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SXSW 2024: Ryan Gosling & Emily Blunt’s Chemistry Ignites THE FALL GUY (2024)
Universal It seems reports on the demise of the movie star were premature.
While yes, The Fall Guy is based on a pre-existing IP (a Lee Majors tv show from the 1980s with one of the greatest tv theme songs of all time), it’s not an IP almost anyone below a certain age has even heard of today. Director David Leitch’s version of The Fall Guy is a Hollywood blockbuster built on firm old Hollywood foundations such as cracking dialog, star power wattage, and old school stunt work. It’s also a movie about making movies, which Hollywood has adored since its outset. It’s also the best damn time I’ve had in a movie theater here at SXSW 2024.
The Fall Guy is honestly cinematic catnip for me as an action movie aficionado. But what I think is important to point out is that while there’s a hundred easter eggs for lovers of action movies and stunt work, this movie plays for comedy lovers and romance fans as well. We meet Ryan Gosling’s Colt Seavers when he’s flying high: Hopelessly in love with Emily Blunt’s Jody Moreno. He’s a stunt man and she’s got dreams of being a director. He’s been the go to stunt double for top Hollywood star Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson nailing a hilarious riff on Matthew McConaughey) for years and despite Ryder being a tool, he couldn’t ask for much more. Until he’s majorly injured on set and disappears from the world for a couple years. But when Ryder’s producer Gail (Ted Lasso’s Hannah Waddingham) calls to get Seaver’s to help Jody finish her directorial debut amidst the hush-hushed disappearance of Ryder, he’s on a plane in an instant with a hope to rekindle things with Jody after he blew it.
Everything works when it comes to the romance of The Fall Guy. I’m quite the opposite of a romantic comedy aficionado, but even I can appreciate when sparks fly and obstacles arise and all you want in the whole world is for the guy to make it on time to that date and not spoil everything. It’s a great dynamic that they both clearly love each other, but Jody has been burned and is on the cusp of a major career breakthrough as the director of the mega-blockbuster Metal Storm, a cowboy/alien sci-fi blockbuster. And Colt is trying to help her finish her movie by keeping it under wraps that he’s actually trying to locate her missing star. The whole premise is honestly delightful and makes for enough comedic bits, charming romance, and action set pieces to please all four quadrants. There’s something for men and women, young and old, in this David Leitch vehicle.
But more than anything, The Fall Guy is an unrepentant love letter to the stunt community that has brought us cinematic thrills and chills since the dawn of the medium. While there’s still no Oscar awarded to the stunt community, The Fall Guy’s mere existence is another brick in the wall of the argument that the Academy absolutely must adopt a new award for these crucial talents in cinema. Leitch himself is the perfect blockbuster director to take on this material, as he came up as a stuntman for decades before making the leap to filmmaker with a little known actioner called… John Wick! He’s since tackled various big blockbuster titles to varying degrees of success with Atomic Blonde, Hobbs & Shaw, and Bullet Train. Whatever you thought about any of the films he’s directed thus far, I’m here to say that The Fall Guy is the perfect marriage of maker to material. Leitch is one of the leaders of action design firm 87Eleven, and a branch or offshoot of that action design company, 87North, was heavily involved in this production. So Leitch was simply primed to explode with this material, showing off all that the stunt community can do, honoring, referencing, and riffing on great action cinema quotes and stunts throughout the runtime. He also makes the case for that Oscar, showcasing old school stunts and even breaking a barrel roll vehicle flip record on this production. And he does it all while ALSO simply making a fantastic movie with the perfectly generous cast who are willing to humbly point the spotlight at the behind the camera talent that make movie magic happen.
Speaking of that cast, it isn’t just the leads I’ve mentioned thus far that make an impression. You’ve also got Winston Duke, Stephanie Hsu, and even a damn dog that charms its way through this thing. A cameo or two may also delight audiences who are paying attention.
If I had anything critical to say about the film, it does have some dodgy CG elements in a set piece or two, but those are easily looked over amidst a full on charm offensive and a tongue-in-cheek tone that reveres its action without ever taking itself too seriously. And with any modern genre blend experiment things can get a little overly complicated at times in terms of set pieces that have to have a million moving parts to hold a modern audience’s attention. But those are minor quibbles to be sure, and while mileage can always vary in terms of how much chemistry or subjective humor translates from one person to the next, I personally feel The Fall Guy is one of the most outright entertaining blockbusters audiences will see in 2024.
As has always been the tradition, come for the beautiful people emblazoned on the silver screen, and stay for the laughs and thrills of the characters you’ll come to love thanks to all the below the line talent that work their asses off to make the stars shine. It’s old school, it’s tried and true, and it makes you feel great about going to the cinema again.
And I’m Out.
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SXSW 2024: Alice Lowe’s TIMESTALKER Tells of Obsession Across the Ages
A fantastical and bloody affair weaving together romance, revenge, and reincarnation
Winston Churchill once said, “Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” It’s an idea that runs through the core of Timestalker, or more specifically the lives of it’s protagonist Agnes (Alice Lowe). We first meet her in Scotland, 1688, where upon attending a public execution, falls madly in love with a heretic preacher (Aneurin Barnard). Minutes later she dies, pretty gruesomely, and with her dying breath pledges to find him. A generation later, we meet Agnes in a new reincarnated form. Surrounded by opulence, she has an ache in her heart that she cannot fill, until she encounters a highwayman (Aneurin Barnard again) who has aspirations of fame and notoriety. Her pursuit of him again results in her death, this time at the hands of her loathsome husband George (Nick Frost), who after her betrayal promises to punish her in eternity. A trio now eternally entwinned, in an ever repeating cycle. Unto each generation an Agnes is born, and each time her lovestruck nature leads her to her doom, which is typically a form of decapitation. Timestalkers is a romp through the ages, following Agnes’ mistakes and misadventures across time and space. Until 1980s New York, when an incarnation finally starts to reflect on matters of the heart and mind, as well as her complicated past.
Back in 2017, Alice Lowe (Sightseers, Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace) delivered unto SXSW Prevenge, a slasher driven by the melancholic brooding and anger that consumed a prenatal woman. Lowe served as writer, director, and star of the film, and if that wasn’t impressive enough, she was actually pregnant during the shoot. Lowe is back with her with a love-story of sorts. Timestalker, another showcase for Lowe’s particular brand of dark and dry humor, was similarly affected by real-world occurrences, notably the pandemic and another pregnancy. A six year effort in total, to get things off the ground, finally cumulating in a 22 day shoot to get the film made.
The result is a beguiling affair. Witty, dark, and at times pitch perfectly silly. Visually inventive, and playful in structure and design. Dreamy cinematography is complemented by a moody and playful soundtrack by UK outfit Toydrum. Granted, there’s certainly a sense that the finances didn’t match Lowe’s imagination, but it adds a clunky charm to proceedings.
At its core,Timestalker is a film about mortality, or more specifically about how you use the time you have. Even though you may have multiple lives, if you don’t use them correctly, whats the point. The cyclic nature of things is reinforced not just by the love-locked trio, but also by the support of Kate Dickie, Tanya Reynolds, and Jacob Anderson, who in their respective incarnations provide humor, as well as counsel for poor Agnes. It all feeds into a bit of a Blackadder feeling, which is no bad thing. While the trip through time is entertaining, the meat comes in 1980s New York, where flashes of her past lives force Agnes to engage in a spot of therapy to deal with her obsession. This time manifest in the form of Alex Phoenix, a Spandau Ballet-esque musician. Again, Agnes isn’t following her own path, just tied up in his and events conspire to help her break the wheel and look to reinvention, rather than reincarnation.
In the Q&A after the premiere, Lowe shared her inspirations and aspirations for the film, notably about trying to encapsulate artists chasing a dream. Agnes is a surrogate for that. A woman led by her heart not her head, ironically sacrificing her own future while we see this man achieve his own dreams of fame, albeit over a few hundred years. What Lowe achieves with Timestalkers is a distinct feat. A fantastical, bloody trip through time that champions the idea that you need to choose your own adventure, and not be so wrapped up in someone else’s.
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Catch Steven Soderbergh’s CONTAGION
A pandemic thriller that remains as potent and chilling as ever
During the COVID-19 pandemic, Contagion soared up the viewing charts for online streamers. A film that surely didn’t provide escapism, but perhaps tapped into the idea that misery loves company. It was also a testament to the intense glimpse director Steven Soderbergh (Ocean’s Eleven, Magic Mike) offered into seeing an unfolding pandemic, both in terms of the science and administrative efforts, and public fallout. Now, a few years after interest the film was renewed, WB sees fit to release a new 4K edition showcasing a transfer and restoration overseen by Soderbergh himself.
This medical thriller opens with a woman returning home after a business trip overseas. A cough she developed during transit develops into a fever. Soon after reaching home, she is wracked by seizures and despite reaching hospital, is soon pronounced dead. Around the globe, other people begin to fall to the same symptoms. A virus has emerged that combines a high level of infectivity with a high mortality rate. The virus spreads, cases mount, and death tolls rise. In response, agents of the Center for Disease control CDC, and World Health Organization (WHO) work to not only understand the virus, but to find a way to mount a defense against it. As this unfolds, supply chains and infrastructure collapses, quarantines and martial law roll out, and panic consumes the populace. Something fueled by political and profiteering groups and individuals who seek to exploit the tragedy and chaos for their own interests.
It sounds bleak, and oh so familiar. Rooted in reality, driven by numbers and human fear. This isn’t some sensationalist endeavor like Outbreak or 28 Days Later, it’s a chilling outline of a very real scenario should the worst thing happen at the worst time. From that first victim, we follow her husband and daughter, and others caught up in the wake of viral spread and societal collapse. Charts, conference calls, statistics, and transit routes, wrap around the human element. Numbers flash onto the screen showing populations of cities, teeing up a sense of foreboding. Viral dissemination is a numbers game, one fueled by connectivity, and the film nails that aspect. A documentarian feel is punctuated by shots lingering on people grasping a doorknob, scratching their face, or shaking hands. An obsessive and steady drip of visuals that mirror a counter, as people fall to infection. The direction is precise and propulsive, aided by a pulsating electronic score from Cliff Martinez.
The film is embedded in the process of science, the methodology, in cold stark numbers. Soderbergh, along with writing partner Scott Z. Burns (The Bourne Ultimatum, The Informant!) have a firm grasp on the subject and remain true to the idea that the real and natural horrors that exist around us, contain enough drama to propel the story. Running throughout is an investigative angle, as various entities and individuals seek the source of the outbreak, and possibly a host that can carry the virus without succumbing to it’s effects, in short, immunity, or at least tolerance. Other elements seek to calm the populace and deal with the corruptive influences of a blogger hawking his snake oil, ‘Forsythia’, a herbal ‘remedy’. The human component is embellished with an utterly stacked cast, including Marion Cotillard, Matt Damon, Laurence Fishburne, Jude Law, Gwyneth Paltrow, Kate Winslet, Bryan Cranston, Jennifer Ehle, and Sanaa Lathan. In many ways, it all feels like a throwback to the all-star disaster movies of the 60s and 70s. ALl massive talents, each encapsulating a part of the human ecosystem struck by this pandemic, and injecting the fear, panic, or professionalism needed.
What propels the film is this viral agent, named MEV-1. A fiction for the film, but one riffing off the Nipah virus, an infectious agent first isolated in 1999, and while infection typically runs it’s course in 2 weeks, the symptoms are pretty similar. Rooted in scientific knowledge, the film goes further in its response to the outbreak. Through the process it admirably showcases the persistence and at times heroism of science and scientists, something sorely needed in our society today. Fake news and outright lies to poorly paint scientific figures, and deny data driven approaches in favor of more politically motivated goals, is a regressive and destructive stance. While COVID-19 was a tragedy, it’s unlikely to be the last pandemic, and it might not even be the worst one we suffer in our lifetimes. So while Contagion is a piece of entertainment, that nugget of authenticity which make so intense, also underscores the importance of not only science, but of science communication. To push-back against mistruths, and serve societal good.
The Package
This 4K restoration of Contagion was sourced from an original camera negative (not shot on film so this statement is interesting) and overseen by Steven Soderbergh himself. The presentation is outstanding. Strong color reproduction with a natural palette, aside from those sepia of blue tints that are preserved in this restoration. Detail, even in darker scenes, is a standout. From start to finish, it’s a very fluid, sharp, and dynamic transfer. The release includes a digital version of the film, and a selection of legacy extras:
- The Reality of Contagion – Featurette: The only featurette of any length, and still only just over 10 minutes. It’s a rather stark look at pandemics our limited capabilities to deal with them
- The Contagion Detectives – Featurette: A 5 minute featurette that showcases the range of professional expertise that went into advising the cast and crew
- Contagion – How a Virus Changes the World –Featurette: A short, and tonally weird, look at how a virus fares in our world today
The Bottom Line
Contagion is a pulsating, pandemic-driven thriller that hits hard with it’s precision and pace. Elements stemming from Soderbergh’s assured direction. A chilling vision of a pandemic, but also notable championing of science, and the method that drives it. WB’s new 4K-UHD is a visual treat, and the perfect way to revisit this propulsive effort.
Contagion is available on 4K-UHD now
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SXSW 2024: MONKEY MAN: Writer/Director/Producer/Star Dev Patel Remembers Who He Really Is
Universal All of my life I’ve been a student of action cinema. It seems Dev Patel has been too. And the student is making a play to become the master.
Patel blew the roof off the historic Paramount Theater for the world premiere of his directorial debut Monkey Man at South By Southwest. Patel and producer Jordan Peele (Get Out, Nope) charmed the audience beforehand and the crowd was… vocal… in its love for Patel. In that intro for the film, Patel referenced his fandom not only of highly mainstream stars like Bruce Lee and Jet Li, but also Sammo Hung, Korean revenge films, and Indonesian masterpiece The Raid. He even threw in a mention of John Wick as his film shares a producer with that series in Basil Iwanyk. Those are the kind of homages and reference points that get an action aficionado’s pulse pounding. But did Patel deliver on those lofty goals?
Monkey Man is indeed an impressive calling card for Dev Patel: filmmaker, and Dev Patel: action star. The film is vibrant and energetic, feels highly auteur-driven, and in its third act it truly delivers on the promise of Patel’s influences. It’s also scrappy and messy and features that uniquely “first film” kind of energy where you can tell the filmmaker wanted to throw in EVERYTHING they’ve ever wanted to say just in case this is the only shot they ever get.
Patel’s character, unnamed, but known as “The Kid” in the end credits, and also going by the made up name of “Bobby”, is driven by a desire for revenge as we see him scrape by on the streets of Mumbai. We’ll learn as the movie progresses what happened to him as a child to spark that drive for revenge, but that will be somewhat teased out over the runtime of Monkey Man. What’s the title all about? Well, the kid’s mother raised him in the Hindu tradition, teaching him prayers and the tale of the monkey god Hanuman. When he’s grown, our protagonist earns extra scratch in an underground fighting ring emceed by Sharlto Copley in which he throws fights and wears an identity concealing monkey mask.
One of the best components of Monkey Man is that our lead is frankly a bit of a fuck up. The entire first act chronicles his attempts to become an assassin (a local police chief and a Hindu holy man on the verge of major political prominence are his targets) which go very poorly as he’s just essentially lost his way and operating on his own. In the second act the film isn’t quite as successful, but gives our Monkey Man a chance to make some familial and community connections which allow him to train up and “remember who you really are”. It’s the training montage sequence of the action movie and it taps into some of the cultural criticism of Indian society which Patel clearly has on his mind. He’ll bond with a woman trapped in sex work, he’ll be nursed back to health by an underground trans community, and the oppressed class will rise to draw some blood from the oppressive corrupt cops and gangster priests of their world.
Patel’s influences are displayed clearly. Overall it’s a revenge film maybe even more than it is a pure action film. It’s angry, single-minded in its pursuit of vengeance, and in that way it perhaps feels most akin to Korean titles like A Bittersweet Life. With its middle sequence it pays homage to “training montages” like 36th Chamber of Shaolin. And in that final act (by far the film’s most successful and crowd pleasing), Patel pays direct homage to Bruce Lee’s Game Of Death and Gareth Edwards’ The Raid with a harrowing and spiritual journey up a skyscraper compound. All of those influences are exciting and the crowd seemed to be cheering and along for the ride. What makes the film special, though, is that Patel brings all of himself to this story, and doesn’t just rattle off references. Mumbai, as cliché as it may sound, is indeed a living, breathing, complex and labyrinthine character in Monkey Man. I have never had the privilege to travel to India but Patel’s depiction of it teems with humanity and faith and mystery in a way that isn’t “exoticising” but rather energizing. The broken power systems made him the scarred orphan that he is, but the underdogs and outcasts make him the righteous avenger he needs to become. It’s a personal action film driven solely by Patel’s unrelenting vision, and that level of scrappiness, even if it is coming from a beloved international super star, is charming and infectious.
Some mild spoilers from Dev Patel for the Bruce Lee / Game Of Death homage in Monkey Man’s finale At SXSW 2023 I witnessed the world premiere of John Wick Chapter 4. I came away from that film declaring it an instant masterpiece; among the very best action films of any era, operating at a level of confidence and quality and determination that is almost unrivaled. Monkey Man isn’t that. It’s a swing from a star who wants to change the trajectory of his career and share a whole new skill set that his audience has never seen before. It sounds like production was absolute hell, with covid shutdowns, injuries, and threats of collapse at every turn. Monkey Man’s premiere, which drew a standing ovation for Patel afterwards, in which he was clearly emotional, marks a bit of a cinematic miracle in getting a hellish shoot to the finish line amidst seeming triumph. It’s scrappy and occasionally doesn’t all click together, but it’s a labor of love and passion and the underdog spirit of Monkey Man shines through to kick the ass of its audience. Monkey Man marks the arrival of a new era for Dev Patel and I’ll gladly go wherever he leads me cinematically from here on out.
And I’m Out.
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Book Review: BLACK CAESARS AND FOXY CLEOPATRAS is Essential Reading for Essential Watching
Film critic and historian Odie Henderson’s History of Blaxploitation Cinema informs and delights
Now available, veteran film critic Odie Henderson’s tome exploring the history of black cinema of the 70s is a must-read for fans of the genre – or anyone simply looking to dig in.
Black Caesars and Foxy Cleopatras is neither an encyclopedia of blaxploitation films, nor a collection of reviews, at least not in the traditional sense. Henderson does provide commentary and opinions on a great many films, but the structure and intent of the book is a historical telling of the story of blaxploitation cinema. Told chronologically, this history not only recounts the evolution of the genre, but couches it in its historical context as well. Year by year, each annualized section sets the stage of world news and current events, both sociopolitical and cultural.
Henderson understands the assignment, providing a straightforward narrative and colorful commentary that’s insightful and intelligent but not dryly academic. In other words, it’s a fun read and I learned a hell of a lot. He’s not afraid to include personal anecdotes and memories as a black child growing up in the 70s, which I found particularly compelling. As someone who is of a younger generation and for whom these movies precede my birth, I found this an incredibly effective approach. I’m a fan of the genre who has seen many of these films, but the historical context does provide new insights. It never occurred to me, for example, that Cotton Comes to Harlem had preceded Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song and Shaft – the two movies I had thought of as the genre’s jump-start.
The telling tracks not only the genre’s beginning, but its end as well. The genre fell off in the latter part of the 70s, and Henderson discusses the reasons for why this happened.
Year by year, Henderson tracks and reviews many of the genre’s films ranging from classics to obscurities, paying attention to trends and themes as well as which were written, directed, and produced by black talent. Besides tracking important actors and filmmakers, the book also devotes necessary attention to the composers and musicians who gave the genre its soul.
Tangential films are also covered as appropriate: Sidney Poitier movies, kung fu flicks, “counterprogramming”, and a new class of television sitcoms featuring black families. It’s all part of the overall story, and this is an unrushed approach: consider that Pam Grier’s breakout role in Coffy is covered in chapter 10, nearing the book’s halfway mark.
Henderson is funny and entertaining to read and even if I don’t agree with all of his opinions (most notably, an aside calling midlife malaise masterpiece The Big Chill a “lily-White piece of garbage” felt especially unkind and uncharacteristically thoughtless), it’s clear that he is the right author for this material, bringing a genuine affection, expert commentary, good vibes, and a critical eye – and some hearty chuckles.
The book is well-edited, although it does have a small printing flaw – on two chapters, the last page leading into a new section is cut off, accidentally inked over by a black chapter divider. In the big picture, it’s a small issue and in no way impeded my overall enjoyment of the book.
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Black Caesars and Foxy Cleopatras – Hardcover
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SXSW 2024: STAR TREK DISCOVERY Season 5 Finds a New Sense of Adventure
Some minor spoilers follow in this overview of Red Directive
We’ve well charted Star Trek Discovery here at Cinapse, with reviews of Seasons 1-3, and 4. A show that has always had potential, sometimes stumbled, but very often soared. Back for its fifth and final season, the show has one last huzzah lined up and after watching the first episode (entitled Red Directive), the signs are good that the good crew of the USS Discovery get to go out with a fun filled bang.
The episode opens with a thrill ride, Captain Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) clinging onto the hull of a ship at high warp. Cut to four hours earlier and things are far more relaxed. A diplomatic soiree to continue the rebuilding of ties within this newly expanding Federation. A social event that ends with Burnham being dragged into a meeting with Dr Kovich (David Cronenberg with a rather substantial presence this episode). In this, a ‘Red Directive’ is issued. A mission of paramount importance, triggered by a distant probe finding the remains of an 800 year old Romulan vessel. Details are on a need to know basis, and Burnham and her crew do not need to know anything beyond an item is interest lies in the wreckage, and they’re in a race to salvage it.
Heading to a corner of the galaxy know as a scrap graveyard, Discovery is joined by another starship commanded by Captain Rayner (Callum Keith Rennie, Battlestar Galactica), whose style looks to setup some butting of heads with Burnham this season. They arrive to find scavengers already on the scene, a pair of former couriers they come to know as Moll and La’ak. In their possession, an ancient Romulan puzzle box. After a firefight and warp chase, they lose them. Their only hope in tracking them lies with Book (David Ayala) who takes them to a remote settlement and a relic buyer named Fred. A 600+ year old synth based on the old Alton Soong designs, whose memories offer a glimmer of hope to continue their search. Meanwhile, Tilly uncovers the truth about this centuries long classified information. Forcing Kovich to open up about what this object means, and the possible threat (or opportunity) it poses for the galaxy.
While that all sounds ominous, the episode flies along with a real cavalier spirit. The emotional and existential weight so prevalent in previous seasons is lifted and the fun takes over. This is a crew that has handled some shit. Confidence exudes, a swagger creeps in, banter is had. It all enhances the sense of adventure the season is clearly striving for. This is never more evident than in the many action sequences. The aforementioned ship ride within a warp bubble, which feels akin to a good old train heist. A planetary outpost with shades of Tatooine, sees a desert chase with speeder bikes paying homage to those in Return of the Jedi. This climaxes with a dual starship maneuver that feels like the most madcap stunt pulled in an atmosphere since Battlestar Galactica. The show has always looked good, and showcased an action spectacle, but the visual work here just soars.
It’s not just action that gets the attention, this family of characters does too: Stamets considering his legacy now the spore drive program has been shuttered. Tilly learning how to cope at Starfleet Academy, as well as maybe finding a new romantic interest. Saru dealing a choice between service and love, Starfleet and a new opportunity. Lastly we have Burnham, figuring out things after reconnecting with Book. Plenty of character arcs planted to explore this season, and hopefully to tee them up for a fitting finale.
There is a rather big reveal in the episode’s climax that won’t be spoiled here, one that surprisingly ties the show back not just 800 years, but to an existing part of the Star Trek mythos. With the sheer sense of scale and adventure in this episode, it looks like the show will fittingly pay respect to this cherished aspect of the franchise, while also giving the Discovery and her crew the sendoff they deserve.
Star Trek Discovery Season 5 premieres on Paramount+ on April 4th
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SXSW 2024: GRAND THEFT HAMLET Shows That Art Beckons, By Any Means Necessary
The incredible feat of creating anything worthwhile can be an overwhelming force. It can consume you, especially if your creativity is also your livelihood. The pain of art has ruined plenty of promising careers, as the hearts ambition out strips the ability of will.
Now imagine you are doing all that and a pandemic occurs. So now you are stuck at home, longing for a means of expression. And then an idea strikes you, a means of expression previously untapped. Only one more barrier: you have to create the art form.
This is the crux of Grand Theft Hamlet, premiering this week at SXSW. The documentary follows Sam and Mark, two acting friends in London who find themselves locked away due to COVID restrictions. But an idea occurs to them: what if we were able to stage live theater within a videogame? Could you do a gameplay version of Hamlet? And what better platform than Grand Theft Auto Online, among the most popular on the planet.
Now this may raise the question: how do you adapt Shakespeare’s most famous tragedy as part of a video game mostly known for its wanton violence? Well as Sam and Mark are quick to point out, Shakespeare’s work itself is often overtaken with criticizing corrupt and unchecked violence. Is GTL’s Los Santo’s environment that far removed from the Denmark of Hamlet?
Still, there are plenty of challenges ahead got out heroes, namely in how exactly do you stage a play within the world of the game, and how you gauge even the interest in witnessing such a thing. Much of the joy of Grand Theft Hamlet is watching Sam and Mark’s sense of discovery and experimentation. There are also the points where they wonder if this all worth it.
True to the spirit of their dream, the film also utilizes Grand Theft Auto as its primary storytelling method. The entire film is based of gameplay footage, of people having conversation amidst play, often asking if what they are doing is inherently a fool’s errand. Both artists are in very different points in their life, and this leads to genuine tension between them. But that tension is only expressed through voiceover conversations against gameplay. It takes a while to get fully on board with the rhythms, but around halfway through you simply are in the world.
And what a world it is, filled with rampant violence, strange players and elaborate, often tasteless costuming. It is a sandbox built in a world where subtly is a sin and random violence seems to be the norm. At one point, while practicing the to be or not to be speech, Sam finds himself stared at by a mysterious onlooker, always on edge that he could be attacked at any time. It is unnerving and somewhat moving, until you catch the context again and give a nervous giggle.
Creating something is hard. Creating something in a way never attempted before is even harder. But Grand Theft Hamlet makes an excellent case that through that hardship, if you are able to survive it, that drive to create can make a life worth living, even when you are otherwise trapped.
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SXSW 2024: AUDREY is a Dark Family Comedy With Plenty of Bite and a Touch of Heart
The thing to know about Audrey is that it’s hilarious. It’s a deliciously prickly Australian comedy that will remind viewers of Bobcat Goldthwait’s World’s Greatest Dad. Making a film with a dark sense of humor is one thing. Making one that is smart enough to match its wit with pathos is a whole other beast. For director Natalie Bailey and writer Lou Sanz, they make it look disarmingly easy.
Life never turns out the way we think it will, but for former actress Ronnie Lipsick (Jackie van Beek), nothing seems to be going the way she wants. She traded her dreams of stardom for suburban doldrums. Her family barely seems like one at all. Her husband Cormack (Jeremy Lindsay Taylor) lacks the energy to sleepwalk through life. Her youngest daughter Norah (Hannah Diviney) is ready to fast-forward to adulthood. That leaves eldest daughter Audrey (Josephine Blazier). Her dreams deferred, Ronnie has spent her motherhood doing her best to live through Audrey, trying to mold her into a star actress. The result is a toxic home where everyone is miserable but only Audrey has the gumption to lash out.
Then the damnedest thing happens: the family members start to find some semblance of happiness. The catalyst for this change? Oh, just Audrey injuring herself and landing in a coma.
A lesser film would have Audrey be the clear villain. Part of what makes World’s Greatest Dad, so lacerating is just how rotten the main teenager is. What sets Audrey apart is that it’s all too easy to see why she’d be so acidic. What teenager wants to have their life controlled by a parent consumed with chasing their former glory? How could anyone be happy in a family where everyone just wants to get away from each other?
Audrey’s absence from the home doesn’t bring the family closer together, but it does create enough space for them to go off on their own, unencumbered. Audrey is the sun the family revolved around, but without her presence, their free to chart a new path. For Cormack, that means discovering his true passion. For Norah, she gets out from her big sister’s shadow. Ronnie, well, she steps into Audrey’s shoes, so to speak. Ronnie takes this chance to resume her acting career under her daughter’s name.
Audrey bounces between absurdist situations, ribald jokes, and plain old silliness. It moves deftly to hit its marks, but it never sells out its characters for easy laughs. Like the best comedies tend to do, the characters drive the humor as much as the story. The longer Audrey’s life hangs in the balance, the more acid-dipped the laughs and character revelations become. For as long as Audrey’s in a coma, the family gets to play out a fantasy of sorts. But that’s temporary. The reality is that Audrey will either wake up and come home or pass away. Both options will set the family on a new trajectory, neither of which is the one they indulge while they’re in a collective limbo.
Bailey and Sanz had my head spinning through the back half of Audrey. Perhaps I’m overthinking this, but in between the copious laughs I found myself in a ponderous headspace. For a movie that opens with a Fleshlight joke, Audrey proved thornier I anticipated.
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Review: SHOGUN, An Early Contender for TV Event of the Year
New Adaptation Brings Fresh Life to Classic Novel
It’s still early days in the year but it’s tough to imagine anything topping Shōgun, currently airing weekly on FX and streaming on Hulu, as the television event of the year. With its exquisite craft, riveting story, and stacked ensemble bringing rich life to even the smallest of characters, Shōgun feels genuinely epic in a time when even the most expensive of other shows have begun to develop a closed off, hermetic feeling.
Adapted from a massively influential (and plain just massive) novel by James Clavell, previously adapted into an iconic miniseries in the ‘80s, Shōgun plunges you into a dense plot of competing factions and deadly rivalries in 1600 Japan. The nation’s leader has just passed away, leaving behind an heir too young to rule. To avoid war, rule of the nation is given over to five lords to serve as regents. As the series kicks off, Lord Toranaga (Hiroyuki Sanada) finds himself in the crosshairs of the other four regents and a scheme to have him impeached (which would result in not only his death, but the death of his entire family and household).
Toranga has two wild cards up his sleeve (along with, you know, swords and other actual weaponry). There’s the Lady Mariko (Anna Sawai), a member of Toranaga’s household who plays the role of quiet, submissive woman but has abilities and secrets that make her a force to be reckoned with in the deadly game of thrones (not that one) underway.
And then there’s the Englishman.
Immediately various Last Samurai-shaped alarm bells begin going off. Whether or not Tom Cruise is the actual titular last samurai, there’s an instinctive concern that a story set in Japan needs to toss in a token white guy as the audience identification character, rather than trusting that audiences will just as easily identify with Japanese characters and performers. Shōgun is, in all its iterations, a stranger in a strange land story which invites an inherent Othering of the culture being discovered. That may be endemic of this narrative, no matter how sensitively and carefully it is updated.
That being said, 2024’s Shōgun goes out of its way to strip as much Othering as possible from how the story is presented. The Japan of this series is not presented as exotic and its people are not depicted as aliens to be gawped at. There’s a matter-of-fact, lived in naturalism to the setting and performances that serves to make Japan feel like the relatable, neutral starting point, while in turn making the presence of the English-speaking characters the actual foreign element.
It also helps that when the Japanese characters refer to John Blackthorne (Cosmo Jarvis) as a “barbarian”, there’s no real arguing with them. Introduced as a filthy, almost feral survivor, Jarvis plays Blackthorne not as a dashing adventurer but as a combustible ball of potential danger. Even as he settles down over the course of the first three episodes, Jarvis never shakes the sense of seething manic danger he carries when he arrives. Combined with an accent that comes across like Tom Hardy trying even harder than usual, Jarvis purposefully stands out like a sore thumb as a volatile element in an otherwise intensely controlled environment.
My understanding is that the novel and original miniseries are grounded almost entirely in Blackthorne’s point of view, with the earlier miniseries even going so far as to not subtitle the Japanese dialogue. 2024’s Shōgun, however, takes great pains early on to ground Blackthorne as only one component part of a sprawling ensemble. Sanada, a producer of this miniseries, is an actor who is good in any role, which only makes it all the more frustrating when he is underutilized in negligible roles in lousy Hollywood product. As the de facto lead of Shōgun, he is finally afforded the chance to demonstrate what a commanding screen presence he has always been, combining a regal bearing with a coiled intensity, even sprinkling in a rascally warmth as Toranaga reveals a mastery of elaborate schemes and trickery.
Sawai is an instantly arresting presence as Mariko, even as the character remains something of a mystery after three episodes. As a translator between the various factions, she quietly controls the power in each exchange between the Englishman and the Japanese lord, and Sawai does quietly remarkable work depicting how Mariko is an active participant in those exchanges by how she shapes and shifts the words going from one language to the next. Sawai is remarkably attuned to how the tilt of a head or the flick of an eyelid can communicate massive amounts of unspoken thought.
But lest you think that Shōgun is another slog of Prestige TV, ten hours of shapeless plodding plot that’s all expensive production design without a bit of pulse behind it, rest assured that for all its handsome dressing and expensive laurels, this is pulp storytelling at its finest. The violence is frequent and ferocious, coupled with a charged tension running throughout most every dialogue scene. This is a world in which saying one wrong thing is the difference between life and losing your head. Even without the threat of lethal consequences, there are complex dynamics at play in every exchange, turning each interaction into equal parts a negotiation, a linguistical dance, and a contest of wills.
And for as densely plotted as Shōgun is after even three episodes, creators Justin Marks and Rachel Kondo, along with their creative teams, work have clearly worked very hard to make sure that the complex chess board of a plot is always legible. I may have difficulty describing the full scope of the story being told, but in every scene you know what the characters want, what they’re trying to accomplish, and what the major obstacles in their path currently are. That may seem like faint praise, but as the streaming age continues to sacrifice basic narrative pacing and structure at the altar of binge-viewed content farms, smart and careful dramatic writing is worth its weight in gold.
Shōgun is impressive in all respects. Its costumes, sets, and locations are stunning, its action is cleanly staged and shot, and its ensemble is stuffed to bursting with terrific performers palpably relishing getting to play with material this good.
A third of the way through the season, the only question is whether or not the rest of the series will live up to such a sterling opening run. With a start this strong, there’s every reason to believe Shōgun will go the distance and prove itself to be a TV event for the ages (again).
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Review: DAMSEL Blazes Onto Netflix
New Movie Brings Creature Feature Horror to Fairy Tales
With its title and its premise, Damselcertainly sets itself up as a post-modern riff on the fairy tale formula. We’ve seen this sort of thing many times before: from ‘Red Hot Riding Hood’ to Sondheim and Lapine’s classic Into the Woods, there has always been a market for taking the universally recognized tropes of fairy tales and turning them inside out. Shrek codified a specific angle of attack in 2001, parodying the Disney incarnations of these stories with such acidic contempt that Disney’s subsequent line of fairy tale/princess movies and remakes seem reverse engineered around sidestepping that line of attack, especially when it comes to the trope of the ‘damsel in distress’.
Instead, there’s now a great deal of patronizing efforts to refashion princesses/damsels into an acceptable modern incarnation without doing the actual work of trying to build dynamic and interesting characters, or reexamining the narratives themselves and trying to do better. The trope remains unchallenged, but now it’s wearing a “Future Is Feminism” t-shirt.
I bring all this up because Damsel is not another not another fairy tale. While imperfect, it actually goes through the effort of building a real character and putting her through the dramatic wringer rather than stopping after, “what if the damsel rescued herself!?!?” as if that alone is still enough of an idea to support a feature film.
Damsel is also the latest installment in the Millie Bobby Brown movie star project. She’ll be iconic forever thanks to Stranger Things, and the Elona Holmes movies gave her room to both headline a project and demonstrate a wide range of capabilities beyond what she gets to do as Eleven. Even those Godzilla movies…look, I’m not going to try to argue that those are especially taxing on her range as a thespian, but at the very least they give her a chance to appear in a contemporary setting and play a regular human being, not a traumatized psychic demigod or a Victorian wunderkind. Damsel is an entirely new challenge though: For long stretches of the movie, she is by herself onscreen. The movie lives or dies on whether or not Millie Bobbie Brown, who also produced the film, is compelling to watch with nothing and no one to interact with, and you either pull that off or you don’t.
Brown plays Elodie, the princess of a poor, frostbitten kingdom ruled by her father (Ray Winstone) and not-wicked-but-trying-a-little-too-hard-a-little-overeager-and-things-are-just-naturally-awkward-between-steparents-and-stepchildren-life-is-such-a-rich-tapestry-stepmother (Angela Bassett). When a representative of Queen Isabelle (Robin Wright) from the wealthy kingdom of Aurea arrive to propose a marriage between Elodie and Aurea’s prince Henry (Nick Robinson), it seems like a perfect solution to Elodie’s kingdom’s woes.
Here’s an early choice that suggests that screenwriter Dan Mazeau is putting in the extra work rather than resting on post-modern laurels: The easy choice would be to make Elodie an Arya Stark-adjacent tomboy who is ahead of everyone else in calling out arranged marriages, wealth inequality, impractical women’s outfits, etc. So often, the people behind this sort of fare are in such a rush to get to Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2, they forget that that character doesn’t work without Linda Hamilton in Terminator 1. Here, Elodie is given the chance to be swept away by what’s presented as a swooning romance. Brown naturally conveys intelligence on screen, so her questioning glances and furrowed brow speak volumes, but she also convincingly plays someone being charmed, and she does it without seeming stupid even as we the audience know the bottom is going to fall out eventually.
‘Eventually’ being a key word. If there’s one criticism I can lob at Damsel right out of the gate, it’s that Mazeau and director Juan Carlos Fresnadillo (28 Weeks Later) take a bit too long getting things going. A patient, steady escalation isn’t a bad thing in a creature feature, but Damsel’s first act spends a bit too much time clearing its throat before things finally kick off.
But before too long, poor Elodie is thrown down a pit as a sacrifice to a foul-tempered dragon who speaks with the velvety malice of the great Shohreh Aghdashloo. From then on, we are lost in the dark with Elodie as she tries to navigate her way through a labyrinthine system of caves, all the time being hunted and taunted by a creature who combines fire-breathing with good old fashioned passive-aggressive negging. Aghdashloo brings a spirit of wicked fun to this scaly nemesis, and the dragon itself is an imposing new entry in that auspicious species of beast. Fresnadillo is careful to avoid revealing the creature in full for much of the film, but when she arrives on screen the dragon works as both a character and a special effect, the human personality working in concert with animal ferocity.
The way Elodie gathers and uses items, and the way scattered items and writings gradually lay out the backstory of her dire situation, even the structure of the differently themed caverns, all feels very much in conversation with the ongoing fusing of cinematic and video game language, putting Damsel into an emerging canon alongside the likes of 10 Cloverfield Lane, Edge of Tomorrow, Source Code, and more.
Some of this material is actually over-written: for someone cowering and trying to hide, Elodie sure makes a point of reading every sign out loud. I assume that’s a concession to the Netflix second-screen experience, which necessitates that every major point get audibly underlined to appease viewers who are watching on their phone while doing other things. But when the film trusts Brown to carry the entire endeavor on the strength of her abilities, it more than works. If this is a make it or break it test for her as a movie star, she more than conquers the challenge.
It helps that ever since she was a child, Millie Bobby Brown is very, very, very good at playing pain. And boy does she go through it here. Fresnadillo’s background is in horror, and once the dragon arrives you can feel him delighting in the opportunities afforded by having a pissed off fire-breathing antagonist to play with. Damsel is a PG-13 but it gleefully pushes the outer boundaries of that rating from some genuinely gnarly burns to multiple instances of human beings getting popped like meat-filled balloons.
In that sense, Damsel feels like a conscious throwback to the kind of fantasy film we saw before Lord of the Rings came along, before fantasy films were multi-installment sagas that required chunky appendixes of characters, nations, factions, mythologies, etc. Damsel’s aesthetic and defiantly somber tone (completely devoid of any sort of post-Whedon winking or comic relief) bring it closer in line to the likes of Dragonslayer and Legend, a form of fantasy cinema far humbler than the lofty epics the genre now supports.
You can feel Damsel straining against its budget (I wonder if one day people will look back at janky flat green-screen shots with the same affection that I do matte paintings), and its final act is similarly longwinded as its first. The credits start rolling after the 100-minute mark, so it’s not as if the movie is noticeably long for a creature feature, but even so things start to feel a little repetitive before the end. Thankfully, the grand finale to the rivalry between Elodie and her tormenter is satisfying enough to make up for a somewhat clunky landing path.
Damsel doesn’t so much reinvent the wheel as reexamine the wheel from a new angle to demonstrate why it didn’t require reinvention in the first place. In shoring itself of modern affectations, it successfully breathes fresh life into old bones. And as a lifelong fan of fantasy, I find that the genre is richer when there’s a nice balance between the operatic high fantasy epics and entries like this, nasty little cherry bombs that boil the genre down to a defiant girl, a sharp object, and a nasty critter that will not be easy to kill.
Damsel is available on Netflix.
