The following films are nominated for Best Picture this year. I hope that Dune: Part Two wins, but I'm pretty sure that The Brutalist will walk away with the top prize. If you want to see the actual best film from last year, I suggest you bypass the list altogether, and check out Cillian Murphy in Small Things Like These.
I'll let you in on a secret - there were two movies that I really hated this year; I knew before seeing them that I would hate them, and after seeing them I really didn't want to write about them at all. To spare myself the discomfort of writing an extended review for each movie, I came up with a plan; I would write two (2) things I liked, and limit myself to one (1) thing that I didn't like for each movie. Those two movies were The Substance, and The Brutalist. Adrien Brody is a great actor, and with that distinction comes the ability to play characters that are completely reprehensible. I'm not sure whether I'd consider Guy Pearce a great actor, but he also can play a reprehensible character. Maybe I can cut some time here, and just say that all the actors in this movie prove that they are capable of playing reprehensible characters, it's almost a competition to see who can do it best. Are there two things that I liked about The Brutalist? There was one scene in a remote Italian village, where Brody and Pearce's characters meet at a café before heading to the nearby quarry. The view from the café is of the Italian Alps, and it was starkly beautiful in a film that is otherwise oppressive. That one of the darkest and most disturbing scenes took place moments later is par for the course in a movie that just won't let you enjoy anything. I did like the folding bookcases that Brody's character, László Tóth created - I'm not sure that they quite match the aesthetic of his other designs in the film, but I'd definitely like to get my hands on a set of those blueprints. And now, to my surprise I find out that László Tóth isn't a historical character, which means that the writer/director Brady Corbet invented this entire depressing production - that's just horrible.
Nickel Boys is the last of the Best Picture nominees that I watched this year, and definitely falls into the category of a movie that I wouldn't have watched if it hadn't been nominated. Now that I've seen it, I understand why it was nominated, it's visual jazz. Personally, I like a bit more organization to my movies, i.e. I like to have a chance to understand what's going on, and not be inundated by imagery that's meant to provoke certain feelings. Even though visual jazz isn't my cup of tea, I did like certain elements, and I can see how different images, scenes, and situations would have different meanings for different people. Personally, I like the scene where two boys have found a lizard (a Green Anole to be specific), and they're gently passing it to each other. I liked how this scene told me something about the boys' characters, that they were inquisitive, and kind. I also like the color palette of the film, as someone who currently resides in Florida, I can vouch to the accuracy of the greens, browns, and... no those are the colors. I didn't like, and can't think of an example (other than video games) where the first person perspective if appropriate for such long stretches of time. I found the technique to be distracting. I understand that the director RaMell Ross likely was trying to capture the perspective of each character (as it switched between the two main characters), to match the book upon which the film is based, but it simply doesn't work.
For those of you keeping score at home, Emilia Pérez is the third, and last of the movies that I thought was centered around a transgender character, and this one was the winner. Much to my surprise, the movie also happens to be the most "typical" Hollywood movie, in that it doesn't come across as art-housey as the other contenders for Best Picture this year. At its core, Emilia Pérez is a standard 3-act movie about a Mexican drug lord who hires an American lawyer to help him change his identity, and start a new life. As the movie progresses, it is revealed that the drug lord's main motivation for changing is that he's always felt like he's in the wrong body, and living the wrong life, and wants to become a woman who isn't a drug lord. Of course, past iterations of this story, such as Steve Martin in My Blue Heaven played the fish-out-of-water angle more, and dealt less with a series of procedures with "plasty" in the name. That being said, I liked that the director, Jacques Audiard didn't get preachy with the movie, rather he told an interesting story with unique characters. At its most basic, isn't that why we watch movies? I haven't mentioned it yet, but there were also musical elements to the film, i.e. the characters would sporadically start singing from time to time, as the mood struck them. As I write this, I know that some of you are thinking that I've completely lost it, since I previously said that this wasn't an "art-housey" movie. In my defense, overall I really liked the use of singing as a technique to convey the characters' thoughts and emotions, and the transitions between speaking parts and singing were well done. I didn't like the movie for a number of reasons, but the one that I'll mention here is the ending; as with the recently reviewed I'm Still Here, I sense that the filmmakers didn't have an exit plan; the problem with Emilia Pérez is that they just ended the movie without taking the time to create a satisfying conclusion.
I went to see I'm Still Here last night, at a mostly packed theater in Orlando, filled with people who I assume, like me, were trying to catch the one movie that you can't stream that is nominated for Best Picture this year. I liked the casting for this film, as the story revolved around a family, and each of the actors played their parts well, from the youngest of five children (10 year old daughter Babiu played by Cora Mora), to the parents played by Fernanda Torres and Selton Mello. Perhaps it's because I was unfamiliar with the actors, but I found each of their performances to be far more compelling than those in other films nominated for Best Picture this year. Since I have no point of reference, and I am not comparing them to other roles they've played, perhaps it is easier for me to accept them in the parts they're playing here, but I also think that they are each good actors, and were well cast in this film. I also liked the sound design, especially as it pertains to the ambient sound of the waves breaking on the beach. I liked that times of stillness between the moments of chaos in the family's house were punctuated by the consistency of the sounds of the ocean. I didn't like how the film dragged-on for the last 30 minutes. It seems clear that the filmmakers didn't have an exit strategy; they told a compelling story, but it's one without a satisfying conclusion. They should have just accepted that fact, and ended the film once the story had been told.
Some of you may remember from my review of The Northman, that I walked into that film under the false impression that it was rated PG-13, and was somewhat shocked by the graphic violence and brutality. I was under no such allusions when I went to see Nosferatu, but that doesn't mean that I knew what to expect. Robert Eggers, who directed both of these films, has a unique storytelling style, which is more interested in exploring how the minor details impact the overall story, and is less interested in the overall story arc. I like that the film was in black and white - or was it? I like that Lily-Rose Depp's character understood the depth of obsession that Count Orlok (played by Bill Skarsgård) had for her, and that she was able to flip the script. If Goth wasn't already a thing, then Eggers would have invented it with this movie. I didn't like that there was no happiness or joy anywhere to be found in this movie, it was definitely a heavy-handed slog through darkness and despair.
My brother Nate and I discussed A Complete Unknown a few days ago, and he pointed out that the film isn't meant to be a biography, rather it's another contribution to patchwork of mystique that enshrouds Bob Dylan. It would be futile to make a movie with the goal of explaining Dylan, since he is a singular character in history, who we as regular people, could never fully comprehend. If you can accept the film based on this premise, then I believe that it's possible to enjoy the experience. I liked that so much screentime was devoted to Dylan's music; it was fun to see the range of Dylan's moods, from the self-loathing indignation while playing at a dinner party, to the quiet heart-felt sense of discovery during the solitude of song writing. It was enjoyable to see Dylan making music, since that's what I was there for. I also liked the amount of effort that Timothée Chalamet devoted to his depiction of Dylan; while Chalamet didn't become Dylan in the same way that Val Kilmer became Jim Morrison in The Doors, the fact that Chalamet sang so many songs is impressive on its own. I didn't like the guy who played Johnny Cash, not that there was necessarily anything wrong with his performance, but this was clearly the biggest lost opportunity in modern cinema; I would argue that a prerequisite to making this movie would be having Joaquin Phoenix reprise his role as Cash. It's really a shame that they didn't make this happen.
I knew that there was one movie this year that centered on a transgender character, but I really didn't remember whether it was Anora, Emilia Pérez, or I'm Still Here. With Anora being the first of these three movies that I watched, I kept on thinking to myself, I wonder which of these characters is transgender, or when will the transition take place? Long story short, Anora wasn't the movie to feature a transgender character, but it definitely does make for a different viewing experience when you expect a certain subject to be addressed, but you can't imagine how it will tie-in with the movie that you're currently watching. Anora it turns out is a movie about an American girl, who works as an exotic dancer in New York City, who gets into a relationship with a young man, who is the son of a Russian oligarch. In the middle of the movie there was a scene that I liked, that qualifies as the two things that I liked about this movie: 1) As a group of Russian bodyguards try to hold the title character, Anora, against her will, she fights back, seriously injuring the bodyguards and causing significant damage inside the house. I liked the raw energy Mikey Madison as Anora exuded during this scene, it had intensity and was crazy funny. 2) I liked that the Russian bodyguard played by Yuriy Borisov, was unwilling to hit Anora, and instead sat on her to subdue her; the body language of this scene, the contrast between the violence and the gentleness was extremely well done. All-in-all the movie was about an ambitious exotic dancer and a snot-nosed Russian rich kid; while there were moments of humor and intensity, overall this was a shallow jaunt through a seedy world that I'm not that interested in. Perhaps in Anora Part II, the Russian rich kid will return to America as an exotic dancer too.
I'm going to do this review in reverse, because it wouldn't be fair to you the reader, to put you through the same bait/switch routine that the filmmakers pulled on me. The last 5 minutes of this movie are outrageously disingenuous, and completely undermine the serious and thoughtful tone established in the rest of the movie. For approximately 1 hour and 55 minutes, Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, and John Lithgow spar over subjects as serious as determining the will of God, and whether it is ever acceptable to choose the lesser of two evils. The setting of a Conclave, wherein the Roman Catholic Bishops must vote for the new Pope, is a compelling backdrop for discussions on faith, politics, and man's fallen state. And then, just like Tyler Durden splicing a single frame into a children's movie, it's revealed that the new Pope has a uterus. It's the "please return your seat backs to their full upright and locked position" scene, without the satisfying payoff.
For certain movies it will be a challenge to follow my current self-imposed guidelines of identifying two (2) elements that I liked, and one (1) element that I didn't like, but I'll do my best:
Coralie Fargeat's The Substance has an interesting premise, and its visual representation of that premise is bold and vivid. Fargeat's decision to deal with the topic of "not feeling comfortable in your own skin" by literally having someone new tear their way out of your body, gets right to the point. Some likely will refer to The Substance as an allegory of our society's obsession with youth and physical beauty; that would be an incorrect characterization, since an allegory implies some amount of shrouding the message, whereas The Substance slams it in your face.
Demi Moore and her offspring (outspring?), played by Margaret Qualley are well paired, reminding me somewhat of the casting of Tom Hanks and Michael Conner Humphreys in Forrest Gump. What I mean is that both sets of characters reference each other, and have certain mannerisms that remind of us the fact that these people, while different, are also the same. I really like that Hanks based his depiction of Forrest Gump on the performance by Humphreys, for two reasons: 1) Hanks, being the better, and more experienced actor could strengthen the entire film by studying and using components of the younger and less experienced actor's performance. 2) Since Hanks was playing the adult version of the character, it makes sense that he would incorporate mannerisms and speech patterns from the younger version of the character. In the case of The Substance, my impression is that Qualley probably made more of an effort to match her character to Moore's, but now I'm getting into semantics. My point is, go watch Forrest Gump.
All of the things that I liked were quickly overshadowed as the third act began, which was excessively long, bloody, gory, and "jello-y". I realize that I'm not the target audience for this kind of pop-horror schlock, and quite frankly I don't understand why anyone would enjoy this kind of movie. If I'm being honest, the climactic pre-finale was reminiscent of the opening scene to Blade, both being literal bloodbaths, and I've heard (although I've never seen it myself), that Brian De Palma's Carrie has the quintessential bloodbath scene. I'm not sure why I'm OK with the Blade scene, but found the one in The Substance to be pointless; perhaps it's because the Blade scene actually sets the stage for the story that's being told, while The Substance is just trying to disturb us. In any case, I think that it would be more accurate to refer to them as blood showers, since the blood is being sprayed from above, as opposed to being held in some tub or other container, but there I go getting into semantics again.
Starting with this review, and continuing until further notice, I will be writing a series of brief reviews, in which I identify two (2) elements of the movie that I liked, and one (1) element that I didn't like. I believe that you, the reader, will be able to determine my overall opinion of the movie based on the elements that I describe. At first I thought about steelmanning movies that I greatly dislike, but I think that would be disingenuous, so instead, I will be straight forward in my reviews, and let the substance of my analysis stand on its own.
I realize that 2023 was quite some time ago, so it may be helpful to remember that "multi-verse" movies were in vogue, and the makers of The Flash were contractually obligated to continue that trend. One day, in the future, someone will make a superhero movie that un-retcons all the garbage that took place from 2010 to now, but until then we just have to suffer through unimaginitive slog of comic book movies that think they're more clever than they really are. BTW - that rant doesn't count towards the review, it's just me setting the backdrop.
I really liked the way that Ezra Miller played the parallel universe Barry Allen characters, in the vein of Nicolas Cage's depiction of the Kaufman brothers in Adaptation, Miller went for subtle differences in the performances, which I liked, because in a certain way it is the same person.
Michael Keaton is great as Bruce Wayne, and as Batman - I mention both characters, because the distinction is important in this movie. In previous movies, Bruce Wayne is Batman, but in The Flash, Bruce Wayne is no longer Batman. Sure, it's the same schtick that Bogart used (in almost all of his films), but the more convincing the reluctant hero can be (of being reluctant), the greater the payoff when he finally dons the cowl.
Even after seeing the movie, I have no idea how being really fast rises to superhero status, or how this would be of much use. As I try to recall details, I seem to remember The Flash in a jet, in some nether-realm (with Nicolas Cage as Superman), in some typical suburban neighborhood, and running up the side of a collapsing building. My point is, the premise of the movie, just like its plot, and characters, lack coherence, and because of that, aside from the appearance of Keaton as Bruce Wayne and Batman, the movie is quite forgettable.
