And The Walls Came Tumbling Down... - Babylon film review

Imagine Singin' in the Rain sans musical numbers, mashed together with The Artist and Nickelodeon, then re-imagined by Quentin Tarantino. Well, Babylon is slightly more batshit bonkers than that.

While writer/director Damien Chapel continues to mine his unabashed love for the spectacle and grandeur of the great Hollywood musicals, especially the aforementioned Gene Kelly classic, here he seriously flips the script and instead of an upbeat love story he chooses instead to expose the soft white underbelly of Tinsel Town.

The opening pre-title sequence bursts out the gate with such over-the-top bravado as to surpass the gooey gross-out moments of Monty Python's The Meaning of Life, Stand By Me, The Exorcist, and Triangle of Sadness all combined; the sheer gag inducing reflex here is damn near unparalleled. The rest of the film is liberally peppered with sex, drugs, and big band revelry; Chazelle's longtime musical cohort, Justin Hurwitz, delivers a deliriously whiz-bang of a score.

On the surface, the film is both a sprawling love story and an examination of the decline of a matinee idol. These two main storylines are intermingled with a bit of behind-the-scenes Hollywood excess and a pointed commentary on the racism of the time, specifically how actors and musicians of color had to endure being admired as exotic curios rather than talented human beings. The rest of the film peeps back the allure of the Silver Screen to reveal debaucherous bacchanalia with such unabashed glee and hubris that you often don't know whether to laugh, cry, scream or squirm (I did all four regularly).

Sadly, the film seriously stumbles in the final 10-minutes with a terribly misguided ode to 2001: A Space Odyssey, almost as if Chazelle fell into a refractory coma after prolonging his orgasmic insanity for the previous 2 hours and 59-minutes. That said, what a joyously demented top is lavished upon us up until those closing moments.

Memory is the diary... - The Fabelmans film review

 Steven Spielberg's latest effort is a multi-layers affair.

On the surface it's about filmmaking and the pure love of the escapist aspect of the movies. But it's also about a dysfunctional family, nostalgia, and most potently it's about memories and how, why, and what we choose to remember from our past.

Because of this thematic hodgepodge, it can at times. feel disjointed, but then that's what memories are: disjointed recollections of the past that continue to change over time.

To label this film "heartwarming" might be a slight disservice, but it may very well make you smile, cry, and feel a broad range of emotions depending on what your family was like growing up and based on your own personal connection to the movies.

One thing is for sure: The Fabelmans will make you realize that Spielberge is a gifted and diverse director who has always drawn upon his family's rich and eccentric history in regards to the films he has made.

Side Order of Herring, Extra Red - Glass Onion film review

Agatha Christie is either smiling broadly or rolling over in her grave right about now. The latest Knives Out entry is no less than the fourth whodunnit to be released in theaters since August, all of them owing no small debt to the grand dame of murder mysteries.

Anywho, I really enjoyed the original Benoit Blanc endeavor from 2019. This venture took a little more time for me to warm up to it. 

I chock my initial lukewarm reaction up to the ADHD-styled exposition, wind whipped pacing, and paper thin characters. But by the advent of the third act I realized that all of those perceived shortcomings were merely writer/director Rian Johnson’s sneakily excellent means of misdirection and distraction. 

I fell for all the sleights and feints and red herrings and never guessed who the villain was, even though they were hiding in plain sight the entire time. The third act and conclusion are delightfully delicious as all the puzzle pieces fit together just so. Heck, even the predictable reveals still manage to come off as clever and elicited smiles and a few laughs from my oral cavity.

While definitely not as tightly woven as the first film, it is still a richly engaging endeavor all around. That said, I may have liked See How They Run just a smidge better...

All You Can Eat... - Bones and All film review

This film joins the ranks of such fare as Raw and Ginger Snaps, in that it is a totally f$&ked-up coming of age story. Or, to put it another way, it’s pretty much an after school romance special gone off the rails, with a road trip, a search for birth parents, and a sapient tartare sub-plot.

Teeming with lottsa disturbing supporting characters, the film teeters between twee forbidden romance and unnerving psychological and physical trauma. The grue is thick and the violence is harrowing , mostly because it comes out of nowhere or after long bouts of rose colored lens affected romance and drama.

And, yes, while the finale isn’t much of a surprise, those involved did a decent enough job of delivering some quasi-misdirection that keep you second-guessing up until the final moments of the third act.  

Prior to watching this film I haven’t really understood all the hype about the Chalemet kid, but he is pretty damn bueno in this film. And Michael Stuhlbarg and Mark Rylance are insanely creepy, stealing their scenes like professional criminals.

Check Please... - The Menu film review

Prepare yourself for an ambrosial outing which delivers piquantly skewered satire aimed squarely at those who have elevated eating to an unaffordable luxury. Borrowing elements of Agatha Christie and Richard Connell, plus well-aimed digs at entitled pseudo connoisseurs, the film manages to offer up some nice and twisted moments. Though devoid of any sweet surprises, the plot fits together like a well-oiled jigsaw puzzle that’ll make you smile when it all comes together. The cast is stellar, making good with largely stock characterizations (douchey tech bros, the washed-up actor, the self-righteous critic and her pandering editor, etc.), but there are some rich turns from Nicholas Hoult, Ralph Fiennes, and Anya Taylor-Joy tucked in between the amuse bouche and dessert.

FWIW, this film would make a great pairing with Flux Gourmet, Triangle of Sadness, or Don’t Worry Darling.

Bardon My Existence - Bardo, A Chronicle of a Handful of Truths film review

A week ago an acquaintance explained the concept of bardo to me after I showed him the trailer to this film. I was hitherto unfamiliar with the term before this. I also stopped listening to his lengthy and winded exposition, one because I got bored, but two because I feared it might ruin my movie going experience.

Personally, I feel the less you know about the Buddhist theory going into Alejandro González Iñárritu‘s latest effort, the more enjoyable and mindfuckingly good it will be to experience. That said, when the end of the film came I remembered what that acquaintance had been blabbering about and it made the previous 159 minutes make a bit more sense.

Whether you go into it with ignorance or armed with basic Buddhist bravado, Bardo is a visual feast best viewed on the largest screen possible. It is a whirlwind story about life, death, identity, art, commerce, social media, memory, the past, the present, commerce, history, elitism, genocide, racism, as well as being an arty rumination on mid-life crises. It’s also a wonderfully giant puzzle with myriad pieces floating around and around, that when they finally find their place make for a richly layered story worth repeated viewing.

There Is Only a Finger's Difference Between a Wise Man and a Fool - The Banshees of Inisherin film review

This is easily the quietest film writer/director Martin McDonagh has crafted to date. But it is also a smoldering one, one which understatedly revels in multiple layers of complexity.

It’s at times a devilishly dark and fractured fairy tale, an anti-war film masquerading as a swervedriving comedic drama, and a scathing indictment of how routine can kill one’s mental—particularly philosophical—growth. It’s also a movie about loneliness, isolation, and the dissolution of friendship. Or perhaps it’s just a quirky yarn about two blokes living on an island off the coast of Ireland. The joy of this film is that you can make of it what you want. At times absurdist and other times achingly poignant, it moves along at a gentle pace, slowly building tension, but never wasting well-timed comedic inserts either. 

Set against the backdrop of the Irish Civil War circa 1923 there’s a cleverly subdued riff about the futility and folly of conflict, war, and revenge that weaves its thematic thread through an seemingly simplistic story about nice men living simple lives. But as with any good melodrama worth its weight in salt, there’s a dark underbelly lurking just beneath the surface of the idyllic landscape and regular visits to the pub for a pint. Oh, and there’s a witch, a village idiot, and a policeman who enjoys a good wank in his living room most evenings. 

Those familiar with McDonagh’s previous works, both in cinema and the stage (The Pillowman, In Bruges, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) will relish in his rich dialogue and snaky plot structure. And the thespian turns from both Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson are beyond stellar. Supporting work from Kerry Condon and Barry Keoghan (damn, this dude is chameleonic as hell) balance things out. Additionally, the score from Carter Burwell (best known for his longtime collaborations with the brothers Coen) sets a wonderful tone that wavers between the whimsical and calamitous and lends the whole affair an air of the Bros. Grimm.