Tag: Cannes 2024

Anora gives Mikey Madison her star-is-born moment | Cannes review
When escort Anora meets the son of a Russian oligarch it seems like a too-good-to-be-true Cinderella story—and it is.

Anora starts as a kinetic gallivanting-through-New York romp before giving way to a deeply empathetic portrait of a woman on the fringe. With a star-is-born performance by Mikey Madison and an imminently refreshing direction by Sean Baker that toes a tonal line between comedy and drama, Anora is the best of the year.

❖ Best of 2024

Anora premiered in competition at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival. Neon will distribute.

After all the roaring debauchery and chaotic slapstick-like comedy in this grittier and meaner sendup of Pretty Woman, the final scenes of Anora are surprisingly quiet. Just two characters occupying the same space saying anything but addressing the tension occupying the room around them—and after the night they had that’s understandable. Then, finally, something breaks and we’re left stunned not because of the shock but because of the catharsis.

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That’s often how auteur Sean Baker’s films end. After moments of joy and sadness and laughs and pain he allows us, and his characters, one final exhale. If the first two hours of Anora’s surprisingly robust 140-minute runtime—surprising because it goes by in a flash—make it a great movie, then the final ten minutes—the exhale—make it the best movie of the year. Even more, it is a masterpiece.

That’s a word that has been thrown around haphazardly, but in the case of Baker it is most apt. After four films that each seemed to build in quality and assuredness, Anora feels like the culmination. It is a perfection of the darkly comedic exploration of human pathos he’s been building his entire career.

Baker’s fascination has always lied with people on the fringes of society particularly exploring the dignity of sex work—Tangerine and Red Rocket, specifically. Here we follow Anora (Mikey Madison), who insists on being called Ani, an exotic dancer at a high-end strip club in midtown Manhattan—her thick Queens accent made me feel like I was back home even while sitting in the premiere screening at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival where the movie is competing for the Palme d’Or. Her flirtatious attitude mixed with an admirable tenacity reminded me of Maris Tomei’s Oscar-winning performance in My Cousin Vinny (if you know you know).

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As she hustles from patron to patron giving a lap dance here and flirty banter there, one thing is certain, she is good at her job. So good that her boss pulls her for a special assignment looking after the young son of a Russian oligarch called Ivan (Mark Eidelstein)—when asked about his father he simply says, “Google him.” It doesn’t hurt that Ani can speak Russian, though she prefers to respond in English. Whether it’s because she doesn’t think her Russian is strong enough or some other reason isn’t immediately apparent, like many things about her.

After a particularly salacious private room session, Ivan invites Ani to his Brighton Beach mansion for more time together—off the clock but still paid. In the dark neon lighting of the club, Ivan came off like a man. However, in the bright sunlight of the window-lined mansion, he looks every bit as much as the kid he is. Eidelstein, with a tall and lanky frame and a spate of black curls that evokes a Timothée Chalamet-Troye Sivan hybrid, plays Ivan with a perfectly measured dweebish physicality that tells you exactly who he is: a spoiled rich kid that was never asked to grow up—and doesn’t want to. His broken English mixed with Russian is essentially a mix of “fuck yeah” and requests for more alcohol.

That’s juxtaposed against Anora’s easy self-assuredness cut with a Queens attitude. Even though she’s just two years older than him, it’s clear that circumstances have helped toughen her to the world. Their interactions have the flow and charm of the best romantic comedies, even if most of it is just posturing. Ivan offers Ani $10k to be his “girlfriend” for a week. She promptly asks for $15k, which he agrees to (though he quickly chides he would’ve given her $30k). After the raucous week and particularly eye-opening sex scene where Ani teaches Ivan the pleasure of restraint, the pair marry in a kitschy Vegas wedding.

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The movie’s first hour is a kinetic gallivanting-through-New York romp. The pair hops from Ivan’s mansion to Coney Island to Vegas with an irresistible fast-paced tempo driven by Madison and Eidelstein’s charming performances. You could live in the movie’s world for hours, but when Bake switches up the tempo it is also a welcome shift.

When Ivan’s parents find out about the pair’s nuptials, they sick no-nonsense Toros (Karren Karagulian) and his cronies snarky oft-injured Garnick (Vache Tovmaysa) and sensitive Igor (Yura Borisov) on the couple. The momentum never ceases, but the subversive romantic comedy transforms into a quasi-chase thriller mixed with a dark slapstick comedy (think Home Alone) that is as delightful as the first part in its unique way. Like when Ani breaks Garnick’s nose and is promptly tied up with a telephone wire by Igor, Toros walks in and questions, “Why did you tie her up?” “She’s dangerous,” Garnick quips.

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The madcap energy draws comparisons to The Safdie Brother’s Good Time or Uncut Gems. Even if the story has grit and bleakness, the series of unfortunate events is devilishly enjoyable to watch unfold. Part of that is because of Baker’s direction that toes a tonal line between comedy and drama that is imminently refreshing. The other is Madison’s performance, which feels like a Hollywood star being born before out eyes. Her charisma holds your attention for every frame she is on screen while her voracity converts you into a fanatic.

But let’s return to the final scenes of Anora, which elevate the film to a masterpiece. Reflecting on the entire movie in the context of these surprising final moments adds a layer of complexity that makes every element even more impressive, especially the performances of Madison and Borisov. While melancholy is woven into the fabric of all of Baker’s films, in Anora, he conceals it until the end, revealing its presence only then. This artistic sleight of hand makes Anora one of the year’s best films and guarantees you won’t forget Mikey Madison’s unforgettable star turn.

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Hey! I’m Karl. You can find me on Twitter and Letterboxd. I’m also a Tomatometer-approved critic.

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May 24, 2024
The Substance is a diabolically delightful body horror | Cannes review
An aging Hollywood starlet gets another chance at stardom when she discovers a mysterious serum that generates a younger more beautiful version of yourself in The Substance.

Even if I told you where Coralie Fargeat’s Palme d’Or-competing The Substance ends up, you’d probably order a psych evaluation before believing me. It’s impossible to understate how audacious, disturbing but ultimately satisfying the conclusion to this twist on The Picture of Dorian Gray by way of Sunset Boulevard by way of a bloody body horror—think The Fly or The Thing or Julia Ducournau’s Palme-winning Titane. The movie lures us in with a straightforward satire on Hollywood beauty standards and actresses’ shamefully short “shelf life” before transforming and twisting itself into a completely different monster (this is foreshadowing).

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The movie begins with a time-lapse of Elisabeth Sparkle’s (Demi Moore) star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame going from newly minted and adored by fans to cracks forming on the surface and passersby noting “She was in that one movie.” It highlights one of the many inspired choices Fargeat made with The Substance‘s conception. By casting Moore in the leading role, whose physical image blanked Hollywood for the better part of a decade but now “past her prime” by industry standards, she’s turned the movie into a meta-commentary that grounds you—that won’t last.

Elizabeth’s time is now spent hosting a morning workout TV show—think Jane Fonda circa 1982—in neon spandex and her signature long black hair. She looks terrific—for any age. But not to her intentionally-named eccentric producer Harvey (Dennis Quaid) who breaks the news that the network wants to go in a fresh direction. Read between the lines: younger and hotter. After getting into a brutal car accident after the news, the attractive male nurse gives her a flash drive that contains an advertisement for something called “The Substance.”

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A mysterious phone call leads her to an abandoned warehouse where she finds a package—beautifully designed like the best DTC companies—with three pouches (it’s easy as 1-2-3, if you will). The first is “The Activator,” the second is “The Stabalizer,” and the third is “The Switch.” After injecting herself with the neon green “Activator” serum, Elisabeth’s body convulses violently before her spine begins to rip open and… something crawls out. That something is a younger body who names herself Sue (Margaret Qualley). She stares in the mirror the same way Elisabeth did before injecting herself. Where Elisabeth noted the imperfections, Sue noted her perfections.

Sue sews Elisabeth’s gaping wound with the provided needle and thread and hooks her up to the included IV food supply to give her nutrients while Sue lives in the world. We’re thrust into the colorful world of Hollywood through Sue’s eyes where she is instantly adored for her good looks, bubbly personality and impressive flexibility. Of course, though, there’s a catch. The newly matched Jekyll and Hyde pair must switch every week for a week, which we learn is because without “The Stabalizer,” which is essentially Elisabeth’s spinal fluid, Sue begins to deteriorate.

Thus begins the push-pull relationship between Elisabeth, who is enjoying her second shot at stardom but isn’t able to enjoy any of it, and Sue, who gets addicted to the adoration, but is beholden to the deal of only seven days at a time. Naturally, complications arise, which catapults the movie into full-on diabolically grotesque body horror that I will leave unspoiled but assure are as satisfyingly shocking as you could imagine.

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At one point, I began questioning the movie’s treatment of Elisabeth. Did she deserve this kind of punishment for a mindset that is simply out of her control? But that is until the movie takes its full third act turn that clears up Fargeat’s intentions. While there is an obvious message splashed on the surface of the neon surface of the movie, this is a body horror exploitation through and through. One that isn’t meant to be picked at and examined but rather enjoyed for its surface-level pleasures—perhaps another meta-commentary or perhaps a plea to make movies fun again.

The number of homages in The Substance is almost impossible to quantify. At a story level, there are shades of the duality of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the obsession with image (and its ensuing deterioration) from The Picture of Dorian Gray, a sendup of the Hollywood system much like Sunset Boulevard. Then there are its roots in body horror like the magnificent (and practical) special effects makeup of The Thing and playing god with science as in Cronenberg’s The Fly. There’s even direct homages like a devilish sequence set to the score of 2001: A Space Odyssey or a near-recreation of the prom scene from Carrie. It is a filled to the brim with stylistic and story choices that would destroy most other movies. Instead, all those mismatching debauched pieces come together to form a Frankenstein’s monster of a diabolically delightful B-movie that brings laughs, thrills and blood… lots and lots of blood.

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Hey! I’m Karl. You can find me on Twitter and Letterboxd. I’m also a Tomatometer-approved critic.

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May 19, 2024
Period drama ‘The Girl with the Needle’ has hidden horrors | Cannes review
Amidst the First World War, The Girl with the Needle follows a young Danish woman forced to make difficult decisions when she discovers she’s pregnant unaware of the dark secrets that lurk.
The Girl with the Needle is a bleak, dread-filled film that blends psychological horror with real horror, highlighted by disturbing imagery and an ominous discordant score.

The narrative follows Karoline, a young impoverished woman in WWI-era Copenhagen, as she makes difficult decisions after discovering she’s pregnant.

Directed by Magnus von Horn with a style reminiscent of Andrei Tarkovsky, the film transforms from a period drama to a psychological thriller, presenting its dark true-crime story with visceral, emotional impact and even flashes of macabre humor.

The Girl with the Needle premiered in competition at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival.
There’s a reveal in The Girl with the Needle so heinous and disturbing you’d think you were watching a horror—and at times it feels like it is. With its ominous discordant score and disturbing imagery—like the extended opening sequence where we watch a face (perhaps multiple) distorting and blending into one another—director Magnus von Horn treats the story of one of Denmark’s most infamous crimes with the bleakness and dread it deserves. The movie’s descent into psychological horror (and real horror) isn’t linear though, it takes time to build its narrative in a slow burn that never disengages so that when you’re sucked in, it’s too late.

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The eponymous “girl with the needle” is Karoline (Vic Carmen Sonne), a young woman living in Copenhagen during the First World War. With her soldier husband missing in action, she’s fallen behind in rent, which she pays for with a factory job sewing uniforms. When her landlord brings a mother and her young daughter as prospective tenants, Karoline does her best to deter them by talking about the smokey stove and rats that crawl in her bed at night. The daughter throws a fear-fueled tantrum at the prospect which causes her mother to slap her, without abandon. The sudden shock of violence isn’t the last instance of mother-inflicted trauma.

After finding a shabby one-windowed attic covered in bird feces to live in, she falls into an affair with Jørgen (Joachim Fjelstrup) the aristocratic owner of the factory who sympathizes with her plight. The swirling romance is cut short when Karoline realizes she’s pregnant, which forces his mother to threaten his inheritance causing a breakup (and Karoline to lose her job). Now with child and nowhere to turn, she turns to desperate measures. She brings one of her knitting needles to the local bathhouse to give herself an abortion. Director and co-writer Magnus von Horn captures the act without sensationalizing it, but it doesn’t make it less effective. He presents it as a visceral bit of body horror that only adds to the dread-filled atmosphere—and eventually his ultimate message.

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There’s a constant sense of impending doom driven by Frederikke Hoffmeier’s discordant score—like a baseball bat smashing into a piano—even as Karoline is unaware of the plots happening in the background. Even when jovial Dagmar (Trine Dyrholm), an older woman at the bathhouse with her curiously young toddler daughter Erena (Avo Knox Martin), helps Karoline after her failed attempt the darkness remains.

Dagmar offers her a service she provides out of the back of her candy shop. She allows would-be mothers to drop off their unwanted children for her to find them a home with a family unable to have their own—or looking to help an orphan. The mission, though illegal, is so admirable to Karoline that she asks Dagmar to take her in as her apprentice and help care for Erena. From there, The Girl with the Needle takes twists and turns that are better left unspoiled but are made even more impactful when the final title card labeling the story as based on true events drops onto the screen.

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Von Horn’s direction evokes Tarkovsky’s expressionist style, particularly Persona, with striking crisp black-and-white that suggests horror rather than showing it outright—though it certainly has its moments. As the slow-burn marches towards each of its reveals, it transforms itself from period drama to psychological thriller in a way that is as satisfying as it is shocking. It helps that Vic Carmen Sonne and Trine Dyrholm are giving perfectly pitched performances that transform with the movie.

For a story as dark as The Girl with the Needle, there’s something so enticing about how it presents itself—a storyline involving Karoline’s ex-husband is grotesque in a macabre way but captures you like a sideshow. There are even flashes of the pitchest black humor as Karoline navigates her new situation. Whether you’d consider it a part of the true crime genre is up to you, but if it is then von Horn is pushing the genre to new limits. It is visceral, emotional and relevant without guiding its audience’s hand. Shocking without malice and engrossing without insincerity, it is a highlight of the 2024 Cannes Film Festival.

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More movies, less problems
Hey! I’m Karl. You can find me on Twitter and Letterboxd. I’m also a Tomatometer-approved critic.

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May 19, 2024