Tag: Sundance 2023

  • Fair Play review: Love, work, sex, and power | review

    Fair Play review: Love, work, sex, and power | review

    Sundance 2023 | Fair Play follows a happy couple that is thrown into turmoil when one of them is promoted at the financial firm they work at

    Fair Play is a corporate barn burner and relationship psychosexual drama that’s thrilling as it is brutally precise in its study of power, sex, attraction, and ambition. Phoebe Dynevor & Alden Ehrenreich give powerhouse performances as a dueling couple that let work and power seep into their lives. Cutthroat, sharp, and entertaining as hell, writer-director Chloe Domont didn’t come to play.

    All is fair in love and work. At least that’s what aspiring power couple Emily (Phoebe Dynevor) and Luke (Alden Ehrenreich) would probably tell you.

    When we first meet them, they are the picturesque young couple twirling their way through the dance floor of Luke’s brother’s wedding. Their chemistry is palpable, especially when their steamy sex scene in the bathroom ends in a very un-steamy way. They simply laugh off the blunder. One semi-accidental marriage proposal later and the now-engaged couple is on the floor of their Chinatown apartment awoken by their 4:30am alarm that rattles them to start their day. Where they were messy and carefree in the scene before, they go about their morning routine with near-precision — perfectly brewing their espresso, Emily tying her hair into a tight bun, Luke donning a crisp white button down. They leave and go their separate ways only to find each other again in the elevator of the hedge fund firm they both work for.


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    Since they’re both low-level analysts, they keep their relationship secret — it’s something anyone would use for leverage in the cutthroat industry. That doesn’t stop them from listening in on the conversations that float in-and-out of earshot — we too hear snippets of the workplace banter. One particular statement catches Emily’s attention: Luke is on-deck to replace the recently fired portfolio manager who we watched nearly go postal in an earlier scene — “thought he was gonna jump,” one of the analysts emotionlessly quips. When Emily tells Luke what she’s heard, he’s almost drunk on the news — and horny. The pair have hot-and-heavy sex to celebrate, but writer-director Chloe Domont isn’t out to make an erotic thriller and we’ll soon realize this.

    After Emily receives a 2am phone call from one of their superiors, she rushes over to an exclusive club down a sketchy alleyway to find Campbell (Eddie Marsan), the firm’s CEO, waiting for her to offer her the recently opened portfolio manager role. Domont presents the scene almost like a horror movie where Emily is the prey and Campbell is the predator. It highlights the power imbalance between the two — the fact that he could get her to meet him in the dead of the night (and despite Luke’s protests) only furthers that. When she returns to the apartment, she relays the news to Luke with near dread. But where his reaction to the news that he could be promoted was euphoria, it’s decidedly measured for Emily. And as much as he tries to convince her that he’s happy for her success, you can see the pain in his face as Emily walks into her new office separated by a wall of glass as if to tease those outside of it.


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    From there, Fair Play turns into a ticking time bomb as the couple’s relationship is put under the strain of Luke’s arrogance and Emily’s ambition.

    It’s the balancing of those two threads that make the movie — particularly Dupont’s sharp screenplay — so impressive. At times, the movie is a corporate barnburner about Emily navigating her newfound success as a woman in an industry that is decidedly a boy’s club. In others, it’s a psychosexual relationship drama about how deviations from the traditional gender dynamics can send men into a tailspin — let’s just say Luke probably loved Joker. And at it’s most satisfying, both worlds come careening together as the pair navigate the minefield of their relationship in the workplace.

    Dumont throws situations at the character to deepen the cracks in the foundation of their relationship that eventually turn into a canyon. Like when Luke makes a bad call an investment and sends Emily scrambling to fix his mistake, he cannot take blame for his actions just as he can’t praise Emily for her successful attempt to avert disaster. When she receives a bonus of $525k for her quick work, she types out a text asking Luke if he wants to “staycation” at a fancy hotel before adding… “my treat,” and then quickly deleting it.


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    It’s the tension between Luke’s grasp for the power of his masculinity — Ehrenreich plays his descent into arrogant patriarchy-fueled madness with the gusto of a Golden Age Hollywood star — and Emily’s careful tiptoeing around his ego that drive the thrills of Fair Play as well as its devilishly fun sparing that keep you engaged through every minute of its spry two-hour runtime.

    In its final minutes, Fair Play takes a massive swing that will turn some viewers off but leave most satisfied with its conclusion. Dumont isn’t precious about the movie’s core themes of power and privilege, specifically when it comes to gender dynamics in relationships and the workplace. She’s as transparent as the office’s glass walls. But that’s what makes Fair Play such an entertaining watch despite its high tension.


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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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  • ‘Sometimes I Think About Dying’ review: Daisy Ridley fights loneliness | Sundance 2023

    ‘Sometimes I Think About Dying’ review: Daisy Ridley fights loneliness | Sundance 2023

    Sometimes I Think About Dying follows a socially awkward office worker finds her lonely days interrupted by a new co-worker who piques her interest—and interest in herself.

    Sometimes I Think About Dying is an observational meditation on loneliness, connection and life that’s surprisingly moving and life-affirming despite its pointed dry humor at the start. Daisy Ridley’s performance as chronic wallflower Fran is frustrating, charming, and above all complex in its portrayal of introversion in a world built for extroverts.

    Fran (Daisy Ridley) is a wallflower observing life going on around her but never participating in it. You might too if you worked from her drab office in a tiny waterside town in Oregon. As the hours tick on and she voyeuristically listens to her co-worker’s mundane conversations—“look at that cruise ship!”—her mind slips away… to her death. The way Fran (Daisy Ridley) imagines her death comes in spurts of visions—her feet lifting off the ground as she watches a crane lift outside her office window, her body dumped in the woods. Sometimes I Think About Dying is a cheeky title, but refers to the very real—and shockingly relatable—phenomenon. One that is a part of the very lonely human experience.


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    The movie’s portrayal of this loneliness is perhaps an extreme example, but not completely unrelatable. When Carol (Marcia Debonis), a beloved employee at Fran’s company, Fran finds herself clinging to the edge of the party. She reads over Carol’s farewell card filled with personal messages and inside jokes before writing, “Happy retirement, Fran.” However, it’s not as if the people around her are shunning her. Fran simply doesn’t know how to insert herself in the seemingly effortless whirl of socialization around her. That’s until Robert (Dave Merheje) starts working there.

    After a hilariously painful ice-breaking exercise where Fran sharply exclaims her love for cottage cheese, she does something life-changing. She makes Robert laugh over slack. “Cottage cheese is not a cheese. I googled it,” she says. His small chuckle over her non-joke piques her interest—gives her something to be interested in—especially considering she can’t seem to become interested in herself.

    Fran says maybe a handful of words in the movie’s opening act, which makes it difficult to even empathize with her plight. It’s almost frustrating to watch how sheepish she is. Even when she meets up with Robert for a movie and dinner after work, he drives the conversation. However, the brilliance of the screenplay by Kevin Armento, Stefanie Abel Horowitz, and Katy Wright-Mead is that it never vocalizes or outlines Fran’s affliction. Instead, it allows us to unpack her for ourselves—perhaps by seeing ourselves in her or in Robert.


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    As the pair continue to hang out, we see that Fran’s shyness isn’t impenetrable as Robert gets her to say more than a few words at a time. Like Before Sunset if Jesse was a sweet divorcee and Celine was and introvert. The content of their conversations on the surface dredges some charm, though the subtext is where the richness—or lack thereof—of Fran’s existence… well, exists. Her isolation is self-imposed. Like she’s put herself into a mental prison as an act of protection. If no one gets to know her, you can’t be rejected. The movie highlights how introverted people are often thrown into loneliness solely because they live in a world unsuited to their needs. 

    Sometimes I Think About Dying is a small movie. It deals in the moments between the moments of life. What it explores is what happens when you live a lowercase ‘L’ life instead of a Life. Its most impressive feat, though, is its ability to make you understand how Fran’s past has informed her present and perceived future. While the first act feels like a retread of the dry humor of Office Space, it’s all in service of a story exploring what is the point of all this. This being life, work, love. Being human. In the emotional final minutes of the movie Fran encounters a character we’ve met who says, “whatever I imagine in my head is not as real as what I do have.” The thoughts she’s referring to are those that are good or bad, positive or negative. It’s a plea to live in the moment. Sometimes I Think About Dying says all that in few words.


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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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