MISSING: A NAIL-BITING SCREENLIFE THRILLER

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

Missing preview screening provided by Sony Pictures

“Missing understands the place of screen culture and its possibilities, and it cleverly depicts these possibilities through an appropriate subject while simultaneously delivering a gripping mystery”

By Arnel Duracak

Unlike the unnerving depictions of handheld camera horrors from the best found-footage films —like Cloverfield (2008) and The Blair Witch Project (1999)— screenlife films find horror by looking back at the user through the everyday devices we use. Films like the Unfriended series are prime examples of this, but screens can also be a weapon for good as seen with Searching (2018) and its latest spiritual successor, Missing (2023).

Whereas Searching focused on a father with little screen savviness searching for his lost daughter, Missing flips the table by having a daughter who is a screen guru use her knowledge of all things social media and beyond, to locate her missing mother. It makes for a zany thriller that jumps between clicks and searches at a whim, but in a such a way that continues to build intrigue without ever stagnating.

Our protagonist, June (a commanding Storm Reid), is the anchor of Nicholas D. Johnson and Will Merrick’s film, who is thrown into a confusing situation after her mother (Nia Long) and new boyfriend Kevin (Ken Leung) go missing while on vacation in Colombia. Given time is running out to locate the pair as the hotel they were staying at deletes security footage every 48 hours, June, with laptop in hand, takes it upon herself to get to the bottom of what is going on.

It turns out a lot is going on, but June is the guiding force who helps us keep up with proceedings. Her understanding of the various bits and bobs of screenlife are where the momentum of the film lies as she hightails from Gmail to Instagram, live cameras in Colombian tourist spots to Colombia’s equivalent of Taskrabbit — where she hires a Colombian freelancer, Javier (Joaquim de Almeida), to run errands for her on the ground. This abruptness speaks to the rapidness of screen culture where everything happens so fast and attention spans are shorter than ever.

Storm Reid and Megan Sure in Screen Gems MISSING. Photo Credit: Temma Hankin

As a result, Missing is constantly moving with little to no respite. It throws plot twists almost every 15 minutes and keeps you on edge as it unravels with every new discovery June makes. Like John Cho in Searching, Storm Reid has little room to work with as she’s situated right in front of her laptop for the film’s majority and has to flex her facial muscles at any given chance to build that depth to her character. Make no mistake, she achieves this at a level of more seasoned actors and therefore the film never really gets stale.

It helps that Missing injects some light-heartedness within its more serious tone, namely through the relatability of going through arduous CAPTCHA puzzles and subtly emphasising the importance of two-factor authentication (after June accesses Kevin’s Gmail and subsequent accounts due to him having the same password for everything). Johnson and Merrick also incorporate some social commentary around the benefits of screen culture as a tool for pumping messages and information out quickly. At the same time, they also depict the negatives that come with the proliferation of clickbait and throwing real people with real problems under the bus for some clicks and views.

By the end, Missing loses some steam as plot threads are tied up, and the closing sequence is a bit on the nose namely because the delight of seeing June navigate the internet and its various facets is undercut by the suddenness of the ending. This is most likely the result of the film being too quick for its own good because any attempts to resolve these plot threads feels jarring and just not as interesting as the build-up.

But at the same time Missing understands the place of screen culture and its possibilities, and it cleverly depicts these possibilities through an appropriate subject while simultaneously delivering a gripping mystery. While it isn’t at the level of Gone Girl (2014) in its ability to develop deep character arcs within the mystery of it all, it’s at the very least a sign that screenlife films will only continue to hit our screens.

Originally published on SYN

Missing is screening nationally now.

THE WHALE: BRENDAN FRASER IS BACK, BUT ARONOFSKY’S LATEST MIGHT LEAVE YOU HUNGRY FOR MORE

⭐⭐

Rating: 1.5 out of 5.

The Whale preview screening provided by Madman Entertainment

“The Whale is worth seeing for Brendan Fraser’s performance alone”

By Arnel Duracak

It’s been a while since Brendan Fraser graced the big screen with those big blue eyes and kind face of his. For me, the last Fraser-led film I remember seeing was The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor (2008) which I quite liked, contrary to popular opinion. His latest film, The Whale (2022) —hailed a comeback of sorts— sees him swap the boisterous and bubbly for the grim and isolated. It’s a step away from the sort of feel-good Fraser flicks we’re used to seeing, but it represents a welcome change for the actor.

Directed by Darren Aronofsky and adapted from Samuel D. Hunter’s play of the same name, The Whale follows Charlie (Fraser), a character who is on the brink of death due to overeating, as he faces the final days of his life alone and within the confines of his small apartment. He knows his days are numbered because his close friend and nurse, Liz (Hog Chau), has checked his blood pressure (a whopping 238/134) and discerned that he’ll be gone by the weekend if he doesn’t get to the hospital. Charlie, a recluse, decides against her advice and instead wants to make amends with those closest to him that he has wronged — namely his daughter, Ellie (Sadie Sink).

Aronofsky’s film opens up to almost become this story about a man trying to redeem himself with the time he has left. Of course, Aronofsky is someone who is no stranger to exploring simple human tendencies and problems in a melancholic and at times, horrific way. He did the same thing with Mickey Rourke’s aging, retired wrestler in The Wrestler (2009) and to a lesser extent in Requiem for a Dream (2000), and he’s done so again now. In fact, The Whale almost feels like a spiritual successor to The Wrestler in that it shares a similar tone, is concerned with a character who is at their lowest point and is trying to make amends, and gets a standout performance from an actor who has been out of the limelight for some time.

Brendan Fraser in Darren Aronofsky’s The Whale

Charlie, unfortunately, has gone past the point of redemption, with the film almost serving to shed light on the dangers of alienation, addiction and troubled family dynamics. It never does that effectively though, choosing instead to follow Charlie around his apartment like a beast in an enclosure: he’s a spectacle to observe, but there’s almost no hope for him in the situation he’s in. Fraser’s performance is what this film hinges on for any attempts at sympathy or pity. He’s a beloved actor who many (including myself) have rooted for to succeed, and his portrayal of a 600 pound man wrestling with this disease does draw that sympathy where you want the character to be okay.

It helps that Fraser is the centerpiece of Aronofsky and cinematographer Matthew Libatique’s attention. There’s a warmth that emanates through his eyes in the close-ups that pushes the idea of feeling trapped within yourself — both physically and mentally. Libatique accentuates that through the very low-key, yellowy lighting that at once portrays the apartment as a safe space for Charlie but also a dark pit he can’t escape from. Rob Simonsen’s score adds to that and plays into the film’s title with its almost serene but equally unsettling oceanic leanings; like the ocean, the score fluctuates between the two depending on Charlie’s own emotional state.

The script, by contrast, increasingly weighs proceedings down. There’s too much fluff where otherwise there should be deeper investigation into those aforementioned themes. Characters enter and exit the frame, with the staging itself echoing that of the play and consequently coming across as a ‘Whose Line Is It Anyway?’ type ordeal. The most interesting part of the film is easily Charlie’s interaction with his ex-wife Mary (Samantha Morton) who he left some 8 odd years ago for his deceased male partner, Alan. It’s a short scene but it digs that little bit deeper into the elusiveness of Charlie’s character and that side of him that isn’t regurgitated in the self-demeaning dialogues with Ellie, Liz and a young missionary Thomas (Ty Simpkins) who pops in every now and then like he’s waiting behind a curtain somewhere.

The Whale is a film that wallows in the grief it depicts. The grief itself stems from Charlie, a behemoth of a man who seemingly cares more for others than himself, believing that there is good in people but continuing down his path of self-destruction. It becomes a cyclical sort of presentation of the same sorts of conversations between characters without ever extrapolating anything deeper out of these dialogues. Fraser is excellent, make no mistake, and The Whale is worth seeing for his performance alone even if the rest of the film plays catch-up and meanders a fair bit (especially with the script). If you walk out feeling better about your eating habits, that’s as good a takeaway as you’ll get.

Originally published on SYN

The Whale opens nationally from the 2nd of February, 2023.

BABYLON: THE GREAT GATSBY MEETS BOOGIE NIGHTS IN THIS 20S-SET EPIC

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

Babylon Melbourne Premiere provided by Paramount Pictures

“Bablyon is the party you don’t want to miss”

By Arnel Duracak

When the world is saying “out with the old, in with the new”, where do you fit in? It’s a question that boomers are currently tackling and it’s one that Whiplash (2014) and La La Land (2016) director, Damien Chazelle, attempts to answer in the context of the roaring 20s Hollywood scene in his latest rowdy, excessive romp, Babylon (2022). The short answer is “it’s tough to say”, but nevertheless, Chazelle insists that for the cinema at least, it’s a natural rite of passage and one that has far-reaching effects for those on both sides of the coin.

Or does he? Chazelle is no stranger to exploring characters who are dreamers, those who are looking to salvage what they can from the past or carve out a future for themselves against all odds and obstacles. This is in-part why Bablyon is both his most audacious and challenging film yet — 80 million dollar budget aside. In La La Land, Whiplash and even First Man (2018), Chazelle has always looked at the latter part, where he has used simple themes and stories to create complex characters who aren’t afraid to challenge pre-conceived notions around either the Jazz scene, “making it” in Hollywood, or pursuing the outer-world.

Babylon is almost wrestling with this idea. The silent era of films is in the rear view mirror and sound is the next best thing. Silent era star Jack Conrad (a dapper and suave Brad Pitt) knows this, even if he doesn’t quite know where or how he fits into its equation yet. For the young and wild Nellie LaRoy (an ever-glamorous Margot Robbie), life on the big screen is just beginning and the industry transition is second nature to drunken escapades and parties that seemingly blur into one other. The two characters speak to the wider scale that Chazelle is trying to balance: fallen heroes and rising stars.

Like yin and yang, those two aspects go hand-in-hand. At the epi-centre though is Manny Torres (Diego Calva), who, after the wildest orgy opening sequence of the last year, is acquainted with both Jack and Nellie. He’s our guide (more or less) in this world and the focal point from which we pinball around the various subplots that follow. Nellie stumbles to set the day after this chaotic party, rather hungover, for her first crack at a major motion picture, while across the hill, Jack and his new chaperone, Manny, find themselves on the set of a war epic helmed by an aggressively passionate German director who doesn’t settle for anything other than perfection.

And so begins this Venn diagram of high points, low points and everything in-between.

Brad Pitt plays Jack Conrad and Diego Calva plays Manny Torres in Babylon from Paramount Pictures.

Babylon follows this trio for its majority, using them as anchors that editor Tom Cross has the immense job of cutting between. It’s a chaotic and sprawling reimagining of the period, with a vast ensemble and Great Gatsby like portrayal of overzealous extravagance. It’s unsurprising given the scale of the production, and Chazelle’s direction is as frenetic as ever which is telling given it’s been much more grounded in his past films. This isn’t a problem per se, it just speaks to the level of anarchy that persists from the opening sequence to its much more avant-garde finale.

Much of Babylon is seen through the eyes of Manny who rises the ranks to become a studio executive trying to keep productions in line. What he’s really been after though is Nellie, who he bonds with in the opening party through snorting lines of drugs and laying bare ambitions. Theirs is a love subplot that’s scarcely explored, only really revisited right at the death, but this divergence speaks to the quest for the superficial that takes up the attention of these characters. Love is side-lined while never escaping the mind, but characters come back to it when the camera stops rolling and the liquor stops flowing — when the industry squeezes them of everything they had.

This isn’t the primary concern of Babylon, but it’s difficult to overlook especially given La La Land explored a similar concern: ambition vs love. Here, Jack’s accepted that his love life isn’t going anywhere as he stumbles through multiple high-profile relationships over the course of the film. Love doesn’t work but ambition might? Yet, when the film world chews and spits him up following a stale ‘talkie’ picture, he realises that neither ambition nor love is in his grasp perhaps because, like the pictures being made, they almost look like the same thing at this point.

For Nellie, she’s less interested in love as she is in her new acquired fame and natural likeability. As talented as she is, she struggles to find her footing as she toes the line between expectation (of her peers, of the industry) and personal desire. Ultimately she ends up falling back on love or whatever that words means to her after she tumbles from the top of the star chain. In fact, most of the characters in this are tumbling, with the idyllic world of making movies exposing itself as a cesspool of broken dreams and the dreamers left in its wake. It’s a cynical way of looking at the industry especially given La La Land almost proposes that many roads lead to Rome, there is no one set path.

These various storylines do coalesce rather awkwardly, with the third act of the film almost struggling under the weight of this haphazard structure. It’s as if Chazelle is indulging in the mess that has become of these characters lives and of the industry, but he’s still adamant that it’s redeemable. Legacy is what people talk about —the stuff that was versus the hardships that are— as though it was all a means to something greater — after all, we’re still talking about Singin in the Rain even if Babylon isn’t that film. Whether or not that’s the core of Chazelle’s message is difficult to say given how he has portrayed the opposite end of that spectrum in his prior films. What can be said is that there’s a lot of film to be had in Babylon, and maybe a reminder of what once was is needed to prevent what will most likely be.

Originally published on SYN

Babylon opens nationally from the 19^th of January, 2023.

THE FABELMANS: THE CAPSTONE TO SPIELBERG’S ILLUSTRIOUS CAREER

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

The Fabelmans preview screening provided by StudioCanal

“The Fabelmans charts Steven Spielberg’s formative years with a level of introspection and finesse that has characterised his career in the 50 odd years since”

By Arnel Duracak

One cold, winters night in 1952 New Jersey, Sammy Fabelman (played by in child-form by Mateo Zoryon Francis-DeFord, and teenage/young adult form by Gabriel LaBelle), is taken to his first motion picture experience by his parents Burt (Paul Dano) and Mitzi (Michelle Williams). The film in question is The Greatest Show on Earth, but little does he know that his whole world and perspective is about to be shaped by the ensuing two and a half hours at the cinema.

The only person that does know is Steven Spielberg, whose self-reflexive, semi-fictionalised, The Fabelmans, charts the celebrated Director’s formative years with a level of introspection and finesse that has characterised his career in the 50 odd years since. After all, who doesn’t remember their first time at the movies? The first time you were exposed to a motion picture on the big screen and the possibilities of the cinematic medium. For me, my parents took me to see Finding Nemo (2003) which no doubt shaped my adulation for the medium and what it could achieve.

For Sammy (a semi-fictionalised Spielberg) and Spielberg, that exposure was even more profound. This is ultimately Spielberg’s visual diary, one that at once examines the very youthful promise of endless possibility —with the only limitations being your imagination (as symbolised by the camera)—, and the navigation of expectation, of the un-imaginary and the tangible (the reality that hits when the record button is turned off).

As transformative as that experience was for Sammy, his father writes it off as a phase, one that he’s willing to indulge but one that’s not going to put food on the table and is at best a hobby. The Fabelmans themselves are the embodiment of an idyllic nuclear family: middle-class, a father that works hard to provide, a mother that does what’s seen as expected of her at the time, and children that are well raised and full of life. They’re the epitome of the American Dream, but Sammy has other dreams.

The first of which starts with an attempt to recreate the train-crashing sequence from The Greatest Show on Earth on his father’s camera. This is one of the many points of repurposing in the film, as though Sammy is attempting to use film as a gateway to escape and reimagine reality on his own terms. In this way, The Fabelmans isn’t a generic re-telling of Spielberg’s life (most of which wouldn’t come as a surprise to those familiar with his past). Instead, the film occupies a middle-ground that is best understood through Sammy’s tussle with self-expression (art) and the difficulties of growing up.

(from left) Paul Dano, Mateo Zoryan, and Michelle Williams in The Fabelmans, 2022.

The cinema ultimately represents Sammy’s attempt to bridge together fiction and reality, and therefore make sense of both worlds by not viewing them as mutually exclusive. Sammy’s understanding of his family dynamic becomes clearer the longer he stares into, and cobbles together, the footage he has shot. In the film’s most telling and moving sequence, he reassembles footage from a camping trip his family took, to remove the very real truth that not all is glitz and glamour as his parents have made it out to be — namely in the form of Mitzi’s growing estrangement from Burt, and keen eye for Benny (Burt’s co-worker and friend, that his children have branded “uncle”, Seth Rogen).

It’s difficult to gauge just how factual some of the events in the film are; the Sammy/Mitzi moments feel much more specific and precise than say some later scenes involving a bullying subplot as the Fabelmans jump from state to state, and Sammy from school to school. Mitzi also feels like the most realised character beyond Sammy, with Williams’ performance seeing her at her most vulnerable and subsequently, her most captivating (which is saying something, given her brilliance across roles).

She and LaBelle have eye-watering chemistry that allows Spielberg to really hit home those tender moments of mother/son bonding, and the complication of their situation as truths surface. Dano, on the other hand, is much more detached here as he plays Burt with a brewing subtlety that is reminiscent of his performance in There Will Be Blood (2007), minus the explosiveness. Make no mistake, he nails the ‘disengaged father trying to build a future for his family’ archetype, but the secret sauce of the film oozes from Williams and LaBelle.

It’s clear that Spielberg and co-writer and frequent collaborator, Tony Kushner, have dug into the nitty gritty of the directors life. There is a level of verisimilitude coursing through the film whether it be in the performances, the very raw and grounded screenplay that avoids glossiness, or John Williams’ moving score — the duo have cashed in all of the chips Spielberg has accrued and pulled no stops. That, of course, doesn’t mean that this film is simply a rehashing of the Director’s life nor is it a final sign off, but instead it can be viewed as a sum of all the parts that have informed Spielberg’s life up until now, that are brought together and teased out to keep you guessing.

Even still, The Fabelmans paints an interesting portrait of self-actualisation, of finding your place in the world and pursuing what you love even if it means confronting hard truths in the process. If Steven Spielberg hasn’t already cemented his status as arguably the greatest —and most commercially successful— Director of all time, The Fabelmans is his way of at least saying the Director is only as good as the story behind them.

Originally posted on SYN

The Fabelmans opens nationally from the 5th of January, 2023.

AVATAR: THE WAY OF WATER: JAMES CAMERON’S LONG AWAITED SEQUEL IS THE BIGGEST AND FRESHEST BLOCKBUSTER IN YEARS

Avatar: The Way of Water preview screening provided by Disney

“Avatar: The Way of Water hits like a tidal wave, and it’s worth getting drenched for.”

By Arnel Duracak

In a year where caped crusaders have played second fiddle to F18’s and dinosaurs, Avatar: The Way of Water sees James Cameron swimming in his exclusive pool of opportunity; a sandbox style, open world, video game feeling film that is as hearty as it is beefy. Cameron, unsurprisingly, is no stranger to pushing the boundaries of what a high concept blockbuster looks like. Setting the trend with The Terminator (1984), he’s always been out to entertain first, and worry about everything else second. The Way of Water speaks to that sentiment and culminates in a sensory experience unlike any at the cinema this year.

This is, after all, a film that —like the original Avatar (2009) before it— places an emphasis on out-of-body living, on connecting with the surrounding world and learning how to nurture and care for it. Cameron, an environmental activist in his own right, made Avatar and has pursued these sequels in part because he saw it as an opportunity to raise more awareness about our own world and environment.

In The Way of Water, he follows similar concerns to that of the first film, but trades the fullness of the foresty terrain, for the breadth and depth of the oceanic surroundings. The Na’vi continue to thrive, with Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) now leading the tribe alongside his partner Neytiri (Zoe Saldana). They also have a few mini-Sully’s of their own: two sons —Neteyam (Jamie Flatters) and Lo’ak (Britain Dalton)— and a daughter, Tuk (Trinity Jo-Li Bliss). They also care for Kiri (Sigourney Weaver) who has a connection to Weaver’s character from the first film, but one that is kept intentionally vague.

The actual events of the film take place some 10 years after those of the first one. Humans continue to arrive to Pandora to harvest resources, and are even continuing to create avatars of their own. One of those is Colonel Miles Quartich (Stephen Lang), whose DNA and memories have been imbued in one of the lab grown blue beings to the point where he acts and talks like the Colonel in the first film, but he’s not him per se.

Tuk (Trinity Bliss) in 20th Century Studios’ AVATAR: THE WAY OF WATER. Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios. © 2022 20th Century Studios. All Rights Reserved.

In essence, the stakes feel similar: Jake and co are on the backfoot while the Sky People pursue and hunt them. Sometimes the actual motive behind this continued hunting isn’t explained all that clearly— the Colonel seems to have retained the same grudge for Sully in his avatar form as he had in his human form, but beyond that, the plot plays out like a game of hide and seek. Most of that hiding happens in the distant islands far off the mainland, where other tribes reside and have grown and learned the way of water. A good portion of the film is spent leading up to Sully’s retreat into this unseen part of Pandora, but once out in open waters, the film opens up both visually and sonically.

Cameron has a penchant for anything aqua related, and it shows in these deep diving areas. The flora and fauna pop in ways that make one believe this world is tucked away somewhere in our own oceanic backyard. Maybe seeing all of this unfold through Cameron’s other love, 3D, might have heightened the immersion? But there is an evident care for this world that entraps and allures you, and makes you believe it’s real, if but for a split second.

It helps that the frame rate is bumped up to 48fps at certain parts. Character movements are crisp and almost life-like, where there is a fluidity to the motion. This is especially noticeable in the underwater portions of the film that are as visceral as they are breathtaking, with colours popping out like a Van Gogh painting as you try and absorb each section of the frame.

(L-R): Jake Sully and Neteyam in 20th Century Studios’ AVATAR: THE WAY OF WATER. Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios. © 2022 20th Century Studios. All Rights Reserved.

Cameron makes it easy to care for these characters, who have more nuance splashed across their digital faces and more realness behind their big anime-like eyes, than any of the beings before and since Avatar. The technology is a large reason why this film works, because there just hasn’t been anything like it in cinemas previously, Avatar included. The film’s weakest link tends to be anything that isn’t digitised to the gills, like the Tarzan-esque boy Spider (Jack Champion) who was left an outcast and was essentially adopted by the Sully’s. While the film justifies his presence, it’s more jarring to spend time with anything that isn’t wholly CGI.

Cameron’s brilliance ultimately rests in his unmatched understanding of scale — of how to get all of his story points in a basket while showcasing them in the biggest way possible. He swiftly transitions from moments of bonding and connection between tribes and creatures, to large battles sequences involving these tribes and creatures as they glide over the ocean. You might not end up caring for the whale like Tulkin beasts that end up playing a more vital role in the plot than anything else, but it’s enough to believe that Cameron does. It’s a large reason he takes so long with these films, and especially with The Way of Water, as he finds that balance between telling a story about big blue people and everything in between that’s worth caring about, with the trailblazing action and scenery on display.

Even if the plot is very akin to that of the original film, The Way of Water is a sum of all of Cameron’s experiences and experiments up until now, where he pours his heart and soul into each and every frame, as though this could be the last ride in Pandora even with most of the sequels penned and planned out. The Way of Water hits like a tidal wave, and it’s worth getting drenched for.

Originally published on SYN

Avatar: The Way of Water opens nationally from the 15^th of December, 2022.  

THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN: MARTIN MCDONAGH’S SUCCESSOR TO IN BRUGES IS ALSO HIS MOST ACCOMPLISHED

The Banshees of Inisherin preview screening provided by Disney

“…at its core, The Banshees of Inisherin is about the fleeting nature of life; the realisation that nothing lasts forever even if we want it to”

By Arnel Duracak

No matter how close we are, we’re not all destined to walk the same path in life, at least that’s part of the message in Martin McDonagh’s latest, pull-at-your-heartstrings, witty The Banshees of Inisherin (2022). In what is quite clearly a spiritual successor to McDonagh’s equally witty and heartfelt debut feature In Bruges (2008), The Banshees of Inisherin paints a perplexing picture of the human condition against the beautiful backdrop of a fictional Irish town during the Irish civil war. In the process, he observes the lengths to which we’ll go in order to find some peace in the world, be it through raining bombs and gunfire in the distance, or the blunt exchanges and isolation that is at the core of this film.

For the beach-front violinist, Colm (Brendan Gleeson), the answer rests in suddenly cutting ties with his best friend and frequent pub buddy Padraic (Colin Farrell), even if the cutting is as literal as it is figurative. “I just don’t like you no more” exclaims Colm; they’re words that fly right over the head of Padraic who views the matter as a joke, but Colm’s dead serious. He wants to leave behind a legacy akin to that of Mozart and co, and not engage in meaningless chatter with the time he has left: “are you dying?” asks Padraic, as he struggles to grasp his ex-friend’s motive.

For those unfamiliar with McDonagh’s tongue-in-cheek humour and the poignancy with which his humour is often met, a premise like that of Banshees can come across as flabbergasting. Should you laugh? Should you cry? Should you be a little creeped out? Even for more seasoned McDonagh fans, Banshees is perhaps his most striking work for the very fact that even with the knowledge of Colm’s motives, there is still a level of obscurity that is difficult to contend with. It makes for a subtlety that courses through the film courtesy of Gleeson’s performance, which gives what might otherwise be a story reaching for the stars, some wheels to move and drive the plot forward.

McDonagh is brilliant in this way, as he eschews more conventional narrative tendencies of character accessibility and opts to double down on his intentions to subvert them. He mainly does this through Colm’s threat to chop off a finger every time Padraic continues to engage him, which he does, and from an audience perspective it leaves more questions that answers, but in such a way that should seem obvious. Colm wants to be left alone, it’s that simple, but McDonagh’s ability to build intrigue and suspense, speaks to that enticing, almost fantasy like approach where he gradually draws you in —like a siren, or a banshee in this case— as you look for answers, until you’ve been deceived and there’s no way out.

Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell in the film THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN. Photo by Jonathan Hession. Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures. © 2022 20th Century Studios All Rights Reserved.

The result is, as mentioned, often much more melancholic than anticipated, where you’re either left emotionally stranded or wrecked. It’s in part why Colin Farrell is the perfect scapegoat through which these strange commentaries on the human condition can be inspected. Farrell’s natural likeability, quick wit and ability to portray despair with such an ease (e.g. through that innocence in his gestures and facial expressions that have defined his best performances), speaks to McDonagh’s whole oeuvre up until, and including, Banshees. In Banshees, Farrell’s at his most heart-breaking, and subsequently, his best.

Everyone around him is great too like Kerry Condon who plays the sister of his character, Barry Keoghan as a troubled youngster trying to figure his own life out, and especially Gleeson who matches Farrell’s tenderness with a brooding intensity that is just as impactful. Composer Carter Burwell’s tantalising score, which feels like a melodic continuation of his In Bruges one, speaks to the fracturing of friendship and the longing for something that’s no longer there.

There’s also a case to be made for the numerous biblical references in the film, ranging from the obvious church attendance scenes to the imagery of cross-shaped windows that we often see Padraic through — as though he’s being mentally crucified by Colm (with the town’s shoddy police officer even feeling the need to express his delight at attending an execution soon). All of this fuels the intensity and rift that is growing between Padraic and Colm, until something eventually gives.

But at its core, The Banshees of Inisherin is about the fleeting nature of life; the realisation that nothing lasts forever even if we want it to. Something has to give way, and McDonagh captures this sacrificial aspect through some graphic scenes that at once allude to the distant war being fought on account of a purpose beyond the understanding of the folk of Inisherin, and the local war between former friends. With all of this in mind, the film ends in standard McDonagh fashion: with an open-ended shot with no concrete answer, but enough to keep you guessing long after the credits have rolled by.

Originally published on SYN

The Banshees of Inisherin opens nationally from Boxing Day, 2022.

PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH: THE FURRY FELINE IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish Melbourne Premiere screening provided by Universal Pictures

“Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is 2022’s animated revelation”

By Arnel Duracak

We were first introduced to the sword-wielding, innocent eye, furry feline Puss in Boots way back in DreamWorks iconic Shrek 2 (2004). In the time since, he’s made appearances in all the Shrek films, had his first solo outing in Puss and Boots: The Three Diablos (2012), and even had a pretty forgetful animated series (which Antonio Banderas was not involved in). That said, nothing could have quite prepared us for his latest adventure where he is forced to face his mortality and the prospect that his heyday is well and truly behind him.

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is 2022’s animated revelation, and the best DreamWorks film since How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World (2019). It comes at a time where Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio (2022) is savouring the praise on the animation front, but it’s not a film to bet against.

An outlaw by trade and a legend by name, Puss in Boots (a returning and in-form Antonio Banderas) is still up to his old antics: causing mischief, engaging in brawls and duels, and living to tell the tale. The only downside is that his slip ups have left him with only one out of nine lives to think about. With this realisation in mind, he’s not too fazed, until death himself —in the form of a red eyed, whistling, big bad wolf— comes after him. It sets him on a course of hiding, re-emerging, and pursuing a wishing star that might be the solution to all of his problems.

Joel Crawford (known for 2020’s The Croods: A New Age) brilliantly uses the premise at hand to create a story of self-discovery. The prospect of death in the absence of semi-immortality is a difficult pill for Puss to swallow, and while not a revolutionary concept (the aforementioned Pinocchio is concerned with a similar conundrum), it marks a departure from animated stories that feel like the stakes aren’t as pressing.

(from left) Puss in Boots (Antonio Banderas) and Kitty Softpaws (Salma Hayek Pinault) in DreamWorks Animation’s Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, directed by Joel Crawford.

This is perhaps even better represented in the film’s visual style which oscillates between the trippy, reduced frame rate that Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (2018) introduced and popularised, with the more recognisable crisp and clean animation style of DreamWorks. On a technical level, it creates an almost comic-book like presentation (without the ‘POWS’ and ‘WHACKS’) that has been teased as something to expect in the next Spiderverse film. On a story level, it captures the shifting scale of power and control that Puss has, with earlier moments capturing him in all his prowess and on the front foot, but the later stages showing him as jagged and off kilter — or in other words, not the Puss in Boots of legend. It’s a remarkable display of internal conflict and mental resilience that challenges the protagonist at various points throughout the film.

Fortunately he’s not alone on his adventure as he’s accompanied by the returning Kitty Softpaws (Salma Hayek Pinault) and a new face in puppy Perro (Harvey Guillen) who’s introduced masquerading as a cat in a Masked Singer-esque fashion. The trio seamlessly bounce off each other, with Kitty and Puss continuing their verbal jousts with that level of romantic tension underneath it all. Perro on the other hand offers a sort of bona fide warmth that rubs off on the two felines.

Also on the journey for the wishing star are Goldilocks (Florence Pugh) and the three bears, characters imbued with a British wit and snarkiness that adds an added element to the story. There’s also a caricature-looking Jack Horner (voiced by John Mulaney and not to be confused with the Jack Horner of Boogie Nights). The presence of these characters is true to the Shrek approach DreamWorks has previously taken, where characters from fairy tales make appearances (including some past fan favourites).

It makes for a Super Smash Bros-esque experience, with all characters locking horns with Puss and each other throughout the film as they battle their way through the ‘dark forest’ to the star. At the end though, this is a film about learning how to become more selfless and accept that there are people along this winding and changing road we call life, that just want to help you out. Puss in Boots: The Last Wish delivers its messages with a deft subtlety and swift paw, without sacrificing the thrills and spills at its core.

Originally published on SYN

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish opens nationally from Boxing Day, 2022.

AMSTERDAM: AN ELITE CAST CAN’T SAVE THIS DRAB PERIOD PIECE

Amsterdam preview screening provided by Disney

“Amsterdam explores multiple themes and storylines at once, but without ever actually exploring them at a more thought provoking level”

By Arnel Duracak

What is going on in David O.Russell’s Amsterdam (2022)? That might be the question you have while watching this political mystery/comedy period piece. Amsterdam is the sort of cookie cutter satire that covers its poster with the names of some of the best current working actors purely for the sake of overcompensating for the tiresome two hours that await.

Like all bad mystery comedies, it’s a film that sells itself as a mystery comedy, but spends the better part of its runtime caught up in dreary subplots, poor pacing as a result of a sloppy script with rambling dialogue, and freeze frames and flashbacks that add no value and make no impact on the events of the narrative — other than to prolong what really doesn’t need to be prolonged, and to tick off its audience. This seems to be a running thread with Hollywood political satires as of late, with Adam McKay and O.Russell being the prime culprits behind these oftentimes overstuffed and generally unfunny takes on America’s political climate.

Amsterdam (not to be confused with similar city-oriented political features like 2018’s Roma or 2021’s Belfast) isn’t about the capital city of Netherlands. Rather, it’s a period political mystery/comedy that follows a doctor, Burt Berendsen (Christian Bale) and his lawyer friend, Harold Woodman (John David Washington) as they become embroiled in a complex situation where they try and clear their names from a crime they didn’t commit in New York. The crime in question involves a short cameo from Taylor Swift whose character hires Burt and Harold to provide an autopsy on her deceased veteran father so as to figure out the circumstances surrounding his death.

Foul play is the name of the game and it’s initially what this film becomes concerned with. It doesn’t take long for O.Russell to drop a freeze frame and narrative monologue though, that takes you back years in time to basically explain how the characters have found themselves in this situation. This flashback involves the duo during their military days and the events leading up to Burt losing his eye and being torn apart by shrapnel alongside Harold. It’s here that O.Russell brings in the third player that will ultimately play a part in proceedings, Valerie Voze (Margot Robbie). She becomes the duos saving grace as she nurtures the wounded soldiers before they strike up a bond and become a trio who spend their happiest days in Amsterdam in each other’s company.

(L-R): Anya Taylor-Joy as Libby, Rami Malek as Tom, Christian Bale as Burt, Robert De Niro as Gil, and Margot Robbie as Valerie in 20th Century Studios’ AMSTERDAM. Photo by Merie Weismiller Wallace; SMPSP. © 2022 20th Century Studios. All Rights Reserved.

That’s about as simple as this film gets. It’s when O.Russell brings us back into the present, that convulsion subsumes coherency. Amsterdam explores multiple themes and storylines at once, but without ever actually exploring them at a more thought provoking level. From issues pertaining to fascism, to the core storyline surrounding finding the truth, right through to the wonky “rekindled love” subplot between Valerie and Harold — there’s too much to hope to make sense of in two hours.

When it comes to the wider cast, Rami Malek and Anya Taylor-Joy play strange but key characters related to Valerie, Mike Myers and Michael Shannon also make small appearances as two undercover agents disguised as bird enthusiasts, and Robert de Niro is along for the ride as the “General” who will bring the closing sequence home and help clear up the mystery at the films core. Chris Rock is a further addition in this star-studded ensemble, but his presence is quite unnecessary and another example that Amsterdam just has too many questionable facets that only detract rather than enhance.

Too much of Amsterdam is spent in enclosed spaces where the main characters ask a bunch of questions to help lead them to the next clue, but once the next stop in this amazing race is revealed, they end up speaking without ever saying anything remotely interesting or useful to push the plot ahead. At times, you can feel the weight of these scenes drilling into your every fibre as you try to understand O.Russell’s logic in keeping them so lengthy. This is especially true whenever there are more than two characters in the same room (which is about 90% of the film), and it underplays the actual reason and importance behind these interactions in the first place.

Amsterdam is at its best in its early stages, where its sets itself up as a buddy-up mystery akin to The Pink Panther (1963). It’s at its worst at almost every other point as it sacrifices logic for meandering guessing games, ultimately taking you through a journey that offers little respite or time to actually absorb the information you’ve just been fed.

Originally published on SYN

Amsterdam opens nationally from the 6^th of October, 2022.

DON’T WORRY DARLING IS A SCI-FI THRILLER CAUGHT UP IN ITS OWN AMBITION

Don’t Worry Darling screening provided by Universal Pictures

“Don’t Worry Darling is far too caught up in getting across its weighty themes and messages, but without ever developing them at the level of story and plot”

By Arnel Duracak

Looks can be deceiving, especially when you don’t exactly know what you’re looking at even after the fact. That’s especially true in Olivia Wilde’s latest sci-fi thriller, Don’t Worry Darling (2022), where everything looks too good to be true, but what’s in fact true really isn’t that interesting when all is said and done. That might be because this is a film that is far too caught up in getting across its weighty themes (power dynamics, control, gender politics) and messages, but without ever developing them at the level of story and plot.

It all takes place in the 50s era town of “Victory”, a perfectly constructed setting comprised of slick hairstyles, fancy cars and pointy picket fences. The men leave their houses in perfect harmony for work they cannot speak of (something about the “development of progressive materials”), while their wives all stand in equally perfect harmony and wave them goodbye. Put simply, everything is too perfect, and that’s largely because it is. The townsfolk turn an eye to anything that might seem irregular, because…well… why would it be?

That is until Alice (played by the incomparable Florence Pugh), one of the housewives of the town, begins to feel that not everything is sunshine and rainbows like she’s been led to believe. Strange occurrences start happening including random visions she has, her neighbour Margaret (Kiki Layne) begins spewing what everyone writes off as nonsense, and Alice witnesses a plane crash in the far reaches of the desert where the Victory Project headquarters are, and where residents are forbidden from going — but where she goes, nonetheless.

It’s safe to say that “Victory” is a strange place and Wilde makes sure you know that. Characters speak like non-playable characters (NPC’s) from video games, and artifice finds a way to cover any hints of strangeness that might pop its head (or slit its throat) at any given moment. It’s the town chief, Frank (a cool and calculated Chris Pine) who restores balance when the scale of tranquillity in Victory threatens to be tipped over. He’s easily the most interesting character in the film, given, for starters, that he knows more than everyone else and Pine can therefore play him with a sinister charm that’s often found in similar characters in similar circumstances (like Bradley Whitford’s character in 2017’s Get Out).

(L-r) OLIVIA WILDE as Bunny, NICK KROLL as Dean and CHRIS PINE as Frank in New Line Cinema’s “DON’T WORRY DARLING,” a Warner Bros. Pictures release.

The same can’t be said for Pine and Pugh’s less experienced counterpart, Harry Styles. The singer-turned-part-time-actor was cast following the departure of Shia LaBeouf and he seems even more out of place in Wilde’s wild world if not for his pop-star status in his off-screen life, than definitely for his lacking performative presence in his on-screen one. Styles never matches the emotional weight that Pugh brings to the table, and rather than spring boarding her characters’ arc forward by challenging her when the plot requires it, Pugh’s brilliance simply bounces off of him.

Don’t Worry Darling has more glaring problems than Styles though. It’s the sort of film that you would expect to unravel its nooks and crannies tastefully and in such a way where it answers any early narrative questions rather than continually stacking more on top of each other. The initial intrigue of the film stems from the very desire to see what is beneath all the veneer that is plastered over the town. But as Wilde takes you through her striking imagery (comprised mainly of circles that are made to represent the shape of the human eye) and puts Pugh through the motions, she also struggles to take you beyond that until she eventually does (some ¾ into the film). As a consequence, the result is not as worthwhile as you’re led on to believe which makes the journey seem just as unfulfilling.

That’s not to say that there aren’t glimmers of brilliance in the film; tension is at its best in the opening 20 or so minutes and as mentioned, Pugh cashes in another assured performance. But beyond that, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that Wilde has bitten off more than she can chew following the success of her more intimate and heartfelt comedy, Booksmart (2019). Her second outing in the directors chair is much more audacious, and consequently less refined. It’s like if Wandavision met Severance, and even then those shows were less conspicuous in how they portrayed and developed their stories.

Originally published on SYN

Don’t Worry Darling opens nationally from the 6^th of October, 2022.

Ticket to Paradise Revives the Rom-Com

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“Ticket to Paradise is a rom-com that is reminiscent of the subgenre’s best“

By Arnel Duracak

The heyday of the rom-com might be behind us, but a film like Ol Parker’s Ticket to Paradise (2022) is a stark reminder that there may still be hope for the subgenre. In fact, a ‘ticket to paradise’ is exactly what’s on offer in this George Clooney/Julia Roberts helmed feel-good flick, and that might just be what the once thriving subgenre has been missing.

That’s not to say that there hasn’t been the odd romedy in recent years, with Long Shot (2019), Marry Me (2022) and Crazy Rich Asians (2018) all coming to mind. But until Ticket to Paradise, there hasn’t really been a rom-com that one can firmly say is reminiscent of the biggest and best the subgenre has to offer. Titles like Notting Hill (1999), Pretty Woman (1990), Sleepless in Seattle (1993), and my personal favourite, Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008), in many ways defined what a romantic comedy is, what it looks like, and what sort of faces work in bringing these far-fetched stories to life.

One of those —and perhaps the most prominent— is Julia Roberts. No other name is as synonymous with rom-coms as her, with the proof being in the pudding of some of those aforementioned titles. She brings a certain warmth and infectious magnetism that reminds viewers that everything will be okay, even though that is known long before you’ve even entered the cinema. But when you pair Roberts with Clooney, you’ve got a recipe for success.

The dynamic duo, re-united for the first time since Money Monster (2016), play a divorced couple who want nothing to do with each other. It’s their daughter Lily (Kaitlyn Dever), however, who acts as the bridge that keeps the two connected; this so much so that her abrupt decision to marry a Balinese seaweed farmer, Gede (Maxime Bouttier) while holidaying in Bali is the perfect dilemma to bring her estranged parents back together, but for a common cause — to prevent her from throwing her life and career away in a rash decision.

(from left) Wren (Billie Lourd, back to camera), Gede (Maxime Bouttier) and Lily (Kaitlyn Dever) in Ticket to Paradise, directed by Ol Parker.

The premise is about as rom-com centric as can be: you have a star-led couple who loathe each other (tick), you have the obstacle that ultimately brings the characters together (tick), and you have a tropical setting that builds and restores love (tick). These are obviously ingredients that have been employed in films like Couples Retreat (2009) and Just Go With it (2011), and they can be moulded to fit different romedies.

With Ticket to Paradise, however, Parker knows how to make the most of these elements. He lets his star duo play off of each other with such an ease and with the room to adlib if necessary. Of course, being the Hollywood heavyweights that they are and maintaining a great friendship off screen, that’s hardly difficult for Clooney and Roberts. But it’s in the way Parker frames his actors and how, even with the predictability of where the film is going, he is able to maintain this finesse in getting you where you need to go plot wise.

It’s something that’s often lacking in modern romedies where, like Couples Retreat or Just Go With It, too often the dialogue falls flat as most of it is throwaway for the sake of a cheap laugh. Even with the constant verbal jousts that Clooney and Roberts display, there is a method to their madness, and it isn’t without purpose. It ultimately makes that predictable ending all the more worthwhile as, like the characters who fall for each other either for the first time or those that fall for each other all over again, the audience is nurtured to fall for them as well when all is said and done.

In order to get that point though, Georgia (Roberts) and David (Clooney) have to act like the cool, calm and collected adults they know they aren’t. Doing all they can to sabotage the wedding, Georgia and David engage in childlike antics. Whether that’s nabbing the rings from the young and oblivious child ring bearer or setting up a tour of a temple that curses all unmarried couples, there isn’t a shortage of things they won’t do to prolong the wedding.

At the end though, Ticket to Paradise is a reminder that no two people are the same, and by extension no two paths are the same. Nothing is ever set in stone if you don’t want it to be, be it a career choice or a divorce. Love ultimately triumphs, or at the very least, the realisation that not everything has to be planned out — sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith.

Originally published on Rating Frames

Ticket to Paradise is screening in cinemas nationwide.