Release Year: 2019

Terminator: Dark Fate (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Come With Me or You’ll Be Dead in Thirty Seconds…” – Grace

After bringing the titular, wise-cracking anti-hero to the silver screen with his 2016 directorial debut; Deadpool, filmmaker Tim Miller lept onto a series with evenly iconic characters, the Terminator franchise. Kicking off with the original sci-fi-action classic in 1984, Miller’s entry in the series; Terminator: Dark Fate, released in 2019, functions as both a sequel to the first two installments and a reboot of the franchise, aiming to breathe new life into this ageing sci-fi saga. Unfortunately, however, Terminator: Dark Fate is an unremarkable, mean-spirited and overly familiar affair, lacking thrilling, fast-paced action sequences and imaginative concepts, all whilst occasionally spitting in the face of the series’ most dedicated fans through its handful of baffling creative decisions.

Plot Summary: Twenty-five years after the elimination of Cyberdyne, the company that would one day create the world-ending network of supercomputers known as Skynet, another seemingly unimportant human, this time car assembly worker, Dani Ramos, is inexplicably targeted by a Terminator from the future as the shapeshifting, nearly indestructible, REV-9, is sent to eliminate her in present-day Mexico City. Luckily for Dani, a fearless protector also arrives from the future, the bionically-enhanced Resistance solider, Grace, along with a custodian from the past, a bitter, armed-to-the-teeth Sarah Connor…

Disappointed and uninvolved with Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines (2003), Terminator Salvation (2009) and Terminator Genisys (2015), producer James Cameron considers Terminator: Dark Fate to be a direct sequel to his projects; The Terminator (1984) and Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991), remarking that while he was generally supportive of those films due to his close friendship with actor Arnold Schwarzenegger, he jumped at the offer to produce Terminator: Dark Fate, seeing it as an opportunity to oversee his franchise’s future. However, Cameron’s inherently controlling attitude did come with drawbacks as he claimed that, although he was involved in the writing process, he didn’t interfere with Miller’s oversight and never visited the set. Yet, Miller recalls things differently, claiming Cameron stepped in for some uncredited editing, finding his cut somewhat rough and prolonged. Cameron also admitted that he and Miller had their share of disagreements, ultimately leading Miller to state it’s unlikely he would work with Cameron again. These creative differences are noticeable in the final product as there is a shortage of polish in some areas, primarily in the subpar CGI and conversational dialogue, which is often corny and crass.

Blending the original’s cast with fresh faces, the central cast of Linda Hamilton, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Mackenzie Davis and Gabriel Luna all do a serviceable job of portraying their respective characters, regardless of whether they are humans or machines, newcomers or returning legends. That is, excluding Natalia Reyes as Dani Ramos, who frequently fails to believably portray Dani as a fearless and firm figure due to her short stature and rather weak line delivery.

Standing as the only Terminator film where none of the action takes place in Los Angeles, Ken Seng’s cinematography is one of the few positive aspects of Terminator: Dark Fate, as the camerawork is dynamic and favourably supports the numerous action sequences, making extensive use of the latest setting for the sci-fi saga; Mexico City. Alas, the action set pieces aren’t as arresting, lacking the physicality and grittiness of the series’ first two entries, despite the admirable inclusion of their bloody brutality.

The original score by Tom Holkenborg (a.k.a. Junkie XL) is habitually loud and imposing, initiating with the track; Terminated, and continuing with tracks like My Name Is Dani, The Wall and Screaming Turbines, the foremost of which softens the score up via Mexican-style guitars, lending a lighter tone to some scenes. Still, it likely goes without saying that, although adequate, the soundtrack doesn’t hold a candle to the original Terminator score, even if the film attempts to earn nostalgia points by implementing its well-known mix of synth, drums and electronics whenever possible, including the audible motif; “Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun.”

Spoilers ahead in this section for those who wish to go into their viewing blind, but I’m sure many are wondering where the significant character, John Conner, is in all of this. Well, in the opening scene of the film, young John is actually shot dead by a Terminator. Whilst shocking, this moment not only deprives the audience of any screen-time with the fan-favourite character, but also renders the conclusion of the second entry meaningless. Moreover, with Skynet no longer existing, thanks to the events of that film, the screenplay conjures up a ‘new’ antagonist with Legion. This almost indistinguishable, equally hostile A.I. force is just far too similar to what the series has attempted previously to appear innovative, alongside its use of an already comparable narrative structure.

In summary, Terminator: Dark Fate is just as uninspired as its bland sub-title suggests, often feeling like a sequel/reboot made out of obligation than anything else. And, with the franchise’s previous restart attempts in Terminator Salvation and Terminator Genisys, each written to be the first of a trilogy before that idea was scrapped due to a lack of critical and commercial success. Terminator: Dark Fate is yet another series revamp succumbing to a disappointing box office gross and lacklustre reviews, the rough outline written for its two sequels being discarded, leaving the future of the franchise uncertain and, in my opinion, indicating that the Terminator franchise needs to be ‘terminated’ itself, evidently running low on ingenuity and relevance. Rating: 3/10.

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The Hole in the Ground (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Something’s Not Right With Him…” – Sarah O’Neill

Ominous and moderately compelling, The Hole in the Ground is a 2019 Irish horror flick that, whilst well-crafted, is overly reliant on many of the conventional aspects of similar horror outings, most notably within the ‘sinister child‘ subgenre. Still, with the film drawing from notions of Irish folklore, such as the concept of Changelings (children being replaced by fairy folk) and Fairy Forts (the ruins of neolithic tombs scattered across Ireland, thought to be portals to the Otherworld), co-writer and director Lee Cronin (Minutes Past Midnight – Segment: Ghost Train, Evil Dead Rise) does a sufficient enough job with the tools he is provided, even if The Hole in the Ground generally lacks ingenuity.

Plot Summary: To escape her crooked past, single mother Sarah O’Neill travels to the fringes of a rural town in the Irish countryside with her young son, Chris, to start a new life. But, after a disturbing encounter with a local resident, Sarah begins to question things, attempting to uncover if the troubling changes in her little boy are somehow connected to a mysterious crater hidden within the forest that borders their new home…

According to Cronin, in addition to Irish folklore, The Hole in the Ground takes inspiration from a news story he once overheard, stating; “There Was a Particular News Story I Saw About a Man in Florida Watching TV in His Armchair and a Small Sinkhole Opened Up Beneath Him. He Was Unable to Be Rescued. He Fell Down Into the Earth… and I Thought That Was Horrific.” Due to this inspiration, The Hole in the Ground, in execution, is less of the spiritual and bloody interpretation of the ‘malevolent child‘ concept as seen in 1976’s The Omen and more of a cross between the 2014 cinematic interpretation of maternal grief, The Babadook, and another Irish horror of changelings and woodland spirits, 2015’s The Hallow, taking a more minimalistic and character-driven approach to much of its horror and violence.

The largely unknown cast of Seána Kerslake, James Quinn Markey, Simone Kirby and Kati Outinen all portray their respective characters with devotion and authenticity, which is particularly impressive in the case of Quinn Markey, given that child acting can often make or break a piece of cinema. Thankfully, although this role requires a lot from the young actor, Quinn Markey delivers, portraying Chris with a menacing aura of otherworldliness. Likewise, Kerslake provides an anchoring performance, portraying Sarah as a struggling mother beginning to question her parental instincts following her implied escape from Chris’ abusive father. An idea that also plays into the underlying themes of the story, as I’m sure Sarah’s uncertainty regarding her parental abilities is surprisingly close to reality for some, with many mothers/fathers sometimes looking at their children only to no longer recognise them as they develop, naturally evolving into a wide-reaching inner fear and scab for the horror genre to pick at. Of course, in this case, Sarah’s suspicions surrounding her son arise from a supernatural mystery that lingers throughout the runtime. Yet, this subtext never threatens to overthrow the story, instead feeding much of the dread that permeates almost every scene.

Alongside the suitably gloomy colour palette, the cinematography by Tom Comerford retains a visually pleasant, gothic-adjacent look, avoiding hand-held shots for the bulk of the runtime. Much of this visual aesthetic can be attributed to the photographs and filmography of American photographer Gregory Crewdson, which served as a primary influence for the camerawork, with Crewdson’s work being known for staging scenes of suburbia for dramatic effect, his surreal images frequently appearing melancholic, offering ambiguous narrative suggestions and blurring the boundaries between fiction and reality, a tremendous creative choice. However, the same cannot be said for the lighting, which, in some scenes, is so dim it becomes difficult to tell what is occurring.

Opening with the sound of a singular piano note and concluding with that same note, which is then repeated to correlate with the story’s motif of something being ‘duplicated,‘ the original score by Stephen McKeon is fairly audibly engaging, coming across as eerie and dramatic yet never overbearing via tracks, like Main Titles, Run Into the Woods and Mental Health.

Intriguingly, The Hole in the Ground also features several nods to The Shining (1980), including a wallpaper pattern that resembles the famed hexagonal design of the Overlook Hotel’s carpet. Regrettably, however, dissimilar to that iconic flick and many other horrors, the creature design of The Hole in the Ground is rather lacklustre in spite of the detailed costumes that bring the creatures to life, failing to share much likeness with the fascinating folkloric critters that inspired them. Conversely, despite the film’s rather humble budget of roughly £1.5 million, the rarely employed visual effects are surprisingly convincing, like the titular crater, which is presented as foreboding, even though it is merely a muddy, root-laden pit.

In summary, The Hole in the Ground is not an astonishing indie horror, but it is a passable, non-controversial one, a reasonably unnerving, by-the-book horror flick crammed with an array of familiar flavours for those well-acquainted with the genre. Exploiting parental fears where it can and exhibiting splendid filmmaking for the most part, The Hole in the Ground redeems its considerable shortage of originality through its sheer craftsmanship and narrative safety net of Irish folklore, which has previously proven to be a safe bet within the horror genre. Rating: 6/10.

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The Peanut Butter Falcon (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Friends Are the Family You Choose.” – Carl

Warm-spirited, humorous and well-acted, 2019’s The Peanut Butter Falcon is a feel-good, modern-day comedy-drama inspired by the celebrated literature of author Samuel Langhorne Clemens, best known by his pen name Mark Twain, who challenged many of the fundamental issues of his time, including racism, evolving landscapes, class barriers and access to education, through notable publications like his renowned novel; The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, and his 1883 memoir; Life on the Mississippi. The Peanut Butter Falcon specifically elicits Twain’s 1884 book; Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, finding modern resonance in the classic piece of American literature by incorporating a raft, assorted riverine ventures and luscious swampy landscapes into its entertaining (if occasionally meandering) story, which is frequently elevated by the film’s admirable camerawork and plethora of superb performances.

Plot Summary: When Zak, a twenty-two-year-old orphan with Down Syndrome, escapes the state-run care facility where he resides to pursue his dream of becoming a professional wrestler by attending a wrestling school headed by his favourite grappler, the Salt Water Redneck, he incidentally runs into Tyler, a fisherman turned delinquent fleeing to Florida. Together, the pair embark on a journey of camaraderie as they evade capture, slowly morphing Tyler into an unexpected ally and coach…

The concept for The Peanut Butter Falcon first came about when writer-directors Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz, who before this film’s release had only written/directed short films, such as The Moped Diaries (2014), Alex Honnold’s Urban Ascents (2014) and Alex Honnold: At Home Off the Wall (2015), met its forthcoming lead actor, Zack Gottsagen, at a camp for disabled and non-disabled individuals, where he expressed his yearning to be a “Movie Star,” this prompted Nilson and Schwartz to write a screenplay around him, knowing many locals would allow them to film for free, without permits. Given that the story is set within Southern America and features a protagonist with Down Syndrome as a result of this, The Peanut Butter Falcon plays it relatively safe with its judgmental setting to maintain an upbeat tone, only harbouring a few brief moments where Zak is lightly mocked for his disability. Moreover, many of these abusive characters are counterbalanced by jovial individuals who aid Zak and Tyler in their journey, like Blind Jasper John, portrayed by Wayne Dehart, a blind and Black evangelical preacher, who could be seen as somewhat cartoonish and stereotypical, depending on your background.

The remarkable central cast of Shia LaBeouf, Dakota Johnson and Thomas Haden Church (along with a surprise appearance from Jon Bernthal) are all exceptional in their assorted roles, conforming to their surroundings without appearing excessive in their Southern characteristics. However, Zack Gottsagen is understandably the stand out of the cast, as in spite of having only a handful of acting credits to his name, Gottsagen portrays Zak with a cordial, childlike innocent, providing his lonesome character with moments of goofiness and naivety without ever making him seem mindless. Zak is also pivotal to the film’s narrative, as his role in the story is ultimately to redeem Tyler, a flawed yet affable delinquent, who learns to be a better person thanks to Zak’s modest influence. Eventually, Tyler strikes up a serviceable romantic subplot with Zak’s pursuing, kind-hearted carer, Eleanor, but this never detracts from the prominent bond between Tyler and Zak, which remains meaningful and gratifying throughout the runtime.

Beautifully flaunting the rural Georgia landscape (which stands in for the Outer Banks of North Carolin), the cinematography by Nigel Bluck expertly captures the essence of the murky, backwater creeks, decrepit shacks, over-priced gas stations and sludgy shores with grounded boats that serve as the story’s setting, constructing an appealing visual aesthetic that feels naturalistic in its details, but also celebrates the American region for its prominent natural beauty and devil-may-care lifestyle.

Much of the score throughout The Peanut Butter Falcon bears a stripped-down approach to its arrangements, as composers Zachary Dawes, Noam Pikelny, Jonathan Sadoff and Gabe Witcher utilise acoustic instruments and minimal orchestration to provoke the audience with the calming sensation of standing in the open countryside. This is especially true of the tracks; Cold Open, Travelling Theme and Love Me in Kind, which possess simplistic yet breezy banjo-led melodies that correspond with the soothing, swampy visuals.

Interestingly, although The Peanut Butter Falcon received no Academy Award nominations in the face of its positive reception from critics and audiences alike, Gottsagen actually became the first-ever individual with Down Syndrome to present an Academy Award when he and LaBeouf announced the Best Live-Action Short Film on February 9th, 2020, which is an accomplishment in itself.

In summary, The Peanut Butter Falcon‘s triumph as a sleeper hit, becoming the highest-grossing independent film of 2019, was, in my opinion, rightfully deserved, as this low-budget comedy-drama is, above all else, charming, despite its sometimes corny and overly optimistic storyline. And whilst the film is admittedly far from a precise, poignant representation of a community that is rarely represented on-screen, The Peanut Butter Falcon is a step forward with its casting of an unknown lead actor with Down Syndrome, as opposed to acquiring a ‘bigger name’ to boast the film’s notoriety. Nevertheless, if you’d like to see an authentic, cinematic portrait of a life with Down Syndrome, I’d recommend seeking out the 2016 low-budget British drama; My Feral Heart, or the Irish drama; Sanctuary, also released in 2016. Rating: 7/10.

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Men in Black: International (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Always Remember: The Universe Has a Way of Leading You to Where You’re Supposed to Be at the Moment You’re Supposed to Be There.” – Agent High T

Emerging several years after the entertaining yet faulty; Men in Black 3, Men in Black: International, released in 2019, serves as a soft reboot of the series, aiming to bring the undisclosed extraterrestrial defenders back for another similarly amusing, alien-blasting adventure. However, predominantly due to its outlandish story, trite humour and absurdly horrendous dialogue, Men in Black: International rarely reaches the heights of the 1997 sci-fi-comedy classic, nor the later, lesser entries in the well-known franchise, even with its noteworthy stars of Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson carrying over much of their on-screen chemistry from 2017’s Thor: Ragnarok.

Plot Summary: After sharing an eye-opening encounter with an extraterrestrial as a child, Agent M, the M.I.B.’s newest probationary recruit, finds herself under the wing of Agent H, a past-his-prime hero of the closemouthed organisation, operating at the London branch. Meanwhile, a duo of shape-shifting alien assassins arrive on Earth, seeking a devastating super-weapon that could place the entire galaxy at risk…

Based on The Men in Black comic book series, created and written by Lowell Cunningham, Men in Black: International is the first film in the franchise not directed by Barry Sonnenfeld. Instead, the film was directed by F. Gary Gray (Friday, The Negotiator, Straight Outta Compton), making Men in Black: International the second Gray-directed sequel to a Sonnenfeld flick, the first being; Be Cool in 2005, a sequel to 1995’s Get Shorty. Needless to say, this change in leadership (and screenwriters) could be seen as more of a negative than a positive, as the film lacks much of the disturbing violence and revolting practical effects present in the original trilogy as extensively as the satire. Furthermore, Men in Black: International‘s narrative leaves much to be desired, appearing overly simplistic and somehow equally convoluted, barring a couple of interesting concepts, such as a portal for transporting alien refugees or a mole within the M.I.B. organisation. The film is dragged down further by its ever-present cringey dialogue, which is near vomit-inducing in its many attempts to seem relevant. To its credit, Men in Black: International does, at least, manage to expand the universe of the films by introducing various international branches of the covert organisation, as its title suggests.

With Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones openly stating they would not return to the franchise for Men in Black: International, new leading actors/actresses had to be chosen. Still, they do appear in the film briefly, having long passed into legend as agents in a dramatised painting in the M.I.B. London head office. Regrettably, however, the revamped cast of Chris Hemsworth, Tessa Thompson, Liam Neeson, Rafe Spall and Rebecca Ferguson are continually overblown in their performances, bouncing from scene to scene with ample energy regardless of tone. This issue is only made worse by the characterisation, which frequently forgets to provide the characters with motivations for their actions or any semblance of depth beyond the basics we learn of them, with Agent H being the foolish, once-hotshot agent of M.I.B. having previously saved Earth from an extraterrestrial invasion, whilst Agent M has desired to be an agent of the organisation since she was young.

Immaculate and radiant yet unimaginative, the cinematography by Stuart Dryburgh shares more of a visual resemblance to superhero blockbusters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe than any previous Men in Black instalment. Likewise, dissimilar to earlier entries in the franchise, Men in Black: International‘s plethora of extraterrestrial designs are dreadfully cartoonish in appearance, lacking the individuality and repulsive naturality of the series’ previous designs, all of which are unfortunately brought to life exclusively via CGI, with very few costumes/prosthetic make-up pieces employed. Having said that, there is one exception to this defect; the designs of the primary antagonists, the Hive, who retain a visually striking design, taking on the appearance of luminous, orange star clusters in a human physique.

In keeping with the rest of the Men in Black series, the original score is composed by Danny Elfman and newby Chris Bacon, who strive to capture the same musical spirit as previous franchise instalments through tracks like Job Interview, Here Comes Trouble and End Credits. And, for the most part, the composers are successful in this goal as the score sounds reminiscent of the original trilogy’s soundtracks while thankfully avoiding any lousy endeavours to modernise the series’ iconic theme.

When it comes to the humour, it’s apparent that there is a hefty deficiency of wit and surprise within the screenplay. As a result, most of the jokes throughout the runtime are either sluggish, irritating or immature. Additionally, during one particular scene, set within a hidden, extraterrestrial-filled nightclub, there is a weirdly out-of-place gag where Agent H attempts to spitefully manipulate Agent M into pleasuring Vungus, a party-hungry alien visiting Earth, which will surely make some audience members feel uncomfortable.

In summary, the mere notion of a Men in Black revival without the presence of Smith or Jones seems like an unmistakably terrible idea, comparable to how another swashbuckling Pirates of the Caribbean sequel without Johnny Depp’s inclusion would seem incomplete, stand-alone story or not. Even with its original cast in attendance, however, Men in Black: International likely still would’ve failed on account of its many other shortcomings, grinding its cast’s chemistry through the gears of a sci-fi franchise running low on reasons to persist. Rating: 3/10.

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The Lighthouse (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 2 Comments

“Why’d Ya Spill Yer Beans?” – Thomas Wake

A psychological horror only in the vaguest sense, 2019’s The Lighthouse is a strange yet wondrous cinematic venture, incomparable to many other modern releases due to its distinct visual aesthetic and often genre-defying narrative. Led by an outstanding pair of performances from Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe, The Lighthouse is the type of film that relentlessly sears itself into its audience’s memory, employing striking visuals, Lovecraftian influences and ominous, atmospheric sound design to craft an unnerving flick that closely resembles the fever-induced night terrors many actual lighthouse keepers endured during their lonesome, off-shore excursions tending to a beacon.

Plot Summary: Off the coast of late 19th-century New England, two lighthouse keepers, the taciturn former lumberjack, Ephraim Winslow, and the elderly lighthouse caretaker, Thomas Wake, set foot on a remote island to begin their monthly duties. But, as the tight-lipped men spend more and more time in each other’s company, a mutual resentment begins to arise as their collective sanity unravels…

Co-written and directed by Robert Eggers (The Witch, The Northman), the story of The Lighthouse is loosely based on a real-life affair that occurred in 1801 known as the Smalls Lighthouse Tragedy, during which two Welsh lighthouse keepers, sharing the name Thomas, became trapped at their station during a storm. When one of the men died, it is said to have driven the other insane. The story also takes some influence from the seafaring literature of renowned authors, including Herman Melville, Robert Louis Stevenson and H.P. Lovecraft, all of which lends the film a sense of historical accuracy and unseen oceanic horror. According to Eggers, earlier versions of the screenplay were more coherent, however, this was later changed as Eggers’ felt the best way to approach the film was to make the audience feel like they were losing their minds alongside the characters. As a result, The Lighthouse can occasionally be quite difficult to follow, yet this ultimately works in the narrative’s favour as the audience, much like the characters, struggle to tell reality from delusion. Even the very concept of time gets thrown out the window by the end of the second act, as it becomes almost impossible to tell how much time has passed between certain scenes, forcing the characters (and the audience) to question exactly how long they have been on the secluded island.

As the only two cast members, Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe are superb throughout the runtime as fellow lighthouse keepers, Ephraim Winslow and Thomas Wake. Simultaneously appearing layered and accurate to the time period, both characters flourish on-screen thanks to Pattinson and Dafoe’s electric performances, which are only enhanced when combined with the continuously compelling dialogue. This period-accurate dialogue bleeds through every scene, with the screenplay’s emphasis on 19th-century terminology and expressions instantly transporting the audience to the time and setting of the story, enriching Ephraim and Thomas’ persistent back-and-forths as they become increasingly infuriated at their situation. What makes the characters even more interesting is that neither one can be sighted as a reliable point-of-view, no matter how much they claim the other to be untrustworthy or deranged under their boozy breath.

Shot on Double-X stock, which requires much more light to get exposure. So much so, that the crew had to use about fifteen to twenty times more lights on set when filming at night or indoors to successfully capture footage. The cinematography by Jarin Blaschke is imposing and hypnotic, exhaustively utilising the isolated location of the treeless, storm-susceptible island along with its adjoining greyscale colour palette to create an array of hauntingly beautiful shots. Many of the visuals almost seem like depictions of a sailor’s nightmare, with the dense black-and-white grain of 35mm capturing every shadow and contour, lending the visuals a sensation of 19th-century expressionist horror, where even the tight aspect ratio proves to be claustrophobic. Furthermore, The Lighthouse employs several exceptional practical effects to depict the story’s more fantastical elements, such as its visual references to Greek mythology and seafarer folklore, like mermaids, sirens and the mighty Kraken.

Moving onto the original score, composer Mark Korven adds to the film’s foreboding atmosphere through doomy tracks, like Arrival, Curse Your Name and Stranded. However, much of the unsettling atmosphere could also be attributed to the immersive sound design, central to which is a bellowing foghorn, which sound designer, Damian Volpe, turned to J.J. Jamieson to create; a craftsman in Shetland, Scotland, who makes YouTube tutorials on operating and maintaining foghorns. Using Jamieson’s samples, Volpe manipulated the sound to create a period-accurate foghorn that was suitably startling and memorable.

Another favourable aspect of The Lighthouse is its authenticity, not merely in relation to its time period, but in regard to its restraint to filming on-location, which allows the film to retain a consistent level of practicality throughout, similar to its sense of dread, both of which are only broken up by the handful of well-timed, darkly comedic moments.

In summary, disorientation is clearly the primary intent of The Lighthouse as Eggers offers hints towards a grander narrative, but never fully commits to a sweeping, readable story, even avoiding an easily discernible conclusion. As such, instead of being a straightforward psychological horror or a disturbing historic folk tale, The Lighthouse is more of a surreal exploration of masculinity, guilt and seclusion, in addition to standing as another impressive showcase of Robert Eggers’ screenwriting and filmmaking abilities. Rating: 9/10.

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Villains (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Son, I’d Blow Your Brains Out if I Thought You Had Any.” – George

Engrossing, suspenseful and darkly humorous, Villains, released in 2019, is a fast-paced crime-thriller with a sharp comedic edge. Led by a quartet of strong performances, including the likes of Bill Skarsgård and Maika Monroe as the leading pair of romantically-entangled criminals, Villains has more than a few noteworthy elements. Alongside its many qualities, however, Villains also suffers from several shortcomings, mainly in regard to the lack of style in its visuals, despite what the film’s flamboyant promotional posters would lead you to believe.

Plot Summary: On the run after robbing a local gas station, amateur lovebird criminals, Mickey and Jules, find themselves breaking into a secluded house in search of a new set of wheels. But, upon entering the quaint abode, the pair discover that the home they have stumbled into is actually the residency of a sadistic couple with more than a few dark secrets…

While never outright frightening, Villains does have a surplus of tense sequences and bloody violence to quench one’s thirst for excitement. However, these stirring moments don’t persist into the third act, as Villains‘ story actually reaches its peak absurdity during the second act, and then opts for a quieter, more emotionally resonant third act to conclude its narrative. Admittedly, this is a rather jarring decision, and the film’s pacing does suffer as a result, but it undeniably works in the characters’ favour. Furthermore, whilst not filled to the brim with plot twists and narrative subversions, the first act of Villains features enough twists and turns that I would advise those going in to go in blind as possible to get the full impact of the reveals.

Headed southbound for a fresh start in the sunshine state of Florida, the central couple of Mickey and Jules, portrayed by Bill Skarsgård and Maika Monroe, are surprisingly likeable characters in spite of being wanted criminals. Monroe is the most charismatic she’s ever been in her role as Jules, whilst Skarsgård portrays Mickey as a goofy yet considerate partner, delivering some of the film’s most amusing lines of dialogue. The pair could have easily been depicted as despicable, but Monroe and Skarsgård imbue them with such warmth and earnestness that you can’t help but root for them. As for the demented homeowners, George and Gloria, portrayed by Jeffrey Donovan and Kyra Minturn, are charismatic yet equally intimidating, portraying their characters with a subdued sense of lunacy as opposed to being overly insane to an almost comical degree. On top of the terrific performances, all of the characters receive an adequate amount of development. I’d even go so far as to say it’s unfortunate that the runtime isn’t a little longer to further flesh out the characters, as the hints of backstory we receive for some of them (particularly Gloria) are both tragic and fascinating.

Visually, Villains is somewhat flat, as the cinematography by Matt Mitchell largely relies on unremarkable close-up and mid-shots without much innovation or implementation of style. Excluding the end credits, that is, which are vibrant and chaotic, emulating a skater-like art style through its animation and font choices. Luckily, the production design fares better than the camerawork, as George and Gloria’s house is uniquely coated in 1960s decor, complete with radiant colours and a vintage television. All of the outfits that the psychotic couple sport also play into this ’60s aesthetic. Moreover, writers-directors Dan Berk and Robert Olsen (Body, The Stakelander) effectively utilise the setting of George and Gloria’s home, establishing the geography of their house scene by scene so the audience has a clear understanding of where each character is in relation to one another during the many cat-and-mouse chase sequences.

The original score by Andrew Hewitt is regrettably rather generic, boasting several tracks that sound as if they were lifted from various scores from a selection of genres, from mysteries to horrors. But, on a more positive note, Villains does make sufficient use of a number of soothing instrumental pieces, such as The Free Life, Time for Romance and Looking Back on Love, which all serve as excellent contrasts to the on-screen violence and grim setup of the narrative.

Upon first viewing, it quickly becomes apparent that Villains takes a lot of influence from other crime flicks. Most notably for its protagonists, Mickey and Jules, as the pair share many similarities to the couple; Pumpkin and Honey Bunny from the opening and closing scenes of the quintessential crime flick; Pulp Fiction, released in 1994. The film even pays tribute to this specific influence through a small Easter egg, as if you look closely, you can see that Mickey has a tattoo on his wrist of Stuntman Mike’s car from 2007’s Death Proof, another flick directed by Quentin Tarantino.

In summary, Villains is an entertaining crime-thriller, but it’s also a film that continuously feels as if it’s on the cusp of something extraordinary, yet it never quite reaches whatever that may be. While the performances are solid and the plot is engaging, the almost total absence of style and flair is exceedingly difficult to ignore. Still, Villains has enough of its own offbeat energy to avoid merely coming across as an assemblage of two young filmmakers’ cinematic influences, which is more than can be said for many modern releases. Rating: 6/10.

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Knives Out (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“It’s a Weird Case From the Start. A Case With a Hole in the Center… A Doughnut.” – Detective Benoit Blanc

A brilliant spin on the well-worn formula of kindred murder mysteries, 2019’s Knives Out is a charming, captivating and hilarious film from beginning to end. Functioning as both a subversive whodunit as well as a modernised homage to the prominent works of crime-fiction author, Agatha Christie, Knives Out offers the kind of classy entertainment we could use more of on the silver screen as the film, through its all-around marvellous cast, excellent direction and witty dialogue, quickly overcomes the one or two minor flaws it has to thoroughly immerse its audience in a delectable delicacy of a mystery and its affiliated suspects.

Plot Summary: When renowned crime novelist, Harlan Thrombey, is found dead in his study on the night of his eighty-fifth birthday, the inquisitive and debonair, Detective Benoit Blanc, is enlisted to investigate his passing. Now, in a mansion full of potential suspects, from Harlan’s dysfunctional family to his devoted staff, Detective Blanc must sift through a tangled web of red herrings and self-serving lies to uncover the truth behind Harlan’s untimely death…

Written and directed by Rian Johnson (Brick, Looper, Star Wars: Episode VIII – The Last Jedi), the plot of Knives Out follows one of the most timeworn formats in the whodunit playbook; as family members and associates gather after a rich patriarch dies under mysterious circumstances. And although many of them may act like they want to uncover who’s responsible for the premature death of their loved one, in reality, they’re far more interested in knowing how much they stand to gain monetarily from said loved one’s death. However, at many points, Knives Out actually acknowledges its audience’s familiarity with this formula, battling against it by integrating a series of compelling twists and turns into its story. So, even if you’ve already guessed who isn’t responsible, it won’t be easy to deduce who is. Furthermore, it soon becomes clear that Rian Johnson has more than just murder and mysteries on his mind, as Knives Out quietly threads political commentary into its narrative through the family’s conversations concerning immigration and the many shades of venality, exposing an entirely different side to the ignorance and pride of the Thrombey family.

With an enormous ensemble cast featuring Daniel Craig, Ana de Armas, Chris Evans, Jamie Lee Curtis, Don Johnson, Michael Shannon, Toni Collette, Katherine Langford, LaKeith Stanfield, Riki Lindhome and Christopher Plummer, it’s understandable that a few of the actors and/or characters would be misspent. And this is most apparent with the character, Jacob Thrombey, portrayed by Jaeden Martell as beyond serving a single plot point and a handful of jokes, Jacob, and by default, Martell, has little screen-time, very few lines and the least development of any member of the family, making his inclusion seem rather pointless. Detective Blanc also brings two police underlings with him to solve the case, neither of whom makes much of an impression. Still, every member of the cast somehow manages to make their character feel distinguishable when placed alongside the others, from the bohemian Instagram influencer, Joni Thrombey, to the foul-mouthed freeloader, Ransom Drysdale, Harlan’s entire family is relentlessly amusing as they continuously squabble with each other despite pretending they are on the same side.

The gothic abode in which Detective Blanc’s suspects are confined is an interesting location for a murder mystery, to say the least, as Harlan Thrombey’s gigantic mansion is not only unique exterior-wise, but inside, is decorated with antique furniture and an assortment of ghoulish accoutrements, including crystal skulls, oil paintings, artwork that resembles giant eyeballs and, of course, a large metallic spiral of knives and other sharp implements. All of this elegant set design greatly adds to the already pleasing visuals of Steve Yedlin’s cinematography, but there’s no denying that characters and humour are certainly the biggest draws of Knives Out as a whole.

By that same token, the original score by Nathan Johnson (Rian Johnson’s cousin) never overshadows the comedy or drama unfolding on-screen, but instead enhances it. Matching the highbrow, old-fashioned style of Harlan’s grand mansion, the symphonic score plays more like a concerto for strings than a traditional film soundtrack. With tracks like Knives Out! (String Quartet in G Minor), Like Father, Like Son and The Thrombey Family Theme, all being wonderful pieces of classical pastiche dripping with a rich, gothic atmosphere.

Interestingly, Nathan was not the only member of Rian Johnson’s extended family to assist in the production of Knives Out, as Rian also brought on board two further cousins of his; Mark Johnson, who assembled the film’s opening titles and designed a font based on a series of Agatha Christie paperbacks, and Zack Johnson, who painted the cast portraits seen in the end credits. Further adding to the film’s high-class stylings and inadvertently tieing into the story’s focus on familial relations.

In summary, Knives Out is a sly, wry and stylish throwback to the murder mysteries of yesteryear, with a splashing of self-aware humour to boot. Updating the genre for modern audiences whilst simultaneously satisfying fans of the classic whodunits, Knives Out demonstrates (in a similar sense to many contemporary westerns), that some of the genres we may perceive as defunct are, in actuality, still far from gone, and that we could potentially see more from these less prevalent, but immensely enjoyable genres, in the future. Rating: 8/10.

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Last Christmas (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 1 Comment

“There’s No Such Thing as Normal. It’s a Stupid Word.” – Tom

While on paper, 2019’s Last Christmas might have seemed like a recipe for success, with two charismatic leads in Emilia Clarke and Henry Golding alongside a soundtrack consisting of innumerable George Michael songs, all wrapped up in a festive London setting under the watchful eye of proficient comedy director Paul Feig (Spy, Bridesmaids, A Simply Favor). In execution, Last Christmas is never as humorous or affectionate as it thinks it is, with many scenes coming across as incredibly dull and derivative as the film lacks originality to such an extent that audiences will frequently be reminded of romantic-comedy classics like Love Actually (2003) and The Holiday (2006), as they sit through its poorly conceived story and underbaked subplots.

Plot Summary: While working at a year-round Christmas store and sofa-surfing instead of facing her overbearing mother, aspiring singer and frustrated Londoner, Kate, meets Tom, an alluring young man who charms her with his unusual observations, challenging Kate’s cynical outlook on the world as a result of her dysfunctional relationships and continuously unsuccessful auditions…

Written by actress Emma Thompson, who also appears in the film as Kate’s mother, Petra. Last Christmas evidently takes a lot of inspiration from well-known Christmas rom-coms, such as the previously mentioned; Love Actually. Only, in this case, it becomes difficult to tell the two apart after a while, as Last Christmas has very few distinctions in terms of both story and visuals, only being set apart by its pivotal plot twist, which some may find absurdly over-the-top and frustrating. Sadly, for a romantic-comedy, Last Christmas also falls short when it comes to humour, with many of the film’s gags seeming either immature or foreseeable, as the film rapidly cuts between the characters trying to make it appear as if their quips are transpiring non-stop.

The characters themselves, however, are one of the better aspects of the film, with Kate’s journey from being a self-hating, narcissistic borderline alcoholic, to a content woman savouring every second of her life is enjoyable to watch even in spite of its predictability. And Clarke portrays the character well, leaning more into her actual personality off-camera as a witty, self-effacing and expressive individual. Henry Golding also breaks away from his usual roles for his performance as Tom, behaving like a handsome goofball as he and Kate wander through the streets of London, never caring what those around him may think. With that said, the main issue with the characters is their absence of backstory, as whilst we are told many things about Kate and her sombre past, including when she was severely unwell the previous Christmas, eventually leading her to have a heart transplant. We never see a flashback of this event or anything similar beyond a brief mention, which is a problem that also applies to Kate’s desire to become a West End star as well as the many friends of hers she supposedly screwed over in the past while temporarily living with them.

When it comes to the visuals, the cinematography by John Schwartzman conveys the narrative effectively enough, yet barely experiments outside of standard mid shots or the occasional wide shot/close-up. A tremendous missed opportunity considering the many brightly light and architecturally captivating streets the characters walk down, which are regularly littered with enchanting Christmas decorations and lights, even if they are primarily white, silver or gold as opposed to multicoloured.

In addition to the music of George Michael and Wham!, which is, of course, weaved into the film in almost every scene. The original score by Theodore Shapiro fills in the gaps in-between, with tracks like Secret Garden, Self-Pity Party and Take Care, serving as relaxing breaks from the film’s relentless use of beloved Christmas songs. Yet, this score is worthy of praise in itself, retaining many tracks that are beautiful and melancholic pieces that encapsulate the festive setting without exaggerating it through the use of chime bells.

Peculiarly, Last Christmas also features a subplot revolving around post-Brexit xenophobia as Kate and her family first came into the United Kingdom as refugees from former Yugoslavia. Now, her mother cowers in her home, watching news reports of right-wing demonstrations. A bizarre choice for a Christmas film to be sure, but even more bizarre considering this idea never goes anywhere and isn’t brought up until the second act. Still, at least one good thing comes out of these moments, as we find out Kate’s full name is Katarina, yet she refuses to be called by it, spending much of the film reasserting her own Britishness. A compelling idea that once again, goes nowhere and only feels as if it was put into the screenplay for the sake of political relevance as opposed to emotional weight or social commentary.

In summary, even though the combination of iconic Christmas music, a cosy, festive aesthetic and picturesque London scenery should outweigh what flaws Last Christmas has, they don’t quite achieve their goal by the runtime’s end as the film’s constant use of clichés, exposition-heavy dialogue and feeble gags soon become far too overbearing. Ultimately leaving Last Christmas a digestible film at best and an irritating one at worst, even if its climactic plot twist is very much in line with the story’s wistful yuletide spirit. Rating: high 4/10.

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Brightburn (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Maybe There Is Something Wrong With Brandon. He May Look Like Us, but He’s Not Like Us!” – Kyle Breyer

An inversion of the illustrious Superman origin story, Brightburn, released in 2019, is a film with an aggressively simple pitch, essentially boiling down to; “What if the Man of Steel was Humanity’s Oppressor Rather Than its Saviour?” And, even though the film doesn’t fully follow through on that enthralling premise, predominantly due to its sketchy screenplay and an often botched sense of dread, Brightburn crossbreeds horror tropes with superhero staples in an effective enough fashion to at least offer something unique for enthusiasts of both genres in the face of its many defects.

Plot Summary: After a difficult struggle with fertility, Tori Breyer’s dreams of motherhood become a reality when a child from another world crash-lands on her farm, later naming the boy; Brandon Breyer. But, years later, as Brandon nears puberty, a darkness begins to manifest within him, leading Tori, and her husband, Kyle, to become overwhelmed with terrible doubts concerning their son, doubts that soon put them in grave danger…

Directed by David Yarovesky (The Hive, Nightbooks) and written by James Gunn’s brother and cousin, Brian Gunn and Mark Gunn, respectively. Brightburn certainly succeeds in its primary goal: setting up an almost identical scenario to Superman’s origin story before taking the narrative in a far darker direction. And the film clearly has no pretences with what it’s drawing from, as Brightburn actually shares many similarities to Superman’s comic book run beyond just its story. From Brandon Breyer’s name following the comic book convention of superheroes with alliterative first and last names, such as Clark Kent, Peter Parker and Bruce Banner, to the story being set in Kansas, the same state where Kal-El first touched down and later grew up to become Superman. The film’s connections to the Caped Wonder are ever-present, even extending to the costume design in certain scenes as Brandon wears combinations of blue, red and yellow, the principal colours of Superman’s iconic outfit. Still, all this association doesn’t fix what is Brightburn‘s most substantial problem; its runtime. With the plot being squeezed into a very brief ninety-one minutes, the film is unable to waste any time, jumping straight into Brandon discovering his abilities and embracing his detrimental side. Thus, the story allows for little emotional investment, with much of the first act being nothing but scene after scene of what seems like trailer-made moments.

When it comes to the cast, Elizabeth Banks and David Denman share most of the film’s character-related scenes as the pair portray concerned parents starting to suspect that their blessing from the stars might, in actuality, be a scourge. However, whilst this is an acceptable start for writing your central characters, Tori and Kyle have little nuance and barely any development outside of the love (and eventual doubt) they share for their son. Then there is Brandon Breyer himself, portrayed by the young actor Jackson A. Dunn, who does a great job not only considering his age but also a similar lack of characterisation, as once Brandon’s twelfth birthday arrives, his sociopathic behaviour suddenly arises, morphing him from an innocent child to a homicidal supervillain so swiftly it appears absurdly forced, even if Dunn’s performance does help to make the transition feel slightly more believable through his complete absence of emotion during the latter half of the film.

Aside from some pleasant visual nods to further associate itself with the character of Superman, including a sweeping rural setting and accompanying farmhouse, interchangeable with that of Clark Kent’s humble abode. The cinematography by Michael Dallatorre is fairly unremarkable, usually just displaying shots without much thought or creativity put into them. With that said, many of the film’s CG effects are solid, especially when taking into account the film’s budget, which was considerably smaller than most modern superhero blockbusters.

Despite being described as a merging of superhero and horror soundtracks, make no mistake that the bulk of the original score for Brightburn, composed by Tim Williams, is firmly entrenched in the horror genre, with tracks usually starting out slow and composed before warping into something far more nightmarish, likely symbolising Brandon’s gradual corruption from the evil that dwells within him. This idea is further illustrated by the unnerving sound design as the more Brandon falls into the abyss of immorality, the more distorted voices he begins to hear, each speaking an uncanny extraterrestrial language.

Unfortunately, between the two previously mentioned genres that Brightburn attempts to represent, the film undoubtedly appears underbaked on the horror side of things as Brightburn lazily relies on clichéd horror concepts like flickering lights and jolting curtains. Meaning that it’s a rarity the film actually tries to build tension or have any frightening occurrences outside of loud jump-scares or the admittedly gruesome ways Brandon disposes of his victims.

In summary, between the red cape and blazing heat-vision, Brightburn is a film that knows exactly what it is; an immoral retelling of an established superhero’s beginnings, complete with plenty of violence and an abundance of horror trickery. Yet, all of the film’s spectacle ultimately feels meaningless when compared to its deficiency of strong characterisation and emotional depth. As such, a majority of the film’s most entertaining moments come at the expense of understanding any of the characters on a deeper level, consequently leaving Brightburn a film that never manages to strive past the subversive elevator pitch it was originally conceived as. Rating: high 5/10.

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The Wretched (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 1 Comment

“I Like This House…” – Sara

When it comes to the horror genre, sometimes you don’t desire a film that sets out to rewrite the rules of spine-tingling storytelling. Instead, you occasionally find yourself simply wanting to dim the lights and ensconce with a low-budget popcorn flick, and 2019’s The Wretched is firmly one of those films. With appealingly modest ambitions, The Wretched utilises its cast of unknowns, unique creature design and admirable emphasis on body horror as effectively as its thin budget will allow. And, even though the film is far from a game-changer for the realm of supernatural horror, The Wretched still manages to overcome most of its flaws to serve as an engaging, if fairly foreseeable, tale of witchcraft and body-snatching.

Plot Summary: After being sent to live with his father for the summer on account of his parents’ imminent divorce, defiant teenager Ben begins to suspect there is something wrong with his father’s next-door neighbour, eventually discovering that there is an execrable entity lurking beneath her skin…

Originally titled; Hag, before being changed following negative feedback from test audiences. The Wretched was certainly a departure for writer-director duo Brett Pierce and Drew T. Pierce, as the pair’s prior film, Deadheads, released in 2011, was a zombie road-trip comedy. Even so, this leap in tone and genre rarely seems to impair The Wretched from a directorial standpoint, as the film leaps headfirst into its grim tone and horrifying visuals right from the opening scene. And, whilst the film struggles to balance its plot threads from time to time, it quickly becomes clear that the central source of inspiration for the story was the low-budget creature-features of the 1980s, tied together with a desire to create a newfangled interpretation of witchcraft and revitalise hags into terrifying antagonists.

Acting out since his parents’ separation, seventeen-year-old Ben, competently portrayed by John-Paul Howard, is the protagonist. And, while it’s always challenging to portray an angsty teenager, due to the concern of said character becoming incredibly abrasive, Howard pulls it off successfully, portraying Ben as a frustrated and confused adolescent struggling to come to terms with his altered life. Furthermore, The Wretched even aims to justify the common horror trope of parents not believing their children once the supernatural occurrences begin, as when Ben attempts to explain the situation to his father, Ben’s past transgressions of trespassing and stealing medicine come to light, prompting his father to dismiss his claims as either lies or delusions. The supporting cast, including Piper Curda, Jamison Jones, Azie Tesfai and Zarah Mahler, is also serviceable in their minor roles as members of the lakeside community where his father resides.

Shot near Omena and Northport, Michigan, close to the Pierce brothers’ hometown, the cinematography for The Wretched by Conor Murphy often ranges in quality as some scenes are beautifully shot, with a strong emphasis on close-ups, whereas others (usually during conversations between characters) merely rely on dull, hand-held shots. With that said, when working in synch with each other, the camerawork and lighting do a remarkable job of masking the creature early on in the story, only giving the audience brief glimpses of the witch in her contorted, feral state before later displaying the film’s full range of prosthetic make-up and practical effects.

Excluding the ominous theme for the titular witch heard in the tracks; Woods and The Wretched Appears, both of which feature avant-garde strings led by a manipulated sarangi, the original score by Devin Burrows admittedly has some room for improvement as tracks, like Don’t Let Her In, Honey… Beer? and Broken Window repeatedly overuse strings and brass horns to the point where the tracks become too disruptive to the narrative, often mismatching with whatever shot is on-screen.

Of course, the witch herself is unquestionably the film’s primary draw, and The Wretched presents its titular creature with pride, making sure to include all of the most off-putting aspects of the creature’s devilish design and malicious nature. And, whilst the witch isn’t grounded in any specific mythology, with the screenplay only providing minor hints towards its origins, the witch’s carved symbols, salt fragility and quasi-religious shrines all give the creature an element of personality when outside of its human disguise. Speaking of which, the way the creature is presented when inside a body is just as disturbing as we, the audience, along with Ben, observe how the witch practically lives the life of the person whose skin she now inhabits, caring for her decaying body the best she can as the Wretched attempts to act human, each day climbing closer to feasting on the unfortunate children of the mother she is impersonating.

In summary, although The Wretched isn’t as polished as it could be in certain areas, I feel this well-paced horror flick will please most genre fanatics, even in spite of its occasional visual continuity errors, corny dialogue and lack of focus regarding the dual plot lines. The Wretched still delivers on its promise of a skin-crawling creature-feature reminiscent of ’80s cult classics. The film is also one of the few horror films I’d personally like to see a sequel or prequel to someday, as I feel the concept of a witch that feeds on the forgotten is an intriguing idea that doesn’t reach its full potential here, but undoubtedly could in a more refined film. Rating: 6/10.

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