David O. Russell directs Jason Schwartzman, Naomi Watts and Jude Law in this “existential comedy” where a struggling activist allows various philosophical detectives to investigate his life to diagnose his feeling of unease over a chance encounter.
Second attempt to sift some pleasure out of this self-satisfied folly. I thought, maybe, I was too young when I first bought a ticket for this on opening weekend. Nope, I❤️H is far up its own arse that it wastes Dustin Hoffman, Lily Tomlin and Isabelle Huppert. Abysmal.
2
Perfect Double Bill: Flirting With Disaster (1996)
David Hand directs Adriana Caselotti, Lucille La Verne and Harry Stockwell in this fairytale romance, Walt Disney’s first feature length animated classic.
Tough to write anything new about a ground breaker, a game changer, a bonafide classic. Undisputed. The wishing well song at the start is very impressive. Inventive shot composition. The Evil Queen fantastic. I personally could do with a little less of the meeting of the dwarves… but that’s just me. On the whole this is consistently magical. Quite the achievement.
Andrew Dominik directs Ana De Armas, Julianne Nicholson and Bobby Cannavale in this fictionalised biopic of Marilyn Monroe’s private life – the abuse, trauma and delusions that destroyed her.
I’ve loved every feature Dominik has made until now. This is fifty miles of bad road though. Exhausting, dangerous, gonna leave you obliterated. I think that is the overriding intention of what Dominik and De Armas wanted to achieve. If so, Blonde is bang on target but that doesn’t mean it will be particularly rewatchable. Like last year’s Spencer, this is a powerhouse acting turn from an unmannered modern screen beauty in an abrasive maximalist film. She probably should win Best Actress at the Oscars in spring… she won’t. This ain’t no Oscar bait, heavy formula, biopic.
Scenes are lengthy, tragedy is lingered on clinically. Norma Jean’s childhood is an inferno of loneliness, poverty and mania. The five star sequence that opens the story is worthy of Kubrick in its patience and precision. A fantastic Julianne Nicholson driving her vulnerable daughter into a Hollywood Hills forest fire feels so far from the cookie cutter hardship prologues of say Ray… or The Jerk.
This is filmmaking from another planet. The precision recreation of Marilyn’s iconic big screen and tabloid moments are done with uncanny authenticity. But the length of the beast, the nihilism of the intent is exhausting. There are definitely elements that are off putting. Warren Ellis and Nick Cave’s score is intrusive.The framing of certain sexual acts is laughably awkward. The parade of CGI foetuses is leaned into with ever diminishing returns. I don’t give a toot about factual accuracy. This is a descent – closer to Lynch’s Fire Walk With Me or Mulholland Dr. than Bohemian Rhapsody or Chaplin. Nearly all the scenes of sex and nudity have a nightmarish quality. Alien pornography… pummelling vulnerability. For a NC-17 full of gorgeous flesh I reckon some teenagers are going to have some very challenging wanks to this. Best of luck to them. I can’t see myself putting myself through this three hour emotional meat grinder again any time soon but I do admire the rare craft and meaty flavour of it all. A work of uncomfortable vision.
David Cronenberg directs Viggo Mortensen, Léa Seydoux and Kristen Stewart in this body horror sci-fi where a visual artist grows new organs in his body and his creative partner removes them for gallery shows.
Very dry. Lots of exposition in deadpan by characters with thesaurus sourced names. Had a little nap towards the end but Natalie assures me I didn’t miss too much nudity or biomechanical furniture devices. Kristen Stewart floats around like a curious little bureaucratic Tinkerbell… but not in nearly enough scenes.
Yann Gonzalez directs Vanessa Paradis, Nicolas Maury and Kate Moran in this thriller where a producer of gay porn tries to keep her movies going despite a masked killer stalking her cast.
Giallo meets queer rough trade. Gorgeous film to look at but it runs out of steam after the first act. Struggled to hold my attention once I grew accustomed to the visuals. Notable only really for Simon Beaufils lush cinematography and saucy use of Paradis.
John Smith directs the residents on a street in Dalston as they pass his camera in this black-and-white avant-garde film.
Two shots: the first is a documentary long take of people going about their business on a Saturday afternoon while a narrator / director instructs them of their cue to enter the shot. Orchestrating the minimalist hustle and bustle of Seventies London high street life. As the spoken control of the passing street population continues, the instruction become more self-aware and God like, then also the tone begins to contain a sense of frantic desperation. You can approach it as a wonderful little time capsule of a British city… or as a meta commentary on filmmaking as a means of control over time and environment. Command and surveillance mixed with the absurd. I have read that Smith intended it as a rebuff of the then new racially motivated Stop And Search policy of the Metropolitan Police. This is the second time I’ve watched these gloriously fascinating, deceptively simple, 12 minutes. One of my favourite short films. I shan’t ruin the second shot.
Taika Waititi directs Chris Hemsworth, Natalie Portman and Christian Bale in this Marvel superhero adventure comedy where Thor reclaims his standing in the universe only to find his mortal ex-girlfriend has assumed his mantle.
Didn’t bother with this at the multiplex. Turned out to be the right call. Messy, indulgent, self satisfied. Bale’s Gorr The God Butcher is a freakish antagonist… but he gets lost in a numbing jumble of mega budget soap, sitcom, snark and weightless spectacle. My buddy Russell Crowe also shows up for a dud extended cameo – at least he got a few beers out of the Marvel juggernaut.
Céline Sciamma directs Joséphine Sanz, Gabrielle Sanz and Nina Meurisse in this French time warp fantasy where a grieving eight year old gets to spend a week playing with her mother back when she was the same age.
Big themes tackled in a low key, accessible way. Felt slightly minor to me but always beautiful.
Allen Coulter directs Ben Affleck, Diane Lane and Adrian Brody in this true crime story of Fifties Hollywood where a sleazy private eye tries to exploit the murky death of the first actor to play Superman, George Reeves.
Affleck is very impressive here as the B-movie star who knows his career is running out of winning moves. His fall makes for a decent enough murder mystery that goes off the boil whenever we aren’t focusing on him and Lane. They are so anachronistically glamorous a pairing in period dress that you just crave more from them than the story structure can allow. Don’t want to plonk the blame entirely at a damp Brody’s door but he really struggles to carry his half of the movie. Nothing is really resolved by the end. Feels more “Meh!” than “Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown…”
Jon Nguyen directs David Lynch, Jack Nance and Peggy Lentz in this documentary following the artistic journey of celebrated filmmaker and surrealist painter David Lynch.
An extension / reduction of the autobiography Room To Dream. Childhood to Eraserhead with some wobbly submerged memories only alluded to. The real joys are getting to see all that Lynch art (thick textured paint, scribbled nightmare juice) which I’d guess belongs to a slew of private collectors, and a man who has achieved a happy existence through his talent and vision. I don’t love every film Lynch has made but he’s certainly the modern cinematic voice I cherish the most. Nice to tinker around his enigmatic but always guarded head for a bit…
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 