Midsommar (2019)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Midsommar (2019) – A. Aster

Director Ari Aster garnered a lot of attention for his first film, Hereditary (2018), that featured Toni Collette as a woman seeking support in dealing with grief over the death of her mother.  This results in a significant amount of family conflict (and horror) and things get very weird.  Midsommar follows a similar pattern.  Florence Pugh (so great in Lady MacBeth, 2016) plays Dani, a young woman who has also recently lost her parents and now travels with her rather thoughtless boyfriend to a remote Swedish village with his friends.  Apart from Dani (a psychology student), they are all postgraduate students studying anthropology.  The trip to Sweden is an opportunity to attend a unique festival at the request of a student from that village but, for Dani, it is also a means of escape from her grief and perhaps a chance to solidify her (shaky) bond with Christian (Jack Reynor).  Arriving in Sweden, the group is repeatedly given magic mushrooms and exposed to the customs and cultural traditions of the Hårga people. The build up of tension is slow and steady, as weirdness is suddenly introduced and then backed away from.  There is a fair bit of foreshadowing (particularly if you look at the paintings and murals around the village in detail) which “explains” the plot but might be too overt.  Because the film takes its cues from The Wicker Man (1973), if you’ve seen that, then you probably have half an idea where this is going (although it gets a lot more graphic). Although Pugh is excellent (despite a role that calls mostly for grimacing and crying), Jack Reynor and the other actors playing the guests are not always convincing. It is probably Aster’s script that lets them down, as he seems more interested in the various rites and pageantry than in his characters – until the end when he wants to comment on the relationship dynamics again (but may not have “earned” the moment?).  Still, this is a film that holds your attention the whole way through, even if your acceptance of its reality wavers at times.  In this genre, that is often the best that we can get.

Un Flic (1972)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Un Flic (1972) – J.-P. Melville

Melville’s final film is a restatement (or rehashing) of his earlier themes about male bonding, grace under pressure, the commonalities between cop and criminal (themes later borrowed by John Woo among others).  It also is another example of his stylized technique, with the art direction and set design featuring multiple shades of grey, blue, and brown (including the suits, trench coats, and fedoras), shot in the rain or on cloudy days.  Melville famously claimed that his films weren’t “Bressonian” but instead that Robert Bresson’s films were “Melvillian” – by which he means to say that his films were intensely focused on instrumental actions (including shots of hands and feet) more than on establishing the psychology of his characters. Un Flic displays this fetish rather extravagantly with two major heist scenes, the gang (led by dubbed Richard Crenna) robs a bank on a rainy day and a drug courier on a train.  The latter scene takes place in “real time” as the train travels twenty minutes between two stops and Crenna descends from a helicopter onto the roof and then back up again.  (The fact that the train and helicopter are so clearly models detracts from the film and speaks to Melville’s tight budget; unlike Hitchcock’s back projection, the effect here isn’t particularly Brechtian). The two heist set pieces don’t really contribute to the themes or to character development in Un Flic.  Instead, Alain Delon’s police inspector is more richly presented, as we see him in a variety of contexts, at different crime scenes, at the office, with police informants, and alone with his tryst partner Catherine Deneuve – but also at the typical Melvillian nightclub (with synchronised dancing girls) which is run by Crenna whose girlfriend is actually Deneuve as well (a link between cop and crook again).  Of course, everything and everyone is cool, particularly Delon, Crenna, and Deneuve, but Melville’s handling of the conclusion feels abrupt – he’s set the mood expertly, but he has less patience for the resolution and its (typical) fatalism.  Still, there’s a nice effect when Delon’s final move in this chess match sinks in.  Start elsewhere but this is still worth it for fans.

Volver (2006)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Volver (2006) – P. Almodóvar

There are some darker undertones here in what otherwise is a “fun” ghost story from Pedro Almodóvar.  As usual, his film features women in the major roles and their relationships are the focus – the darkness arises from how women are treated by men.  Penelope Cruz plays Raimunda, a woman whose mother (Carmen Maura) has died three years earlier (in a fire with Raimunda’s father).  She suddenly finds herself a single mum and makes due by taking over an empty restaurant and serving a visiting film crew lunch for a few weeks (and also staging their wrap party).  She doesn’t know that her sister (Lola Dueñas) has been receiving ongoing visitations from her mum, which began soon after the mum’s sister passed away.  A subplot finds the aunt’s neighbour on a quest to find her own missing mum.  Almodóvar’s world is a candy-coloured one, filled with chatty eccentric characters who deal with mundane (and deadly serious) problems with aplomb. The fantastical and supernatural elements are generally played for comic effect (but the soundtrack feels like something Bernard Herrmann wrote for Hitchcock at times).  Of course, all of the various plot threads are nicely tied together by the end (although viewers might not be able to shake off some of the darkness).  I find Almodóvar’s films to be hit or miss and while this one falls on the positive side of his oeuvre, I can’t help feeling that it is just a shade too slight (although that may just be the director's talented sleight of hand, making complicated themes go down smoothly).   

Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950) – O. Preminger

There are a few moments in the film where Dana Andrews is faced with a moral dilemma: reveal just how badly he has screwed up and pay the consequences or continue to try to cover things up, including to his new love interest (Gene Tierney) whose father is likely to go to jail in his place, and possibly get away with it.  At the end, he just gazes past the camera and lets it all sink in.  This moment could be the best acting in Andrews’ career. He could go either way.  This being film noir, we aren’t sure.  Director Otto Preminger (working from a screenplay by Ben Hecht) expertly orchestrates the tightening of the screws: Andrews is first warned for beating up perps and then placed in a situation where he has to strike someone in self defence (who immediately croaks).  His desperation is palpable and it only gets worse as he tries to help the innocent man who might take the fall in his place.  Karl Malden and Gary Merrill show up in supporting roles (on either side of the law).  Preminger’s other noirs (Laura, Angel Face, Whirlpool) vary in quality but none of them are particularly distinguished by the classic noir visual style (as far as I recall). Nevertheless, the situation of being trapped by one’s own flaws makes this an archetypal entry in the genre. 

Good Time (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Good Time (2017) – B. Safdie & J. Safdie

Benny and Josh Safdie are hot indie directors and this 2017 feature may be their breakthrough (the first of their films I’ve watched).  Robert Pattinson stars as Connie, a hoodlum (more or less) who stages a bank robbery with his intellectually disabled brother, Nick (Benny Safdie).  When it goes wrong and Nick is jailed, Connie seeks to break him out (but it turns out he’s been relocated to a hospital after getting beaten up in a prison fight).  Thus begins a rather epic night that sees Connie travel from the bail bondsman’s office to the hospital and points beyond (a closed amusement park) as his plans fall apart.  The soundtrack by Oneohtrix Point Never (pulsating electronic music) really makes the film and gives it a druggy overtone that isn’t contradicted by the action we see (and the film’s visual sense).  Pattinson inhabits the character well and pretty much disappears into it (esp. after his hair is bleached).  The desperation onscreen (punctuated by sudden jolts of violence) is pretty palpable.  So, the film might give viewers a rush of sorts. There is also some pretty black comedy afoot (possibly in bad taste).  But when things suddenly ground to a halt 100 minutes later, I guess I was left wondering what the point of it all was.

Us (2019)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Us (2019) – J. Peele

I had high hopes for Jordan Peele’s second directorial feature (after the excellent Get Out, 2017) but by the 90-minute mark of Us, I was hoping that the expected twist in the third act would be enough to save the film.  Perhaps I don’t love eighties horror enough to enjoy the action of the chase, attack, and defence moments when the Wilson family meets their evil doppelgangers?  Sure, these parts of the film are deftly executed with interesting horror set-pieces and a demonstration of complicated technical mastery as each actor plays two parts, often onscreen at the same time.  But I was really hoping for deeper insights here (akin to those that Peele managed to expose about racism in his first feature). So, when the much-needed facts about where the doppelgangers come from – and the gaps in the backstory of Adelaide Wilson (Lupita Nyong'o) -- are finally revealed, yes, the mind races to understand what has gone before in light of this new information.  Perhaps though, it’s too much, too late.  Indeed, there are a number of rich and important ideas that are stirred up – but I had to rely on the interviews with Peele in the special features to really piece things together (my bad).  The conceit may be too weird, or too heavy-handed, to really capture the false consciousness and bad faith that Americans (and/or other societies with large middle/upper classes) possess.  Perhaps this is more explicit for black Americans with the painful reminders of slavery and their group’s persistent economic suppression making ignorance/neglect (absence of wokeness) more difficult/painful (and the doppelgangers do play on stereotypes of the poor), although the inclusion of a white family justly extends the point.  Peele’s creativity and playfulness are still here, particularly in the way he has inserted references to other horror films and countless “doubles” (mainly the number 11) that I’m sure I didn’t catch.  At the end, however, I felt that the film would have benefited from less straight slasher/zombie genre horror and a deeper exploration of the tethered – but perhaps anything more than the sketch we get wouldn’t have held up as a proper analogy.

Certain Women (2016)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Certain Women (2016) – K. Reichardt

Director Kelly Reichardt’s films are minimalist in their approach to plot, with much time spent observing characters (in action or even doing not much at all).  She sets ideas in motion and allows viewers to invest psychological meaning into the events on screen that aren’t always clearly spelled out (perhaps are often not spelled out).  In Certain Women, Reichardt sets forth three minimal plots, the starting place for three stories that ultimately remain unfinished, focused on four women and their relations with others in society.  All the stories take place in a remote part of Montana with beautiful lonesome vistas.  Laura Dern is a lawyer whose client, Jared Harris, has been injured on the job and then manipulated into taking a settlement, thereby voiding his ability to sue.  She’s treated by Harris and others as though she isn’t competent and instead her relationship skills are highlighted (i.e., she’s stereotyped as a woman).  Michelle Williams and her husband James LeGros want to build a house (a second house?) and she is keen to use “authentic” materials in the construction, such as old railroad ties and some sandstone retrieved from a long-gone schoolhouse that they want to buy from lonely old timer Rene Auberjonois.  Her husband unintentionally undercuts her when talking to Auberjonois and also to their daughter, minimizing her needs or calling attention to her demands as requiring kid gloves or special treatment.  Here, women are placated rather than having their views valued and accepted.  Kirsten Stewart is a lawyer who accidentally agrees to teach a class on education law four hours away (near the Wyoming border) – another woman (Lily Gladstone) attends the class (although not enrolled) and strikes up a friendship (perhaps seeking more). Stewart is friendly but not responsive. Gladstone drives to Stewart’s town but nothing happens.  Both women remain unsatisfied by these encounters.  In the short stories by Maile Meloy from which the film’s sketches are drawn, the Gladstone character is male, which would make the potentially unwanted attention more explicitly sexist – but the ambiguity works in the mysterious and minimal contexts that Reichardt provides.  Indeed, we are led to be curious, to wonder what might happen, to think about the purpose of everything in the script – and the dots are rarely connected for us, even as the three stories threaten to come together at the end of the film (and don’t).  Perhaps these unfinished sketches could have benefited from longer running times (particularly the middle story) or some firmer resolutions, but there is no doubt that Reichardt chose to leave us suspended in thought with the hypothesis that these certain women do represent the (psychological) experiences of many women.