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‘Run’ starts with a sprint but ends in a walk | movie review
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A resourceful teen who is wheelchair-bound begins to suspect that her mother is hiding a deeply-buried secret from her in Run, streaming on Hulu

A couple of heart-pounding sequences of suspense and two terrific lead performances by Sarah Paulson and Kiera Allen are enough to keep Run moving, but its predictable twists end up kneecapping the film before it ever gets momentum.

▶︎ Streaming on Hulu

Director Aneesh Chaganty made a huge splash with his debut feature film Searching—featured on our list of the decade’s best thrillers—a techno-thriller starring John Cho, that took an innovative approach to a classic mystery thriller setup—a missing daughter and her father who will stop at nothing to find her. And though the story was certainly well-trodden territory, Chaganty’s decision to present the film entirely on a laptop screen added an engrossing 21st Century twist to the narrative. His sophomore feature Run on the other hand is as typical as they come.

It probably doesn’t help that it comes directly on the heels of Hulu’s highly successful true-crime miniseries The Act, which tells the chilling story of Gypsy Rose Blanchard and the murder of her mother, who entrapped Gypsy by fabricating multiple illnesses and disabilities. Of course, Run takes a more melodramatic approach with even more audacious twists and turns—as if that was even possible—as teenager Chloe (Kiera Allen) begins to suspect that her mother Diane (Sarah Paulson) may be experiencing more than just anxiety over the prospect of her going off to college.

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The story of Run is so simple that I’m resistant to even expose more of it other than the fact that there are a couple more twists and turns than you might think. Still, the incredibly directed sequences of Hitchcockian suspense, terrific lead performances by Paulson and Allen—who is a real-life wheelchair user, and heart-pounding score aren’t enough to overcome the fact that I could call almost every single plot beat before it happened.

What Run does prove is that Chaganty is a terrific director—listen to him break down one of the best scenes of the movie and you’ll understand why. However, I’d be interested in seeing him tackle someone else’s script or perhaps an adaptation. Though the movie starts off at a sprint by the end it feels like you’re running a marathon to get through it.

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November 26, 2020
‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ is a long lonely road | movie review
I’m Thinking of Ending Things is a twisting psychological thriller about a couple road-tripping during a snowstorm to meet their parents

I’m Thinking of Ending Things combines a darkly comedic tone with a bleak atmosphere to make for a haunting portrait of a relationship on the rocks.

▶ Streaming on Netflix

Chloé Zhao makes Nomadland‘s melancholic but hopeful story of nomads traversing the American West a stunningly complex character study of life on the margins of society.

Loneliness is a prison. The memories, regrets, and what-ifs of life become trapped on repeat in your head forming a blend of reality and fantasy in your psyche in an effort to fill the void of silence that it creates. In the time of the coronavirus pandemic that feeling may hit closer to home, which is why Charlie Kaufman’s newest film I’m Thinking of Ending Things—now streaming on Netflix—feels so effective.

Each of the film’s three acts takes place largely in isolated locations—a car on a snowy country road, a remote farmhouse, and an empty high school nestled far from the road in the woods—with only stream-of-consciousness-like conversations to disturb the peace. Those conversations happen between the movie’s four players. At the center is an unnamed young woman (Jessie Buckley) who is road tripping with her new boyfriend Jake (Jesse Plemmons) to meet his family for the first time.

On the road there, the pair engage in conversations both mundane and philosophically complex. And like any road trip, there are moments of silence which is when the woman’s internal monologue admitting she’s thinking of ending things with Jake fills the space. There are moments where we’re led to believe that something more is afoot. However, more than anything it’s a stunning piece of atmosphere that is equal parts unsettling and irresistibly engrossing.

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Kaufman, who won an Oscar for writing Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, has only directed three movies—roughly one per decade. His two prior films, Synecdoche, New York and Anamolisa, both leveraged his surrealistic style to explore different crises of identity and the existential quandaries they create. To that end, I’m Thinking of Ending Things may be the most Kaufman-esque of the three. When the pair arrive at Jake’s parents’ farmhouse we become certain that this isn’t just a melancholic take on Meet the Parents.

Instead, we’re treated to an ever-twisting environment where things aren’t quite as they seem and, more interestingly, a step away from reality. That begins with Jake’s mother (Toni Collette) and father (David Thewlis) who are almost too eager to share the embarrassing specifics of Jake’s past… and present. From their demeanor, we’d assume they haven’t been out of the house and in contact with other humans in years. It’d account for the mother’s compulsive habit of doing something and then chastising herself for doing it wrong and the father’s inability to say something unproblematic.

Then, the film furthers the ante by playing with space and time. The young woman drifts from room to room finding different scenes of the three family members at different ages and stages of life. At times, she herself becomes a part of the scene. Still, Kaufman plays his cards close to his chest—that is until the final act where reality is bent even more.

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Jessie Buckley as Young Woman, David Thewlis as Father, Jesse Plemons as Jake, Toni Collette as Mother in I’m Thinking Of Ending Things. Cr. Mary Cybulski/NETFLIX © 2020

That’s in opposition to the Ian Reid novel it is based on. The book, which I admittedly found to be obtuse, both had too much foreshadowing of its final twist and too many red herrings that when its final reveal was made all I could think was, “what’s the point?” The film strips the book of all the elements intended to distract us and instead shrouds the mystery in opaqueness but doesn’t completely shut us out.

There is a way to read the film. Kaufman didn’t set out to trick or confuse the audience. He has a specific story to tell. One about relationships, identity, regret, longing, and even more. He gives you the tools to solve the mystery, like the moments the movie cuts away to a janitor (Guy Boyd) going about his daily routine, though it may take more than one attempt to understand it all.

That’s not to say it’s not completely satisfying on a first viewing. The darkly comedic tone and bleak atmosphere make for a haunting portrait of a relationship on the rocks. However, the layer just beneath the surface is as complex as the human mind when it’s put under stress. Few people have been able to communicate the non-linear way our minds work, but Kaufman has come damn close. And for that, it’s worth a watch. Then, it begs you for another. Or are you begging for another?

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Best Thrillers of the Decade (a running list)

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September 13, 2020
‘Possessor’ puts gore to good use | movie review
Possessor tells the gruesome story of an assassin who is able to take control of a subjects body to carry out her hits

Possessor may be diabolically gruesome to the point of excess, however, it uses the gut-wrenching feelings it derives to great use in a story that is more than… skin deep.

One could try and sum up Brandon Cronenberg’s Possessor — which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year — as an arthouse techno body horror version of Christopher Nolan’s Inception. Though, that still doesn’t even begin to describe the diabolically visceral experience of watching the film.

Laced with some of the most horrific gore I’ve seen in a film in, well, ever, Possessor is a lot more than the bloody exploitation of its surface. Like his father, filmmaker legend David Cronenberg (The Fly, Videodrome), the younger Cronenberg uses the disturbing imagery to explore something more. Something deeply human—how our identity alternatively works for and against us.

In the prologue, we follow a woman we come to know as Holly (Gabrielle Graham). As she stares in the mirror, she plunges a needle attached to a device into her head. As she turns a dial, her emotions change from happy and laughing to crying to nothing. Later, she walks into a crowded restaurant, grabs a knife, and violently murders a man before her. She takes a gun that she brought and goes to turn it on herself. However a force prevents her from pulling the trigger. Instead, as the cops arrive, she turns the gun on them and is shot multiple times until she’s dead.

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Chloé Zhao makes Nomadland‘s melancholic but hopeful story of nomads traversing the American West a stunningly complex character study of life on the margins of society.

Later we’ll learn that Holly wasn’t actually controlling her own body—it makes Graham’s short performance all the more impressive—and instead it was Tasya Vos (Andrea Riseborough), a sort of assassin who uses brain-implant technology to inhabit a subjects body and use them to carry out hits for clients without anyone suspecting a thing.

Such is the case with her next job which involves inhabiting the body of Colin Tate (Christopher Abbott), to murder his girlfriend Ava (Tuppence Middleton) and her father John (Sean Bean), a billionaire and CEO of a large corporation, so that his stepson could take control of the business. Using Colin’s drug use and insecure masculinity as a cover for the crime.

Refreshingly, Possessor avoids much of the heavy exposition that a movie with as high a concept usually is bogged down by. Instead, Cronenberg only gives us enough information to understand while focusing more on story and character, which is wise considering there is so much to unpack.

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While we watch Tasya in Colin’s body go about setting up the crime, there is the subtext of her slow loss of grip on reality. Earlier we watch her go to visit her husband and son, however before going in she prepares rehearses what to say. Not because she’s nervous, but seemingly because she forgot how to be a person. Taking someone’s identity and committing increasing vile and gruesome murders will do that to a person.

Usually, that’d be an asset to someone with Tasya’s choice of career, however instead of helping her, it’s giving Colin an opening to take control back of his body. And that’s where Possessor becomes truly great. With sometimes stomach-churning gore, Cronenberg portrays the psychic warfare between Tasya and Colin as a neon-drenched assault on the senses that is as engrossing as it is disturbing to watch.

While Cronenberg doesn’t take full advantage of everything the world he’s concocted has to offer, he instead relied on its simplicity to dive into its complexities. Supported by understated but emotive cinematography by and Karim Hussain and engrossing score by Jim Williams, Possessor is nothing short of a test of will, but a test that is rewarding in the end. Because amid the carnage is something beautifully human.

Possessor will be available on VOD next month.

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October 8, 2020
‘Spiral’ is unapologetically gay horror | movie review
Spiral follows a gay couple that moves to the suburbs with their daughter in the 90s to find their neighborhood is more than meets the eye

Spiral is a mysterious act of dread and atmosphere that also taps into the inherent horror of being different in a world that isn’t ready to accept that.

▶︎ Streaming on Shudder

Chloé Zhao makes Nomadland‘s melancholic but hopeful story of nomads traversing the American West a stunningly complex character study of life on the margins of society.

“People don’t change… they just get better at hiding how they feel.” It only makes sense that horror, a genre about one of the most primal human emotions, is one of the best grounds to explore social issues—as recently as Get Out or as far back as Night of the Living Dead. For some of us, living day to day is a horror movie in itself. That feeling is what Spiral, a new horror streaming on Shudder, taps into.

Spiral follows Malik (Jeffrey Boyer-Chapman) and his boyfriend Aaron (Ari Cohen) as they move from the big city to a small suburban town to live out their dreams of a “normal” existence along with Aaron’s 16-year-old daughter Kayla (Jennifer Laporte). Though the initial reception is warm, especially from their new neighbors Tiffany (Chandra West) and Marshal (Lochlyn Munro), Malik feels the dread of being the one different person—in his case, a queer black man—in a town. However, his dread isn’t just because of a few homophobic micro-aggressions, something more is afoot.

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After more incidents begin to occur, including witnessing an odd ritual happening in the house across the street, Malik begins to dig into the town’s past with the help of a note slipped to him by an elderly neighbor who is found dead the next day. His research uncovers a pattern of death that makes him believe that his own family may be in danger, which is further evidenced by the lapses of time and fiendishly chilling hallucinations—or are they real?—he begins to experience.

Throughout the movie, we see flashes to Malik’s past where he was the witness to a hate crime. Those flashes pervade into his everyday life—a subtle hint at the PTSD caused by the trauma that queer people face. It’s in that juxtaposition between the overt homophobia and the microaggressions that Spiral thrives in its goal of creating real social horror. And though there are moments when Boyer-Chapman’s performance betrays the quality of the movie, it’s in those scenes that he taps into something deeply painful.

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There is so much to appreciate in Spiral, in particular the well-wrought dark atmosphere of dread that director Kurtis David Harder achieves through Bradley Stuckel‘s well-thought out cinematography and Avery Kentis’ ominous score. It’s slow-burn horror at its finest, which makes the cheaper jump scares frustratingly out of place. Still, the balance of mystery to horror to character-rooted social commentary is impressive in John Poliquin and Colin Minihan‘s screenplay.

Though I wish it explored its a lore a little more—or at least allowed us to experience the horrors it brings about—Spiral a quietly impressive low-budget foray into social horror. The scares are genuine—both in relation to its potential supernatural elements and the experience of being different in a world that craves “normalcy”. Late in the movie, one character says, “it’s human nature… fear. We just exploit it.” And that’s the real horror. That someone will use that fear against us—they already are.

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September 14, 2020
‘My Cousin Vinny’ holds up 25 years later | movie review

25 years later, My Cousin Vinny remains one of the funniest and sharpest comedies from the 90s with one of the best comedic ensembles of all-time.

Twenty-five years later, My Cousin Vinny remains one of the funniest and sharpest comedies from the 90s with one of the best comedic ensembles of all-time. However, it’s the engrossing story and Oscar-winning performance from Marisa Tomei that really sets it apart.

▶︎ Available to buy or rent on Amazon

If there is one thing comedy filmmakers in the 80s and 90s loved, it was “fish out of water” movies — that wonderfully simple plot device where you put a character in a scenario, time, or place that’s completely alien to them. Just take a look at some of the biggest movies from the time period — Back to the Future, Beverly Hills Cop, City Slickers. But for me, one always rose above the rest. Whether it’s because I was exposed to it way too early in life — thanks, Mom and Dad — or because it’s such an easy scenario to pull comedy out of, My Cousin Vinny remains one of my favorite comedies of all time.

Billy Gambini (Ralph Macchio) and Stan Rothenstein (Mitchel Whitfield) are on a road trip visiting colleges in their green 1964 Buick Skylark convertible. As they are driving through Alabama, they stop at a convenience store to get snacks. Soon after they leave, someone robs the store and shoots the clerk. Billy and Stan are pulled over and arrested by the police who suspect they committed the crime. After a confusing — and hilarious — interrogation scene where Billy accidentally confesses to the murder — he thought the police were referring to a can of tuna he forgot to pay for — the duo is arrested for murder. And since it’s the deep south, they have the death penalty.

Chloé Zhao makes Nomadland‘s melancholic but hopeful story of nomads traversing the American West a stunningly complex character study of life on the margins of society.

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Fear not, though, Billy happens to have a lawyer in the family — his cousin Vinny (Joe Pesci). The one problem is that Vinny has never been to trial and thinks that this murder trial will be “a good learning experience.” Unfortunately for him, he has to deal with the by-the-books judge (Fred Gwynne), his saucy girlfriend Mona Lisa Vito (Marisa Tomei), and hogs, factory whistles, and trains that wake him up a 5:30 every morning.

Screenwriter Dale Launer had the difficult task of balancing an actually compelling courtroom comedy with the New Yorker in the deep south premise that underlines the story. He succeeds because he doesn’t place the comedy in the scenario. Instead, he places it in the characters. The movie has actually been praised by lawyers for its accuracy in legal strategy and courtroom procedure with Max Kennerly saying, “the movie is close to reality even in its details. Part of why the film has such staying power among lawyers is because, unlike, say, A Few Good Men, everything that happens in the movie could happen—and often does happen—at trial.” The scenario and story aren’t ridiculous, but Vinny Gambino and Mona Lisa Vito certainly are.

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Joe Pesci is integral to the success of the movie as the easily riled-up Brooklynite Vinny. Perpetually cranky and completely out of his depth, Pesci’s Vinny is churlish, but you can’t help but love and root for him. That’s because Pesci makes Vinny endearing, in a way. Past his black-on-black outfit, gold chains, and thick New York accent is a man with insecurities and a good heart. But a key element to making Vinny a successful character is his supportive, but equally bombastic girlfriend Mona Lisa. Marisa Tomei, who shockingly won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for the role, deserved every bit of the award. Case in point, the “biological clock” monologue. It’s a ridiculous scene and Tomei plays it to its full worth — yelling, stomping, and all. But where most comedic actors would leave it there and call it a day, Tomei ends the rant with a face of desperation that adds real weight to what she just said. Their banter and relationship are the lifeblood of the film.

Of course, though, Launer also gives them comedy gold to work with. It’s not even the one-liners that are the funniest parts.He’s incredibly patient. One of my favorite jokes involves Stan being sexually assaulted in the prison. He spends an entire scene outlining that fear. Then, in the next scene, Vinny arrives while Bill is sleeping. Stan mistakingly thinks he’s there to sleep with them. Then, comedy ensues. It seems like every joke Launer sets up for the characters is followed by a payoff performed with incredible timing by the actors and is well worth the wait.

Chloé Zhao makes Nomadland‘s melancholic but hopeful story of nomads traversing the American West a stunningly complex character study of life on the margins of society.

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Nowadays, it’s expecting to have a scene-stealer — Melissa McCarthy in Bridesmaids, Zack Galifinakis in The Hangover — but it seems that every supporting performer steals their scene. It’s nearly impossible not to break down laughing when Austin Pendleton, as a public defender Stan has hired, stammers through his opening statement or when Bruce McGill as the town sheriff tries to coerce a confession out of Bill and Stan. But I’m adamant in saying that Fred Gwynne gives one of the best Supporting performances in a comedy ever. From his facial expressions to his line delivery — “what’s a yout?”— it’s a masterclass in making the most of the material you’re given.

Comedy movies have a hard time standing the test of time — tastes change, attitudes change, society changes. Still, 25 years later, My Cousin Vinny remains a deliciously hilarious courtroom romp. You could probably shave 20 minutes off the running time and the second half is definitely stronger than the first, but comedies aren’t made like this anymore. Screenwriters have become so obsessed with one-liners that the set-up/punchline joke has been all but irradiated. Well, My Cousin Vinny proves that well-written and superbly delivered jokes belong in comedies. Do yourself a favor, watch this movie and be delighted for a couple hours. I mean, you “youts” need some quality comedies in your lives.

My Cousin Vinny is available for digital rental on Amazon!

March 16, 2017
‘Resolution’ is a meta-horror sci-fi worth your time | movie review
Resolution follows a man’s attempt to force his friend into sobriety and while his attempt is good intentioned something sinister is happening at the same time

Resolution is a creepy, atmospheric, and wholly satisfying meta-horror that served as a perfect introduction to Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson’s specific brand of high concept, lo-fi science fiction.

▶︎ Streaming on Prime Video. Available to buy or rent on Apple TV, Amazon, and YouTube.

Indie filmmakers Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson have a singular ability to take a high concept science fiction story and bring it to life with an endearing lo-fi charm. And though I’ve loved their creature feature romance Spring and time travel mystery The Endless, I’ve actually never seen their debut feature.

Resolution, which had its world premiere at the 2012 Tribeca Film Festival, is the only one of the duo’s films that could be firmly planted in the horror genre, though like all their work, it is a work of genre-bending.

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Resolution follows Michael (Peter Cilella), a graphic designer who is lured from the city to a remote rural area on the edge of an Indian reservation where his high school best friend Chris (Vinny Curran), a drug addict on a full bender, has holed up in a seemingly abandoned shack. Determined to help him, Michael plans to restrain Chris for a week and force him to sober up—granted he did give Chris the option of just going to rehab.

However, things start to take a turn for the creepy when Michael realizes that the video and map that he was sent to help him track down Chris weren’t sent from Chris at all—and the videos keep coming portraying insidious and sinister “stories” that make Michael think they’re a part of something’s deranged game.

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The mystery unfolds at a slow but steady pace as a dread-filled atmosphere drives the suspense. However, like all of Moorhead and Benson’s films, Resolution isn’t quick to answer any of your questions—and it’s better because of it.

Underneath it all, there is a surprisingly engrossing story of the relationship between the two men—one seen as a “fuck up” and the other as having it all. Still, what makes the film great is its meta-commentary on the genre itself. And though it’s never as subversive or goes as full tilt into satire as its genre companion The Cabin in the Woods, Resolution is a wholly satisfying—and uber-unnerving exercise in sci-fi horror.

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November 17, 2020
‘Sound of Metal’ gives Riz Ahmed his Oscar role | movie review
In Sound of Metal, a drummer for a heavy metal band is forced to confront a very different future when he suddenly loses his hearing

Sound of Metal is one of the best portrayals of deafness in film using smart sound design and a stellar performance by Riz Ahmed to communicate the experience. And while it loses steam as it makes its way to the finale the core message is powerful and poignant.

There is a scene about halfway through Darius Marder‘s Sound of Metal, which is being released on Amazon Prime Video on December 4th, where Joe (Paul Raci) gives Ruben Stone (Riz Ahmed) the assignment of sitting in a room with a cup of coffee and a notepad and do nothing. He tells him if he gets the urge to do something to write in the notepad. For most people, it sounds like an easy task, but have you ever done it?

That is the most impactful scene in Sound of Metal because it, like many other of the film’s decisions, helps put you in the mind space of Ruben, a drummer and recovering addict who suddenly loses almost all of his hearing, by turning it into something you can relate to. When you’re uncomfortable with yourself, the silence—whether literal or figurative—when you’re not accomplishing something is deafening.

And for Ruben, whose band consists of himself and his girlfriend Lou (Thoroughbreds’ Olivia Cooke), standing still feels like death.

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That’s apparent in his go-getter attitude when it comes to their music as they shuffle from gig to gig with their unique experimental rock sound that he hopes drives them to be something one day. Instead, he’s faced with the choice to lose it all when he all of a sudden loses most of his hearing. As the doctor puts it, what is gone will never come back, so his job now is to retain what is left—that is to say, no loud noises—which makes his decision to play a show that night confounding.

However, when he breaks down and Lou realizes what is happening she makes the tough decision to part ways. She goes home to France and he goes into a community for the deaf where his sponsor sets him up with a narcotics anonymous group. There, he comes to terms with his disability and learns how those around him also cope.

Sound of Metal‘s greatest strength is its ability to immerse you Ruben’s world. Through visual cues and smart sound design where we shift in and out of Ruben’s ability of hearing, we feel what he’s feeling. Both the silence and the moments of magic created by this deaf community. In these communities—many of the film’s actors are actually deaf including Lauren Ridloff‘s Diane, a teacher—being deaf is seen as a blessing and that Marder’s direction coupled with Ahmed’s engrossing performance communicate that.

Paul Raci, Olivia Cooke, and Riz Ahmed in Sound of Metal. Courtesy of Amazon Studios.

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The central conflict of the film is Ruben’s decision of whether or not to get an incredibly expensive surgery to regain his hearing—in actuality, the procedure tricks the brain into thinking its hearing resulting in something like… well, the sound of metal. On one hand he’s seeing the beauty of his new condition, on the other, so much of his life has been driven by pushing forward with his music, with his relationship, and with his recovery. Without the distraction of those things, he and Lou are afraid he’d relapse.

Eventually, Marder, who penned the screenplay along with his brother Abraham Marder, writes himself into a corner which makes the third act feel like a break in the momentum. Nevertheless, the message never strays: accepting yourself is finding the ability to sit still and be okay with that. Which is why the film’s perfect final shot, a combination of the film’s greatest assets—the sound design and Ahmed’s performance, sticks with you.

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November 15, 2020
‘First Cow’ is a nice movie about nice friends | movie review
First Cow tells the story of an unlikely friendship, their improbable business idea, and the cow that is the lynchpin behind both

Like all of director Kelly Reichardt’s films, First Cow is a warm blanket of a story where the stakes are never overstated, the characters are grounded to Earth, and the filmmaking leaves you to be immersed in its simple joys.

Director Kelly Reichardt has said that her movies are “just glimpses of people passing through.” And as oblivious directors often are about their filmography—I’m looking at you Nicolas Winding Refn—Reichardt hits the nail right on the head. Whenever I watch one of her films, I know I’m going to feel comforted in one way or another. The stories she tells invoke the feeling of talking to a stranger who has a great story to tell that they heard from someone else who in turn heard it from another person—and First Cow is no exception.

At the start, we see an unnamed woman (a cameo by Green Room‘s and Arrested Development‘s Alia Shawkat) who is walking her dog along a river. The adorable pup who would have been the star of the film if not for the eponymous cow uncovers a skull that is revealed to be a full skeleton—two, in fact, laying side by side. And though we never see the woman again, we could imagine that the story that follows is one that she slowly uncovers through research and pure curiosity and maybe begins to tell it at dinners. About the time she found two skeletons buried in the ground by a river.

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We cut to the Oregon territory in the 1820s and meet Cookie Figowitz (John Magaro), a quiet chef traveling with a group of loud and aggressive fur trappers across the wilderness. While scavenging for food for the group, he stumbles upon a naked man cowering in the bushes. And despite his compromised position, he speaks deliberately and with control as if this is exactly where he’s meant to be. The man, King-Lu (Orion Lee), a Chinese immigrant, tells Cookie that he killed a man and is now on the run from a group of Russians—though it doesn’t quite explain his state of undress.

Though Cookie doesn’t say much, you can tell through his big eyes and gentle movements that he has a pure heart that drives him to give King-Lu food and shelter for the night. The next day King-Lu is gone, though Cookie glimpses him making his escape across a river later. Of course, as every good story goes, the pair sees each other again later with Cookie, now free of his commitments to the fur trappers, and King-Lu established with a small shack on the outskirts of a settlement.

The men bond over a warm fire and alcohol as they talk of their pasts and their ambitions. Reichardt has a unique ability to make you feel immersed in her worlds—the sounds of wood are chopped or a broom against a dirt floor pull you straight into the simplicity of the time. And the conversation is just one of those that warms you to the core—just two men from completely different backgrounds talking about their shared American dream.

But what if it wasn’t a dream?

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Orion Lee as King-Lu and John Magaro as Cookie Figowitz in First Cow. Courtesy of A24.

Cookie talks about one day opening a bakery having studied under an English chef in Boston. King-Lu, the ever businessman, suggests they actually do it. Of course, there’s one problem. There’s no milk to put into the baked goods. Advantageously, Chief Factor (Toby Jones) has recently imported the first milk cow into the territory giving Cookie and King-Lu the chance to actually start their business by sneaking onto Factor’s property at night to milk the cow and sell the biscuits they make in the day. Of course, they’re an instant hit.

And truly, there’s not much more to the plot. Eventually, a wrench is thrown into their plan and they find themselves between a rock and a hard place, but Reichardt never overstates the stakes. Oddly, the resulting kerfuffle is almost comical in a way. However, the focus never strays from the film’s main focus: this unlikely central friendship.

In the time of the pandemic, civic unrest, and perhaps the worst year of many of our lives, First Cow reminds us of the simple joys of life—interesting conversation, a warm shelter, good food. It’s nothing more than that. It is a nice movie about nice friends and their nice business involving a nice cow. Yet, it feels consequential. Like everything I needed and wanted out a movie at this very moment.

First Cow is available to buy or rent on Prime Video.

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November 11, 2020
‘Rebecca’ trades haunts for style | movie review
Netflix’s Rebecca, which follows in the footsteps of Hitchcock’s 1940 classic, follows a young woman who walks in the shadow of her new husband’s late wife

Rebecca is gloriously filmed and impeccably designed, but beneath all of the polish of its grand mansion setting is an empty house filled with nothing but empty rooms and empty thrills.

English author Dame Daphne du Maurier’s novel Rebecca, which was later adapted by Alfred Hitchcock in 1940, is a ghost story. However, in Netflix’s remake, helmed by British master of folk horror Ben Wheatley, the ghosts that haunt Manderley, the sprawling mansion where the movie takes place, are largely missing.

I’ll be honest, a travesty has taken place. I have never seen Hitchcock’s 1940 film. I know, I know! But it isn’t available anywhere to watch really. However, that gives the opportunity to review this film through the lens of a first-time viewer, which let’s be honestly is the experience of most of the viewers who will be catching the film on Netflix.

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The setup is quite simple actually, enigmatic wealthy businessman Maxim de Winter (a perfectly cast Armie Hammer) is vacationing in Monte Carlo where he meets the unnamed companion of Mrs. Van Hopper (Ann Dowd). The companion, a naïve 20-something played by Lily James, is of course taken with de Winter and the interest is mutual. Through two weeks of courtship, the pair decide to marry and have the young woman move to his mansion in Cornwall, the beautiful estate Manderley.

However, throughout their courtship, it is apparent that his late wife Rebecca weighs heavily on his mind. The same can be said when the newlywed Mrs. de Winter arrives at the estate where everyone, and especially housekeeper Mrs. Danvers (Kristin Scott Thomas), still reminisce about the time when Rebecca was the lady of the house.

At its core, the mystery and story of Rebecca, where the new Mrs. de Winter is haunted by the expectations and possibly the actual ghost of Rebecca, is intriguing. The character study of an obsessed young woman eager to please her husband by remaking herself in the image of his seemingly perfect first wife is incredible to unpack. However, director Ben Wheatley seems to be missing something—the ghosts.

James’ portrayal of an impressionable, young woman on the edge of madness as the suffocating presence of her new husband’s late wife takes control is interesting. But without the underlying feeling of dread—which peeks its head out occasionally, but is often quickly replaced with melodrama—it feels more conventional than it should be.

That’s also due to the lack of underlying themes.

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November 2, 2020
10 Great Romantic Comedies to Fall in Love With
Romantic comedies are like the cinematic equivalent of comfort food—easy to watch, heartwarming, and a slice of happiness. Here are some great ones.

Romantic comedies are like snuggling up in a warm cardigan on a crisp autumn day. Or like that first bite of your mom’s cooking when you come home from the holidays. They also have corny analogies involving cardigans and mom’s cooking, but that’s what I love about them. Movies, at their purest form, are not meant to emulate human emotions but amplify them. We all, at some point, yearn for and feel love. Romantic comedies simply take that feeling and create the idealized version of it, which is why they’re so comforting to watch.

Here are just a few of our favorites.

Moonstruck (1987)

Nicolas Cage and Cher in Moonstruck. Courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Moonstruck is one of those movies you watch and say, “they don’t make them like that anymore.” From the opening credits set to “That’s Amore” to the perfectly executed conclusion there’s a feeling of warmth and romance that is underscored by the hilarious tongue-in-cheek tone. It’s one of the greatest romantic comedies and movies of all time.

However, it’s more than just a few laughs and iconic line readings. The screenplay’s tight structure is hard to not get swept up in and Cher’s magnetic performance tinged with her glowing movie star power makes it clear why she won an Oscar for the role — not to mention Nicolas Cage’s perfectly chaotic energy. Despite the joy it exudes, there’s also a melancholic but uplifting undercurrent about romance that might just make you believe in love again.

Moonstruck is streaming on Prime Video via Showtime

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Beginners (2010)

Mélanie Laurent and Ewan McGregor in Beginners. Courtesy of Focus Features.

I almost hate myself for saying this but Beginners isn’t a love story it’s a story about love. It’s about the love we give away and take—and it’s about the love we didn’t give away and didn’t take. Like many of Mike Mills’ films, Beginners plays like a memory and meditation more than a narrative. In it, we learn that love can come at any time and that optimism ultimately is the way to live your life.

Beginners is streaming on HBO Max

The Big Sick (2017)

Kumail Nanjiani and Zoe Kazan in The Big Sick. Courtesy of Amazon Studios.

Love always comes with baggage. However, it’s the way we deal with that baggage that often determines the fate of relationships. But what if you couldn’t confront that baggage head-on and instead had to deal with it through your romantic interest’s parents? That’s how The Big Sick — and its clever script filled with witty one-liners — subverts the expectations of a romantic comedy.

When the movie’s story takes its turn, Showalter masterfully guides the tone towards dramedy that is sentimental, but never overwrought. As Kumail and Emily’s parents circle each other like cowboys preparing for a shootout, there are moments of understanding and education and growth just like a traditional rom-com. It’s filled with so much empathy and character moments that have so much meaning, but always find a way to end on a joke. For that, it’s a true delight.

The Big Sick is streaming on Prime Video

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Plus One (2019)

Jack Quaid and Maya Erskine in Plus One. Courtesy of RLJE Films.

The rom-com works best when it’s character-driven and has a fresh perspective, both of which Plus One has. However, it also helps that the movie is so incredibly funny and filled with sharp one-liners delivered with precision by Maya Erskine and Jack Quaid. But it’s Erskine who really steals the show with one great sarcastic quip after another.

“I cried… but I cry every day, so it doesn’t mean anything”
— Me (but also Erskine in the movie)

It’s not perfect. The story drags in the third act and it falls into some genre cliches. But, for the most part, Plus One is a hilarious and, dare I say, relatable take on the classic romantic comedy formula with enough gags to keep you hooked.

Plus One is streaming on Hulu

The Half of It (2020)

Glen Powell and Zoey Deutch in Set it Up. Courtesy of Netflix.

I think anyone that lived through the 80s, 90s and early aughts has a soft spot for that perfect romantic comedy. The kind that has perfect one-liners that you can work into everyday life and characters who live lives that you could only aspire to in unrealistically large apartments and scenes that make your heart flutter at the thought of them happening in real life.

Set it Up mines those tropes and makes me feel nostalgic for those breezy rom-coms. And while it hits a lot of those familiar plot beats, the movie surpasses other contemporary rom-coms because director Claire Scanlon and the charming leads have a great sense of comedic timing and the propensity for subtle, but effective physical comedy. It’s one of those movies that you’ll want to come back to over and over again.

Set it Up is streaming on Netflix

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Set it Up (2018)

Glen Powell and Zoey Deutch in Set it Up. Courtesy of Netflix.

I think anyone that lived through the 80s, 90s and early aughts has a soft spot for that perfect romantic comedy. The kind that has perfect one-liners that you can work into everyday life and characters who live lives that you could only aspire to in unrealistically large apartments and scenes that make your heart flutter at the thought of them happening in real life.

Set it Up mines those tropes and makes me feel nostalgic for those breezy rom-coms. And while it hits a lot of those familiar plot beats, the movie surpasses other contemporary rom-coms because director Claire Scanlon and the charming leads have a great sense of comedic timing and the propensity for subtle, but effective physical comedy. It’s one of those movies that you’ll want to come back to over and over again.

Set it Up is streaming on Netflix

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October 23, 2020
‘The Trial of the Chicago 7’ shows Sorkin’s weaknesses | movie review

The Trial of the Chicago 7 tells the very true and very relevant story of seven protesters on trial for inciting a riot during the 1968 Democratic National Convention

Despite it’s stacked cast, relevant topics, and high-production value, The Trial of the Chicago 7 is too interested in portraying the facts and not enough in portraying the real-life characters at its center.

Look at the greatest films Aaron Sorkin has penned. I’m thinking of David Fincher’s The Social Network or Bennett Miller’s highly underrated Moneyball. He structures his screenplay—often non-linear or playing with pace—and writes his dialogue—meant to be delivered in a quick quippy rhythm—with the cinematic expression in mind. You can tell he’s asking himself how this is going to translate to the screen. He’s not looking to emulate reality, even though many of his works are based on true events. Instead, he focuses on telling the story in the most engaging way possible. But what makes those two films great is how their respective director’s balancing of Sorkin’s tricks.

However, what’s clear from Sorkin’s first two directorial efforts, Molly’s Game and now Netflix’s newest film The Trial of the Chicago 7, is that as a director his interest is enhancing those storytelling choices rather than balancing them. I say that because it’s those choices in the screenplay, more than any other of the films he’s penned, that bog down The Trial of the Chicago 7—a look at the Chicago riots during the 1968 Democratic National Convention and the ensuing riots.

The film is told in fits and starts cutting between the trial and the actual events of the riots in question. The prosecution, led by Richard Schultz (Joseph Gordon-Levitt in his most subdued role in recent years), is contesting that the seven men—a group of mostly unconnected activists against the Vietnam War—went to Chicago with intention of inciting a riot. The defense, led by William Kunstler (Mark Rylance) and Leonard Weinglass (Ben Shenkman), attest that it was the cops that instigated the violence. On the periphery, the leader of the Black Panther Party Bobby Seale (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) has been roped into the trial as a way of connecting the seven men to the group.

Sorkin is quite clinical in his narrative. He embellishes as much as he has to, but not more than he’s done in the past in service of the story he’s trying to tell. In this case, he’s clearly tapping into the very relevant story of the failure of our justice system, especially in cases of protest in support of civil rights and equality. Though this was filmed before the murder of George Floyd and the ensuing protests, the movie is only made more relevant by it. And for a time that gives the movie a rhythm that is hard not to get swept up in. However, the momentum quickly gives way to monotony.

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Ben Shenkman, Mark Rylance, Eddie Redmayne, and Alex Sharp in The Trial of the Chicago 7. Courtesy of Netflix.

That’s largely because we’re not entirely focused on a single character—or even any character really. Of the seven, we spend the most time with Tom Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne) for a reason that becomes clear towards the film’s conclusion. However, his motivations and feeling are left opaque as a way to lend impact to the end of his arc. But in return all we feel is a disconnect. Secondarily, we get to know Abbie Hoffman (Sasha Baron Cohen) and Jerry Rubin (Jeremy Strong), two hippies who are a strong juxtaposition to Tom’s more straight-laced activist, and their reasons for protesting a bit more. If any of the cast were to be up for Oscar consideration it ought to be Baron Cohen whose comedic schtick is underlined by the complex and contradictory thoughts that Abbie feels in relation to the movement.

But because we’re so focused on the proceedings of the trial rather than the character impact, the real focus is on Rylance’s Kunstler, whose passions and frustrations are most front and center—especially his confrontations with the judge of the case Judge Julius Hoffman (Frank Langella), who is clearly biased against the seven. That focus does give us several Oscar-baity moments with Abdul-Mateen’s Bobby who is clearly being used as a pawn by the prosecution and the target of discrimination by Judge Hoffman. However, that story, at times more compelling than the main one we’re following, is on the periphery.

The final 30 minutes of the film, which is filled with the dramatics that is to be expected of a courtroom drama, give a lot of what I was craving throughout the whole film: humanity. What directors like David Fincher and Bennett Miller do with Sorkin’s material that he doesn’t do himself is infuse it with humanity. Sorkin writes characters and he directs them as such. In two pivotal scenes we see Tom prepare for testimony and Abbie take the stand. There we are treated to the character study that The Trial of the Chicago 7 should have been. I could have read the facts of the case on Wikipedia, what I’m interested in is the politics, the emotions, and the characters. As great as Sorkin can be, he can also be his own worst enemy.

Hi, I’m Karl ? Follow me on Twitter and Letterboxd! I’m also a Tomatometer-approved critic on Rotten Tomatoes ?

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October 21, 2020
‘Synchronic’ is what I love about science fiction | movie review
After discovering a drug sends you back in time, a paramedic uses it to help his best friend find his daughter in Synchronic

Synchronic has a fun enough concept to keep you hooked, but Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson—along with a stellar performance by Anthony Mackie—add in their effortlessly charming direction to make it the exact kind of science fiction romp that I crave even if it doesn’t quite stick the landing.

Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson are perhaps one of the most underrated indie filmmaking duos working today. Their specific brand of high-concept but endearingly down-to-earth science fiction storytelling has brought us great films like The Endless, Resolution and Spring. However, so much of what makes them successful is their low-fi approach to sci-fi. Partially from choice, but mostly because of their budgetary constraints. It forces them to be more clever with their directorial choices and storytelling.

However, with Synchronic, their biggest step forward into the mainstream, they have the resources to go all the way with their concept of a drug that makes its user travel through time—complete with high production values and two A-list stars above the title. And in some ways, it removes the charm that has made them so successful up to this point. However, in others, it removes the restrictions that would have prevented them from going full tilt otherwise. The results are decisively mixed.

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The first thirty minutes of the film, though, represent the best of the duo. We’re immediately dropped into a mystery where two paramedics, Steve (Anthony Mackie) and Dennis (Jamie Dornan), begin to encounter increasingly odd calls. In one, a man was impaled by a sword that looks to be from the 1600s. In another, a woman was bitten by a snake that hasn’t been seen in the area for a decades—maybe more. The only thing they have in common is in both cases the victims were high on a drug called “Synchronic.”

The story, moving swiftly between scenes showing the drug’s unique effects—the duo also edited the film, quickly sets up that Steve and Dennis have been friends for since high school and know more about each other than anyone else. They’re so close, in fact, that when Steve finds out he has a brain tumor that will likely kill him with in months, his first reaction is to figure out how to tell his family—in this case, Dennis.

Jamie Dornan and Anthony Mackie in Synchronic. Courtesy of Well Go USA Entertainment.

Though gorgeously atmospheric through Moorhead’s moody cinematography and Jimmy LaValle’s synth-heavy score, almost verging on horror, Synchronic maintains an immensely watchable tone. Moorhead and Benson’s signature dark humor is embedded just beneath the surface and Mackie handles it with ease. His emotional turmoil from his diagnosis coupled with his newfound interest in the source of “synchronic” is a masterclass in showing instead telling.

The duo’s entanglement with the drug gets even more complicated when Dennis’ teenage daughter Brianna (Ally Ioannides) goes missing after taking “synchronic.” With nothing to lose, Steve buys all the remaining supplies of the drug and learns from the creator that it shifts time for the user, but only with specific parameters. The rest of the movie is structured as a series of experiments where Steve attempts to understand how it works in the hopes that he can use it to save Brianna from whatever time she has become stuck in.

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Steve’s exploits with “synchronic,” that are presented as a series of taped experiments, are exactly what I love about science fiction. What Moorhead and Benson excel at is taking a concept—one that we may have thought of ourselves—and exploring it, not as a high-concept, but instead as a simple romp based on “what-ifs.” And the world that they build in Synchronic is ripe for multiple fun excursions.

Unfortunately, the movie never takes it as far as you want it. It comes close. Steve’s brush with the indigenous people of the New Orleans swamps or the early 20th century when people probably weren’t as keen on a Black man appearing out of nowhere in their yard are interesting applications of the possibilities. But when the story looks to wrap up, it retracts and becomes small again. I almost wish 30 minutes was added on to the running time just so we could watch Steve play in the possibilities.

The final act is really where Synchronic falters. It hits the correct beats, but doesn’t add enough tension or suspense—something that Moorehead and Benson excel at in the first third. However, their careful character mapping and emotional arcs payoff—again thanks to Mackie’s awards-worthy performance. Even so, Synchronic is the exact kind of science fiction I love—eerie, entertaining, complex but full of humanity.

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October 20, 2020
‘It Cuts Deep’ explores surface level relationships | Nightstream Film Fest
It Cuts Deep, a horror-comedy premiering at Nightstream Film Fest, follows a couple as insecurities and emotional baggage complicate their already strained relationship

It Cuts Deep almost loses its way as it explores a couple on the brink of collapse, however, it’s finale—though predictable—is exactly what you’re looking for.

Nicholas Payne Santos’ It Cuts Deep, which is premiered at the Nightstream Film Festival this week, is a mumblecore relationship horror-comedy that’s success wildly hinges on your ability to empathize with the main couple, both Sam (Charles Gould) and Ashley (Quinn Jackson), and your willingness to wade through the movie’s murkiness to cut through to a delightfully familiar but satisfying ending.

The movie, which is built on several awkward but all too real conversations that many couples are familiar with, follows the main couple as they go to Sam’s childhood home to spend Christmas. As he’s returning to the town it’s clear that something there still haunts him and paranoia begins to set in. That doesn’t phase Ashley who’s bent on having a discussion about the future of their relationship.

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As the movie unravels we begin to understand the motivations of both of them, the insecurities driving them further apart and balancing that with the need to be close. All of that is complicated by Sam’s former best friend Nolan (John Anderson) who stirs the pot with his knowledge of Sam’s past.

At just 77 minutes, It Cuts Deep is nowhere near too long. However, I wish the balance of its time spent on misleading us was spent on the fallout of the movie’s predictable but nevertheless fun twist that allows Jackson to do some truly remarkable work. At times she evokes Marilyn Burns’ in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which again disappoints me that we didn’t get to see more of that part of the story play out.

Still, as a naughty little cut of mumblecore horror, It Cuts Deep hits a lot of the right notes—a lot of them familiar, not all of them perfect, but on a cold fall night, it’s somewhat of a breezy comfort to watch.

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October 8, 2020
‘Lapsis’ satirizes the gig economy | Nightstream Film Fest
Desperate for money to help his ailing brother, a man takes a new job in a strange near-future version of the gig economy in Lapsis

Noah Hutton‘s strong direction and the world he builds that explores the new gig economy that has taken ahold of our everyday lives are interesting enough for Lapsis to overcome its uneven narrative.

Lapsis will be released by Film Movement in November 2020.

Lapsis—playing at the Nightstream Film Festival this week—and its satire of the gig economy that has taken ahold of our everyday lives is perhaps a bit too on the nose. However, director and screenwriter Noah Hutton‘s world-building makes the exploration of his “parallel near-present” endlessly engrossing.

Set in a world where the gig economy is also thriving, Lapsis follows perennial hustler Joe (Dean Imperial)—aptly named because he’s the epitome of an average Joe—whose less than legal methods of making money are just barely supporting the expensive treatments needed for his brother Jamie who suffers from the fictional chronic fatigue illness “omnia.”

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Around him, the world is changing and becoming more reliant on an opaque universal technology called quantam that connects and powers all devices—whether this is a play on 5G is unclear. However, the technology is reliant on a complex network of cables that connect various quantam boxes. And as advanced as the technology is, it needs humans to physically lay cable above ground to connect the boxes, which is what sprout an entirely new gig economy.

The poster for Noah Hutton’s Lapsis. Courtesy of the Nightstream Film Festival.

CBLR is one of the monopolistic ride-sharing-like companies that provide “cablers” the ability to pick up routes, upgrade their equipment, and get paid for making connections between quantum boxes. In an effort to pay for a new treatment for his brother, Joe signs up for the service through questionable channels since the procurement of a “medallion” is difficult to come by.

The “medallion” he receives once belonged to “Lapsis Beeftech,” a name that strikes strained reactions from the more experienced cablers that he encounters on his first route. Joe is clearly out of his league. With shoddy equipment, an electronic voice telling him when he’s authorize to take a break, and automated cable-laying machines that threaten to take over you route if you don’t work fast enough, it’s not the easiest way to make a buck. But you can make a lot of them if you play things right.

Lapsis, which comes on the heels of movies like Sorry to Bother You, takes aim at the downfalls of capitalism. And while its takedown could sometimes feel overwrought—especially in the awkwardly paced second half—the movie forces us to take a look at the marginalized people all around us that are so essential to making our everyday lives function—and all of their mistreatment at the hands of massive corporations.

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The movie’s plot doesn’t kick until about halfway through when Joe meets a fellow cabler named Anna (Madeline Wise) who clues him into the drawbacks of the gig—you have to work towards impossibly high goals to make money, then you have to spend that money on your own equipment to meet those impossibly high goals. She also hints to some mystery around the automated cable-laying robots and Joe’s “Lapsis Beeftech” screen name that is meant to give the movie some structure.

Instead, the second half is disappointingly tame based on the more than adept tension building up until that point. Still, Hutton’s world-building is reason enough to dive into Lapsis‘ interpretation of the world around us. If anything, it’ll give you pause the next time you get a food delivery or hop into an Uber.

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October 13, 2020
‘The King of Comedy’ is Scorsese’s misunderstood masterpiece | movie review
In their fifth collaboration, Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro explore the lengths one man will go to be given a chance in The King of Comedy

For a movie about a failed standup comedian, The King of Comedy difficult to watch. Rupert’s delusions of success are funny at first but then grow cringe-worthy — and then dangerous. But there’s a third act pivot that makes this one of my favorite Scorsese movies. It’s so subtle but brilliant. It changes our perception of the characters and their motivations and makes us question who we were rooting for all along

Chloé Zhao makes Nomadland‘s melancholic but hopeful story of nomads traversing the American West a stunningly complex character study of life on the margins of society.

Since Todd Phillips’ forthcoming movie Joker has clear influences from Martin Scorsese’s The King of Comedy — it even features Robert De Niro in a role similar to Jerry Lewis’ in the movie — I’m taking a look back at the 1983 satirical black comedy.

I was ready to call Martin Scorsese’s The King of Comedy a great and underrated entry in his filmography, but I wasn’t ready to give it the masterpiece reevaluation that some critics have given it. Then, Jerry Langford (talk show legend Jerry Lewis playing a version of himself) stands in front of an electronics store with dozens of TVs tuned into Rupert Pupkin (Robert De Niro) performing a standup comedy set on Langford’s show.

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We never see Langford’s reaction to the set. We don’t need to. In that one sequence, Scorsese is changing our perception of what we watched in the preceding 90 minutes. I think this is what a lot of people get wrong about The King of Comedy. To me, it isn’t an indictment of celebrity or a cautionary tale about the tantalizing allure of fame. The way the ending is framed makes Pupkin an anti-hero — not dissimilar to Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver.

The brilliance of the movie comes from Scorsese’s decision to make Pupkin the villain for most of the story. We’re never truly on his side. We’re really on no one’s side, which is why it’s an almost unpleasant experience to watch. Roger Ebert even said:

It is frustrating to watch, unpleasant to remember, and, in its own way, quite effective.
— Roger Ebert

Robert De Niro in The King of Comedy. Credit: 20th Century Fox.

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But then, after all the awkwardness and cringe-worthy antics from Pupkin, we see him perform. At that moment — and the one with Langford in front of the electronics store — I understood that this isn’t a movie about celebrity or fame. It’s a movie about talent going unrecognized and the struggle of being a creative or performer.

The obsession with celebrity and fame is explored with Sandra Bernhard‘s character of Masha, who is portrayed — a bit problematically — as someone with a mental illness, which drives her to stalk Langford. And her character looked at through the lens of the film, she’s actually a foil to Pupkin. She has no reason to be in Langford’s life other than a selfish one. Pupkin, on the other hand, has a reason and purpose, but still isn’t afforded the same opportunity.

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Scorsese’s longtime editor Thelma Schoonmaker does some clever work here stitching together Pupkin’s delusional conversations and interviews with Langford, showing us both reality and what’s in Pupkin’s mind. And her masterful work doesn’t stop there. Every scene feels important and intentional. Not a single second is wasted on anything else but the developments and information we need to see — a rarity, unfortunately.

While Scorsese is a director that often likes to show his work on screen, this is one of his few movies that is driven by its screenplay. He lets the story speak for itself and shows restraint, which we haven’t seen from him in a while. It may never be the classic that Taxi Driver or Goodfellas is — this movie is slight in comparison — but The King of Comedy deserves a more respected place in the Scorsese canon.

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September 4, 2019