Karl Delossantos

Sundance 2022 Round-Up: Speak No Evil, Watcher, Dual
The 2022 Sundance Film Festival is in full swing. Here is a review round-up of some of the thrillers we’ve seen so far.

Speak No Evil

Sidsel Siem Koch and Morten Burian in Speak No Evil. Courtesy of the Sundance Institute.

The Cabin in the Woods, one of my favorite horror movies of all time, explains that for the characters in a horror movie to be punished they have to choose their fate. They have to decide to ignore the creepy old man at the gas station. They have to decide to leave the marked trail. They have to decide to stay in the countryside house with the creepy family that they just met on holiday. That last one happens in Christian Tafdrup’s Danish horror Speak No Evil. Danish couple Louise (Sidsel Siem Koch) and Bjorn (Morten Burian) seal their fate by deciding not to leave when they had their chance. Granted, the couple certainly had so many red flags waved in their face that it’d put Murray Hill finance bros shame.

After returning home from their Tuscan holiday, Louise and Bjorn are surprised to find an invitation from Dutch couple Patrick (Fedja van Huet) and Karin (Karina Smulders), who they met at the same resort, asking them to visit them at their countryside home. Though they don’t really have a desire to, the couple decides it would be rude to turn them down. When they arrive, though, a series of increasingly bizarre encounters put the couple on edge — blasting heavy metal while drunk driving, feeding Karin meat even though she’s mentioned she’s a vegetarian. Being the model guests they are, Louise and particularly Bjorn brush off these happenings. However, after a particularly troubling incident involving Louise and Bjorn’s daughter Agnes (Liva Forsberg) the couple is forced to confront their hosts to which Patrick responds, “No one’s forcing you to stay.”

Much of Speak No Evil plays like the bleakest comedy of manners like Force Majeure. But director Christian Tafdrup makes it a point to remind you with the screeching score and uneasy tone that this is a horror movie. And when it makes that shift you are both expecting it and completely taken aback realizing that Funny Games might be a more apt comparison. For some, that shift will be too abrupt. For some, the character’s decision will be bordering on absurd. But that’s the point of the film: to make you uncomfortable. Tafdrup reminds you that sometimes a kindness isn’t always just a kindness. You’ve been warned.

Speak No Evil was acquired by AMC networks’ Shudder streaming service. A release date hasn’t been announced.

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Watcher

Maika Monroe in Watcher. Courtesy of the Sundance Institute.

Maika Monroe has been a bonafide scream queen since she broke out with roles in It Follows and The Guest. Her character-grounded approach to horror makes her the perfect audience surrogate for whatever story she’s in. In her return to those genre roots with Chloe Okuno‘s feature directorial debut Watcher she’s able to flex those muscles that made her so successful. This time as a recent American transplant in a familiar gaslit woman thriller set in Bucharest, Romania.

Julia’s (Monroe) decision to accompany her husband Francis (Karl Glusman) across the globe for work colors much of the background of the movie as Julie, who doesn’t know the language, tries to find routine in her new life. However, that routine is thrown off when she glances out of the massive windows that frame the couple’s apartment and notices a shadow in one of the windows — watching. She’s already been shaking by learning of a recent string of murders in the neighborhood and begins to notice a strange man popping up wherever she goes. Of course, though he’s initially supportive Francis brushes it off as a mix of culture shock and an unfamiliar place.

On the other hand, the movie goes to a very familiar place. Despite Okuno’s strong direction that effectively ratchets up the tension throughout the movie and makes good use of the city’s dour atmosphere and Monroe’s performance that subtly portrays a woman on the edge, Watcher never really elevates past its stereotypical thriller roots. You can see nearly every plot point from a mile away — even with its attempts to trick you more than once. Okuno crafted a well-made thriller, but from the second it ends nothing follows you home.

Watcher premiered at the 2022 Sundance Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.

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Dual

Aaron Paul and Karen Gillan in Dual. Courtesy of Sundance Institute.

Yorgos Lanthimos has made a career out of his unique brand of deadpan surrealism creating worlds where matter-of-factness is the norm and emotions never control decisions.

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January 24, 2022
‘Resurrection’ goes for the gut | movie review
In Resurrection, a mother desperately tries to keep her past life from spilling into her present as an old figure walks back in to her life

Resurrection premiered at the 2022 Sundance Film Festival. It is seeking U.S. distribution.

Halfway through Resurrection, there’s a 10-minute scene where Margaret (Rebecca Hall) recounts a traumatic period of her life to a coworker. It’s done in close-up and in a single-take. The camera doesn’t move, and neither does Margaret. Memories spill out from her as a single tear falls down her face. There aren’t hysterics, it’s like suddenly, a pipe burst. Margaret, usually so controlled, has lost it for the first time.

Her admission is so outlandish that it’s difficult to stomach at first. Her coworker Gwyn (Angela Wong Carbone) even asks if she’s messing with her. But when you sit with what she said you realize that it’s too detailed to be anything but real, and it justifies Margaret’s response when David (Tim Roth), a man from her past, comes roaring back into her life.

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Though it has the sheen of a gaslit woman thriller — Steven Soderbergh’s Unsane or Leigh Whannell’s The Invisible Man — director Andrew Semans keeps much of the movie slight in comparison. There are scenes of a paranoid Margaret running through the streets convinced she’s being followed, and much of the horror is left to the imagination. Though an early image hints that this thriller is unafraid to tread fully into the dark waters of horror.

Without spoiling the contents, because the plot is already so straightforward, Resurrection is about the psychological impacts of grooming and the accompanying Stockholm Syndrome that lingers well past the fact. Rebecca Hall’s performance will rattle you to the core as she physically reacts to her perfectly curated life beginning to crumble around her. And though this descent becomes repetitive, the movie’s surprisingly gruesome finale more than makes up for it.

As Semans tries to dredge up some thematic weight around motherhood to tie the story together in a pretty bow, he nearly loses control of the movie. “I am a good mother,” Margaret says when she’s challenged. But Resurrection is at its best when it’s messy and unafraid to leave threads dangling. Ultimately, I’m not sure if it’s more than a well-made psychological thriller, but there are scenes that I know will stick with me. I feel that in the pit of my stomach (that’s a hint).

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January 23, 2022
‘Master’ is a modern-day Giallo horror | Sundance review
Three Black women navigate the horrors — both real and supernatural — of working and attending a predominently white institution in Master

Master is playing at the 2022 Sundance Film Festival. It will be released on Prime Video in March.

The most horrifying scene in Master, the feature debut of director Mariama Diallo, takes place at a house party. There’s nothing quite supernatural about it, despite the core of the movie involving a legend centering on ghosts and witches. In the party scene, freshman Jasmine Moore (Zoe Renee) is having the time of her life as the song playing switches to Sheck Wes’ “Mo Bamba.” Around her, white faces illuminated in red begin to crowd around her and scream the lyrics without regard: “I be ballin’ like my n— Mo.” Except they don’t censor themselves. Diallo directs the scene with intense precision. The swirling camera blurs the faces around Jasmine until they look inhuman. It’s claustrophobic.

That’s the overwhelming feeling throughout Master: an atmospheric sense of creeping dread that points to the supernatural haunts on the campus of Ancaster College. At the same time, the film works just as much to translate the very real feeling of three Black women as they navigate attending and working at a predominately white institution. Combining elements of Italian Giallo films — specifically Suspiria — and social horrors like His House, Diallo creates a type of haunted house movie that keeps you at arm’s length — until it doesn’t.

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Along with Jasmine, the movie follows the newly appointed House “Master,” or dean of students, Gail Bishop (Regina Hall) as she navigates the waters of leadership as the first Black person appointed to the role. Both women face microaggressions, and macroaggressions, in their day-to-day life. Jasmine, one of the few black students at the school, is asked to have her bag searched after it sets off an anti-shoplifting alarm. Gail, in a meeting with college leadership, is asked if she could be objective in determining whether Professor Liv Beckman (Amber Gray), a Black professor, should get tenure.

Ancaster — a fictional college substitute for any Northeast liberal arts school — has its own share of mythology and lore, not uncommon for institutions of its kind. For Ancaster, it’s the story of Margaret Millett, a woman accused of being a witch and who was killed near school grounds. Legend has it that since then, the school has been cursed and she returns at night to claim the souls of students. Learning about this tale sets Jasmine on edge from the start, and it isn’t helped by the fact that a student killed herself in the very room she lives in.

Diallo, taking a page from the shadowy film noir stylings of Giallo films, constructs the movie and school like a maze where the walls slowly close in on the characters. Jasmine, for reasons not entirely her own, never quite finds her footing, socially or academically. Gail, on the other hand, finds her path by potentially compromising her own identity. The dueling storylines have their strengths and keep the plot moving, though sometimes the lack of focus removes some of the effectiveness of the horror and story.

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Despite its assured direction, Master is not a perfect film. It falls into some of the trappings of a first-time director — showing instead of telling, uneven pacing and plotting — but manages to keep audiences engaged with horror imagery that sticks well past the end of the movie. And as well rendered as the supernatural sequences are — Jasmine’s nightmare encounters are sufficiently creepy — a scene with a seven-person panel consisting of five white men and women, an Asian man, and a Black woman, determining the worth of a Black professor, is just as unsettling.

Gail, who is a face of resilience and determination throughout the movie, tells a defeated Jasmine, “it’s not a ghost, it’s not a witch, it’s America.” Diallo likens the very real experience of Black women in spaces built by and for white people to the oppressive weight of an urban legend like the one of the witch at Ancaster. These are the shadows you can’t shake, the itches you can’t scratch. These are the memories and ghosts that are always there and always weighing you down. The movie doesn’t give many solutions to this condition but instead offers the solution by portraying the problem for what it is: true horror.

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January 22, 2022
‘When You Finish Saving The World’ | Sundance review
When You Finish Saving the World follows a mother and son pair who are, in their own ways, finding ways to leave their mark on the world

When You Finish Saving the World is playing at the 2022 Sundance Film Festival.

When You Finish Saving the World comes close to finding its footing in the final twenty minutes, which is typically when a movie reveals its design to deliver a message or lesson. Actor-turned-director Jesse Eisenberg would have succeeded in that emotional gut-punch had the prior 70 minutes been more nuanced in its skewering of white upper middle-class suburban progressives. Instead, we’re hit over the head with obvious artifacts and dialogue to hammer in the point to oblivion. They drive a smart car! They listen to classical music! They think white people shouldn’t play the blues!

However, that is what makes it the perfect movie for Sundance. Audiences are typically more-forgiving and gravitate towards movies that have a message with a capital M. It’s no wonder the fest has become a bastion for actors to test their aptitude as writers and directors for the first time. First-time directors already have the tendency to over-direct and write. Actors who assume the director’s chair seem to make that mistake even more. It doesn’t help that Eisenberg also wrote the original story — released as an audiobook — and adapted it. Without someone to filter through all of the layers of this work, the movie becomes overwhelmed by its own sensibilities.

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Had When You Finish Saving the World either leaned more into its satire or had taken a more nuanced approach it might have succeeded– and there are flashes of success in both arenas. Evelyn (Julianne Moore) somberly assures Kyle (Billy Bryk), the son of a woman staying at the domestic abuse shelter she runs, that he’s not going to become his father. Hilariously, he responds, “why would I become him? I’m not worried about that.”

Evelyn’s son Ziggy (Finn Wolfhard), on the other hand, tries to connect with his politically engaged crush Lila (Alisha Boe) by touting his international online presence. “I have 20 thousand followers and I think what they like about me are my passion and charisma,” he says, making a point to single out one of his Chinese viewers.

Evelyn and Ziggy are both passionate about what they do, but also fundamentally misunderstand each other’s motivations — and their own. In theory, the movie’s central struggle is this mother-son dynamic and their inability to find value in the other’s mission. Evelyn is by the book, so much so that she sometimes comes off as disconnected. Ziggy is a free spirit and his songs, that exude mid-2000s garage emo pop-punk self-important sincerity, communicate a similar disconnect from reality.

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However, their screen time together is so limited that we’re unable to explore their connection to the depths we need to be interested as an audience. Their own storylines — Evelyn trying to “save” one of her charges and Ziggy trying to become “political” — feel so disparate that the movie becomes less than the sum of its parts.

Eisenberg’s heart is in the right place. The movie has its moments where it feels like the biting indictment of the white savior narrative almost takes full form, but when it’s as shallow as its two leads it becomes the exact thing it’s trying to lambast. The movie is for people that have the resources to help and the desire to help, but lack the emotional stakes and inherent empathy it takes to be an actual ally. It’s like a person saying they’re an empath and asking a crying person if they’re sad. The idea is there. It’s a minor, but well-intentioned vision, and unfortunately, too singular of a viewpoint to be effective in its primary message – that of saving the world.

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January 21, 2022
‘The Worst Person in the World’ and the millennial crisis | review and analysis
The Worst Person in the World explores the millennial urge to reinvent yourself every time things get hard through an aimless 30-year-old navigating her life in Oslo

How do you balance living for yourself while also being a good person? Isn’t that the mad irony of our existence? We’re given a set amount of time on this earth and we’re meant to immediately know what we want to do with that time. As if that wasn’t enough, we’re also expected to spend some of that limited time leaving something behind, even if that’s just in the people that have known us. The almost unspoken impossible nature of that is what makes the title The Worst Person in the World is so apt for Joachim Trier’s fifth film and third in his Oslo Trilogy.

As we go through our lives, we weave and shape them in ways that change the design of everything entirely. We make decisions, some for the better and some for the worse, and we have no choice but to live with them. As millennials, we are particularly hard on ourselves — it feels like we can never make the right decision, and when we go for a decision that makes us feel good, the world around us tells us we’re being selfish. But what if for a moment we could make the world stop? What if we could make a decision without worrying about how it’ll affect the people around us or how it’ll change the trajectory of our lives? What if we could live in the now? Well, it might make us the worst person in the world.

But at the very least we lived.

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Stronger review — Jake Gyllenhaal shines in this bold and uplifting drama

Our protagonist Julie (Renate Reinsve) (antagonist in her own eyes), is at a point in her life where she is confronting those decisions at a rapid pace. The movie, which is broken into twelve chapters, starts with a prologue where Julie, like many of us, blows up her life. She stops pursuing a medical degree on a whim in order to chase a different whim — becoming a photographer because she took one good photo with her iPhone. She quickly dumps a model she met pursuing that career path for a guy she meets at a bar. Immediately after, she moves in with him. And that’s all before the movie truly begins.

In a post-screening Q&A, Reinsve said that she hopes that those who watch the film, whether they’re Julie’s age, just starting out in life, or in their final chapter, find at least some of their own experiences in it. Which is what helped me love the film – after all, how much could I, a gay Asian-American man living in New York City, relate to a story about a straight Norwegian woman living in Oslo? Or how could a person in the final years of their life identify with a person just starting theirs? It turns out a lot. That’s because the movie presupposes that the millennial experience is a universal one. We’re just the first generation to talk about it.

Julie is in the midst of experimenting with the shape of her life – she’s trying out different versions of herself until she finds one that fits. The trouble is, that instead of looking inward, she looks for herself in a career, hobbies, or in a significant other. Aksel (Anders Danielson Lie), the guy at the bar from the prologue, represents an exciting new version. He’s older and has an accomplished career as a comic book artist, two things that Julie is chasing. And for a time, their toe to toe wit keeps their relationship alive. However, Julie, like so many millennials when we taste stability, begins to question her decisions.

Trier isn’t precious about the themes, though. He’s focused on Julie as a singular character and a marvelous one at that. Reinsve’s sardonic wit and doe-eyed patina is at times charming, funny, and painfully relatable. The entire movie is. Not a moment passes that you aren’t laughing, crying, or doing both while cursing the screenplay’s ability to know you so well.

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And that’s the odd comfort of The Worst Person in the World – for an international film, it fluently speaks the language of a generation.

In the same ways life does, the movie takes many twists and turns. New people crop up — mainly Herbert Nordrum’s Eivind, who makes Julie question her current situationship — while others fall away. Moments of tragedy strike unexpectedly and the past is revisited in both joy and pain. But what Trier assumes is that the sum of these moments, the ones that make us laugh, cry, and scream (and the movie will have you doing all three), add up to a full picture of your life, with the realization that happiness isn’t an end in of itself, but rather the journey of your life in all its ebbs and flows and thinking, “it’s all going to be okay.”

In the end, does Julie find the right version of herself? Maybe. Maybe not. But at the very least, she doesn’t feel like the worst person in the world — and neither do we.

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January 20, 2022
‘The Tragedy of Macbeth’ transports you to the Twilight Zone | movie review
Joel Coen adapts his version of The Tragedy of Macbeth as a minimalist psychological thriller with Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand taking on the borrowed robes of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth

Where to watch The Tragedy of Macbeth:

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The Tragedy of Macbeth immediately justifies its existence by removing all markers of time and place. Director Joel Coen, tackling his first solo film after working with his brother Ethan as the Coen brothers, sets the play on minimalist sets of massive concrete walls, dresses the characters in abstract costumes, and captures the action in crisp black and white that makes it feel like the movie is taking place somewhere else entirely. Everything is impressionistic. We get just enough to give us the general time period but not enough to latch on to specifics. The effect is offputting but needed. This isn’t your grandma’s Shakespeare adaptation.

As much as we rolled our eyes at our English teachers as we analyzed nearly every Shakespeare play line by line, one has to admit that there’s a reason his work has endured and is still adapted today. There’s something so modern about his writing. His sardonic wit and peculiar surrealism fit in perfectly with A24’s singular brand of quirky but melancholic dramedies about the human condition — and that’s what Coen created here.

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Macbeth, whose borrowed robes are taken up by Denzel Washington, and Lady Macbeth (Frances McDormand) fit in nicely in the indie studio’s pantheon of complicated anti-heroes — Spring Breakers’ Alien, Ex Machina’s Ava, or most aptly Uncut Gems’ Howard. And stylistically the film fits in too. There’s a sort of rhythm to it all where one scene bleeds into the next, sometimes literally. It has the fluid motion of a play but takes advantage of the full scope that film provides. It at equal times feels epic and intimate, sometimes too intimate. Even claustrophobic.

The foggy landscapes and cavernous spaces add to the eerie dread-filled atmosphere while the haunting soundscape, aided by Carter Burwell’s menacing score, pushes The Tragedy of Macbeth closer to the psychological horror that it is meant to be. You could not understand a single thing that leaves the actors’ mouths, and sometimes I didn’t, and still be swept up in the emotion of it all. Some of which could be attributed to the performances.

While Washington and McDormand do fine work with some of the most iconic monologues ever written — the dagger and damn spot monologues are chilling — it’s the supporting characters that make the greatest impact and make the movie eminently rewatchable. Kathryn Hunter, who plays all three witches using some clever cinematic flourishes, is a dominating presence. Her shapeshifting role, sometimes literally, finds her contorting her body, face, and even her voice in unnatural ways. Her performance, like much of the film, toes the line between a real human monster and a devilish creature.

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Alex Hassell’s Ross, a side character with little impact in the text, finds a way to act as the chaotic neutral to Macbeth and Lady Macbeth’s chaotic evil. His sleek silhouette cinched at the waist, which is the peak of the movie’s costume design by Mary Zophres, slips in and out of corners and shadows like he’s a harbinger, and catalyst, for the dread that is to come.

There’s mysticism in all of Shakespeare’s works, even the ones based in history. Whereas other adaptations place magic in the real world, Coen lets magic set the tone for The Tragedy of Macbeth. The way it moves, the way it looks, and the way it feels is otherworldly. Like you’re dropped into the Twilight Zone in the 17th Century.

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December 29, 2021
‘West Side Story’ is reborn better than before | movie review
West Side Story gets an update from Steven Spielberg with Rachel Ziegler and Ariana DeBose taking over the iconic roles of Anita and Maria in this classic musical

Steven Spielberg remakes the 1961 film West Side Story with (mostly) new stars, new screenplay, and a fresh take on the classic. Featuring star is born performances by Ariana DeBose and Rachel Ziegler, this new version may even surpass the original.

Steven Spielberg took on two daunting tasks with his version of West Side Story. First, as a remake of a movie many consider to be one of the best ever made — it also has ten Oscars to back it up. Second, as a movie musical. An art that many of tried and nearly just as many have failed at producing in our modern age (*head slowly turns to Dear Evan Hansen*). Yet somehow he succeeds on both fronts and simultaneously delivers his best movie in years.

The original 1961 film, which was co-directed by the director of the stage version Jerome Robbins, feels like it’s adapting a stage musical to the screen. The staging, even on the streets of New York, feels like musical staging in three dimensions. Spielberg has a grander vision for his new version. Rather than feeling tied to one “stage,” Spielberg allows numbers to cut and move and take up the entire world rather than just one small part of it.

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A perfect example is the restaged “America,” inarguably the most iconic song and number. In the original, Anita, played by Rita Moreno who returns in a new role in this version, dances on the rooftop along with the Sharks and their girls in choreography that honors Robbins’ original vision. The camera is simply there to caption the action.

In this new version, Anita takes to the streets. She weaves through the city, into traffic, through stores, surrounded by onlookers who are just as much a part of the number as the dancers. It’s a grand old Hollywood musical number elevated by the new cinematic language — the camera cuts and pans and stays ahead of the action as much as it follows it. It also helps that our new Anita Ariana DeBose delivers the number with as much, if not more, high-flying feisty energy as Moreno.

And that goes for the film as a whole. While the 1961 version is clean and polished, Spielberg infuses the story which much-needed grit that is appropriate for 50s era New York. The new sensual and dark energy makes this tragedy all the more tragic while still maintaining the hyper-stylized magic needed of a musical.

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Spielberg uses moments of surrealism like the lights dimming when Maria and Tony lock eyes for the first time in a way that blurs movie and musical without completely alienating those who might be more musical-averse in the audience. However, that doesn’t mean he shies away from extravagant over-the-top musical numbers. His staging of “Office Krupke,” which always felt like a dead spot in the original, feels like an intricate Broadway staging.

You’ll notice that I almost went through this entire review without talking about the leads of the story, but that’s because Maria and Tony have always been the least interesting part of West Side Story. However, Kushner’s screenplay recenters the story on Maria in a way that makes us buy the relationship. It helps that newcomer Rachel Ziegler gives a shining star is born performance despite her less-than-stellar costar.

West Side Story is a classic and depending on who you ask classics should not and cannot be touched. Spielberg and Kushner said, “hold my beer.” This revamped version proves that you can have reverence for your source material while updating with new cinematic sensibilities to create something that stands entirely on its own.

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December 9, 2021
‘Licorice Pizza’ is a 70s hangout romp | movie review
Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza, a coming-of-age comedy starring Alana Haim, follows two young people in the 70s trying to find their key to success

Licorice Pizza is an irresistably charming comedy romp through the 70s through the eyes of two charismatic young people looking for an outlet for their energy.

Without fail the second a Paul Thomas Anderson movie ends I’m filled with an odd sense of sadness. Sadness that I won’t be able to hang out with his characters anymore. That I won’t be able to live in their world anymore. And yes, I even felt it with There Will Be Blood.

However, his newest film Licorice Pizza has more in common with Boogie Nights than much of his recent work — both are set in the 70s and feature a comedic cast of characters. But even that comparison isn’t perfect. Even in his lighter movies PTA often finds darkness in our existence. Licorice Pizza, however, is almost completely made of joy.

When Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman) meets Alana Kane (Alana Haim, of the band Haim, in her film debut) it’s clear that they’ve each met their match. What Gary, who is a mature-seeming 15-year-old, and Alana, a lost 25-year-old, have in common is that they have too much energy and natural charisma without an outlet for it.

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Throughout the movie, people seem inexplicably drawn to them. In one of the more ridiculous scenes in a film full of them, an actor (Sean Penn) invites Alana for drinks after an audition where he spews nonsense about the Korean war and attempts a motorcycle stunt from one of his old movies — with Alana in tow… kind of. He suavely cheeks, “you remind me of Grace.” Referring to his former co-star Grace Kelly.

The rest of the movie is just a greatest hits reel of those scenes, each of which works on their own but especially as a study of two people experimenting with their lives until they find meaning. Plotless movies sometimes end up being a chore to get to, but this is Paul Thomas Anderson. He knows exactly what buttons to hit and when.

In recent years, PTA has been leaning into character studies about difficult men with complex plots that frankly challenge the viewer into sticking with it. Think The Master or Phantom Thread. So it’s a wonder that Licorice Pizza is simply a hangout movie made for an easy watching experience.

As Alana begins to find success in various places, the pure lunacy of each scene heightens. When Gary’s new scheme at success is selling water beds, Alana takes his note of being sexier on sales calls a little too literally. After purring into the phone and promising to come over to “personally install” the mattress she quips to Gary, “if you say you want it more sexy, I’ll make it f-cking horny.”

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Lines like that easily make this PTA’s funniest movie, perhaps even his first broad comedy. That makes it the perfect movie for his wife comedy legend Maya Rudolph to make her first appearance in. Even more fitting for her to welcome a comedy star in the making.

Alana Haim, who is making her film debut along with her sisters and bandmates Este and Danielle (and their parents), steals every single frame of the movie with her perfectly delivered one-liners — I haven’t laughed harder this year than when she screamed, “you’re a f-cking Jew!” — and her subtly expressive face that just oozes disappointment at Gary’s shenanigans.

Like Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Hollywood or Richard Linklater’s Everybody Wants Some, Licorice Pizza is about faithfully recreating its time period. Not just the aesthetic, but the mood. The word transportive is used too often, but it really feels like PTA picks you up and drops you into this world where you can revel in the delight of hanging out for two hours. In that simplicity, PTA has found greatness.

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December 8, 2021
‘When I Consume You’ review | Brooklyn Horror Film Fest
Brooklyn Horror Film Festival’s When I Consume You follows a brother and sister living in Brooklyn who must face down an insidious evil stalking them

When I Consume You is the exact kind of indie horror I love to watch. Deeply personal, smartly crafted together, and full of the entire cast and crew’s heart.

A poetic and meditative supernatural thriller that twists in horror elements to tell its profound narrative about second chances, family, and trauma.

There’s a lot to admire about Perry Blackshear’s third feature When I Consume You, which premiered at the Sixth Annual Brooklyn Horror Film Festival, but nothing more than its sheer ambition. The Greenpoint, Brooklyn-set horror is a supernatural tale, action thriller, and family drama all wrapped into a polished arthouse package that is immersive and deeply felt. And although its ambition gets away from Blackshear at times, its heart — both figuratively and literally — is on display.

At the center of When I Consume You are Wilson (Evan Dumouchel) and Daphne (Libby Ewing), siblings who like all of us are in the process of figuring it all out. And as someone who has never lived more than a few blocks away from his sister in New York, this was particularly relatable for me. Daphne is a little further along in her journey than Wilson whose severe anxiety from their rocky childhood has prevented him from turning his janitorial job into something more. Daphne, on the other hand, has been able to turn her life around — until something stops her dead in her tracks.

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When I Consume You is a generational curse movie in the vein of Hereditary where real-life human trauma is brought into the supernatural. Blackshear doesn’t shy away from the movie’s genre elements — the movie opens with Daphne throwing up blood into the sink before pulling out a tooth — but instead of a horror movie with elements of a family drama, he steers this towards a family drama with horror elements. Which makes its second and third act twists land with great effect.

⚠️ Slight spoilers ahead

After getting to know Daphne and her deep relationship with Wilson, he discovers her dead in her apartment of an apparent overdose. However, after seeing a figure fleeing the scene with superhuman agility, he becomes certain that she was murdered and vows to find her killer. However, this isn’t the last we see of Daphne as she returns as a ghost to help Wilson track down her killer. In his quest, he encounters a cop (MacLeod Andrews) who is not what he seems and uncovers a deep family secret that explains the ghostly occurrences happening around him.

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There’s some narrative muddiness that makes the movie a little difficult to follow, though that’s also part of its charm. While the movie’s wavelength is sometimes hard to latch onto, its light hand when it comes to explaining its lore is appreciated. There’s a poetic quality to its rhythm that lands it squarely between arthouse and something broader.

For a low-budget indie shot over three weeks on location in Greenpoint, as Blackshear pointed out in a post-screening Q&A, it is impressive how effective its action and horror elements are. He has full control of an atmosphere that is as melancholic and isolating as New York could be in the winter. Plus the trio of main performances from Dumouchel, Ewing, and Andrews are dynamic, well-realized, and lived-in. When I Consume You is the exact kind of indie horror I love to watch. Deeply personal, smartly crafted together, and full of the entire cast and crew’s heart.

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October 19, 2021
‘Whether the Weather is Fine’ is Filipino cinema at its finest | TIFF movie review
Filipino film Whether the Weather is Fine takes a quirky approach to its story of the aftermath of a Typhoon

Carlos Francisco Manatad’s Whether the Weather is Fine will surprise you with its melancholic surrealist drama and absurdist comedy approach to a real-life disaster and capture you with its heart.

Whether the Weather is Fine, which had its North American premiere at the 2021 Toronto International Film Festival, is perhaps the best indication that the Filipino film industry is alive and well. The film focuses on the City of Tacloban, Director Carlos Francisco Manatad’s hometown, amidst the aftermath of Typhoon Haiyan — it was one of the strongest tropical cyclones ever recorded and one of the deadliest. However, the first two shots of the film tell us that this isn’t going to be your standard disaster movie.

The first real shot of the movie is of a clear blue sky outlining the irony of beautiful weather following the destruction. The second shot introduces us to Miguel (Daniel Padilla doing terrific work), who inexplicably wakes up on the couch of a destroyed home. A few feet from him lies a corpse and from his pocket, he pulls out a fish. It’s that tongue-in-cheek tone that immediately sets Whether the Weather is Fine from any expectations you may have based on its premise.

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Eventually, Miguel finds his girlfriend Andrea (Rans Rifol) and his mother Norma (Charo Santos-Concio) amongst the destruction. With an eerie loudspeaker warning of an incoming second storm, the trio decides it’s time to move on. How each of them accomplishes that differs.

Manatad captures the dreamlike state victims of disaster find themselves in with magical realism. All senses are heightened. It’s like the world doesn’t entirely make sense. And that’s because it doesn’t — much like Joe Talbot’s terrific The Last Black Man in San Francisco. When something as life-altering as Typhoon Haiyan happens, what you once knew no longer applies.

Through it all, the film maintains a darkly comedic tone as each of the characters tries to find what they’re looking for — escape, a purpose, forgiveness. The increasingly surreal and bleak scenes — helping a dog leading one character to become the messiah, an impromptu song and dance — become set-dressing to the engrossing journey each of the characters goes on.

However, it’s in the moments of hope that Whether the Weather is Fine comes together. There are two musical sequences that highlight what the film ultimately trying to say. There’s something about the Filipino spirit that is unbreakable. Something as a Filipino-American I’ve always tried to capture. Manatad tells us that through all the absurdity of life, sometimes all you need is an escape. And sometimes that escape is breaking out into song.

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September 22, 2021
TIFF 2021: Huda’s Salon, Encounter, & Dashcam | Review round-up
The Toronto International Film Festival is in full swing. Here is a round up of quick reviews for thrillers playing the fest.

Read all of my reviews, including full-length reviews, from the fest here!

Hany Abu-Assad’s Huda’s Salon. Courtesy of TIFF.

Huda’s Salon

As someone who both writes and consumes film criticism, there is nothing I hate more than hearing, “well, you just have to watch it.” However, there is so little I can divulge about the plot of Huda’s Salon, a new film by Palestinian director Hany Abu-Assad, without spoiling the fun that I have to tell you you just have to watch it. But I promise that you’ll thank me for my discretion

The opening scene plays out in a single long take as Huda (Manal Awad) does Reem’s (Maisa Abd Elhadi). The women discuss the latest gossip, complain about the men in their lives, and bond over the difficulty of motherhood. Then something happens. Something you don’t see coming and that will set off a cascading series of events that puts each of the characters in a pressure cooker that is just waiting to burst.

Abu-Assad allows the story to speak for itself rather than making any specific statements about life under occupation. The pure anxiety of the film is enough to tell you what it’s like. The movie struggles with the dichotomy of living in a place where you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Whether it’s being a patriot or being a martyr. It plays like a 70s espionage thriller with a Hitchcockian twist as the plot unravels.

Perfectly crafted and shot from beginning to end and full of terrific performances, but particularly Maisa Abd Elhadi, Huda’s Salon had me holding my breath from beginning to end.

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Michael Pearce’s Encounter, which premiered at the 2021 Toronto International Film Festival. Courtesy of TIFF.

Encounter

Riz Ahmed, following his Oscar-nominated turn in Sound of Metal, proves again that he is one of the best actors of his generation in Michael Pearce’s Encounter. The sci-fi thriller follows Malik Khan (Ahmed), a marine veteran and father, who goes on a mission to rescue his sons after he becomes convinced that an alien invasion of bugs is controlling people leading them to become violent.

The beauty of Encounter is that it doesn’t intend to trick you. It’s easy enough to solve exactly what is going before it reveals it to you. Instead, it’s more interested in Ahmed’s Malik and his struggle with PTSD and his relationship with his two sons (Aditya Geddada & Lucian-River Chauhan). With that storyline, the movie finds surprising emotional depths as the older of the two boys struggles with his perception of his father.

However, the movie is formulaic and a subplot featuring Octavia Spencer as a parole officer takes a lot of steam out of the father/son relationship story that fuels the movie. It’s unfortunate considering Pearce’s direction is confident and systematically builds up tension around the mystery as different situations create cracks in Malik’s carefully structured world and the boys a reason to fear their father.

There is value in the film once you wade through the predictable plot. If anything, come for another terrific Riz Ahmed performance.

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DASHCAM

Rob Savage’s DASHCAM, which premiered in the Midnight Madness section of the 2021 Toronto International Film Festival. Courtesy of TIFF.

Director Rob Savage brought the world its first, and to date best, pandemic-era film with his computer screen horror Host. The brilliance of that film is that it took place where our world is currently taking place: on screens and on Zoom, more specifically. Though computer screen films aren’t new, Host is the first to feel like it didn’t have to stretch the medium to its absolute max to work – something that his new film DASHCAM has to do and more.

Our protagonist — if you could call her that — is Annie Hardy a Los Angeles-based musician who is supporting herself during the pandemic by live-streaming from her car freestyling for tips. This is the medium through which we see the movie. Annie doesn’t hide her Covid skepticism or MAGA-supporting tendencies from her viewers, some of whom support her and some vehemently hate-watch her as we see from the live chat that remains in the corner of the frame for most of the film. Hardy, who is playing an over-the-top version of herself and hosts a show called “Band Car,” is crass, rude, and unafraid to voice her opposition to restrictions and etiquette around the pandemic.

Looking to escape the “madness of America,” she hops a flight across the Atlantic to London where she intends to stay with her musician friend Stretch (Amar Chadha-Patel). He is none too happy about her presence, especially when she steals his car and ends up in an empty restaurant where she is asked to bring an elderly woman called Angela (Angela Enahoro) to another location. However, after defecating on herself and then attacking a woman who seems to be looking for her, it becomes clear that Angela may not be entirely human.

From there, DASHCAM becomes a dizzying found footage horror with scenes reminiscent of The Blair Witch Project as Annie and Stretch try to stave off attacks by Angela and the woman after her. And while the horror and gore are repetitive — we have more than one fake-out death involving the same person — it at the very least delivers the kinds of thrills and chills that you’re looking for in this kind of movie. However, through it all, it feels like Annie seems to be trying out material for her Netflix standup special. Her brand of combative libertarianism slowly becomes more grating than funny and the film’s genre inventiveness wears off. As a subversion of the found-footage monster movie DASHCAM is rough around the edges, but works. Whenever it tries to be something more it makes me want to log off.

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September 17, 2021
‘The Humans’ is the next great NYC drama | TIFF movie review
The Humans takes place over a single night as a family gathers in a lower Manhattan apartment for Thanksgiving — and that’s a horror.

The Humans is a terrifically acted New York City-set family drama that plays like a horror movie about existential dread and the figurative, and literal, claustrophobia of life… so the most East Coast movie I’ve ever seen. I want to watch it 100 times

The Humans, along with Florian Zeller’s The Father, might be one of the most exciting play-to-movie adaptations for its pure embrace of the cinematic language. Throughout the film, which is set in a two-floor New York City apartment in Chinatown, the bulbs in each of the rooms progressively go out. The space the characters inhabit is literally shrinking and they’re forced to face the darkness — and each other. The tension builds until the final bulb finally burns out and all that they’re left to see is what’s in their heads — existential dread, worry, regret. So, basically, the most New York movie ever made.

If that sounds like horror to you, then you’re right. Though the premise of the film, which Stephen Karam adapted from his play of the same name, isn’t one that lends itself to the genre it very much is. And it oddly inhabits a new subgenre of family drama horror along with films like Krisha or the recent Shiva Baby. It makes sense, though. What is more horrifying than facing the truth in front of people that you’ve known your whole life.

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Forgoing family tradition, the Blake family spends Thanksgiving in younger daughter Brigid (Beanie Feldstein) and her boyfriend Richard’s (Steven Yeun fresh off his Oscar nomination for Minari) new apartment in Lower Manhattan. For anyone who grew up outside New York — like yours truly (Jersey!) — and moved into the city, having your parents come to your apartment is a stressful experience.

Yes, this is a family drama and quasi horror, but it’s also a dark comedy that hilariously understands the intricacies of the family dynamic. Mom talks about the latest odd death that she heard about on Facebook (“Mom, you don’t have to tell me every time a lesbian kills herself,” says Amy Schumer as eldest daughter Aimee), Dad walks around the apartment finding things to fix and chastises Brigid for not telling the super. All the while, their grandmother Momo (June Squibb), who suffers from dementia, babbles on.

The camera lingers on the artifacts of New York City apartments that are so familiar — the odd water stains on the wall, clanking radiators, shoddy light fixtures. And of course, Brigid’s parents Deidre and Erik (Jayne Houdyshell and Richard Jenkins) notice every single detail. These artifacts are a part of the horror of the film. Like a hidden totem of the unspoken trauma occurring outside of the walls of the apartment. For people that live in the city, those things fade away. For everyone else, they’re all too apparent.

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There are other horror tropes that Karam uses to make you uneasy about what’s happening in The Humans. The camera creeps from around corners and frames characters with plenty of negative space around them. He tracks characters walking down the narrow halls and sometimes even includes a jump scare.

When stage plays are adapted to film you can often tell. There’s a certain cadence to the dialogue that feels just next to normal. And typically directors focus too closely on the dialogue. The Humans does the exact opposite. Dialogue happens in the background just out of the frame. Conversations are happening around the characters. We’ll focus on one of them and slowly close in. We see their reactions — or lack thereof — to what is going on around them.

But why is The Humans a horror? Why not just make it a family drama? I haven’t said much about the plot yet, but that’s because there really isn’t one. Each of the members of the family is dealing with their own issues — Aimee is dealing with a breakup, Erik is worried about finances — and the relationship dynamics that existed way before the movie began — how many of us could be a little nicer to our moms. But real life can be horrifying in that way. There’s nothing more horrifying than facing your own failures and the existential dread of life.

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As the night trudges on, revelations are made, arguments are had, and, of course, there are moments of familial bliss. In particular, Richard’s attempt to assimilate into the family is particularly hilarious, as anyone that has brought a significant other home could attest to. The movie maintains this tone dancing around drama and dark comedy as it explores the intricacies of the family dynamic and of being alive. It’d make a perfect companion piece to fellow New York City-set dramedy The Daytrippers.

This is one of those films that I have difficulty talking about because the reason it works is so personal. You can pick out moments of relatability — both positive and negative — throughout the film and with every character. It’s an incredibly humane film that begs for empathy for its characters. You feel like you get to know them as well as your own family. If I could say one thing to convince you to watch this movie it is this: by the end, you’ll be sad you can’t hang out in that apartment anymore.

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September 15, 2021
‘Last Night in Soho’ is a ghost story that needs fewer ghosts | TIFF movie review
In Last Night in Soho, an aspiring fashion designer escapes her drab London life by transporting by to the 1960s and inhabiting an aspiring singer. But eventually dreams become nightmares.

Edgar Wright is anything but subtle in his filmmaking and storytelling. When asked, “how much?” he answers with a resounding, “yes!” — and that’s typically for the better and worse with his films. He’s a lover of the cinematic form. That’s evident in all of his movies. However, it’s often at the expense of his storytelling. And that is the case with his latest crime mystery psychological horror ghost story *takes breath* Last Night in Soho, which played at the 2021 Toronto Film Festival.

That long list of descriptors is why it does and does not work. It tries to chase down too many threads — pun intended. Though, the thread that holds it all together is Eloise Turner (Thomasin McKenzie proving yet again that she’s a force to be reckoned with), a young aspiring fashion designer who gets the chance to chase her dream when she’s accepted to the London School of Fashion.

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Eloise, who is from a remote English town, is excited to go to London to not only find a bigger space for herself but to follow the footsteps of her late mother — who she just so happens to see once in a while. Eloise has a sixth sense, if you will, that makes her more connected to those that have passed. There isn’t much explanation of the phenomenon, so you just have to go with it.

When she arrives, her nightmare roommate makes it impossible for her to live in the student dorms. Instead, she finds a room to rent in an old house in Soho owned by Miss Collins (Diana Rigg) and her life seems like it’s about to fall into place — until she goes to sleep. Her first night sleeping there, she suddenly finds herself transported back to the 1960s. However, she’s not herself. She inhabits the body of a young woman named Sandie (Anya Taylor-Joy) as she breezes into a nightclub with the intention of being a star. And Taylor-Joy performance convinces us that she is going to be.

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The way the camera sweeps between the two actresses is Wright at his finest. Eloise in her gray pajamas stares into a mirror where Sandie, in her flowing unstructured pink dress, stares back. Suddenly with a sweep of the camera they’ve switched places. Later on, as Sandie twirls on the dance floor with a music manager (Matt Smith) who promises to make her a star, she suddenly switches to Eloise. Another move and it’s Sandie again.

Those first few scenes of Eloise romping through the 60s are glorious in their visuals — the production design and costumes only amplify the kinetic energy — and help move the story forward at a breakneck pace — until it doesn’t. The problem I often have with Wright is those hyper-stylized visuals and frenetic editing eventually get in the way of the story. Like he’s thinking of stories in the context of how he’s going to present them.

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Eventually, those visions of Sandie and the 60s turn from an escape to an inescapable living nightmare as it bleeds into Eloise’s reality. And with that turn, it feels like Last Night in Soho jumps the shark. Jump scares pervade the horror and Eloise, our relatable outcast heroine never quite returns to form as the ghosts take their toll on her.

In addition to the ghost story, there’s a murder mystery that begins to take form. However, like the apparitions that haunt the streets of Soho, your interest in it is often fleeting. And to the film’s detriment, the entire third act, which is genuinely thrilling and unfolds stunningly, hinges on your investment in it.

As an experiment in the cinematic form, Last Night in Soho doesn’t disappoint and fans of Wright will likely be able to overlook its weaker elements to find satisfaction in the film. Even those that aren’t can revel in the film’s visuals, energy, and standout performances by Thomasin McKenzie and Anya Taylor-Joy. But in the canon of Wright’s career, Last Night in Solo feels minor.

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September 13, 2021
‘Dune’ is a spectacle that gets lost in a sandstorm | TIFF movie review
House Atreides is tasked with controlling the mining operation on the dangerous desert planet of Dune, but what they don’t know is political intrigue is afoot

On the surface, Dune is ambitious and thrilling. However, it feels like a good movie that flirts with greatness but never quite gets there. Though it’s stunningly made and designed, the classic story just doesn’t hold the same weight as it did when it was first released and the decision to only release half of it doesn’t help.

Why did Blade Runner 2049 work when it really shouldn’t have? When it was announced that Denis Villeneuve would direct the sequel to Blade Runner it had already toiled in development hell for nearly two decades, usually the kiss of death even if the film eventually does see the light of day. However, Villeneuve delivered a singular meditative vision that didn’t set out to remake the original, but rather expand on the world that was already there and dive even further into its thematic depths. That’s what Villeneuve had to do with Dune, especially after David Lynch’s much-maligned 1984 adaptation. And while he delivered on the world-building and action, underneath feels like a lack of a beating heart.

Erring closely to Frank Herbert’s 1965 novel, Dune follows the members of House Atreides. Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac) is tasked with stewarding the dangerous desert planet Arrakis, which is used by the Empire for its endless supply of “spice,” a powerful substance that has supernatural effects on humans. He, along with his concubine Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) and son Paul (Timothée Chalamet), journeys to the planet to begin the difficult work controlling the spice mining operation. However, political intrigue is afoot as Vladimir (an unrecognizable Stellan Skarsgård), Baron of House Harkonnen, is plotting the downfall of House Atreides.

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The world, captured gloriously by cinematographer Greig Fraser (Lion, Zero Dark Thirty), is built with terrific detail that makes it so fun to explore. The world is littered with fun details in the costumes (Ferguson’s Lady Jessica is a fashion icon), ships (dragonfly spaceships!), and culture. The mythology feels rich and deep. Like there are endless layers to parse through.

There is a gaggle of names and places to keep in order, but Villeneuve’s deliberate pacing makes it easy to keep track of the story — almost too easy. The story is quite simple, for better and worse. Better because heavy exposition tends to bog down sci-fi. On the other hand, he exposes how thinly built the plot of Dune is.

Though Dune was heavily acclaimed at the time of its release and still stands as one of the most influential novels ever written, nearly six decades later we’ve seen countless iterations of the “chosen one” storyline that is at its core — Star Wars, The Terminator, The Matrix, even Harry Potter. This undercuts the exceptional world-building that Villeneuve accomplishes by giving us a story that frankly fails to take full advantage of what the world has to offer.

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And the main part of that failure is Paul himself. The movie hinges on our desire for his success and the success of his people. And while yes, it’s easy enough to understand that House Atreides and the Fremen are good and House Harkonnen is bad, we’re never shown in earnest why we should root for them. We’re simply told.

On the surface, Dune is ambitious and thrilling. The few action set-pieces are tight and suspenseful as are the scenes of pure dramatic heft. In particular, many of the scenes between Ferguson’s Lady Jessica and Chalamet’s Paul start to find the humanistic quality that the rest of the film is missing. In one scene, Jessica and Paul use their shared knowledge of hand signs and telepathic powers to take down a group of soldiers. It’s the kind of plot and character-driven action that made Blade Runner 2049 so successful. However, in Dune it feels like it slips away like sand through your hands as soon as it is over because it’s difficult to muster up a connection to any of the characters.

Dune, or Dune Part 1 as the title card puts it, feels like half of a movie. Unlike all the “chosen one” films I listed above, it can’t stand on its own. Even the introduction of the Fremen people (led by Zendaya and Javier Bardem) feels cut short. There is a lot of story to get through, but the decision to split the film may have stretched the story to its absolute limit. I don’t mean to sound overly negative. Dune is a good movie that flirts with greatness but just never quite gets there — much like the chosen one. But perhaps, as the story goes, it’ll get there in the end.

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September 12, 2021
‘The Guilty’ puts Jake Gyllenhaal in the Oscar race | TIFF movie review
The Guilty follows a suspended police officer working 911 dispatch who falls upon an abduction case that he becomes determined to solve

The Guilty is a tense, innovative, and constantly twisting police procedural that unfolds in real-time and solely through phone calls to incredible effect. However, it elevates itself by also acting as a character study and indictment on policing and toxic masculinity. Jake Gyllenhaal has officially entered the Oscar race.

The Guilty, a remake of the 2018 Danish film of the same name, is a masterclass in adapting a non-English language film for American audiences. The trend of making English-language versions of acclaimed and successful foreign films has been picking up steam to mostly negative results — I’m looking at you Downhill. And more often than not, it’s because the studios commissioning these films don’t understand what makes them successful in the first place. That’s not the case with Antione Fuqua’s adaptation, which premiered at the 2021 Toronto International Film Festival.

Fuqua, best known for his thrillers and directing Denzel Washington to an Oscar for Training Day, doesn’t set out to recreate the Danish film. He’s too singular of a filmmaker for that. Rather, he filters the original’s plot through a distinctly American — and Fuqua — lens.

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Jake Gyllenhaal plays Joe, a former police officer relegated to 911 dispatch duty pending his trial. The reason for his suspension is kept close to the vest, however, Joe’s discontentment with the situation is not. He regularly snaps at co-workers, has coughing bouts that are caused by the wildfire smoke in the air (and maybe something more mental), and regularly pushes the boundaries of his job often talking back at 911 callers.

And that’s why when a woman named Emily (Riley Keough) calls feigning talking to her child Joe takes it upon himself to solve the case. Unfolding in real-time and the most intense episode of Law & Order: SVU, Joe realizes that Emily was taken against her will by her estranged husband Henry (Paul Dano) leaving her six-year-old daughter and infant son alone at home.

Coordinating with the California Highway Patrol, his partner Jim (Eli Goree), and various others and armed only with the information in the police database, Joe attempts to find Emily before it’s too late. That part of the plot is similar to the Danish version. However, in the background of all this — and throughout the screenplay written by True Detective’s Nic Pizzolatto — the wildfires and general distrust in the police loom large. That change alone validates the American version’s existence.

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There are many twists and turns that we only hear through calls that come through with the brilliant immersive sound design that puts us firmly in Joe’s point of view. Being in his point of view and watching the film unfold in real-time adds a sense of urgency, desperation, and helplessness. And while Fuqua’s smart directorial choices are one reason for this, Gyllenhaal’s terrific performance is captivating. It’s especially impressive considering he never leaves the screen for a single second of the film.

As thrilling as it is to unpack The Guilty as a police procedural what makes it great — and an Oscar contender for Netflix — is its grounding as a character study into toxic masculinity and the psychological effects of giving power to a person. Joe, our “hero,” brings his own outside circumstances to the situation — his own separation from his wife and daughter, his impending case — and uses that to motivate his decision-making for better or worse. He changes throughout the film. We watch as this case tears away at his psyche before the dam breaks — and with it, Jake Gyllenhaal’s performance soars.

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September 10, 2021