The Iron Claw - Review: Holding Tight and Never Letting Go

 

For almost as long as cinema has existed, two kinds of films have existed: the “based on a true story” biopic of a person’s life and the inspirational sports movie. And if there’s a type of story that audiences love more than an inspirational sports movie, it's a tragedy. Enter the Von Erich family, a gaggle of professional wrestlers known as one of the pioneers of familial wrestling teams and for the tragedy of their deaths in this tale of “The Iron Claw”. 

The film follows the Von Erichs family, focusing on brothers Kevin, Kerry, David, and Mike, played by Zac Efron (“High School Musical,” “The Greatest Showman”), Jeremy Allen White (“Shameless,” “The Bear”), Harris Dickinson (“Trust,” “The King’s Man”), and Stanley Simons, respectively. Under the tumultuous leadership of their father Jack, played by Holt McCallany (“Lights Out,” “Mindhunter”), they rise through the ranks of professional wrestling, as unfortunate tragedy strikes the family, claiming the lives of multiple members of the family. 

While this is very much an ensemble piece, Efron is the clear lead and star of the show and is better than he has ever been in his career before. He’s magnetic, showcasing the same charisma he’s had since his smile lit up the Disney Channel, but there’s a deeper ability on display. A clear sense of knowing showmanship filters through Kevin, and the pain that Efron is able to mix with moments of pure charm is nothing short of fantastic. His performance is almost too good, as it does end up overshining some of the other excellent actors within the film. 

White and McCallany are truly incredible as well, fiery spouts of rage and temper that play against each other and Efron’s slightly cooler headed personality. Simons is a cold and sad tragedy of a man, and as good as Dickinson is, his lesser runtime makes it harder for him to make as much of an impact as the other brothers. Also, worth highlight are Lily James (“Baby Driver,” “Pam & Tommy”) as Pam, Kevin’s girlfriend and eventual wife and constant source of humor and charm opposite Efron, and Maura Tierney (“The Affair,” “ER”) as Doris Von Erich, the family matriarch and source of constant, quiet emotion and wisdom in the face of the rest of the Von Erich’s emotional storms. 

Writer/director Sean Durkin sets his sports tragedy against a backdrop of hazy 80s honey-glow colors shot by cinematographer Mátyás Erdély (“The Nest,” “The Woman Who Brushed Off Her Tears”), with a rollicking rock soundtrack underneath it all and a musical score by Arcade Fire member Richard Reed Parry. Showcasing the excess of the period and of the family at their height of success helps for the later moments to hit much harder as we watch everything collapse around them. While the elements outside the ring are shot routinely, it's the moments inside that are a real highlight. Everything looks like how a child might imagine being in the wrestling ring and it helps to build up the film’s central theme of showcasing Jack’s desire for perfection and excess and the tole it takes on the family. 

Durkin’s biggest accomplishment with the film is somehow making it both a condemnation of Jack’s actions towards the brothers, while also successfully celebrating their achievements in the ring and the general showmanship of the pre-WWE era of televised, commercialized wrestling. His love of wrestling and this era shines through, and it's a prime example of the concept of “criticize what you love”. It feels so true and authentic, while also making the Von Erichs’ achievements even more monumental against the backdrop of 80s excess and pain. 

“The Iron Claw” latches on to the audience and doesn’t let go. While Efron does steal the show from the rest of the cast almost too much, the film itself is such a powerful example of poisoning fame and excess, set against a display of pure brotherly love. The golden haze set over this 80s sports tragedy is palpable and intense, bringing everything together in a tight grasp of emotion and drama, leaving viewers with tears in their eyes and their fists in the air. 4.5/5

All Of Us Strangers - Review: A Twilight Zone-Tinted Romance

 

The world of film can allow for such insane and wild scenarios to play out on massive, grand scales. You’ll believe a man could fly, as they say. The world of independent film likewise can also achieve some wild and varied feats, just on a smaller scale with smaller budgets. That’s where something like “All of Us Strangers” comes in, a film that is both a quiet, pensive, dialogue heavy, atmospheric, gay indie drama and also a movie involving ghosts and supernatural elements that wouldn’t be out of place in a “Twilight Zone” episode. 

Based on the novel “Strangers” by Taichi Yamada, the film follows Adam, played by Andrew Scott (“Fleabag,” “Pride (2014)”), a screenwriter living in solitude in London, who meets his neighbor Harry, played by Paul Mescal (“Normal People,” “Aftersun”), and the two eventually begin a romance. All the while, Adam begins to visit his childhood home where he begins to see and interact with his deceased mother and father, played by Claire Foy (“The Crown,” “Women Talking”) and Jamie Bell (“Rocketman (2019),” “The Adventures of Tintin”) respectively. 

It’s not fair to call it a weird plot, as most of the film’s weirdness is disguised within its somber tone and subtle performances. Scott and Mescal are great together, and there’s an air of mystery and unease to Foy and Bell’s performances that make them extremely captivating. Writer/director Andrew Haigh (“Lean on Pete,” “Looking”) crafts an extremely fascinating and infectious vibe to the entire film that certainly makes it more interesting than one might expect from other movies like this that might get broadly labeled “indie” movies. 

Yet as fascinating as it can be, the film is also painfully slow throughout. It is clearly part of the point and vibe of the events, and the craft clearly shows that Haigh wanted to make a very deliberately paced movie. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that it is, indeed, simply extremely slow. The music from composer Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch (“Censor,” “Living (2022)”) doesn’t help this, as it can sometimes invite sleepier tendencies, as if the movie is a celluloid lullaby, paired with gorgeous visuals from cinematographer Jamie D. Ramsay (“Living (2022),” “See How They Run”). 

It can just feel like a very placid film, where weird things happen in mundane ways to supplement the story, rather than to enhance or be an integral part of it. For example, we’re shown very early on that Adam’s visits with his parents aren’t in his head. They’re legitimately seeing him from beyond the grave. Why is this? Why not just use memories? Why go for this more supernatural tone? It can feel unfair to judge the film for these choices or to even question them, but by the movie’s end, they don’t feel like they were necessary choices to tell this story. They just happened to be the ones used to tell it. 

If that all sounds too negative, don’t fear because the film itself is still a remarkably atmospheric experience led by its phenomenal cast, visuals, and music. It’s just a bit frustrating from a conceptual standpoint. But if you turn your mind away to those thoughts, and simply exist in the vibe and sense of it all, you’re left with a remarkably compelling and gorgeous little indie drama that certainly takes a unique approach to its subject matter and story. 3.5/5

Migration - Review: Birds of a Feather Are Entertaining Together

 

In the world of animation, Illumination can come across as a bit of a red-headed stepchild. Where other studios go big or go for broke, Illumination’s films can sometimes seem like lesser products with lower budgets and far more broad appeal goals. Yet, every so often, one of them breaks through and really shines, as is the case with “Migration,” an animated waterfowl fable from director Benjamin Renner (“Ernest & Celestine,” “The Big Bad Fox and Other Tales...”) and writer Mike White (“School of Rock,” “The White Lotus”). 

The film follows a family of mallards; father Mack, voiced by Kumail Nanjiani (“Silicon Valley,” “Eternals”), mother Pam, voiced by Elizabeth Banks (“The Hunger Games,” “The LEGO Movie”), preteen son Dax, voiced by Caspar Jennings, daughter Gwen, voiced by Tresi Gazal, and curmudgeonly elderly uncle Dan, voiced by Danny DeVito (“It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” “Matilda”), who decide to leave their safe, anxious lifestyle in a New England pond to travel south for the winter for the first time. On their way to Jamaica, they end up finding themselves in New York and a variety of other odd detours. 

Renner’s experience with hand drawn animation comes through in spades here with some of the most expressive animation and stylings of any Illumination movie thus far. The squashing and stretching of everything gives it all a sense of earnestness and life that can feel sorely missing in a lot of other Hollywood blockbuster animated films. It's also, like many of Illumination’s films, a gorgeous movie to behold, full of sweeping naturalistic shots, collages of fall colors, and city sightlines that are just beautiful. It helps greatly that the score from John Powell (“How To Train Your Dragon,” “Kung Fu Panda”) is the absolute definition of playful, leading to some moments taking on the sensibilities of a classic Merry Melodies cartoon. 

It’s vocal cast also commits to the comedic nature of it all to great effect. Banks proves to be a great calm foil to Nanjiani’s more manic mallard mannerisms, and the kids are fantastic as well, really selling the sibling bickering and the overall familial bond. Devito plays the grumpy uncle well, and the rest of the voice cast is a who’s who of comedic talents that all play their roles well, from a Jamaican parrot voiced by Kegan Michael Key (“Wendell and Wild,” “Wonka”) to a terrifying elderly heron voiced by Carole Kane (“The Princess Bride,” “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt”) and a streetwise pigeon voice by Awkwafina (“Ocean’s 8,” “The Farewell”) in one of the best uses of her gravely vocal touches in years. 

What this adventure consists of, though, isn’t really anything unique. It’s a road movie with a bunch of birds, going from place to place and meeting colorful new characters as they go. Renner and White don’t try to reinvent the wheel with this one, but the script is kept lively and bright, leaning heavily on silly familial banter and antics. It’s in that seeming simplicity and routine story that White mines for some emotional resonance, and while he doesn’t exactly craft a wholly unique tale, what’s here is undeniably entertaining and fun. 

“Migration” is a movie for the whole flock, uncomplicated and entertaining. It’s just a silly little fun movie, one that doesn’t try to be wholly silly for the kids or overly smart for the adults. It’s a fun little piece of animated road movie folly. A great voice cast, a great score, gorgeous visuals, and a dearth of fart jokes. What more could you ask for with a modern Hollywood animated film? 4/5

Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom - Review: An Overstuffed Sequel That Quickly Takes On Water

In the turbulent swirl that has been the DC Extended Universe, Aquaman has been a weird highlight for a good chunk of it. The first film was overlong but embracingly silly, keeping the mythology DC is known for while also shirking some of the darker elements of the previous films. It also helped greatly that Aquaman himself, aka Jason Momoa (“See,” “Dune (2021)”), was clearly such a charismatic force. 

Now, five years later, the only DC film to crack a billion dollars worldwide has a sequel, the much delayed “Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom.” The film follows Aquaman, played again by Momoa, as he must team up with his villainous half-brother Orm, played by Patrick Wilson (“Insidious,” “The Conjuring”), to stop Black Manta, played by Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (“The Trial of the Chicago 7,” “The Matrix Resurrections”), from killing his family and overheating the world using the mythical Black Trident, a remnant of the lost seventh kingdom of the sea. 

If that doesn’t seem like too complicated of a plot, just you wait. Because returning director/co-writer James Wan (“Insidious,” “Malignant”) and writers David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick (“Orphan,” “Wrath of the Titans (2012)”), Thomas Pa’a Sibbett (“Braven,” “The Last Manhunt”), and Momoa himself do as much as possible to bloat the film’s plot with various other subplots and just complicated the main narrative in general. It manages to deal with the missing seventh kingdom, the brainwashing Black Trident, climate change, Aquaman having a family and potentially retiring, brotherly strife with Orm, and reuniting the surface world with the undersea world. 

It’s a lot to be sure, and while most of it can be fun in a cheesy, B-movie kind of way, eventually it all just starts to collapse in on itself. Momoa tries to keep the vibes up with his big grin and silly, machismo charms, and he does succeed, especially when opposite Wilson. The pair have a really great buddy cop angle going, mixing their antagonistic brotherly tendencies and when the film is just focusing on them, it is a good bit of fun. When you have an actor taking himself as seriously as Wilson is against someone doing the exact opposite like Momoa is, it makes for a great odd couple combination. 

Even the visuals manage to keep up with the B-movie vibes. This is a movie with giant octopuses that fight in superhero battles and control mechs the size of small buildings. It all goes back to the sense of seriousness; when we see a character controlling a mech with giant levers with red balls on the end that look like they’re from a Thunderbirds episode in a literal secret evil Volcano lair, it can work. But it's the other moments, where the film takes itself far too seriously, where it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a big sense of combining in the overall structure and plot. It feels like Wan and his writers had ideas for two or three other movies and decided to just squish them all into one. It feels bloated and overlong, despite barely being over two hours. There’s just so much smashed in here for seemingly no other reason than to pad out the runtime. Even the ending can’t seem to figure out whether it should go for a cool final moment or one that feels supremely, winkingly dumb. 

“Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom” is a bizarre film. One that seems to ready and willing to not take itself seriously in the slightest, and yet cheapens out at the last minute to try and become a grand superhero royalty lineage drama. Momoa isn’t taking any of it seriously, opposite Wilson who absolutely is, both trying to hammer their way through a script that feels like the love-child of a 50s science fiction TV show and a serious Snyder superhero movie. It’s so incredibly weird, and maybe that’s reason enough to see it. But it doesn’t make it good. 2/5 

American Fiction - Review: Take a Look, It's in a Book

 

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. This adage has existed for as long as humanity has, as the more success one person gets, the more people will crop up jealous or bitter in some way over that success. This concept has been utilized numerous times in fiction in countless ways, and we now have writer/director Cord Jefferson’s directorial debut taking on this idea in the most classic and American way possible with the aptly titled “American Fiction.”

Based on the novel “Erasure,” the film follows Thelonious "Monk" Ellison, played by Jeffrey Wright (“The French Dispatch,” “Westworld (2016)”), a professor and writer struggling with personal loss and writer’s block. After a death in his family and spurred by his reckless brother Cliff, played by Sterling K. Brown (“This Is Us,” “Honk for Jesus, Save Your Soul”), he decides to write a purposefully bad book aping what he sees as the derogatory way black authors write about their communities. When his book becomes an unexpected hit, he finds himself struggling to reconcile success with his perceptions about his own life, skills, and the literary world.

Jefferson’s script is exceptionally sharp and impressive, especially for a debut feature, getting directly into the meat of the material and leaving no punches pulled. It helps that he has such a game lead actor, as Wright turns in a career best performance here. He's unafraid to make the audience unsure of their feelings on Monk, and the film constantly pushes and pulls him in various directions because of the success of his book. As things continue to trickle down to him, his heart is laid bare, and it evolves into a truly fantastic lead performance.

Brown is also exceptionally good, almost surprisingly so. The rest of the supporting cast, consisting of Leslie Uggams (“Deadpool,” “Empire”), Erika Alexander (“Living Single,” “Wu-Tang: An American Saga”), John Ortiz (“Jack Goes Boating,” “American Gangster”), Issa Rae (“Insecure,” “The Hate U Give”), and Tracee Ellis Ross (“black-ish,” “Girlfriends”) all fight to steal each of their respective scenes, and they play off each other and Wright flawlessly. Jefferson’s script and their performances all move effortlessly between the film’s most serious and dramatic moments and its comedic ones with seemingly zero effort. It's the kind of cast and film that makes everything you’re seeing seem effortless and easy.

Outside of the script and performances, the look and technical elements of the film are rather plain. It’s nothing necessarily bad, as they serve the film just fine, but there isn’t really any style to these elements. It’s shot in a fairly plain way, and the musical score by Laura Karpman (“Set It Up,” “The Marvels”) is good with some fun piano elements but isn’t a particular standout.

Rather the film’s ending is a big standout moment, and without getting into spoilers, it will certainly be the most divisive element of the film by far. The last ten minutes or so of the film delve the deepest into its satirical elements and start to delve into something even more eviscerating than anything else in the film prior. However, for as fun as it is, it feels as though Jefferson is trying to have his cake and eat it too. It doesn’t not work, but it feels incredibly jarring since nothing else in the film prior resembles this moment. It’s certainly not a bad ending, but it’ll likely be the most talked about element of the film and its most divisive by a long shot.

“American Fiction” manages to effortlessly blend its two halves into a cohesive dramady that mines the strength of its script and cast for pointed laughs and drama. Wright leads with a fantastic performance that is equally matched by the rest of the supporting cast, especially Brown. It’ll certainly be one of the year’s most talked about films, thanks to its performances, script, and ending, which all help to pad out its more rudimentary technical and directorial stylings. It’s one hell of a directorial debut and a movie with something to say and the mouth to say it. 4/5

Wonka (2023) - Review: Sugary Sweet Down to the Core

It's amusing that “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” has become such a beloved piece of family entertainment given the original film’s origins as a snark, satirical, somewhat cynical book. With two films based on the original novel, countless pieces of merchandise, theme park attractions, and other experiences, the next logical place to go is an origin story for the titular chocolatier himself, of course! 

The film follows a younger Willy, played by Timothée Chalamet (“Dune (2021),” “Little Women (2019)”), years before establishing his famous factory, attempting to make a name for himself in the Galéries Gourmet. Shortly after arriving, he’s confronted by the Chocolate Cartel, a group of rival chocolatiers run by Arthur Slugworth, played by Paterson Joseph (“Peep Show,” “The Leftovers”), Gerald Prodnose, played by Matt Lucas (“Come Fly With Me,” “Little Britain”), and Felix Fickelgruber, played by Mathew Baynton (“Horrible Histories,” “Bill”). He’s threatened by them and the Chief of Police, played by Kegan Michael-Key (“Keanu,” “Schmigadoon!”), and eventually enlists in the help of a young girl named Noodle, played by Calah Lane (“The Day Shall Come”), to help him make and sell his candy under the Cartel’s nose. 

While his casting was mocked a bit upon initial announcement, CHalamet himself ends up being the movie’s secret weapon. He walks a delicate line between being overly earnest and overly cheesy, and somehow ends up delivering a performance with a childlike whimsy that can be best compared to co-writer/director Paul King’s (“Paddington 2,” “Bunny and the Bull”) previous film “Paddington.” Lane keeps the same kind of energy, but plays the straight man to Chalamet’s whimsical nature, and the pair have a fantastic back and forth. 

As with the best musicals, the rest of the ensemble all make a mark on the viewer without upstaging each other or the main cast. With minor players full of the likes of Olivia Colman (“The Favourite,” “Hot Fuzz”), Jim Carter (“Downton Abbey,” “Cranford”), Rowan Atkinson (“Mr. Bean,” “Johnny English”), Natasha Rothwell (“Insecure,” “The White Lotus”), Hugh Grant (“Four Weddings and a Funeral,” “Paddington 2”), Tom Davis (“King Gary,” “The Curse”), and more, each scene is a delight, purely based off of how entertaining it is to see them all interact with Chalamet and the chocolatey, whimsical world King and co-writer Simon Farnaby (“Paddington 2,” “The Phantom of the Open”) have crafted. 

Musically, the film is a remarkable success, with original songs from Neil Hannon (“The Divine Comedy”) and a score by Joby Talbot (“The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (2005),” “Son of Rambow”). While not every song is a showstopper, even the worst among them are still extremely enjoyable. There are a handful of songs from the original Gene Wilder film as well that are woven smartly, without over relying on nostalgia, instead being deployed at specific moments for maximum efficiency. The music is paired with some excellent choreography, both of the traditional dancing variety and the more “staged parkour to music” type. It’s all staged against some genuinely gorgeous and inventive production design that blends the modern CGI aspects with built sets to great effect. The combination of musical and practical elements really makes the film come alive, like a playground of song chords and candy. 

What seems most remarkable of all is the genuine sincerity at the center of it all. It’s not just Chalamet’s performance, but the aura of the film as w hole. For a blockbuster Hollywood musical based on a beloved IP, it's a remarkably honest movie about the burning passion of creativity and how mixing it with commerce can become poisonous. Not just that, it wears its heart on its sleeve and is shockingly emotional at a variety of surprising points. King’s expert use of Sally Hawkins (“Blue Jasmine,” “Paddington 2”) as Wonka’s mother helps to bolster the comparison, but it really does feel like an extension of his “Paddington” sensibilities; the ability to make a film so achingly sincere and without malice, without falling into the sweet or sappy trappings of a more cloying or annoying film is no small feat. 

It’s hard to describe “Wonka” as anything more than a wonder. It’s genuinely amusing and fun, coupled with a fantastic sense of style and production design. Its central cast is electric, led by an impressively open and endearing performance from Chalamet. What’s even more impressive, it seems to avoid Hollywood’s most annoying cliche, avoiding any sense of sincerity, and instead embraces the sweetness. It’s a delight of a film, plain and simple, and one of the biggest and best surprises to come out of the American cinema candy factory in a long, long time. 4.5/5 

Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget - Review: Looks Delicious, Tastes Reheated

 

No team of filmmakers working today is immune to the pull of sequels or nostalgia, even those working in the clay or plasticine medium like Aardman, which is why we have “Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget,” a sequel to the 2000 original with a new cast, new characters, and a new focus: the fast food industry. 

Following the events of the first film, Ginger, voiced by Thandiwe Newton (“Westworld (2017),” “Crash”), and Rocky, voiced by Zachary Levi (“Chuck,” “Shazam!”), have managed to establish a small community of free-range chickens hidden from the humans of the outside world. However, their rebellious daughter Molly, voiced by Bella Ramsey (“The Last of Us,” “Catherine Called Birdy”), wants to explore the world. She escapes their commune with the help of new friend Frizzle, voiced by Josie Sedgwick-Davies, and the pair are quickly captured and taken to a high security farm where they must be rescued by Ginger, Rocky, and the rest of the gang before being turned into nuggets by returning villain Mrs. Tweedy, voiced by Miranda Richardson (“Tom & Viv,” “Empire of the Sun”). 

Like any other Aardman picture, there’s a high level of play on display here, both in the script and the animation. Director Sam Fell (“ParaNorman,” “Flushed Away”) and writers Karey Kirkpatrick (“Over the Hedge,” “Smallfoot”), John O'Farrell (“Early Man”), and Rachel Tunnard (“Military Wives,” “Adult Life Skills”) fill the world with tons of gags and over-the-top sequences of spy movie parody. Thanks to Aardman’s high quality animations and sense of timing, they all work wonders, adding a thick layer of humor to the already funny script. It works both on paper and visually on multiple levels, without missing any of the studio’s trademark bizarre black humor either. 

The voice cast is up to the task as well, with most returning from the first film. Newton and Levi do an admirably job filling the large chicken feet of their previous voices. Levi feels a bit too jokey at times and Newton feels like she lacks the internal seriousness, but they’re far from poor. Rather, it’s Ramsey that really steals the show. The childhood rebellion that they’re able to inject into the vocal performance is remarkable, and they’re constantly a highlight of the film at large, whether on their own or sharing the screen with others. 

At large, the film manages to be a really fun, light heartedly silly time, but it's hard not to feel like something is missing deep in the center. There’s a very certain kind of soul absent from this picture that has been plaguing the studio’s recent output. The music, from returning composer Harry Gregson-Williams (“Shrek,” “House of Gucci”), is still breezy and intense. The sets are still impressive in scope and scale. But the adventure at large is lacking. The self-seriousness of the original film, the idea that despite being chickens, Ginger, Rocky, and the rest of the coop took their adventure deathly seriously, is missing here. 

Rather, the harrowing moments lack a real sense of seriousness. Is this a nitpick for a film about talking stop motion chickens? Possibly, but when the first film had these elements in droves, they’re definitely noticed when absent. It just results in a film that feels overall more disposable than what came before. It doesn’t mean the film is bad by any means, but it lacks a distinct impact. If the first was a four-course chicken dinner, this one is a really good chicken sandwich. It’s still really good, but it lacks a lot of finer ingredients that the first had. 

There’s something to be said for the craftsmanship on display here though, because even when the film is at its weakest, the craft on display is still staggering. To see a film where truly every single aspect is handmade, down to the tiniest detail of clothing, is still some kind of magic. It really puts it all into perspective when you see a character giving a dramatic monologue and you realize that it probably took a week just to animate them saying one word. Even decades after the first piece of Aardman stop-motion wizardry, it's still an impressive feat. 

Despite its seemingly lower intensity and stakes, “Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget” is still a very fun film and will still put a smile on your face throughout its runtime. But those expecting something as immediately iconic as the first film will be disappointed. It’s an example of a lot of great elements adding up to be less than the sum of their parts, although that sum is still pretty good. 4/5

Poor Things - Review: A Tale of Bodily Autonomy

 

Even in the realm of “weird filmmakers”, Yorgos Lanthimos (“The Favourite,” “Killing of a Sacred Deer”) is a weird filmmaker. After a career of making movies that have odd stories played straight, with actors playing up their performances and really taking on roles that challenge and confuse, he seems to have finally made his magnum opus. “Poor Things” not only has the weirdness of story that Lanthimos normally maintains, but also develops a visually rich world to tell a story unlike anything else you’ll see this year, or almost any other. 

The film follows Bella Baxter, played by Emma Stone (“The Favourite,” “La La Land”), a woman reanimated from the dead with the brain of a newborn by mad scientist Dr. Godwin Baxter, played by Willem Dafoe (“Spider-Man,” “Antichrist”). During her new life, as she begins to gain knowledge of the world around her, she ends up running away from home and goes on a series of sexually liberating misadventures including various people she meets along the way, such as Duncan Wedderburn, played by Mark Ruffalo (“13 Going on 30,” “Zodiac”), Max McCandles, played by Ramy Youssef (“Ramy,” “Mo”), Harry Astley, played by Jerrod Carmichael (“On the Count of Three,” “The Carmichael Show”), Toinette, played by Suzy Bemba (“Kandisha,” “Homecoming”), and Alfie Blessington, played by Christopher Abbott (“The Crowded Room,” “James White”). 

First things first, “Poor Things” is an exceptionally dense film from a conceptual and script perspective. Adapted by Tony McNamara (“The Favourite,” “The Great”) from the novel of the same name, the movie dives deep into explorations of humanity, sexuality, free will, and self-examinations. Bella serves mostly as a blank slate, allowing her to question numerous aspects of humanity through a sense of childlike whimsy and point out the absurd flaws in much of our thinking. Stone is exceptional in this role, taking things head-on and transforming into a fascinating portrayal of a free-willed woman. She not only nails the intellectual and emotional arcs of the film, but she manages to excel with the comedic aspects. She throws herself into the various elements of physical comedy throughout, and expertly delivers numerous amounts of wordplay throughout. 

The rest of the cast are all fabulous as well, each not only nailing the film’s sense of humor, but also representing different aspects of humanity in increasingly interesting ways. Ruffalo is a particular standout, throwing himself into a role the likes of which we’ve never really seen him do before. Carmichael meanwhile is calculatedly distributed for a cool and collected jolt to the film, and Bemba is a lovable and wonderfully understated companion for Stone, so good you simply wish she was in more of the film. 

If you’ve seen any of the film’s posters or marketing, then you’ll likely already be somewhat familiar with the striking production design and cinematography. Shot by Robbie Ryan (“The Favourite,” “Marriage Story”) and with production design lead by Shona Heath and James Price (“The Ipcress File,” “The Nest”), it's a staggeringly beautiful film in all aspects. From the minute details to the large sweeping landscapes, there’s odd beauty to be found in every angle. It feels not only like an otherworldly place you’re allowed to be brought into, but given Bella’s perspective leading the film, it also feels like it all could simply be the way she views the world. Given the material itself, it's not a stretch to say that one could hypothesize that it's an average-looking world, simply seen through the new eyes of Bella’s odd perspective. Backing up all of this is a bizarre and wonderous musical score from Jerskin Fendrix which serves as the icing on this preposterous looking cake. 

The film’s subject matter certainly won’t be for everyone, but even beneath the copious amounts of nudity, surgery, and odd modes of transportation, there’s a universal tale of self-discovery at the core of it all. Because of Stone’s performance and Lanthimos’ careful direction, it manages to be a film that certainly is bizarre and pulls much of its enjoyment from that bizarreness, but also manages to have such an honest heart about the nature of humanity and discovery that anyone could find something to enjoy in it, even if the outlandish visuals turn them away at first. 

“Poor Things” is simply a film unlike any other, with a lead performance that, even among a sea of other exceptional ones, is truly something else. Stone is a lightning bolt in a film filled with numerous other aspects that are also exceptional. It’s a film so fantastic that even if you think you’d be turned off (pun entirely intended) by the extravagant style, it’s still worth giving a shot regardless. 5/5

The Boy and the Heron - Review: A Work Of Art That Truly Soars

 

Note: this review was based on a viewing of the Japanese language version

There’s an argument to be made that animation is a medium for those whose minds and hearts overflow. They simply cannot express their feelings or emotions through traditional, real world means, and therefore must lose themselves in the worlds of paint and ink, moving at twenty-four-frames-per-second to craft some kind of magical land unlike our own. And sometimes those other magical lands are the best ways to communicate some of life’s harshest lessons or emotions. No one knows that better than Hayao Miyazaki (“Spirited Away,” “Howl’s Moving Castle”) and nowhere does he prove it more so than with his latest, “The Boy and the Heron.”

In the spirit of the film’s release in Japan, this review will be detailing zero information on the plot itself. It’s a perfect way to discuss the film actually, as the plot exists merely as a vehicle to communicate the atmosphere and themes that Miyazaki is interested in touching upon. There are a handful of mainstays from his past films, such as a child in need of a coming-of-age journey, familial strife, and fantastic creatures sanding down their rough edges. But there’s a profound air of melancholy to everything as well that makes it all feel rather refreshing.

The vocal cast excels. Soma Santoki (“Cube (2021)”) voices Mahito, the titular “boy” and his rapport with Masaki Suda (“Wilderness,” “My Little Monster”), who voices the titular Heron, is nothing short of fantastic. The pair have an energy and flow that develops throughout the film into a truly special odd couple-esque pairing. Aimyon, voicing Lady Himi, adds a delightfully childish bit of mischief to the film that still manages to hit the deeply emotional moments, and Yoshino Kimura (“Shitsurakuen,” “Orochi: Blood”), voicing Natsuko, is arguably the standout of the entire film, with a gruff and lovable persona that’s hard not to find endearing.

There’s no lack of whimsy and artistry on display, and all of the typical Ghibli touches are on full display. Each frame practically bursts with energy and wonder that no other animation studio around the globe has managed to match. The tiniest of details are blown out to staggering degrees, whether it’s the subtle shiftings of a character’s appearance or the wonderful globs of tears or water that flow in any number of scenes.

And yet, there is a profound sense of longing at the center of it all. Mahito is on a journey of discovery in more ways than one, and at numerous points he’s confronted with the staggering beauty and loneliness of this world. Characters meet and then split apart at barely a moments notice, and it becomes a fascinatingly melancholy film as it continues. Moments of gorgeous handmade art are juxtaposed by a true sense of aching sadness. It creates a palpable sense of emotion that feels utterly unique and devastating.

It’s the kind of movie not burdened by the constraints of plot, and while there is an overarching goal and momentum from the story, often times it feels as though Miyazaki is less concerned with how A connects with B and moreso with the energy of the world he’s crafting. This does mean that, like with most Ghibli films, the first act drags for just a bit as all of the gorgeous dominos are being set up. But when things take off, led by Joe Hisaishi’s (“Spirited Away,” “Princess Mononoke”) genuinely breathtaking musical score, you easily become lost in this world.

As things begin to end, it’s not hard to see Miyazaki trying to tell us all something about the world we live in, especially the children. Mahito is just fifteen years old, and a large part of the film is the journey of a young boy trying to find his place in a world full of war and malice. Compared to his previous film, “The Wind Rises”, this is a far simpler tale that harkens back to Miyazaki’s adventure roots in films like “My Neighbor Totoro” or “Spirited Away”, where the film wasn’t about recounting events or telling a grand plot, but rather a young person going on a fantastical adventure. It’s not subtle in its depictions of childhood innocence and thought versus an adult perspective on the world. Miyazaki has always been one who believes in the youth and here is his most nakedly honest version of that belief.

Call it hyperbole, but when a film can move you to tears numerous times based on just the beauty on display, there’s something otherworldly and impossible to define about it. Miyazaki has retired before, and we don’t know when or if his next film will come. But if this possibly stands as his last, then it’s a magnum opus, a textbook example of his artistic choices and favorite themes. It’s a visual feast and fever dream and work of pure artistry and deeply moving and a melancholic delight and the kind of film you feel special getting to witness for the very first time. 5/5

Godzilla Minus One - Review: A Monstrous Drama

 

It might seem impossible to say given the thirty-seven films released over the past seventy years in the original Japanese “Godzilla” franchise, but somehow, writer/director Takashi Yamazaki (“The Great War of Archimedes,” “Lupin III: The First”) has delivered a Godzilla film unlike any that have come before it in numerous ways.

Set just after World War 2, Kōichi Shikishima, a former kamikaze pilot played by Ryunosuke Kamiki (“Howl’s Moving Castle,” “Your Name”), finds himself in Tokyo as the city attempts to rebuild after the war. After meeting Noriko Ōishi, a grifter played by Minami Hamabe (“Let Me Eat Your Pancreas,” “Shin Kamen Rider”), and a baby she’d rescued, he takes a job out at sea with a motley trio; Yōji Akitsu, the captain of the ship played by Kuranosuke Sasaki (“Samurai Hustle,” “Hanchō”), Shirō Mizushima, a young trainee played by Yuki Yamada (“Strobe Edge,” “Tokyo Revengers”), and Kenji Noda, a former military weapons engineer played by Hidetaka Yoshioka (“Always: Sunset on Third Street,” “Rhapsody in August”). However, this peace is disturbed as he discovers that Godzilla, a creature he once witnessed massacre an entire island during the war, has returned larger and more horrifying than before.

Yamazaki’s directorial style fits well within the constraints of the monster movie genre, because it doesn’t treat the film as one. This isn’t so much a Godzilla film where the appeal is seeing wanton destruction. Rather, by driving home the personal lives of its main cast, Yamazaki makes the destruction much more palpable by letting the audience connect with the characters. Kamiki is fantastic, perfectly playing the guilt laden Shikishima with care but without pity. Hamabe is effortlessly charming and wonderful, making it easy to love Ōishi and root for her and Shikishima’s relationship.

The visual effects, like the destruction, are used sparingly throughout, instead allowing for maximum impact instead of eye candy. What’s here is absolutely incredible looking, both in raw detail and realism as well in how gorgeously shot the film is. On a budget of just 15 million USD, this is a film that proves once again that talent and time will trump budget every single time.

Given the nuclear allegory that already exists within the concept of Godzilla, setting the film shortly after World War 2 is a genius move that only strengthens the themes at play. Bringing a healthy amount of realism to something like a Godzilla film might seem like a recipe for disaster, but it works because the realism isn’t the focus. Rather than trying to drag Godzilla into something “realistic”, Yamazaki has instead make sure his characters are “real people”. It works because it isn’t trying to be realistic, but grounded in characters that are easy to care for.

There are much heavier themes at play than one might initially expect, and they’re woven into the story beautifully. It feels natural, despite the giant lizard stomping around, to touch on these ideas in this kind of setting. The musical score from Naoki Satō (“The Eternal Zero,” “Stand By Me Doraemon”) also helps in both reinterpreting some classic Godzilla themes for the film, but also in blending the emotions throughout.

“Godzilla Minus One” is a daring film in quite a few ways. While operating within the skeleton of the kaiju film, Takashi Yamazaki crafts a far more touching and personal film than one might expect. But it also makes complete sense; for the big emotions that he’s going for, lead by a note perfect cast, a film of this scale, displaying catastrophes this outrageous is the only way to communicate this kind of emotion effectively. Sometimes the only way to communicate such specific emotions is to just go big. 4.5/5