No Sudden Move (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

No Sudden Move (2021) – S. Soderbergh

There’s no doubt that director Steven Soderbergh is a master of his craft, alternating between experimental arthouse works and crowd-pleasing mainstream fare. No Sudden Move finds him mining the rich neo-noir vein (specifically the mob subgenre), setting up a plot that sees one twist after another (and also a slow dripfeed of information to the audience that casts unexpected light on characters’ motivations and relationships).  Don Cheadle plays Curt Goynes, a player currently on the outs with the Detroit gangs (and freshly out of prison for his involvement in a scheme gone wrong). He and Benicio del Toro are recruited by mob lackey Brendan Fraser to “babysit” an auto exec’s family while the exec steals an important document from his boss’s safe.  Needless to say, things don’t go to plan but Goynes seizes every opportunity he can and soon he and del Toro are involved in a high stakes gamble with big fish too big to care.  Echoes of Chinatown (including on the soundtrack) are unavoidable as seemingly little crimes breakaway to reveal a larger darker reality.  Along the way, Soderbergh risks losing viewers with these overly complicated machinations and despite the cool acting, perfect mise-en-scene, and vintage lenses, the film’s ironic denouement ends things with a whimper rather than the reverberating feeling that the powerful always win which must have been the aim.

 

Dune (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Dune (2021) – D. Villeneuve

Perhaps coincidentally, I had just finished reading Frank Herbert’s Dune (1965) a couple of years ago when Denis Villeneuve’s filmed version was first announced.  I had seen David Lynch’s 1984 film version in high school but didn’t understand it; I watched it again recently after reading the book and found it a weirdly abbreviated rendition of the novel.  So, Villeneuve probably made the right choice in deciding to film Dune’s sprawling narrative across two separate films. This first film takes us from the moment when the members of House Atreides, ruled by Duke Leto (Oscar Isaac), first learn that they will become the new denizens/guardians of the planet Arrakis, with its massive spice mining operation, rebellious indigenous people, and impossibly hot desert climate, to the point where, having suffered a cruel twist of fate (engineered by an evil emperor), Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) and his mother (Rebecca Ferguson) (both with spiritual/supernatural powers) flee into the desert into the arms of the Fremen people (led by Javiar Bardem). Villeneuve and his team demonstrate impressive technical virtuosity in bringing the novel to the screen – it’s epic and serious, forboding and sometimes grim (all the actors speak in a pronounced stage whisper, filled with portentousness).  Although otherworldly, the CGI is not intrusive but blends into the dusky colour scheme of the film – yet you never forget that this is science fiction taking place in another time and place (with giant sandworms swarming through the desert, how could you?). I suspect, however, that not having read the book might be a disadvantage when watching the film. Villeneuve trots out a large array of characters, most of whom are not fully developed, and moves the action in a relatively exposition-less way from significant episode to significant episode. Knowing the story surely helps to provide the glue that holds it all together. Perhaps too only fans of the book will be pleased with a film that ends with the suggestion that we are only really at the beginning. Fortunately, I’m in that camp and I look forward to Part 2.

The Matrix Resurrections (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The Matrix Resurrections (2021) – L. Wachowski

Arriving approximately 18 years after the third film in the original Matrix trilogy and a good 22 years after the iconic first film, this fourth installment knows its place. As directed by Lana Wachowski (without her sister Lily this time), the film returns to the Matrix approximately 60 years (?!?) after the events of the original trilogy to find Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves) now a star game designer being encouraged to revisit his biggest earlier success (called The Matrix, get it?). This self-reflexive gag extends to a discussion of why anyone would want to revisit an earlier success: nostalgia, money-grab, etc.  Although a bit too on-the-nose, at least it is amusing and in keeping with the franchise’s blurring of fiction and reality. And then, again, we are with Keanu as he tries to determine whether he is having a mental breakdown or really experiencing a visit from a new Morpheus (wherefore art thou Laurence Fishburne?). Take the red pill, man (even if it means leaving the half-recognised Tiffany, played by Carrie-Anne Moss, of course)! Although his therapist (Neil Patrick Harris) tries to hold him back, off he goes back to the dismal underworld. And here’s where I started thinking that I should have watched Reloaded and Revolutions again because I lost the plot – where was Zion, who exactly is that aged ruler? Unfortunately, the spew of exposition was pretty lost on me and the new characters, apart from maybe Bugs (Jessica Henwick), failed to make much of an impression.  But then, once we’ve returned to the Matrix, who cares? It’s all fighting, bullet-time, (or a new-fangled bullet-time, which wasn’t really too impressive) and the challenge of extracting Tiffany/Trinity, who may not really want to be extracted anyway.  Keanu does his job, with style (I had to ask how old he is – and he looks it, at times). To its credit, even at 140 minutes plus, the film flies by.  And just as easily dissipates from your consciousness after it’s done.

The Story of Film: A New Generation (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Story of Film: A New Generation (2021) – M. Cousins

Filmmaker and critic Mark Cousins waited ten years to offer this four-hour sequel to his 15-hour mini-series, The Story of Film: An Odyssey (2011). Whereas the first series covered the history of film up to that point, the new release aims to highlight trends and new contributions in film in the 21^st century specifically.  As before, Cousins narrates in his soft-spoken Northern Irish lilt (which some have called soporific in comments on IMDb but which I quite enjoy), pointing out aspects of the various clips that he’s chosen and making connections across films. The organisation here is very loose and rambling and whatever trends and themes Cousins has found don’t always become especially explicit.  At times, he seems to be grouping films by genre (horror, documentary) but in other places, he seems to want to argue that advances in technology or the onset of the pandemic are the contributing factors to new trends. But the overall feel of the film is just a relatively random, stream of consciousness presentation of cool movie clips accompanied by interesting insights. It pales in comparison to the earlier opus but it’s still a fun watch and a place to find out about art-house and experimental films you may have missed.

 

Red Rocket (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Red Rocket (2021) – S. Baker

I’ve enjoyed the movies I’ve seen by director Sean Baker (Tangerine, 2015; The Florida Project, 2017) but admit that they may not be for everyone.  This is probably even more true of his latest release, Red Rocket (2021), which stars Simon Rex, as an out-of-work porn star who returns to his small Texas hometown to try to get his life back together. Baker’s films generally take a sympathetic but clear-eyed view of people on the fringe of society, those who are struggling to make ends meet. But Mikey (Rex) is a different breed of protagonist: he’s charismatic but self-absorbed, unattuned to the feelings and needs of others, and just plain wrong-headed. He descends on his ex-wife (also an ex-porn star) and her mum, offering to contribute to the rent (which, failing to find a job due to an inexplicable resumé, he manages by selling weed, still illegal in Texas when the film takes place in 2016). And while it seems at first that Mikey and Lexi (Bree Elrod) might get back together after their long estrangement, Mikey soon finds himself infatuated with a teenage donut store worker (Suzanna Son) and dreams of using her to make his way back into the adult film industry. Similar to other Baker movies, a real sense of place is developed in the film, with Mikey riding a bike around the poor and industrial locations, often at twilight. Occasionally, we see him in repose, potentially weighing things up. But, more often than not, he is talking, talking, talking, and hustling, hustling, hustling. The film might be a comedy but only for the ridiculous situations that Mikey gets himself into -- which also leave a sour or even bitter aftertaste (and consequences, for others, if not for himself). In the end, Baker probably lets things run on too long, with some redundant scenes and too much unnecessary chatter about porn. The result is an interesting character study but not as poignant (or funny) as might have been intended.

Further reflections:  If I made it sound as though Mikey is able to reflect on his actions, that's dead wrong. Instead, he seems extraordinarily self-unaware.  Moreover, with all the shots of Trump's 2016 presidential campaign inserted in the film, I have the feeling that Baker has intended to make a connection between Mikey's insularity (you can't even call it shamelessness) and that of Trump, his followers, or perhaps even America as a whole. An inability to think beyond immediate self-interest or gratification and about the consequences of one's actions might be one of the target's here.

 

Nightmare Alley (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Nightmare Alley (2021) – G. del Toro

Once upon a time, I spent a while searching for a DVD copy of the 1947 version of Nightmare Alley (1947) to complete my film noir collection, given its high standing among genre aficionados. I also read the novel by William Lindsay Gresham during a period when I sought out and consumed noir source material. So, it was with some anticipation that I watched Guillermo del Toro’s new remake of the book/film (especially given that del Toro himself has become quite a good filmmaker, winning the Oscar with his last outing The Shape of Water, 2017).  Set in the 1930s, with its protagonist Stanton Carlisle (previously Tyrone Power but now Bradley Cooper) drifting in to join the travelling carnival, learning the secrets of mentalism and then striking out on his own with his girl/partner (Rooney Mara here) to great success.  But Carlisle is a selfish and greedy sort, always the hustler looking for an angle, and his cons quickly move beyond parlour tricks and into more dangerous territory. Del Toro and his art department do a fine job of recreating the late 30s/early 40s with a heightened (almost surreal) sense of colour and deco/décor. The actors feature period hair and clothes straight out of historical photos. The plot ticks over slowly, almost as though this version is a lucid dream of the 1947 film, with my recollection of moments from the earlier 110m film serving as signposts along the way in the 150m remake. The focus on human nature making us all suckers is an evergreen theme.  And it worked, until suddenly it didn’t. The turning point involves Cate Blanchett’s Dr Lilith Ritter whose partnership with Carlisle isn’t quite as clearcut as it should be – something felt amiss with the plotting here, even though it worked fine in the original. Then it is all downhill for Stanton Carlisle straight to the clearly foreshadowed punchline, which del Toro does manage with aplomb. Verdict:  It should be tighter, shorter, punchier with more noir bite yet it’s still worth a look to see how a modern master uses new techniques to refashion an old genre.

 

Cry Macho (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Cry Macho (2021) – C. Eastwood

Yes, Clint Eastwood is 91, so it is pretty incredible that he directed this film and stars as a washed-up rodeo rider; it’s set in 1980 when the real Clint was starring with Clyde the orangutan in movies with fist-fight finales. So, is the title ironic?  Is it really about the cock-fighting rooster called Macho or is there some deeper reflection going on here? Does Clint regret his contribution to the outbreak of “toxic masculinity” that subsequently inflicted boys and men?  His character does seem to voice some remorse, suggesting that trying to show some “grit” only results in a broken body later on.  That’s probably not enough of a mea culpa, but I guess we can’t expect too much more from this staunch republican (in what would seemingly have to be his last film). But even though Clint’s Mike Milo begins as a sarcastic and bitter figure (with not just a little of the earlier Eastwood persona), after he travels to Mexico and kidnaps/rescues a 13 yr-old boy for former boss Dwight Yoakam (the boy’s father), he turns pretty tender.  The film slows way down and lingers in a small Mexican town where a widow and her grandchildren adopt the old man and teen.  So, even though there is no doubt that the acting here is pretty subpar, there is something about the schematic script that makes it feel almost like a fable designed to allow the living legend to signal his true values (“do the right thing”), despite the fact that this script has been kicking around Hollywood for decades. It’s a fitting farewell and perhaps a riposte to those who still think that being macho is some sort of ideal (rather than a sad and sorry façade).  But really what’s with the chicken?

 

The Card Counter (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Card Counter (2021) – P. Schrader

I have to give credit to Paul Schrader for this screenplay – it has an elegance and simplicity that weaves “current events” and philosophical weight together in a way that honours his long-standing themes and still holds together as a commercial entertainment. However, I am not sure these were the right actors to pull it off. Oscar Isaac is fine, although subdued, as the casino-haunting lead with the need for redemption (due to tragic past actions) but Tye Sheridan seems less capable of embodying the naïve young man seeking revenge for transgressions against his family.  Tiffany Haddish is only along for the ride as the conduit to high stakes poker games (and eventual love interest) – we don’t see into her character. Willem Dafoe has only a glorified cameo, looking somewhat John Boltonesque.  What might this have been with other more astute players, one can only guess. Schrader is a matter-of-fact director (although First Reformed showed a tendency toward intense surrealism that I didn’t notice in the past) – would another director have turned the screws tighter on the emotional pain inherent here? Scorsese (who produced) might have made something more operatic but that might not have honoured the impulse toward Bresson that Schrader clearly followed. Although the locations are drab and the action largely muted as in Bresson (save for a few flashbacks)  – and the use of poker tournaments as a plot device brings with it an inherent tension (and win/lose emphasis) – the film doesn’t quite capitalise on its promise.   

 

The French Dispatch (2021)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The French Dispatch (2021) – W. Anderson

By now (and this is his 10^th feature), the Wes Anderson film is instantly recognisable. A sort of camp and twee approach with excessive attention to little details that evoke a feeling of nostalgia for the way things used to be. The look of a Richard Scarry book – but for adults (Anderson doesn’t shy away from sex or violence, but they are somehow made cute or absurd). The French Dispatch contains a triptych of stories based on the conceit of a Kansas newspaper publisher’s son (Bill Murray) moving to Ennui, France to publish stories from abroad for the readership back home.  Fast forward 30 years and Howitzer, Jr. (Murray) has passed away, stating in his will that the current issue of the magazine must be the last.  We are then treated to three stories (after a bit of a ramble by Owen Wilson): 1) Benicio del Toro as a murderer with a life sentence who becomes an abstract artist, with Léa Seydoux as his (naked) muse/prison guard, Adrien Brody as the art dealer who cultivates him and Tilda Swinton as an agent for the big collector who purchases his work; 2) Frances McDormand as a writer for the magazine who advises young people (including Timothée Chalamet and Lyna Khoudri) about their (Paris ’68 styled) manifesto and gets somewhat too involved; and 3) Jeffrey Wright as a reporter recalling an episode where he was invited to dinner by the police commissaire (Mathieu Amalric) to taste the delights of the police chef (Steve Park) who later creates poisoned delicacies (with radish) to rescue a young boy from kidnappers.  I had high hopes for the film after an opening nod to Jacques Tati but for all their spirited art direction and set decoration, alternating film stocks, stylised subtitles, and witty references, the stories tend to drag and sag in the middle, never quite cohering into a delicious confection like The Grand Budapest Hotel, 2014 (to which there is something of a family resemblance here). All told, this is a perfectly typical Wes Anderson film but not the best place to start with his oeuvre.

 

Last Night in Soho (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Last Night in Soho (2021) – E. Wright

Although there are clearly aspects of his work that would fit with auteur theory, it seems easier to view Edgar Wright’s films as purely commercial endeavours. They aim to be crowd-pleasing and cater to the audience’s surface needs. His collaborations with Simon Pegg and Nick Frost (Shaun of the Dead, 2004; Hot Fuzz, 2007) were funny enough and Scott Pilgrim (2010) was certainly camp enough, playing to the hip crowd, but I wasn’t sure what to make of Baby Driver (2017), considering it more style than substance, a slick piece of genre work that again strove to signify its hipness rather than doing more than that.  Last Night in Soho (filmed in 2019 but released in 2021) is similarly slick and commercial, teasing the audience with the sexiness of its leads (Thomasin McKenzie and Anya Taylor-Joy) and a Swingin’ London vibe but instead careening into psychological thriller territory with a Me Too-styled critique of the Sixties. McKenzie plays a “country mouse” (Eloise) who comes to the Big Smoke to study fashion design (present day) but when she lets a bedsit from aged Ms. Collins (Diana Rigg) she begins having visions/nightmares of Taylor-Joy as a wanna-be singer (Sandie) who is instead forced into prostitution and potentially murdered.  For all intents and purposes, it seems that Eloise is going crazy for most of the film, a concerning and downbeat narrative that is nevertheless filmed with colour/style/flash. The plot does rescue itself from this dead end but never quite manages to deal with all of the issues it raises in a satisfying way.  It seems content enough to mention the terrible treatment of women (and to show it) rather than necessarily to digest things fully (Should we have sympathy for the murderer, that is?). At the same time, Wright the stylist has a lot of fun with the Sixties soundtrack and the casting of Rita Tushingham, Terence Stamp, Margaret Nolan, and of course Rigg, all British stars from those (possibly not so good) old days. To conclude, I’m ambivalent about this film which I enjoyed for its shiny surfaces but disliked for its unwillingness to dig too much beneath them.

 

Bergman Island (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Bergman Island (2021) – M. Hansen-Løve

I won tickets to this film and it seemed like fate, since I’ve been regularly watching Bergman films from my Criterion boxset over the last couple of years. (But the experience was a bit strange, as I turned out to be the only viewer in the small 16-seat cinema). Mia Hansen-Løve’s film does offer rewards to those familiar with the great director’s oeuvre.  For example, it takes place on Fårö, the island where he made many of his classic films (Persona, Through a Glass Darkly, Shame, Hour of the Wolf) and where he retired and lived out his later years. As portrayed by the film, the island seems to have become a bit of a Bergman theme park with a “Safari” taking tourists to the various locations from his films and also his house (fully maintained with his book and video libraries and private screening room). Vicky Krieps and Tim Roth play a film-making couple who have retreated to the island to work on their latest screenplays and to find inspiration. I only realised later that this relationship echoed Hansen-Løve’s own relationship with Olivier Assayas.  I expected that the film would tackle the angsty themes of Bergman, about humans forsaken by God (if God even exists) or the difficulties of communicating with others (even those we love).  But Hansen-Løve’s film never gets quite that dark. The second half, in which Krieps tells her screenplay idea to Roth and we see it enacted onscreen (by Mia Wasikowska and Anders Danielsen Lie), investigates relationships more thoroughly (“the invisible spaces between people”) and presents greater possibilities for crossed wires and misinterpreted actions – but still remains rather gentle, focusing on the emotional dramas of young people (that we older people might now see in a different light, as over-dramatic in the larger context of life). So, although the film didn’t go where I thought it would go, its lack of a formulaic (or predictable) plot is one of its great strengths.  The frank discussions of Ingmar Bergman, his work and his life, both celebrating and critiquing are another high point, with characters identifying both strengths and weaknesses of the director. A particularly poignant critique targets the luxury of being a privileged male artist supported by six wives who raised his children and allowed him freedom to pursue his work, something that Hansen-Løve might feel somewhat acutely as a woman and mother, in comparison to her (former) partner Assayas.

 

Ghostbusters: Afterlife (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Ghostbusters: Afterlife (2021) – J. Reitman

The original was one of my favourite films in high school.  Still, I wasn’t sure.  But when Aito was at a friend’s birthday party (and Amon was sad), I decided on the spur of the moment to catch a Sunday arvo matinee with Amon.  He was very impressed with the special effects – and indeed, they were pretty good (especially knowing that there were a lot of practical effects and not just CGI). But, of course, the film really rises and falls on the basis of its story, not really the effects.  Wisely, director Jason Reitman (son of Ivan, the original director who died last week) did not bring back Bill Murray, Dan Ackroyd, and Ernie Hudson to star as aging ghostbusters (they make glorified cameos only). Instead, the film stars a bunch of kids who take over the job of busting ghosts.  They are, however, guided or looked after by Egon Spengler (Harold Ramis) who had moved to the middle of Oklahoma, breaking ties with his old mates, and becoming a virtual recluse. His estranged daughter moves her family out to his haunted mansion when he dies (spoiler: at the hands of Zuul!).  Ramis actually appears at the end of the film – fully CGI since he died in 2014.  Paul Rudd plays the high school science teacher who takes the kids under his wing (and adds most of the comic relief). In the end, it is a fun adventure film for kids (yes, with special effects), with a few nods to the earlier film for us oldies.  Probably Amon will remember this fondly like I remember some of those Jodie Foster films from Disney in the 1970s (or you younger folks remember The Goonies). But for adults, it was good but not great – although certainly a fine Sunday matinee!

The Green Knight (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Green Knight (2021) – D. Lowery

I do have a soft spot in my heart for Boorman’s Excalibur (1981), so when I heard that director David Lowery (A Ghost Story, 2017) was making a film of another Arthurian legend (from the 14^th century poem), I thought I may as well check it out (on an Amazon Prime free trial). And Lowery’s evocation of the medieval milieu does not disappoint (kudos to cinematographer Andrew Droz Palermo and the art and design team). The story itself begins with a flourish – King Arthur’s layabout nephew Gawain (Dev Patel) is called to a Christmas dinner with the King where a mysterious Green Knight offers a challenge: anyone who dares can strike him but will have to receive a matching blow in return one year hence at the Green Chapel. Gawain takes up the challenge (borrowing Arthur’s sword – presumably Excalibur itself) and hacks off the knight’s head (presumably to prove himself in the eyes of the assembled knights/king/queen). Surprisingly, the Green Knight picks up his head, laughs, and tells Gawain he will see him next Christmas. The year passes quickly and the bulk of the movie follows Gawain on his journey to meet his fate. It’s a slow and dreamlike journey (with little action-adventure to speak of). He meets a few mysterious characters along the way, has some unusual or unfortunate episodes, and, well – he isn’t your usual hero. A magic belt that will protect its owner from any blow is his only protection, a fig leaf for his courage, if he can hold onto it. I won’t spoil the ending but suffice it to say that in the guise of telling a tale of yore, Lowery is really asking big questions about life’s purpose and about our expectations about bravery, success, and perhaps masculinity. Although the answers are far from clear here, one suspects that Lowery sees the classical values as misguided.

 

Candyman (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Candyman (2021) – N. Da Costa

I never have watched the original 1992 film (nor any of its sequels) – but this Jordan Peele produced film, directed by Nia DaCosta, seemed like it could hold promise. The interweaving of genre tropes and black history/black anger that Peele’s community has produced manages to have enough bite (often positioned as satire) while also ticking the horror check-boxes (Get Out, 2017, is the standout film, of course). Unfortunately, this update/call-and-response to Candyman does not really make the grade. The idea that the murderous ghost with a hook for a hand (summoned by saying his name five times in front of a mirror) is actually the embodiment of the collective black deaths at the hands of whites (cops or otherwise) is a good idea. The shadow puppets that act out the historical events (including from the 92 film) are ace.  I also liked the contrast between the art world (where Yahya Abdul-Mateen II and Teyonah Parris live and conjure up the ghost) and the Cabrini-Green housing project (where the Candyman originated). But seeing the abandoned rowhouses from that notorious ghetto now brought me right back to Frederick Wiseman’s Public Housing (actually shot in the Ida B. Wells projects, also Chicago) – true horror.  (Startling to find out now that Good Times (the 70s sitcom starring Jimmie Walker) took place in Cabrini-Green -- a subtheme here about white appropriation/appreciation of black culture might cast light on that). Unfortunately, DaCosta’s film doesn’t quite maintain a coherent plot (perhaps I should have watched the first film) and, even at only 90 minutes, seems to have superfluous scenes and characters. The body-horror sure is gross though.  

 

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021) – D. D. Cretton

Not a Marvel fan myself, but this entry seemed to have a few things going for it, so we checked it out.  It’s always good to see some cultural diversity in Hollywood, so the all-Asian cast was a drawcard. Tony Leung (In the Mood for Love) and Michelle Yeoh (Police Story 3: Supercop) are always worth seeing. Personally, I don’t mind Awkwafina (but I’ve only ever seen her in films), present here for comic relief, mostly. The plot is an interesting blend of tough modern action and historical fantasy (both with martial arts). Simu Liu plays Shaun/Shang-Chi who left China at age 15, fleeing his violent father (Leung, who adds nuance to his role) after his mother has died, leaving his sister behind.  We meet him 10 or 15 years later, working as an auto valet in San Francisco (with co-worker Awkwafina) and totally Clark Kent-like – until a gang of menacing guys attacks him on a moving bus (nod to Jackie Chan and Speed -- but a lot more CGI) and he buffs up and we learn his backstory. The film then shifts to Macau and then shifts again to a hidden village trapped in time and fantasy. Along the way, the story develops more and more outlandish elements until people are riding on dragons and fighting soul-sucking beasts.  I stayed with it as much as I could – about ¾ -- before it was just all kooky CGI and the usual battle between good and evil with the uplifting finale. I’ll admit I probably didn’t get any of the Marvel references (who is Benedict Wong supposed to be?) but this was mostly fun.

 

Annette (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Annette (2021) – L. Carax

I really enjoyed Leos Carax’s last film, Holy Motors (2012), which was strenuously weird and full of amazing images. So, I was excited to see his latest, which opened the Cannes Film Festival this year with music/libretto by Sparks and starring Adam Driver and Marion Cotillard, as, respectively, a bad boy performance artist/comedian and an opera singer, who fall in love. It starts well – and weird – with the cast and crew singing the actors/main characters into the story which then diverges to show the separate worlds of Henry McHenry (Driver) and Ann Defrasnoux (Cotillard). We see their acts on stage and their lives offstage. Soon, they are married and have a daughter, Annette, who is played by a wooden marionette. Weird, yes, but the exhilaration of the film starts to dissipate as things take a darker turn when the script engages with #MeToo and domestic violence themes. This is topical and important but rather jarring as we lose the ability to identify with the characters onscreen. To be honest, things started to drag (I looked at my watch and decided that 140 minutes was too long) and I did not feel that the visuals or songs or weirdness compensated for the pacing problems. That said, Driver in particular gives everything he can to the film and the failure overall is not for want of trying.