Get ready to experience pulp friction of the edgiest order as a mismatched love story collides with a badass crime drama and all-out revenge and cover-up saga in the consistently surprising Love Lies Bleeding (B), directed by Rose Glass. Set in the 1980s, this often unhinged movie chronicles the sexy relationship between a gym manager played by Kristen Stewart and a nomadic bodybuilder portrayed by Katy O’Brian, with a powderkeg or two threatening the serenity of their sapphic world order. Both women are incredible in the roles; their unbridled feral chemistry is a necessary foundation on which the most outlandish episodes can take place. Ed Harris and Dave Franco are also compelling as outrageous and dangerous men; and it’s clear we the audience are settling in for some supernatural splatter when steroids stoke the kindling of the bonfire. After opening sequences ground the story in a very specific world, some of the plot lines admittedly become completely ridiculous. But Glass keeps the story taut and entertaining with a clever eye for detail and noirish nuances. This is a very fun indie walk on the wild side.
New York City’s most unassuming guy and the world’s most over-assertive woman forge an unlikely relationship at the center of this refreshingly off-kilter satire. Julio Torres writes, directs and stars in the surrealist comedy Problemista (B+). He plays Alejandro, a South American immigrant and aspiring toy designer and who’s struggling to bring his unusual ideas to life in the bustle of the American metropolis. As time on his work visa runs out, a job assisting a brassy art world iconoclast (Tilda Swinton as Elizabeth) becomes his only hope to stay in the country and realize his dreams. Our humble hero’s macabre toy ideas are hilarious (even his snake in a can is humbly apologetic for its jump scare), and his Kafkaesque imagination runs wild as he ruminates through the Rube Goldberg machine of blockades en route to his goal of staying in the U.S. and landing a plum job at Hasbro. The film blends sly parody of the art world and a subplot about cryogenics as wry observational humor unfolds. Torres is quite funny inhabiting the role of meek protagonist, but it’s Swinton as his brazen new boss, rouged and festooned like a Fangoria centerfold, who provides an indelible character for the ages. Her holy terror of a takedown of her brunch waiter eclipses Jack Nicholson’s diner diatribe in Five Easy Pieces. This film is cleverly plotted and paced and offers surprises around many corners. Torres proves to be a comic talent to watch as he delivers commentary in a funny package.
Denis Villeneuve brings IMAX-certified cameras to a knife fight and creates a picturesque panorama largely missing the joy of discovery so present in its predecessor as the director continues his interplanetary sci-fi saga in Dune: Part Two (B-). As the protagonist, Timothée Chalamet has grown into a more credible and physically impressive action hero this time around, and he’s paired nicely with Zandaya as he endeavors to be a man of the people on the desert planet known for its valuable spice and menacing sand worms. The first installment included lots of enjoyable palace intrigue and even some moments of sentiment and humor; part two is super-serious, even leaden at times, and it mainly meanders toward a showdown without introducing too many new locales, costumes or bags of tricks into the mix. Despite their pedigree, Christopher Walken and Florence Pugh don’t make much of an impression, but Austin Butler is definitely doing some sort of big swing as the big bad of this sequel; it seemed briefly promising he was going to breathe some new life into the ponderously paced second reel. The film is technically impressive though, with swirling vistas and majestic production design more than worthy of its somewhat underdeveloped themes about destiny and heroism. As a piece of cinema, it’s a wonder to behold with action sequences well blocked and the ante being upped a time or two, even if it just doesn’t land the ship like the first movie did. There were frankly some elements I preferred in the universally derided David Lynch adaptation. Villaneuve’s film is so gorgeously shot, it could have been a great silent movie, with two hours plus of splendid pageantry and Hans Zimmerman’s rousing music swelling before our eyes and ears. See it on the big screen, for sure, but I’m going to bring expectations down just a notch.
A funny new film focuses on that pivotal time as a young person making a way in the world when you rediscover or finally find your voice. Shaina Silver-Baird, whose comic sensibility evokes a wry, mischievous love child of Aubrey Plaza and Kate McKinnon, is the co-creator/co-writer, executive producer and star of director Daniel AM Rosenberg’s comic musical Less Than Kosher (B+). She plays Viv, a washed-up thirtysomething ex-pop star and self-proclaimed “bad Jew” who reluctantly lands an unlikely job as the music leader at her family’s synagogue. Familial sassiness, a “meet not so cute” with the rabbi’s son, a memorable mushroom drug trip and a TikTok trending montage of “Judeo-Pop” remixes are among the funny episodes punctuated with devilish Tarantino yellow font chapter headings. The film is a joyous roundabout story of modern young Jewish life approaching its characters with no judgment as they maneuver the trappings of adulting. Viv’s sequences as cantor quickly become out-of-body spiritual experiences, one of which feels ripped out of a Disney Broadway showstopper. Silver-Baird proves she’s a gregarious comedienne as well as a lovely songstress, and she is matched in goofy temperament and tone opposite funnymen David Eisner and David Reale as rabbi and son, respectively. Rosenberg holds it all together with fun physical comedy and lots of original zingers. He leaves you wanting more as it’s not entirely clear what comes next for the comic characters, but it’s a berserk and buoyant work with lots of laughs and heart.
Note: This screening was part of the young professionals night at the 2024 Atlanta Jewish Film Festival. The festival’s theatrical movies run through February 26 with streaming films also available through March 7. Full line-up of films can be found here: https://ajff.org
So insistent on its own cleverness as it churns out plot twists like sorcerer’s apprentice brooms, Matthew Vaughn’s meta spy thriller comedy Argylle (C) has the cumulative effect of wearing out its welcome. Bryce Dallas Howard plays a cat-loving spy novelist drawn into a real-life adventure similar to the events in her popular book series, accompanied by visions of her fictional hero (an underused Henry Cavill) and a mysterious stranger portrayed by a scrappy Sam Rockwell, who wrings whatever comedy he can out of his character. Howard and Rockwell lack the chemistry or distinction to cannily add much to the “author embroiled in her own book” canon à la Romancing the Stone and Lost City, so Vaughn spends most of the film’s unnatural duration trying to confound audience expectations with a Russian roulette of reveals. Once it’s apparent the central characters are mind-numbingly mid, all the shooting spree ballets and choreographed lair infiltrations feel like a prodigious pile-on. The notion of doubling down and doubling back on double agents leading double lives starts off octo-feisty but devolves into fussy galore. Meanwhile the busy enterprise squanders the talents of John Cena, Bryan Cranston, Ariana DeBose, Samuel L. Jackson and Catherine O’Hara while gliding through lackluster set pieces. The dapper design aesthetic Vaughn has been building for his Kingsman films just feels like a joyless rut here, with globetrotting locales appearing like LED screen backdrops; and for all the kinetic stunts and needle drops, the movie doesn’t register as brisk or snappy. There are occasional inspired bits and handsome flourishes dotting this often leaden lark, but it’s all too much at the service of a clunky vehicle in constant motion. Overly salted and shaken, this action romp proves to be cluttered popcorn.
A surprising film debuted at Sundance 2024, and you could say it’s got buzz. And whistles, beeps and chirps. Sally Aitken’s documentary Every Little Thing (B) is a gentle, non-ironic glimpse at the life’s work of a West coast woman named Terry Masear, who operates a hummingbird rescue mission out of her L.A. home. This consummate and patient healer’s own wounded background undergirds the true tale, but the recovering birds are really center cage in this realm, each with cute names and back stories as they begin their fragile resurgence. Aitken gently follows some amazing animals in startling close-up as they learn their flights of fancy again. Like March of the Penguins, it’s a canny diorama exploring the sociological machinations of a bird order. This engaging journey is quietly observant, inspiring and entertaining.
Writer/director Amrou Al-Kadhi’s title character of Layla (B-) is a Muslim drag performer in East London with a one-of-a-kind story to tell in one of several Sundance Film Festival 2024 entries focused on queer identity. Bilal Hasna is mostly sensational in the central role of what is ostensibly a romance film, playing opposite Louis Greatorex, who has a more conventional and mainstream way of presenting himself to society. Opposite such a complex persona, this boyfriend hardly stands a chance. Constantly negotiating several dimensions of identity in one fabulous vessel, Hasna’s Layla is a fascinating portrait, augmented by marvelous costumes, kaleidoscopic parties and music that could be just a little bit better. Saltburn has nothing on this film’s stilettos as the movie balances a walk on the wild side with romcom tropes. Somewhat flimsy writing and fleeting characters threaten to derail the perfectly good pairing at the film’s center, but Layla prevails. Layla’s story deserved just a little bit better but is still an absorbing, singular and fierce wonder to behold.
Just because it debuted at Sundance doesn’t mean it’s any good. And co-directors Daniel Hoesl and Julia Niemann’s German dark comedy Veni Vidi Vici (D+) certainly doesn’t seem to be here to make any friends. It’s a stark portrait of a billionare crime family living in its own bucolic bubble, unimpeachable in every way as they go about terrible activities such as furtive sniper shootings of local innocents. Photographed beautifully but soulless in spirit, the film is dead-set on shocking viewers about these aristocrats without a moral compass but neglects to offer a story or counterpoint to yield any intrigue or interest. The ensemble including Laurence Rupp and Ursina Lardi as the twisted parents and Dominik Warta as a potentially intriguing outsider aren’t given much at all to do. It looks like and is sometimes filmed like a social satire but only tells part of one side of a story. For all the fuss, it ends up a great one-note bore.
As more megaplex audiences get to experience the story of an author exploring his pseudonym in the mainstream hit American Fiction, a new Sundance Film Festival entry depicts a young British novelist leading a shocking double life in Mikko Mäkelä’s Sebastian (B-). Rharidh Mollica plays the indie film’s title aspiring writer who becomes a sex worker to land fascinating stories; and although the actor’s own part is a bit underwritten, his vantage point becomes a gateway to bridging his understanding of several generations of older gay men, with all its fights, frailty and fantasia. The film is very explicit in its bedroom scenes but also rich in honesty and humanity. Sequences opposite the great actor Jonathan Hyde demonstrate why films like this deserve a place in the discourse. Cinematographer Iikka Salminen’s London is one of deep isolation and loneliness, underscoring the austere and clinical viewpoint of its title character. There are also some titillating bits, so get ready. The movie falls into some of the typical traps of auto-fiction and gives scant development to characters such as the protagonist’s friend and colleague played by Hiftu Quasem. Ultimately the film escorts viewers to tender and touching revelations mostly more than skin deep.
This is a last great gasp of mainstream Sundance Film Festival cinema in which a feisty independent-living grandma treks across L.A. to get even with a telephone fraudster who almost got the best of her. Josh Margolin’s Thelma (B) features a mighty performance by the wonderful June Squibb and another by the late, great Richard Roundtree as a friend from a neighboring nursing home with one last great adventure left in him as well. Fred Hechinger is a hoot as her technology enabling grandson, but Parker Posey and Clark Gregg don’t have much to do as his parents. The film is at its clever best as it follows a sleuthing spy type storyline, with hearing aid volume controls and GPS identity bracelets subbing in for the kinds of gadgets Q used to whip up in the lab. As Thelma, Squibb is a fully rounded character with spunk, sass and a sharp mind. The film fully humanizes her character, even though the script and story could have been much stronger. Still, it’s a fun lark and a great chance to watch Squibb and Roundtree whoop it up.
Like Once and The Commitments before it, Rich Peppiatt’s Kneecap (B-) follows in a grand tradition of Ireland-set ragtag musical dramas with a splash of comedy and political revelations thrown in for good measure. Set in post-Troubles Belfast, this Sundance tuner tells the origin story of the titular trio of real-life bandmates – Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, Naoise Ó Cairealláin, and JJ Ó Dochartaigh rapping a blend of English and native Irish rhymes for politically charged times. The characters become accidental activists as their Gaelic native tongue is on the brink of being banned by the government. Kneecap’s music sweeps viewers up into a ketamine-fueled, energetic series of episodes to encounter the meaning of pure defiance, laced with funny animated lyrics and playful surprises. Michael Fassbender helps ground the grassroots story as a martyred leader in exile. He’s head over heels better at acting than his fellow mates in the ensemble; by what the Kneecap bandmates lack in natural acting, they make up in manic energy. It’s a rollicking, rebellious rap revolution with a heart for preserving the best of one’s cultural heritage and a lovely sense of anarchy.
