Claire Scanlon directs Zoey Deutch, Glen Powell and Lucy Liu in this romantic comedy where two overworked assistants to megalomaniacs decide to set up their demanding bosses romantically to free up their schedules.
Slept on this one. The attractive stars have a strong rapport and the jokes come quick and fast. Not groundbreaking but hit all the buttons I would want a romcom to.
Éric Gravel directs Laure Calamy, Anne Suarez and Nolan Arizmendi in this everyday French thriller where a single mum faces a national strike that disrupts her daily commute and her potentially life changing job interview over a week of unpredictable back and forth.
Can you make the connection that does not exist? Can you skip out of work undetected to make the important appointment? Can you stretch the overdraft to buy the new professional suit and the kids’ breakfasts? I came to this via John Waters. I don’t hold his Top Ten recs of the year sacrosanct. 2020’s list was headed up with Butt Boy which I’m going to go out on a limb and predict has little for me in it. Yet Full Time was an outlier. Not a film I expected to see make his cut and that piqued my interest. Why! Isn’t! The! U.K.! Making! Films! Like! This! Exciting dramas that reflect everyday life. Gifting talented actors complex lead roles and shining a light on the struggles of those of us who work for a living. This is a feature length stress headache. Anything that can go wrong does, and you aren’t always sure our hero is the innocent victim of this hellish rat race. The ending really reaches a bleak but believable break point and then the whole carousel starts up again. A new rock bottom awaits. Nerve racking from teeth to tits.
Hirokazu Kore-eda directs Sakura Andō, Eita Nagayama and Sōya Kurokawa in this mystery drama where a Japanese mother begins to notice signs of bullying at her son’s school yet the formal culture of the hierarchy means we are never sure as to who is the monster and who is the victim.
The first act of this is genuinely compelling. Like an Anatomy Of A Fall, mundane, grind of the system, whodunnit vice. Sakura Andō is true and sympathetic as the mother who knows something is rotten in Denmark but cannot navigate the clear conspiracy of deference to get to the bottom of who is the villain here. The second act, Rashomon-style, takes us back and explores a differing perspective of events. The teacher who seemed so feckless and off-key is now humanised and dedicated. Hardly seems the same man? Then the children get their turn in the spotlight. And they don’t seem to care about the fallout to the adults as they explore their own relationship. In the closing shots it feels like no adults exist anymore. There are potent motifs. We begin and end in disaster. Shoes that don’t fit, scars we never see the source of. Starts so strong, what follows is still good but you feel a little cheated when the shifts in perspective offer less and less.
Ethan Coen directs Margaret Qualley, Geraldine Viswanathan and Beanie Feldstein in the crime caper comedy where two lesbian pals get out of town and start a new life but their rental car has some dark cargo hidden within.
At the start of this new decade, the unthinkable happened. Joel and Ethan decided to put their 40 year working relationship on pause, do “solo” projects with their respective spouses and now it suddenly seems like we know exactly who brings what to a Coen Brothers film. The Tragedy Of Macbeth might be indisputably the better made project, formally exciting and technically astounding, but it ain’t anywhere near as dirty loose and sugar sweet as this. Feels like Ethan has rolled back the clock to The Big Lebowski days… and I’m there for that. Nothing here tries too hard, it is deeply throwaway but in a way that has been missing from multiplexes since A Life Less Ordinary. Positives: Stacked cast. Unpretentious sex scenes. Wonderfully verbose dialogue. Gun totin’ shocks. Dumb support by lovely character actors. An overriding sense of the absurd. Bonkers transitions. Qualley absolutely understand the assignment and this will gain her more fans. That Coen exclusive dialogue falls out from her mouth perfectly. If you are a fan of hotties with big eyebrows this will sate your thirst. Slight but never dull.
George C. Wolfe directs Colman Domingo, Chris Rock and Jeffrey Wright in this biopic of gay activist Bayard Rustin who helped change the course of Civil Rights history by orchestrating the 1963 March on Washington.
A click above most recent Civil Rights movies in that Rustin was quite the loquacious character rather than a dull saint, and instead of uniform worthiness all the ensemble of historical figures have a combative frisson that creates comedy as often as it does drama. Should changing the world be this much fun? A powerhouse lead turn by character actor Domingo really motors the movie. The finale is done on the cheap however. Feels like only a dozen people turn up for the historic 100,000 Man March. Surely, producers Barack and Michelle could have kicked in an extra million bucks for three days of crowd scenes or negotiated the additional budget from Netflix?
Sergei Eisenstein directs Nikolai Cherkasov, Lyudmila Tselikovskaya, Serafima Birman and Mikhail Nazvanov in this Soviet biopic of 16th century tsar who unified Russia.
Two parts, over three hours, with an abrupt switch to colour in the last act. I watched this uninterrupted all over an afternoon. It kinda washed over me but I was never left behind by the conspiracies and powerplays. Visually striking, lots of memorable close-ups of faces being sinister.
Michael Powell directs Conrad Veidt, Sebastian Shaw and Valerie Hobson in this WWI thriller where a German U-Boat captain must make contact with a female spy on a Orkney island.
Powell’s first collaboration with Emeric Pressburger is a neat little thriller with twists, turns, sexiness and humanity. Hobson is particularly good as the agent that even we the audience, who surely can see everything, cannot trust. She has bristling chemistry with magnetic German silent film star Veidt. A solid rehash of the Hitchcock’s early talkies but with a plot switcheroo in the middle that will make you want to rewatch it again instantly.
Albert Magnoli and Prince direct Prince, Morris Day, Apollonia Kotero, Cat Glover, Boni Boyer and Sheila E. in this vanity project and concert film both made to promote his latest albums respectively.
Decided to have me a little Prince night while Natalie was away. Not sure why? He isn’t really as Eighties important to my musical tastes (or my definition of cool) as say Madonna, MJ or David Byrne. The highly regarded Purple Rain is a travesty. I’m not sure what people see here. Camp, vacuous and shoddy. Prince is a creepy little misogynist in it. He looks like an utter nerd bombing around scrubland on his puce scooter. The sex scenes with Apollonia (who is credible dramatically) are laughable. The jerky tragedy pretentious. Morris Day gives a spirited yet amateur performance as the silly heel. Are people watching this with a straight face? The music video chunks are undeniably iconic though.
When Prince’s 1987 album Sign ‘O’ The Times underperformed in the stores he decided to make a concert movie to sell the concept experience visually. Footage shot on the European tour didn’t relay his vibe so he shot a fake concert at Paisley Park and this is the result. I care about this track list less (there’s only on or two singles I’d listen to on semi-regular rotation) but the production is grandiose. So much dry ice and strobing colour lighting that Prince and his ensemble of house performers get lost in the gargantuan overkill. Interludes that suggest some Greek tragedy (Hello, Purple Rain) and sets that could come from a million dollar steampunk Brechtian play. So the music isn’t up to his gold standard, the vibe is humping and pumping.
Murray Lerner directs Roger Daltrey, Keith Moon and Pete Townshend in this concert movie of The Who’s appearance at the third (and their final) Isle of Wight festival.
3am and the zonked out hippies are pinging to Fiddlin’ About. What does that do to the brain? You can’t deny the power and the energy of the performance here. Full thrust can’t-give-a-fuck ROCK. Entwistle in a BDSM skeleton suit, Moon absolutely chewing his own face off while drumming. There’s tension when a skin breaks and Townshend keeps the show on the road with an ominous guitar solo. We get a truncated Tommy megamix. Yet the poor angles of the camera crew and the repetitive crowd shots only give you an obscured glance at what a overpowering experience this would have been.
Carter Smith directs Jena Malone, Shawn Ashmore and Laura Ramsey in this horror where six young tourists become trapped at a Mayan Temple where death is inevitable.
On paper, there’s much here to like. A decent hook for a horror. Potential for set pieces. Full fat body horror. Nudity. Jena Malone playing against type. The Ruins just doesn’t congeal. There’s no sense of narrative urgency. The dumb kids just accept their fate. Instead of hoping they’ll survive increasingly grim odds you are left waiting for a bunch of annoying characters to just… die. At least they die nasty.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 