. It’s that struggle between hope and hopelessness that I was wishing to see. Instead, most of what I believed mattered most was left out. I understand that Richard and Mildred were portrayed as and might have failed to understand the scope of what their case meant, but I think that was unfair to all those who saw them as champions of an important cause. In a time when many are looking for more justice in the world, it was the broader implications that the story needed to explore. If even to intercut images or scenes of the civil rights movement, showing what was going on and what it all meant, it could have at least relieved some of the issues. Instead, all we saw were Richard and Mildred’s relationship, brought to life by two phenomenal performances, but never getting to the grand implications of what it all meant. BELOW: As close as it gets to the anger from Black Americans at the time. I get that they wanted to keep the characters removed from the larger protests to maintain the intimate story; I just don't get why Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A image burned into my mind Director: Martin Scorsese Writer: Jay Cocks & Martin Scorsese; based on Silence by Shūsaku Endō Cinematographer: Rodrigo Prieto Producer: Barbara De Fina, Randall Emmett, Vittorio Cecchi Gori, Emma Tillinger Koskoff, Gaston Pavlovich, Martin Scorsese, Irwin Winkler by Jon Cvack There seemed to be two camps for this film - those that thought it was a masterpiece, and those who found it far too long and far too boring. I’m somewhere in the middle, feeling that it was about an hour too long (if being generous), while containing an incredible last hour that made the grueling pace all worth it. Learning about the twenty year mission to get this film made, I understood the delay, as contrary to The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), which examined Jesus’ struggle with his own faith, this movie was relatively small in scale, serving as a highly contained, if not drawn out story. It focuses on two Jesuit priests - Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Garupe (Adam Driver) - as they head off to Hirado Island, Nagasaki in order to find their mentor Cristóvão Ferreira (Liam Neeson), who went missing after Japanese samurais tortured and killed his fellow missionaries who refused to apostatize. They’re led by alcoholic Kichijiro (Yōsuke Kubozuka) who renounced his Christian faith in order to save himself. Arriving at Hirado, they’re welcomed by the community, where they issue penitence and prayer for the members. Eventually, the Samurai come to town, and so we witness the people forced to renounce their Christian beliefs under threat of torture, or even death. One trio of men is hung up on a cross in the ocean, in which the high tide slowly drowns them to death, while Garupe and Rodrigues hide in the woods, watching in terror. Eventually they separate, with Rodrigues getting caught by the inquisitors, who later force him to watch Garupe as he attempts to save those who refused to convert; wrapped up in a straw mat, hands tied, and tossed over a ship. Garupe tries to save him and drowns. Thus after ninety minutes we finally get to the meat of the story, as Rodriguez is held up in prison and forced to witness the horrific consequences greeting his many acolytes that refuse to apostatize - including beheadings and some horrendous torture device where they hang the individual upside down, making a deep incision behind the ear so that the blood can leak from their head, prolonging a horrible death. Regardless of what the inquisitors do, Rodrigues refuses to give in to their demands. Eventually, and in the film’s greatest scene, we meet Ferreira, who we learn that, after all Garuse and Rodrigues had sacrificed, has abandoned his religion, converting to Buddhism and refocusing his life on a pursuit of science. He now has a wife and a child. The woman is a widow of her Christian husband who was executed. Garfield puts on one of his finest scenes, as Rodriguez struggles to grasp the reality of what he’s hearing. We watch as he reflects on all he had seen, and what happened to Garuse, wondering if it was all for nothing. By this point I had lost track of time, not knowing if there was another forty five minutes left, or it was was reaching the end. Ferreira demands Garuse step on a plate of Jesus and renounce his beliefs, or face the excruciating torture others experienced. I’m sure I’m speaking for many - Christians, specifically - in that most people would just put their foot on the Jesus Plate. If Jesus is an all-loving being, then he will understand that you stepped on it out of fear, and not at all as an indication of apostasy. And yet so many of these individuals refuse. It’s a noble gesture, but - speaking for most atheists and agnostics - it’s also a silly one. To face execution in one of the most brutal ways imaginable, or living your Christian life in private is just no question to me. I can’t fathom it. This film’s World Premiere was at the Vatican, screening for over 400 Jesuits. I went to a Jesuit college, and while I’m not particularly religious, I retain an interest in the history and tradition. From a non-religious perspective, it’s a fascinating culture. To have that amount of faith in something, where you’re willing to sacrifice even yourself for the belief, is something I’m, at times, envious of. To be able to finding meaning in God rather than creativity or knowledge is something I imagine does fill many voids and provides purpose in the darkest of times. While it might be offensive to even make the following comparison, I think this story is for anyone who’s passionate about a cause, whether for their own ambition, a value, belief, passion, or faith. How far are you willing to go and are you willing to let it kill you? In the case of Rodriguez, and what I liked about the ending, is he gave in and renounced his faith. Some might say Jesus spoke to him, but it could just as easily be said that it was Rodriguez speaking to himself, expressing the need to stop. Coincidentally, just as I was taking a quick break to look at Reddit there was a meme of The Rock, saying, “We all must suffer two things: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret.” Now before you roll your eyes at the shallow platitude, I’d ask you to consider how this is in any way inapplicable to Rodriquez. He either has to deal with the pain of watching people die because he failed to make this choice, possibly even die himself, or renounce his beliefs and give into the pain of regret in abandoning his faith. It leaves me wondering if he found absolution, whether he turned back to God personally, or his wife simply placed the crucifix back into his hand due. I'm a bit surprised that it was screened at the Vatican, as for as much as it’s a celebration of faith, it’s also a tragic turn of one man reaching the limits of his own, refusing to die like Jesus did. I’m then left wondering why so little time was spent on the years of his life after apostatizing, when so much could have been trimmed from the front to open room for this section and explore how his life had changed. BELOW: An absolutely brutal scene and, next to the ear bleeding, what I'll remember most Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Very bummed that we have yet to see more from Evan Bird Director: David Cronenberg Writer: Bruce Wagner Cinematographer: Peter Suschitzky Producer: Saïd Ben Saïd, Martin Katz, and Michel Merkt by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... Drifting back to Benjie and Agatha, we witness a family that similarly covets fame and fortunes. Christina, Dr. Safford, and Benjie are all hustling to make as much money as possible, with Safford riding his son’s coattails to help fuel his foray into pseudo psychology. Yet it’s Benjie and Evan Bird’s phenomenal performance that steals the entire show; seeing him with his fellow friends of fame, talking about sex as though a bunch of bros in a college fraternity, with periodic commentary about how much they’re earning from their latest role, absent of any discussion of craft or creative satisfaction. In one of the films greatest scenes involving a gun and a magic bullet, abiding by the same surrealistic style that extends throughout the scene, Benjie nearly shoots one of his friends, thinking - and with us seeing - he emptied the bullets, placing the gun against his head and pulling the trigger, before pointing it toward his friend, about to fire, instead aiming for the dog, firing and killing the animal. Agatha’s story is even more bizarre, as she returns to LA to meet up with her family that paid for her to stay away. In a morbid scene, as the mother welcomes her back, Dr. Safford comes home and begins beating her in the stomach. Given that the children are products of an incestuous marriage, we can’t help thinking that rather than more traditional mental consequences, the effects have impacted the children’s sense of right and wrong. Agatha’s attempt to commit arson and kill her brother is never fully explained, other than it was based on schizophrenic tendencies - which soon begin to infect Benjie, causing him to see the ghosts of some of the girl he met in the hospital who died shortly after. I’m not a big of hallucinatory sequences, though this film mildly improves the exhausted trope. Benjie and Havana's morbid past and increasing hallucinations help with Cronenberg’s commentary on what brings people out to LA. While not everyone is dealing with some extravagant skeletons, it’s safe to say that most people who make the pilgrimage are attempting to escape something - whether from their family, friends (or lack of), or community. Many were the outcasts of their school, struggling to find a place where they belong, until they arrive, meeting other dreamers and artists who were equally passionate enough to leave it all behind. Having read a bit of Freud and Erich Fromm over the last few months, and their frequent analysis of the Oedipal Complex, it’s easy to see the parallels, especially with how the gross number of Cronenberg’s films explore the profound depths of psychology (eventually making a movie about Freud back in 2011 called A Dangerous Method). While I can grasp the academic interest, I find modern adaptations of these stories really lacking. I’m not sure what else there’s left to explore with these ideas; along with the fact that most don’t adapt well in modern times. Incest has become such an extreme taboo in present times that suspending disbelief is near impossible, distracting us from the ideas expected to be derived. For a movie I was expecting to be on the lower end of Cronenberg’s filmography, I was blown away. It’s not his best, positioned right in the middle, but leaving you anxious to return to other pieces of his work. Every time I finish one of his better films I seem to find the man more interesting. In terms of mainstream directors, I think he’s one of the most underrated, with people too quickly dismissing his work as bizarre and weird than attempting to unpack the fascinating ideas he’s exploring. BELOW: Another great scene from Moore Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Her best role yet Director: David Cronenberg Writer: Bruce Wagner Cinematographer: Peter Suschitzky Producer: Saïd Ben Saïd, Martin Katz, and Michel Merkt by Jon Cvack Beyond my mother, I honestly don’t know anyone who’s seen Still Alice, in which Julianne Moore won the Best Actress Oscar. The performance is good and deserving, though more in the Tropic Thunder-sense with the idea of going “full retard”; that is, the very design of the an Alzheimer's performance immediately positioned the part for Oscar contention and it was about finding the strongest player - which Moore clearly was. Up until Maps to the Stars, Moore’s best role has been in Boogie Nights and Short Cuts ('93); that is, until this film, which is not just kind of better, but by far her greatest role of all time, playing a washed up mid-50s actress Havana Segrand and providing one of the most complex and engaging characters I’ve seen from this decade. I find Cronenberg one of the most interesting filmmakers out there, exploring some dark and heavy territory, diving deep into psychological issues having to do with sex, violence, and often incest. With the exception of Fast Company ('79) and M. Butterfly ('93), I’ve devoured all his work. One of my favorites elements about his work is the exceptionally simple and natural style. I can’t lay my finger precisely on what gives a Cronenberg film its exact feel, but like any great filmmaker, I know I'm watching one of his films within moments. The story follows four brilliant characters - starting with the arrival of Agatha Weiss (Mia Wasikowska) who wears two long black leather gloves to cover up the burns on her arms, which extend up and onto her face, partially shaded by her hair. She hires limo driver Jerome Fontana (Robert Pattinson) - an aspiring actor/screenwriter. Agatha is the brother of child superstar Benjie Weiss (Evan Bird) and daughter of Dr. Stafford (John Cusack) and and Cristina Weiss (Olivia Williams); a brother and sister who discovered their relationship long after the fact. Stafford is a charlatan quack psychologist who’s attempting to ride Benjie’s coattails while Benjie is the epitome of the "Rich & Famous" entitled brat, who we first meet at a children’s hospital, fulfilling the dying wish of one of his fans. He vows to get her an iPad (Mini) so she can watch his movies and then mistakenly gets the little girl’s disease wrong, leading him to berate his “faggot Jew” agent in the middle of the city streets. As with the greatest characters, Evan Bird’s had the unique ability to make me first despise his character, finding him nearly insufferable, only to evolve and gain my empathy for each subsequent scene. What I was most excited about was to see Cronenberg’s view of Los Angeles, bringing all of his darkness and analysis to a city of dreamers. Having recently watched La La Land ('16) and having liked “Love” on Netflix (which does a pretty good job of capturing the city), I’ve always wanted to see the darker side presented. The sad reality of living out here is that few people grasp is the vast majority of dreamers out here will fail - they didn’t get the part, they didn’t get the job, they didn't get into the festival or competition. The city largely revolves around social capital - where success is as much dependent on your social value as much more than any type of merit. In one scene, capturing the city’s spirit, while Jerome drives Agatha, she explains that she happens to be good friends Carrie Fisher, who she met on Twitter when Carrie wanted to ask a burn victim some questions. One of the most unbearable aspects of living out here is when you meet the name droppers who proceed to tell you how well they know X, Y, and Z celebrity, when you’re fairly certain these celebrities would have no clue who they are. Cronenberg zeroes on this moment by focusing on Jerome who’s heard it a thousand times before - except that Agatha actually does know Carrie Fisher (who plays herself), having met her on Twitter exactly as she describes and it’s Carrie who gets Agatha the job with Havana. It’s all so surreal, and yet works exactly the way things operate out here. Havana has been going after a part for a remake of a movie that earned her mother an Oscar Nomination. We watch as she talks to everyone she knows, hitting up producers and agents, mentioning the favors that she’s owed. In one grueling sequence, she has a threesome with one of the producers and another woman. It’s fairly clear that Havana is not at all interested in the act, though figuring it could help her chances, she goes as long as she can until she excuses herself. Battling between her mother and declining career, she visits Dr. Stafford who offers a weird and sadistic therapeutic session. When official word comes in that the role’s a no go, Havana has Agatha buy a smorgasbord of painkillers, anti-depressants, and anti-anxiety medication. It all seems headed downhill until, in a brilliant scene, where Agatha is loading up the $12,000 in clothing Havana just purchased, they meet the actress who got the role and her son. Another element of being out here in LA is that you very quickly learn what the term “haters” really mean - and I mean from both perspectives. This is a competitive town and when you’re all struggling to get where you want to go and it’s not going well and someone gets some success, the envy exists on a broad spectrum, with far too many letting it boil up inside, creating resentment and bitterness; causing congratulations to be offered behind a painful faux smile. With this setup in mind, and with Havana not just encountering someone that had some success, but has taken a very personal role that Havana coveted. I was blown away by Moore’s ability to embody this dynamic, feigning pride to the best of her ability. I always imagine an actor playing an actor has to be so tough, as it adds an additional layer - you are not acting as a person, but acting how an actor acts; meaning, Moore wasn’t acting like someone who’s envious, she was acting how actors act when they’re feeling envious - with that added layer of resentment. I also noticed the same skill in a smaller moment, just going to show powerful Moore’s performance was - which is when she was giving an interview on television. Although we’ve seen her feign interest, care, or love toward her friends, on television we get to see Havana act for the entire world - which was charming and lovely, without even a hint of her skeletons ever showing on the screen. Again, when you think of Moore acting like how an actor would act on a television show, it adds a complexity that makes you all the more in awe. Additionally inspiring was how much Moore committed to the appearance, gaining just enough weight where we notice and allowing the character to drift between sheer sexiness and one of the film’s most hilarious moments when Moore is constipated due to taking too much Vicodin, trying to take a shit, farting up a storm while talking to Agatha. To think that this is the same woman who in the same year played an upper class, Columbia Neurology Professor with Alzheimer's - and with equal believability - just goes to show how phenomenal this was. And so, after bathroom, when her friend who got the part’s son dies in a freak accident, dropping out of the project, Havana jumps for joy. As tragic as the story is, she finally got the part, certain that she’ll return to greatness and recover her ailing career. Stay tuned for Part 2... BELOW: Layers upon layers upon layers Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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