Alex McPherson

Total Post: 74

Alex McPherson is an unabashed pop culture nerd and a member of the St. Louis Film Critics Association.

‘The Teachers’ Lounge’ is a Nerve-Shredding, Ambiguous Drama

‘The Teachers’ Lounge’ is a Nerve-Shredding, Ambiguous Drama

By Alex McPherson

A taut, stressful, and grimly compelling watch with lots on its mind, director Ilker Çatak’s “The Teachers’ Lounge” resonates long after the credits roll as an allegory for society’s messy, complicated realities.

Çatak’s film follows Carla (Leonie Benesch), aka Ms. Nowak, a newly hired sixth grade math and gym teacher at a German middle school who cares deeply for her students’ education and well-being. She’s patient, organized, empathetic, yet naive — confident in her abilities as an instructor while largely ignorant of the paranoia and distrust bubbling within the school’s stark walls. 

Carla tries her best to avoid gossip among the faculty, which currently involves finding out who’s behind a series of petty thefts in the school. Carla’s antagonistic peers (who view Carla as an outsider, she emigrated from Poland) suspect the students. She’s summoned to a room where she, some other teachers, and the principal (Anne-Kathrin Gummich) pressure a couple of sixth-graders from Carla’s classroom into accusing a Muslim classmate as being the perpetrator.

After school officials search wallets in Carla’s classroom, the student is brought in for questioning, and the whole situation reeks of racism. Upset and seeking justice for her class, Carla takes matters into her own hands, setting up a hidden camera in the titular teachers’ lounge to clear up the situation once and for all. Or so she hopes.

Although Carla does, allegedly, locate the culprit, an administrative colleague, her discovery sets off a chain reaction of chaos involving rumors, vengeance, rebellion, and shredding of the already-uneasy bond between students’ families and school authority. Carla, thrown into the center, grapples with her own notions of right vs. wrong and which side to take; her good intentions yielding regrettable outcomes for everyone involved and innocents caught in the crossfire.

Leonie Benesch as new teacher Carla Nowak.

“The Teachers’ Lounge,” then, is quite a harrowing, immersive, and grueling watch, with few optimistic things to say about the human condition. Çatak keeps the tension high from beginning to end, refusing to let viewers catch their breaths as we observe one calamity occur after another — a microcosm of pluralistic society imploding on itself.

Benesch is magnificent, rendering Carla as a multifaceted character that’s at once admirable and frustratingly idealistic. We see Carla’s confidence radiate in the classroom, almost conducting the class like an orchestra in their morning greeting. She then transitions into quiet rage at her colleagues, shifts into determination as she acts on her gut feelings for justice, and crumbles before our eyes as the environment she cares so passionately about seemingly turns against her.

Benesch lends Carla a sense of authentic determination through subtle expressions and gradually evolving body language; Carla refuses to surrender her fight to do “the right thing,” pulled between her ideals and a dangerous atmosphere that she’s unwittingly cranked to a boiling point.

Indeed, Carla’s good intentions only exacerbate pre-existing tensions. Suspicions of prejudice, surveillance, and lack of transparency flood classrooms, parents’ group chats, and the teachers’ lounge itself. Both the school authority and the alleged culprit, struggle for control of the narrative, as does a bright, quiet student in Carla’s class named Oskar (an excellent Leonard Stettnisch), who, driven by love and loyalty, fights for what he believes in — rallying some classmates while alienating others.

Carla tries to restore balance, almost always handicapped by “ethics” that restrict transparency and forces beyond her control and the school walls that can’t be alleviated, no matter how stubbornly (and misguidedly, especially late in the film) she tries to manage them.

It’s all rather agonizing to watch unfold, like a train wreck we’re powerless to stop. “The Teachers’ Lounge” almost never leaves the school’s grounds — trapping us in this miniature society torn between different perspectives and beliefs, while reflecting a situation Carla is powerless to extricate herself from. 

Cinematographer Judith Kaufmann’s camera sticks close to Carla the whole runtime, never leaving her perspective. This in-your-face approach not only provides a suffocating, relentless quality to the film over its 98-minute runtime, but it also feeds into Carla’s burgeoning self-doubt and impulsive actions. Çatak helps viewers feel connected to and empathetic with Carla, observing her as she (sometimes stubbornly) follows morals, while never letting us forget that ambiguity abounds and everyone has different views on the ordeal. 

We observe cause-and-effect in motion from beginning to end, each well-intentioned action precipitating further conflict and confusion, no light at the end of the tunnel to be found. Marvin Miller’s throbbing score, too, accompanies the mayhem perfectly, sometimes mirroring the sensation of breathing, growing more labored and jagged as the action escalates. 

The film’s more stylistic flourishes (thematically resonant yet calling attention to themselves in overly “cinematic” fashion) don’t hit nearly as hard as the moment-to-moment drama, but are minor distractions in an otherwise airtight, wholly involving watch. Ultimately, Çatak’s film reaches outside its immediate setting to comment on the world at large. Unpleasant though it might be, it’s difficult to look away.

“The Teachers’ Lounge” is a 2023 drama from Germany, in English subtitles, directed by Ilker Catak and starring Leonie Benesch, Leonard Stettnisch, and Anne-Kathrin Gummich. It is the German entry as Best International Feature at this year’s Academy Awards. It is Rated PG-13 for strong language and its runtime is 1 hour, 38 minutes. It opened in local theatres on Feb. 9.
Alex’s Grade: A-.

Leonard Stettnisch as Oskar in “The Teacher’s Lounge.”

Disappointing Spy Adventure ‘Argylle’ Is No ‘Kingsman’

Disappointing Spy Adventure ‘Argylle’ Is No ‘Kingsman’

By Alex McPherson

Layered with twist upon twist adding up to not much at all, director Matthew Vaughn’s “Argylle” is a plodding spy adventure that doesn’t fully commit to its unhinged potential. 

Vaughn’s film opens in green-screen-laden Greece, as Agent Argylle (Henry Cavill) is on a mission to interrogate the alluring Lagrange (Dua Lipa) with the help of his sidekick Wyatt (John Cena) and tech wiz Keira (Ariana DeBose). After some flirting, sexy dancing, and a “Looney Tunes”-esque car chase defying all laws of physics through winding streets and rickety rooftops, Argylle and pals capture Lagrange. She says that she’s actually been taking orders from Argylle’s boss, played by Richard E. Grant. 

After this revelation, the camera zooms in on Cavill’s mouth, gradually morphing into Elly Conway’s (Bryce Dallas Howard), who’s finishing a reading of her fourth Argylle novel in green-screen-laden Colorado. Elly, an insecure writer who cares more about her cat, Alfie, than having a social life, is currently writing the Agent’s fifth outing. She’s afflicted with writer’s block — ending on a cliffhanger where Argylle learns about a “master key” that can dismantle the rogue organization once and for all. Elly’s mother, Ruth (Catherine O’Hara), insists she write an additional chapter, and Elly boards a train to meet her.

On board, Elly bumps into an unkempt stranger named Aidan (Sam Rockwell), who informs her that there’s a whole bunch of professional killers out to get her. Apparently, Elly’s novels overlap with real-world espionage, and she can lead Aidan to the location of a flash drive that can bring down “The Division,” led by Director Ritter (Bryan Cranston). Bloodless carnage ensues as Aidan takes down the wannabe assassins — in a fun bit of editing, Elly sees Aidan’s visage switch with Argylle’s between blinks. 

Aidan and Elly embark on a globe-trotting adventure where the lines between reality and fiction blur, limits of good taste are breached, and convoluted plotting takes center stage, with plenty of star-studded cameos, cartoonish action sequences, and “cute” CGI cat close-ups to hold viewers’ interest, or at least attempt to. Can Elly become the courageous Agent Argylle she writes about?

Although displaying flashes of Vaughn’s enjoyable who-gives-a-damn attitude, “Argylle” is a disappointingly stale affair — full of generic characters and filmmaking that largely refuses to meet its story on its own goofy wavelength. It’s a peculiarly dull experience that elicits few thrills despite constantly trying to one-up itself narratively, forgetting to present engaging characters and abandoning the premise’s potential in favor of sandbox-level shenanigans.

Vaughn’s no-holds-barred bravado in the opening is infinitely more enjoyable than Elly’s story back in reality, where Vaughn’s excessive tendencies are held back by a bland protagonist. Indeed, Elly just isn’t all that compelling — she’s a reclusive, socially awkward loner rendered all the more dull by Howard’s seemingly disengaged performance and a screenplay by Jason Fuchs that gives her little of the charm or wit of the people we’re introduced to in her writings. To make matters worse, Elly’s arc over the course of the film isn’t just unbelievable, it’s actively irritating; going from one extreme to another as the latest exposition dump dictates. Howard’s unconvincing line delivery does her absolutely no favors.

Supporting players fare marginally better. Aidan is the sort of likably unstable role that Rockwell slides into perhaps too easily, quipping often and boogying whenever the opportunity arises, albeit held back by the film’s film’s family-friendly “tell don’t show” philosophy. A moment where Aidan lightheartedly instructs Elly how to stomp bad guys’ skulls is amusing though baffling — why not just go with an R rating to begin with? Who is this film made for exactly?

Cranston chews scenery as the Big Bad Ritter, and O’Hara brings chaotic unpredictability to Ruth. Cavill is both suave and awkwardly hilarious in his sadly brief screen time, while Cena, DeBose, Lipa, and the legendary Samuel L. Jackson (who doesn’t even get to drop the film’s only F-bomb) are wasted in glorified cameos — no matter what the film’s promotional materials want you to believe. 

As the 139-minute runtime drags on, Vaughn’s colorful bursts of action — bringing back lovely memories of his “Kingsman” days — are the only elements of “Argylle” that sustain interest. The crazy camerawork, needle drops, and stunts shine with an energy sorely lacking in other departments. Even so, these sequences aren’t allowed to reach their full potential by PG-13 limitations. 

More broadly, Vaughn’s decision to pull punches here extends to plot developments. There’s far too many instances of characters explaining backstory to each other, which viewers rarely get to see unfold. We’re just expected to take Vaughn and Fuchs’ words for it and go along for the ride; shoddy, sluggish storytelling makes that a difficult mission to accomplish.

“Argylle,” then, seems at odds with itself. This could have been a fun spoof on the spy genre if Vaughn and company had the freedom to embrace their strengths and not aim for sanitized zaniness that comes awfully close to insulting viewers’ intelligence. Several entertaining scenes aside, “Argylle” needs to find a new objective.

Rating: C

“Argylle” is a 2024 action-thriller directed by Matthew Vaughn and starring Henry Cavill, Bryce Dallas Howard, Sam Rockwell, Bryan Cranston, John Cena, Ariana DeBose, Dua Lipa, Samuel L. Jackson, Sofia Boutella, Richard E. Grant, Rob Delaney and Catherine O’Hara. It is Rated PG-13 for strong violence and action and some strong language and the run-time is 2 hours, 19 minutes. It opens Feb. 2 in local theatres. Alex’s Grade: C

Ariana DeBose Stars in Solid Space Thriller ‘I.S.S.’

Ariana DeBose Stars in Solid Space Thriller ‘I.S.S.’

By Alex McPherson
A lean, claustrophobic thrill ride, director Gabriela Cowperthwaite’s “I.S.S.” can’t quite make the most of its premise, but satisfies as an enjoyably paranoid B-movie.

Cowperthwaite’s film unfolds aboard the International Space Station in the near future: a bastion of human cooperation and scientific advancement, at least until now. Scientist Kira (Ariana DeBose) — a newcomer to space travel, whose perspective viewers largely see the film through — and Christian (John Gallagher Jr.), who tells everyone, repeatedly, that he has two daughters back home, journey via the Soyuz spacecraft to the I.S.S. They are welcomed by their charismatic commander Gordon (Chris Messina), as well as Russian cosmonauts Weronika (Masha Mashkova), Alexey (Pilou Asbaek), and leader Nicholai (Costa Ronin).

Everything seems to be going well enough, despite the Station’s cramped workspaces, lack of privacy, and the group’s language barriers. Politics are off limits, a romance is obviously aflame between Gordon and Weronika, and the guarded, straight-laced Kira is able to go about her work (the effects of low-gravity regenerative medicine on mice) sans dealing with personal drama on Earth. Politics, as Kira soon learns during a tense exchange about the song “Wind of Change,” is taboo.

That is, until it’s unavoidable. While looking out the window, Kira notices large flashes of light on Earth’s surface. She initially thinks they’re erupting volcanoes — they are actually nuclear bombs dropped in a war between America and Russia. Before long, Gordon and Nicholai receive orders from their respective countries to take the I.S.S. by any means necessary. The I.S.S. will also burn up upon re-entry to Earth’s atmosphere if nobody in mission control assists.

Kira and company are certainly in a predicament. Chaos ensues as nationalism, selfishness, impulsiveness, and shifting allegiances reign supreme. Who will survive? Can these scientists avoid mutually assured destruction?

Cowperthwaite (perhaps best known for the documentary “Blackfish”) presents a cruel, occasionally clunky look at how easily peace can be shattered when the unprecedented occurs. With a capable cast and immersive cinematography, “I.S.S.” is a cynically entertaining descent into chaos. Simplistic characters and formulaic plot beats hold it back, though, rendering the film more a lightweight piece of popcorn entertainment than a disquieting thriller. 

“I.S.S.” is most effective in its first half, as Kira and viewers quickly get acquainted with the space station and its inhabitants, observing the confined corridors and amiable-yet-cautious interactions. Everyone is aware of cultural tensions and doing their best to push them to the side. Geoffrey Wallace’s production design feels authentic and lived-in, and stellar visual effects  believably simulate low-gravity, presenting stunning views of space and, later, the smoldering Earth below. 

This is a smart location to set a thriller, plus a plausible near-future scenario, and cinematographer Nick Remy Matthews makes the most of it. The camera drifts through hallways, untethered like the scientists to their prior bonds and routines. Nowhere is safe on the I.S.S.. Cowperthwaite keeps viewers on their toes as eavesdroppers lurk behind corners and conversations are suddenly interrupted. 

When the bombs drop and the orders come in, for example, Cowperthwaite effectively captures the awkwardness and simmering suspense within the group; Anne Nikitin’s jittery, ominous, slightly overused score cranks the dial even further. These quieter though no less impactful sequences — including a pulse-pounding outdoor repair — are gripping, largely thanks to Cowperthwaite’s direction and solid performances that elevate Nick Shafir’s screenplay.

DeBose gets a chance to show her range as the reserved, guileless Kira — a character wounded by a tragic and disappointing past throwing her all into her work. She’s more passive compared to the other crewmates, unsure who to believe and what to do once the situation spirals out of control. DeBose lends nuance to the role — letting the cracks shine through Kira’s façade early on that reflect her damaged past. Her performance is particularly effective in the first half, before Cowperthwaite reverts to narrative extremes that take precedence over character depth.

Messina lends charm and charisma to Gordon — the astronaut doing his best to keep everything under control — and Mashkova lends warmth, authority, and heartache as Weronika. Asbaek reveals hidden layers to the gruff Alexey, while Gallagher Jr. and Ronin are given less to work with and veer into cartoonish territory; paranoid, prideful characters who might or might not go off the deep end.

Indeed, notwithstanding a couple exceptions, the film doesn’t devote much time to developing these characters beyond who they are in their worst, most desperate moments. This could be due to the 95-minute runtime, but in its lack of cultural specificity (Cowperthwaite avoids delving too much into politics herself) and willingness to buck tradition, they’re reduced more to feelings than three-dimensional beings. They illuminate various elements of the human experience without giving us time or reason to get fully invested. As a result, they only rarely transcend archetypes.

Combined with some late-movie plot twists that take proceedings to preposterous levels, it’s difficult to become all that involved in the film’s drama. Nationalism and survival can certainly push people to act rashly, but “I.S.S.” ultimately feels too schematic for its own good. Some late-movie scuffles shift from harrowing to goofy, as Nikitin’s score blares and every actor tries to look as shocked as possible. 

Still, so long as viewers don’t think too much about the carnage on display, “I.S.S.” remains engaging. As typical January movie fare goes, it soars high above the competition.

“I.S.S.” is a 2024 science fiction-thriller directed by Gabriela Cowperthwaite and stars Ariana DeBose, Chris Messina, John Gallagher Jr., Masha Mashkova, Costa Ronin and Pilou Asbaek. It runs 1 hour, 35 minutes and is rated R for some language and violence. It opens in theatres Jan. 19. Alex’s Grade: B

Alex McPherson – Top 10 Films of 2023

Alex McPherson – Top 10 Films of 2023

By Alex McPherson

Here’s a list of my favorite movies of 2023, posted fashionably late.

10. “Barbie”

Let’s be honest here. If you’re reading this, you’ve probably already seen Greta Gerwig’s “Barbie.” This box office sensation (superior to Christopher Nolan’s “Oppenheimer,” by the way) is a sight to behold — packed to the brim with eye-popping visuals and amusing-to-hilarious jokes, featuring excellent performances from Margot Robbie, Ryan Gosling, and America Ferrera (among others in this star-studded cast) in a story whose emotional storyline leaves a lasting impression. Gerwig’s film tackles a ton of topics, delivering an incisive takedown of the patriarchy, a universal ode to self-actualization and empowerment, while also being a self-reflexive critique and celebration of the Barbie brand itself. Skeptical viewers should absolutely give this film a watch – “Barbie” is one of the most confident, well-crafted films of this year, or any year.

9. “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.”

I held off watching director Kelly Fremon Craig’s “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.” until just recently, but it’s absolutely essential viewing. Elevated by sensitive, lived-in performances from Abby Ryder Fortson, Rachel McAdams, Benny Safdie, and Kathy Bates, Craig’s adaptation of Judy Blume’s 1970 novel is a relatable coming-of-age dramedy that takes an empathetic approach to all its characters. Growing up is complicated, messy, and full of unknowns, regardless of age, but the film emphasizes the importance of staying true to yourself and being your own person. Funny, heartbreaking, and ultimately uplifting, it’s a timeless story that’s been given a fresh coat of paint, in one of 2023’s most enjoyable films.

8. “Skinamarink”

A claustrophobic, intensely immersive experience from start to finish, and one of the year’s most polarizing films, director Kyle Edward Ball’s “Skinamarink” is a feat of experiential storytelling. The film centers around two children trapped in their family home as doors and windows mysteriously disappear. Their parents are nowhere to be found, with only Legos and public domain cartoons on a blindingly-bright analog TV to comfort them. As the situation grows increasingly trippy and terror-inducing, Ball eschews a clear-cut narrative for subjective manifestations of viewers’ own monsters lurking in the darkened spaces of empty hallways and ceilings. We rarely leave the kids’ point-of-view due to agonizingly suspenseful, static-laden editing and cinematography that dares us to fill in the voids with our own fears, maintaining a constant sense of anticipation as we wait for silence to be broken. “Skinamarink” is a demanding watch, for sure, and not for those with short attention spans, but there’s truly nothing like it.

7. “Menus-Plaisirs – Les Troisgros”

The only documentary in my Top 10 list this year, director Frederick Wiseman’s “Menus-Plaisirs – Les Troisgros” is an ode to cooking, to art, and the act of creation. It’s also four hours long, and I recommend watching it in two two-hour sessions when it becomes available. Wiseman’s film transports viewers into several restaurants in the idyllic French countryside run by the Troisgros family, letting viewers observe the meticulous brainstorming and preparation that goes into running such high-end establishments. Wiseman positions us as flies on the wall, sans narration or music, and creates a downright hypnotic spell. It’s fascinating and inspiring to watch artists at work, and seeing the passion that main chef Michel and his sons César and Léo have for the work. Viewers travel from the kitchen to various producers (including local winemakers, cheesemakers, and cattle farmers) as experts explain their crafts, as well as spending time with (occasionally pompous) restaurant patrons for whom the food is prepared. Through its patient rhythms and tactile cinematography, “Menus-Plaisirs” is captivating and inspiring, motivating me to embrace my own interests.

6. “Godzilla Minus One”

Emotional, invigorating, and full of rip-roaring set pieces while still having plenty on its mind, director Takashi Yamazaki’s “Godzilla Minus One” is one of the year’s biggest surprises. Kaiju movies aren’t necessarily known for the humans involved, but Yamazaki’s film takes time to present endearing, three-dimensional characters facing off against an unprecedented threat. Themes of PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and joining forces for a nation’s existence take center stage alongside sequences of incredible visual artistry and suspense. Ryunosuke Kamiki’s damaged pilot-turned-minesweeper Koichi Shikishima remains a compelling protagonist for this crowd-pleasing piece of popcorn entertainment that honors its rich legacy and doesn’t overplay its hand, balancing its weighty themes with some of the year’s most spectacular action.

5. “Past Lives”

Emotionally raw and artfully constructed with an astounding trio of central performances by Greta Lee, Teo Yoo, and John Magaro, director Celine Song’s “Past Lives” is a thought-provoking meditation on love, dreams, regret, and bittersweet acceptance of the present. Song’s direction is immaculate, giving scenes time to breathe, and Keith Fraase’s editing weaves together characters’ stories in a way that gives the film a dreamlike, ethereal quality. This deceptively gentle, semi-autobiographical story of connections renewed is both personal and universal. Song offers profound reflections on the immigrant experience that everyone can relate to: confronting what-ifs and paths not taken in a manner that shuns melodrama for pure, honest, empathetic truths that acknowledge the past while leaving the door open for an even brighter future.

4. “The Zone of Interest”

Jonathan Glazer’s horrific, experimental, and deeply moving film “The Zone of Interest” takes a disturbing look at the family of Nazi commandant Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel), who live next door to Auschwitz in their dream home. Only a wall separates them from the horrors therein. Gunshots, screams of agony, and roars of furnaces ring throughout the Höss residence, while Christian’s wife Hedwig (Sandra Huller) tends the large garden and their children play in the yard, everyone ignoring the atrocities just beyond sight. Glazer’s film, greatly enhanced by Mica Levi’s outstanding score and haunting sound design, forces viewers face-to-face with the monstrous complicity of the Höss family, ultimately turning the camera back at us in its final stretch. Formally daring and enveloping, “The Zone of Interest” is unforgettable, lingering in the mind long after the credits roll and encouraging us to reflect on what we’ve shielded ourselves from for the sake of normalcy. Sometimes, films come along that have the power to shift paradigms and ways of being, and this is definitely one of them.

3. “Fallen Leaves”

Legendary Finnish filmmaker Aki Kaurismäki gives us another life-affirming gem with “Fallen Leaves,” a story of two lonely souls finding purpose and happiness with each other in a cold, seemingly uncaring world. Deploying Kaurismäki’s signature brand of dry, deadpan humor (with one of the year’s best scripts) that never loses sight of the characters’ humanity and capacity for change, it’s a lovely film — endlessly rewatchable and chock full of small yet meaningful moments of compassion that shine through amid bleak circumstances both near and far. “Fallen Leaves” isn’t a happy watch per say, but a hopeful one, with magnetic performances and Kaurismäki’s brilliantly efficient direction urging us to not succumb to despair and to embrace those we hold dear.

2. “The Killer”

Methodical, darkly comedic, achingly stylish, and yielding satisfying rewards for viewers willing to dig beneath the surface, “The Killer” is a mesmerizing masterwork from director David Fincher. This hyper-violent, slice-of-life portrait of an unnamed assassin (played with finely-calibrated precision by Michael Fassbender) experiencing an existential crisis might seem simple at first glance, but there’s far more going on here than meets the eye. “The Killer” is ultimately a deconstruction of toxic masculinity, a sardonic takedown of the gig economy, an indictment of our consumerist, always-online society, and a weirdly gratifying peek into an assassin’s day-to-day routines. It’s also streaked with irony, as viewers observe this “well-oiled killing machine” combusting from the inside-out; Andrew Kevin Walker’s screenplay delivers sharp jabs to our protagonist’s ego as his internal monologue tries to convince him everything is under control. Add to all this an incredible score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, a whole bunch of songs by The Smiths, a scene-stealing cameo from Tilda Swinton, and an all-time great fight scene, there’s no doubt that Fincher’s latest ranks among the year’s best.

1. “John Wick: Chapter 4”

Director Chad Stahelski’s nearly-three-hour thrill ride “John Wick: Chapter 4” takes action filmmaking to new heights, presenting set piece after set piece of bone-crunching stunt work and dazzling cinematography. Keanu Reeves gives one of his best performances to date as the titular Baba Yaga, taking on “The High Table” in a last bid for freedom. Not even this year’s “Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One” rivals the balletic carnage on display here, matched by a storyline with stakes, heart, and great supporting turns from Donnie Yen, Shamier Anderson, and Scott Adkins. The last hour, in particular, is absolutely immaculate — the most skillful action filmmaking since 2015’s “Mad Max: Fury Road.” What “Chapter 4” lacks in thought-provoking themes it more than makes up for with sheer fun factor. It’s a modern classic in the action genre that deserves more recognition, and as such, ranks at the top of my all-powerful, anyone-who-reads-this-should-watch-these-movies-immediately list.

10 Honorable Mentions (I could keep going but needed to stop somewhere): “They Cloned Tyrone,” “Poor Things,” “Talk to Me,” “20,000 Species of Bees,” “Showing Up,” “BlackBerry,” “American Fiction” “The Holdovers,” “Robot Dreams,” “Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One.”

Waititi Delivers in Fun, Messy Sports Film ‘Next Goal Wins’

Waititi Delivers in Fun, Messy Sports Film ‘Next Goal Wins’

By Alex McPherson

A lightweight, enjoyable treat that leans into sports movie cliches while adding some wrinkles, director Taika Waititi’s “Next Goal Wins” doesn’t try to be high art, but succeeds where it counts, and offers a breath of fresh air in our cynical times.

Inspired by the 2014 documentary of the same name, and introduced by a priest played by none other than Waititi himself, the film follows disgraced coach Thomas Rongen (Michael Fassbender) on a journey of personal growth. He’s sent by the American Soccer Federation – led by Alex Magnussen (Will Arnett), who’s dating Rongen’s ex-wife Gail (Elisabeth Moss), also on the Board – to coach the American Samoan national soccer team to FIFA World Cup qualification. It’s really about punishment for his hot-headed behavior and a nudge to “help himself” while floating in career purgatory. When the Board delivers the news to Rongen, he experiences the five stages of grief, explained via a crude PowerPoint presentation by Waititi-regular Rhys Darby.  

Unfortunately for Rongen, his newly assigned team doesn’t have the best track record. They infamously lost to Australia 31-0 in a 2001 World Cup qualifying match: the worst defeat in international soccer history. The team lacks drive and organization, rendering Rongen’s assignment quite an uphill battle. The former coach, lovably goofy and earnest Tavita (Oscar Kightley), who works various odd jobs around the island, merely wants Rongen to help the team score one goal. “One goal,” Tavita repeats, as he slowly backs away from Rongen at a beachside restaurant, “One goal.”

It’s all infuriating for the temperamental, alcoholic, and close-minded Rongen – a fish-out-of-water in an unfamiliar culture with traditions and ideals that buck against his hard-assed attitude. In his view, nobody on the team takes soccer, or him, seriously, especially Jaiyah Saelua (Kaimana), a transgender woman whose identity Rongen refuses to accept and respect, while the rest of the team does.

It’s little surprise that Rongen’s hatred gradually fades away as he learns more about American Samoan culture and bonds with the players. Their patience, compassion, and kindness help Rongen conquer his demons and open his heart, which in return helps the team come together and try their best, no matter the outcome, delivering plenty of zany jokes along the way.

Indeed, “Next Goal Wins” follows a familiar template that yields few real surprises. Thanks to strong performances, Waititi’s signature brand of awkward-funny humor, and some emotional moments that (despite their predictability) hit with earnest impact, though, it’s an eminently enjoyable watch. Waititi’s preference for jokes over “dramatic” moments lessens their potency, and the focus on Rongen is less compelling than Jaiyah’s experiences, but “Next Goal Wins” still manages to score that elusive goal, no matter its faults.

Fassbender (coming fresh off his awards-worthy turn in David Fincher’s “The Killer”), fits the gruff, damaged Rongen well – often seeming at odds with the beaming, idiosyncratic people surrounding him on the island. Like Fincher’s nameless hitman, it’s another performance from Fassbender that mocks his character’s “masculine” refusal to be vulnerable and acknowledge his faults, consumed by his work and suffering past trauma to the detriment of everyone around him (except those laughing at his childish behaviors). Rongen’s arc is easy to foresee, but it’s heartwarming, particularly his eventual bond with Jaiyah, the film’s real MVP.

Rongen’s initially awful treatment of Jaiyah is difficult to watch – a scenario that, despite the film’s largely comedic atmosphere, seems plausible and disquieting. It’s thanks to Jaiyah’s refusal to view Rongen in black-and-white absolutes, though, that helps them connect. She won’t write him off or give up her dreams to play soccer. Kaimana brings warmth, pathos, and groundedness to her portrayal, leading to several tear-inducing scenes later on when the empathy she exhibits to others is returned. Her story is inspirational, and the most winning aspect of Waiti’s film.

The rest of the team (including performances from a pitch-perfect David Fane as assistant coach Ace, and Uli Latukefu as former goalie Nicky Salapu, haunted by past failures during the Australia match) aren’t given anywhere near as much depth as Rongen and Jaiyah. Waititi instead paints them in broad strokes – there for pun-filled, pop-culture-heavy punchlines over three-dimensionality. 

It’s an unfortunate choice, perhaps due to the film’s 104-minute runtime, which speeds through the story without lingering on gags or otherwise poignant beats. Rongen’s arc notably falls prey to Waititi and Iain Morris’s rushed screenplay – a short heart-to-heart can make him change his tune to an unbelievable, if crowd-pleasing, extent, and a late-movie plot twist with his character is easy to foresee.

This applies to the meat and potatoes of what Rongen and the team are actually doing, too. “Next Goal Wins” is less focused on the game of soccer itself (or the players’ reasons for participating in the first place), and more on the thawing of Rongen’s tough exterior and the formation of community and friendship above all else. Viewers shouldn’t expect many thrilling sequences of last-minute saves and goals. In fact, Waititi seems to actively resent it, shifting attention to relationships and team-building with comparatively small-scale (but important) stakes in the final stretch.

We’re left with an imperfect, tonally inconsistent sports film that aims to put a smile on one’s face and raise awareness of a culture’s, and team’s, continued striving and resilience. On those merits, “Next Goal Wins” wholeheartedly succeeds. It’s no masterpiece (and one yearns for the daring Waititi of “Jojo Rabbit” and “Hunt for the Wilderpeople”), but sometimes films like this are needed, just to restore one’s faith in humanity a little bit more, because every bit counts.

“Next Goal Wins” is a 2023 Sports Comedy directed by Taika Waititi and starring Michael Fassbender, Elisabeth Moss, Will Arnett, Oscar Kightley, Kaimana, and David Fane. It’s rated: PG-13 for some strong language and crude material and runs 1 hour, 43 minutes. It opened in theatres Nov. 17. Alex’s Grade: B.

‘Priscilla’ Is An Atmospheric Look at a Troubled Relationship

‘Priscilla’ Is An Atmospheric Look at a Troubled Relationship

By Alex McPherson

Stylistically resonant with absorbing performances from Cailee Spaeny and Jacob Elordi, director Sofia Coppola’s “Priscilla” is emotionally removed, eschewing a deeper dive into its subject’s headspace for dreamlike stasis with little payoff and, ultimately, not much of note to say.

Based on the book “Elvis and Me” by Priscilla Presley (who also executive-produced the film), Coppola’s adaptation charts the whirlwind romance between young Priscilla (Spaeny) and the insecure, hip-gyration-loving King of Rock and Roll himself (Elordi). We’re introduced to 14-year-old Priscilla (then Beaulieu) in 1959, when she’s a high school student living with her parents (Ari Cohen and Dagmara Dominczyk) on a U.S. Air Force Base in Wiesbaden, Germany. A chance encounter at a diner leads to her being invited to a house party hosted by 24-year-old Elvis, who’s currently serving in the Army.

Priscilla is thrilled and, after battling her anxious, apprehensive parents, is allowed to attend. Once she arrives at the party in Bad Nauheim, which the film frames like a moody jazz club radiating from the powerful man at its center, Elvis (again, 10 years Priscilla’s senior) almost immediately falls for her; she reminds him of home. 

Thus begins their deeply problematic courtship. Elvis leaves Germany for The States, which tears the crestfallen Priscilla apart: she spends her days anxiously awaiting letters and calls, daydreaming through classes and growing increasingly jealous hearing about Elvis’s tabloid headlines involving other women. In 1963, she’s summoned to Graceland, indulging in extravagance (and prescription drugs, instigated by Elvis) with his posse of rowdy friends who became known as the Memphis Mafia. 

After returning to Germany, she and Elvis convince her parents to let her move to Graceland to finish her senior year of high school. Everything seems like a fairy tale in Priscilla’s eyes, at least at the beginning, but deep cracks begin to form in their relationship. Denied intimacy and manufactured to be Elvis’s porcelain doll of a wife, Priscilla is sapped of independence – trapped in a glossy cage with an emotionally unintelligent artist grappling with his own identity at the expense of hers, until she decides that she’s had enough.

Indeed, “Priscilla” is a depressingly bleak look at a relationship steeped in toxic behaviors and feelings of claustrophobia. While Coppola effectively conveys the story’s saddening atemporality, in which Priscilla’s lack of development reflects her captor’s attempts to mold her, the intentionally distant approach backfires. The film jumps erratically through time without meaningful buildup to Priscilla’s rebellion, or, oddly, real insight into who she is and hopes to be.

The performances, however, are difficult to fault, even when delivering Coppola’s occasionally clunky dialogue. Spaeny precisely embodies Priscilla’s wide-eyed youthfulness and growing maturity. We observe her longing, euphoria, and disillusionment with a celebrity she’s idealized and who has trapped her in cycles of loving and abuse, tenderness and chaos. “Priscilla” is largely framed through her eyes, as we watch her enduring situations where others talk at her and she, often nonverbally, emotes multitudes through subtle facial expressions and body language. Stacy Battat’s costume design further helps emphasize Priscilla’s separation from her past and from her true self, fashioned to appease Elvis’s demands. Her frustration and yearning is efficiently portrayed by an actor deserving of all the accolades (hopefully) headed her way.

Elordi is similarly effective, taking a far different approach than Austin Butler’s flamboyant (and highly entertaining) turn in Baz Luhrman’s 2022 biopic, “Elvis.” Elordi nails Elvis’s voice and physique, towering over Spaeny in an on-the-nose reminder of their age gap and power dynamic. Elordi’s Elvis is charismatic, trouble-making, and selfish, a victim of stardom grappling with his own image and expectations forced on him by people like Colonel Tom Parker. 

While “Priscilla” is more focused on his direct interactions (or lack thereof) with Priscilla, we infer outside drama and betrayal through conversations Priscilla overhears and headlines she reads. The victimization and mental struggles that Elvis experiences seep into his personal life. He might love Priscilla on some level, but sees her as someone to be controlled. Elvis holds her back to retain her purity, perhaps as a way for him to appease his own regrets and status as a sex symbol while he lives a life of stardom singing and acting in Hollywood (sleeping with many women along the way).

With such committed performances from Spaeny and Elordi, it’s a shame that “Priscilla” is such a cold viewing experience – which might be the point. This is a dark story of fantasy brought down to earth, less about empowerment than disempowerment. 

The film’s first half unfolds like a dream, hazy and ethereal, as Sarah Flack’s editing conveys the whirlwind romance with a sense of inertia that Priscilla finds difficult to break free from. What starts out as unexpected, surprising, and thrilling devolves into tedious cycles of mistreatment and placation. We feel for Priscilla, mostly thanks to Spaeny’s acting, but the film’s second half sags due to Coppola’s seeming refusal to dig deeper into Priscilla’s psyche; more based on vibes than genuine insight as the years tick by and Priscilla becomes a bride and mother. 

Frequent Coppola collaborator Philippe Le Sourd’s cinematography is murky and cloudy, echoing Priscilla’s stagnation – never drawing too much attention to Tamara Deverell’s period-accurate set design. Coppola frequently resorts to montages to depict the passing years, emphasizing how little has changed in Priscilla’s fraught situation.

This minimalist approach to Priscilla’s rebellion is muted to a fault. There’s little crescendo to her final decision, besides viewers knowing from the outset that she eventually divorces Elvis. As a result, Coppola’s restrained approach to the material seems like checking off boxes instead of organically telling a story about one woman’s resilience in the face of adversity. The reasons Priscilla continues to stay with Elvis are complex and worthy of exploration, though the film holds her at arm’s length. 

Combined with a jarringly abrupt ending and a soundtrack that too often tries to sell emotions through lyrics (with no Elvis tunes in the lineup), “Priscilla” stays afloat thanks to the magnetic performances of its two leads. For Spaeny and Elordi, especially Spaeny, “Priscilla” is worth a look, but it remains a missed opportunity for a filmmaker capable of greatness.

“Priscilla” is a 2023 drama directed by Sofia Coppola and starring Cailee Spaeny, Jacob Elordi, Ari Cohen, and Dagmara Dominczyk. It is rated R for drug use and some language, and runs 1 hour, 50 minutes. It opened in theaters November 3. Alex’s Grade: B-

Fincher’s ‘The Killer’ Is a Masterful, Darkly Funny Character Study

Fincher’s ‘The Killer’ Is a Masterful, Darkly Funny Character Study

By Alex McPherson

Stylish, cerebral, and laced with pitch black humor, director David Fincher’s “The Killer” uses its deceptively simple narrative to uncover a thoughtful, albeit nihilistic, character study with a top-notch performance from Michael Fassbender.

Fincher’s film, based on a graphic novel by Alexis “Matz” Nolent, opens with a montage of various killing tools and settles on the titular nameless hitman (Fassbender), who is waiting for the right time to kill a wealthy target in Paris. He’s a cold, calculating, pretentious sociopath, who bides his time doing yoga, grabbing McDonalds, listening to the Smiths, reflecting on his craft, and waxing philosophical about the meaninglessness of existence, all while dressed (intentionally) like a German tourist.

His methodical elimination of targets is nothing personal; they’re little more than a speck in the pot of overcrowded humankind. He’s also devilishly resourceful, possessing seemingly limitless amounts of  I.D.s with the names of ‘70s and ‘80s sitcom characters, and making use of all the modern conveniences and technology of our time (Amazon delivery stands out) to seamlessly weave throughout our world sans detection. If you see him, it’s already too late. 

He’s set up in a WeWork space across the street from the target’s hotel room, since apparently (as his internal monologue explains) Airbnbs tend to have too many cameras. “Stick to the plan,”  “Anticipate, don’t improvise,” “Empathy is weakness” are common phrases The Killer repeats to himself, closely monitoring his heart rate via FitBit to ensure maximum efficiency. He’s a well-oiled killing machine, a true master in the art of assassination. Until, well, he misses his shot, and takes out a sex worker instead.

Tilda Swinton in “The Killer”

 The Killer makes a quick escape (thinking to himself “WWJWBD: What Would John Wilkes Booth Do?”), and the target gets to live another day. Goons are promptly dispatched to The Killer’s beachside house in the Dominican Republic — leaving his girlfriend, Magdala (Sophie Charlotte), within an inch of her life. Driven as much by revenge as by his own ego, our allegedly apathetic protagonist embarks on a globe-trotting mission to find out who’s responsible and murder them, plus any unlucky bystanders who get involved. But no matter what he tells himself, and his effectiveness at navigating our always-online reality, he’s still fallible: a monster thriving on delusion, insisting he’s above humanity while never being able to fully outrun his own. 

Oscillating between suspenseful, shocking, and (dare I say it) laugh-out-loud funny, “The Killer” thrills and provokes from start to finish. This isn’t a particularly new story, but Fincher’s approach mines poignancy from a familiar template, immersing viewers into the mind of a villain and cutting him down to size — a character that’s easy to root against, but impossible to look away from, brought to life with Fincher’s characteristic panache.

Anyone who’s seen a Fincher joint before (“Fight Club,” “The Social Network,” or the regrettable “Mank,” for example) knows his films overflow with style, and “The Killer” is no different. Erik Messerschmidt’s crisp cinematography frames The Killer’s routine with distant, precise remove, sometimes blending him into shadows, to reflect his “professional” demeanor. The largely static camerawork changes to handheld as The Killer’s improvisational instincts kick in and panic rears its head. 

Additionally, Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’s score pulses like a heartbeat as The Killer weaves through his surroundings like a parasite, evading detection at every turn, buzzing with discordant rhythms at moments of peril, such as during a cartoonishly destructive brawl later on that rivals the brutality of skirmishes in “John Wick: Chapter 4.”

Ren Klyce’s sound design is absolutely impeccable, with diegetic sounds (like the ring of an employee check-in kiosk or the bang of a ferry’s ramp locking into place) turned up to the max: nuisances that momentarily distract our titular assassin from his quest for vengeance. Suffice to say, the film is a sensory treat.

Fassbender’s performance is brilliantly tuned into the character’s cynicism and deliberate procedures. His stoic facial expressions belie a seemingly soulless husk — someone who’s devoted his whole life to his career without any interest or care for humanity, at least as far as he tells himself, but Fassbender subtly conveys his cracking facade as the story progresses.

His narration (from a strong screenplay by Andrew Kevin Walker) is sardonic, cruel, pop-culture-savvy, and at times very funny, but also reflective of his internal torment. His mantras are pushed to their limits, especially when interacting with unlucky bystanders in the wrong place at the wrong time. He has the skills to make it out of any deadly encounter, but at what cost? 

Indeed, much of the unpredictability of “The Killer,” despite its familiar setup, comes down to contrast and dissonance. There’s something darkly comedic, and compelling, about being immersed into the mind of such a straight-laced character, observing his pain-staking preparations for the next hit, and seeing reality coming back to bite him, daring and/or forcing him to break from routine. Fincher plays around with this idea, too: moments of levity and endearment traditionally found in these types of stories aren’t present here; opportunities for redemption are tangled tantalizingly close and unceremoniously (often graphically) dashed. 

Fincher barely spends any time with Magdala either — a non-issue because vengeance for her isn’t The Killer’s primary motivation. What really matters is maintaining his carefully cultivated lifestyle and self-image, scarred by his humiliating mistake in Paris that set this whole fight-for-life into motion. He knows the drill as well as anyone, but (through pride and desire to remain on the planet he has such apathy for) refuses to accept it.

This idiosyncratic approach ensures that even if we think we know where “The Killer” is headed, we really don’t, not unlike the protagonist’s own predicament. Memorable appearances from Charles Parnell, Kerry O’Malley, and Tilda Swinton underscore this, unfolding in ways running the gamut of emotions. 

Ultimately, “The Killer” is thrilling, amusing, and even moving to some degree, especially considering Fincher’s own reputation as a perfectionist. The Killer may have the tools to escape any situation, and maintain his own status, but can one really live without embracing life’s uncertainties? 

This is one of 2023’s finest films thus far, much deeper than it initially seems, and deserving of the big screen treatment. Stick to the plan. Anticipate, don’t improvise. And don’t wait for Netflix, if at all possible.

“The Killer” is a 2023 action crime thriller directed by David Fincher and starring Michael Fassbender, Tilda Swinton, Charles Parnell and Kerry O’Malley. It is rated R for strong violence, language and brief sexuality, and runs 1 hour, 58 minutes. It opened in selected theaters on Oct. 27 and will stream on Netflix starring Nov. 10. Alex’s Grade: A+

‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ – An Important Story and Troubled Retelling

‘Killers of the Flower Moon’ – An Important Story and Troubled Retelling

By Alex McPherson

A disturbing story of greed, prejudice, and the American Dream soaked in venom, director Martin Scorsese’s “Killers of the Flower Moon” raises awareness of heinous crimes committed against the Osage People, and contains outstanding craftsmanship, but remains limited in perspective. Scorsese’s film is a reminder of the hardships and resilience of the Osage framed largely through the eyes of White evildoers, to emotionally compromised effect.

Based on David Grann’s bestselling nonfiction book of the same name, “Killers of the Flower Moon” centers around the “Reign of Terror” that befell members of the Osage Nation in the early 1920s. After being forced to relocate to supposedly desolate land in Oklahoma, members of the Osage Nation discovered that their new surroundings contained oil — rendering them the richest people per capita on Earth, but also targets for manipulation by those eager to strip them of all rights and privileges.

Such is the case of William “King” Hale (Robert De Niro), a wealthy cattle rancher and businessman, who feigns love for the Osage but seeks to take control of their oil-rich lands via any means necessary, including murdering them for oil rights.

Hale’s nephew, the infuriating and slow-witted Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio), returns from working as a cook in World War I, looking to Hale for a job, unabashedly admitting his love for women and money. Ernest, having injuries that prevent him from doing much manual labor, starts working as a cab driver, where he meets Mollie Kyle (an incredible Lily Gladstone) — a beautiful, sharply intelligent woman quietly enraged at the ways she’s treated by White-dominated authority — and becomes smitten with her. 

DiCaprio and Gladstone as Ernest and Mollie

Hale encourages Ernest to seduce and marry Mollie, who also happens to be an heir to a large fortune in oil royalties held by her mother, Lizzie Q (Tantoo Cardinal) — so long as Mollie’s sisters and their husbands aren’t around to inherit it first. Thus sets the stage for brazen brutality, as Hale and Ernest’s schemes grow ever more elaborate, and Ernest becomes a part of Mollie’s family — developing genuine love for her while simultaneously killing her family behind her back: infuriatingly ignorant and/or unwilling to reckon with his own bloodthirstiness and lack of humanity. Eventually, a J. Edgar Hoover-ordered FBI investigation gets underway, led by agent Tom White (Jesse Plemmons), but the grisly damage has already been done.

Indeed, “Killers of the Flower Moon” tells a sobering, insidious story that needs to be told, taking plenty of time to set the scene, emphasize the devilish machinations of its villains, and educate viewers on the hardships and resilience of the Osage Nation. What’s sacrificed by Scorsese and co-writer Eric Roth’s screenplay, however, is a more intentional, meaningful focus. 

The film spotlights Ernest’s crisis of conscience (or lack thereof) above diving into the individual tragedies committed against the Osage — illuminating themes that, regardless of relevance, have persisted throughout American history. Scorsese misses an opportunity to explore new, informative points-of-view that have previously been sidelined in mainstream storytelling of this scale.

Stylistically, “Killers of the Flower Moon” excels, but viewers shouldn’t expect anything less from Scorsese. On a big screen, the film is unquestionably immersive, with cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto capturing expansive plains and claustrophobic interiors, blinding sun and menacing, pitch-black darkness, in beautiful compositions that rarely draw too much attention to themselves.

Longtime Scorsese editor Thelma Schoonmaker lets scenes breathe and marinate — giving the incredible ensemble, including numerous Indigenous actors, room to stretch their wings, with Scorsese taking a noticeably sparse directorial style that eschews flashiness for intimate contemplation: sometimes taking a more spiritual, matter-of-fact approach in depicting Osage customs.

Acts of violence against the Osage are depicted with cold remove — coming seemingly out of nowhere, shocking in their immediacy and grotesque without being gratuitous. The late Robbie Robertson’s score is particularly effective as an omnipresent heartbeat to the monstrous acts unfolding before our eyes.

DiCaprio delivers a characteristically engaging performance as Ernest, with a rough-hewn look, disastrous dentistry, and playful swagger that belies a dark heart of greed and moral bankruptcy.

Viewers going into “Killers of the Flower Moon” with expectations for Ernest to be “redeemed” won’t find that arc here, as his love for Mollie is always offset by the cruelty he exhibits behind her back: a buffoon resistant to the shred of goodness located somewhere deep within his corrupted heart.

As our primary vessel for this story, he’s frustrating, if not outright idiotic, being manipulated by Hale and giving into base instincts that cannot coexist alongside his life with Mollie, try though he might.

DeNiro is frighteningly unhinged as Hale, swerving between Hale’s public and private personas with precision. Hale enlists henchmen to do his dirty work for him, but he remains a powerful presence, and Scorsese’s film gives us plenty of time to observe him pulling strings and explaining his schemes, hiding his conspiracies behind seemingly benign smiles and a culture of complicity.

 Gladstone is, without a doubt, the film’s MVP, conveying warmth, quiet rage, crushing sadness, and persistent hope with minimal dialogue. Through it all, Mollie’s bravery shines through — her resistance to accepting Ernest’s betrayal is heartbreaking to watch.

It’s too bad that “Killers of the Flower Moon” fades her into the background after a certain point, though, as well as giving her siblings and other members of the Osage Nation — featuring powerful performances from Cara Jade Myers, Janae Collins, Jillian Dion, and William Belleau, among others — only a handful of sequences (in the span of a mammoth 206-minute runtime) to divert the spotlight from White evildoers.

That extended runtime exacerbates this issue, especially in the third act, full of legal histrionics and prolonged sequences where viewers watch Ernest and co. squirm under interrogation by the FBI; their incompetence and stupidity on full display, even as the “justice system” fails to live up to its name. 

A last-minute framing device at the conclusion paints the proceedings in a somewhat new light (commenting on the twisted appeal of true-crime stories to begin with and bringing attention to the limitations of Scorsese’s directorial viewpoint, ending with a notable shift back to the Osage in its closing moments), but perhaps “Killers of the Flower Moon” could have been better told by a filmmaker more willing to buck tradition.

It’s admirable that Scorsese takes on the challenge here, and will undoubtedly raise awareness to these real-life happenings, but “Killers of the Flower Moon” is also ham-strung by his own storytelling patterns. It’s an important film brimming with technical mastery and exceptional performances, but one that’s not nearly as enlightening or emotionally gripping as it believes it is.

“Killers of the Flower Moon” is a 2023 historical western true crime drama directed by Martin Scorsese and starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Robert DeNiro, Lily Gladstone, Jesse Plemons. Cara Jade Myers, Brendan Fraser, John Lithgow, Tommy Schultz
Rated: R for violence, some grisly images, and language, the run time is 3 hours, 26 minutes. It opens in theatres Oct. 20 and will stream on Apple TV+ at a later date, to be announced. Alex’s Grade: B

Riveting Performances Fuel Tense, Draining Thriller in ‘Fair Play’

Riveting Performances Fuel Tense, Draining Thriller in ‘Fair Play’

By Alex McPherson

Powered by enthralling performances from Phoebe Dynevor and Alden Ehrenreich, director Chloe Domont’s “Fair Play” is an effective, if exhausting, thriller exploring gender politics and self-destructive ambition in a corporate world devoid of empathy.

The film follows Emily (Dynevor) and Luke (Ehrenreich), who we first meet on the dance floor of a New York City wedding reception. They sneak away to the bathroom to have sex, and in the middle of it, Luke’s engagement ring falls out of his pocket. Turns out, he was planning on proposing to Emily. She enthusiastically says yes. Luke and Emily are happy, and everything seems nice and dandy — so long as, we soon learn, their shared workplace doesn’t learn about their romance, and Emily’s chatterbox mother doesn’t spill the beans to anyone else. 

Emily and Luke are both stock analysts at the same company, One Crest Capital, where inter-office romance goes against company policy, and sanity goes to die. Analysts work long hours in hopes of ascending the ranks of power, hungering at any opportunity for a promotion by the hand of coldly intimidating Campbell (Eddie Marsan). 

Suited-up workers (mostly men) live and breathe financial jargon; each decision to buy or sell is based on insider information they’ve plugged into with obsessive attention to detail, with plenty of toxicity to spare in their predatory glances and fake-nice banter. They’re opportunistic, skilled at their jobs, and always on the lookout for blood in the water like well-dressed sharks.

After OCC’s “PM” (portfolio manager) is unceremoniously fired — the frustrated sap smashes up his office with a golf club — rumors spread that Campbell is eyeing Luke to take over the role. Luke is thrilled, as is Emily; this is Luke’s big break, an acknowledgement of his hard work and dominance over his peers. Things don’t play out like Luke anticipates, though. Emily gets a late-night call inviting her for drinks with Campbell, who informs her that she’s going to be the new PM. 

Let’s just say, Luke is none too thrilled, despite his performative attempts at congratulating Emily. And thus begins the couple’s downward spiral, as deep-seated insecurities and OCC’s cancerous work culture seeps into their very beings — tearing them apart from the inside out. And we get to see it all for our entertainment.

Indeed, “Fair Play” is a striking, viscerally uncomfortable viewing experience unfolding like a train wreck we’re powerless to stop. With crackling dialogue, committed performances, and nerve-shredding editing, the film is an impressive feature debut from Domont, albeit one whose pedal-to-the-metal approach becomes numbing after a certain point. It’s a feel-bad, socially-aware thriller spiked with cynicism and fatalism.

Alden Ehrenreich as Luke

Gluing all this together are two attention-grabbing performances from Dynevor and Ehrenreich making the whole ordeal even more (intentionally) painful to witness. They’re both beautiful people, given plenty of time to enjoy each other’s bodies and exchange playful banter, but the shadow Emily’s promotion casts over their connection is keenly felt from the moment it’s revealed. Emily and Luke’s subsequent conversations take on a different tone entirely, from passive-aggressive to viciously confrontational.

Dynevor adeptly sells Emily’s hard-working mindset and gradual realization of her crumbling relationship — her efforts to cling to what’s left of her bond with Luke (mostly sex) are stifled by Luke’s unwillingness to reciprocate: it’s the one thing he has power over that he can spitefully refuse her. As Emily weaves between her personas to fit in with the “boy’s club,” her ability to maintain composure slips further and further, erupting in righteous fury in the harrowing third act, as her desperate attempts to hold onto the impossible backfire. 

Through subtle (and not so subtle) body language and dialogue, Dynevor imbues Emily with humanity lacking from the majority of male characters. “Fair Play” doesn’t necessarily endorse Emily’s drastic decisions later on, but she’s depicted as the far more three-dimensional, sympathetic character than Luke ever is. This isn’t necessarily an issue, but Domont’s attempts to be provocative fall somewhat short when Emily’s side of the conflict is so easy to latch onto compared to Luke’s, whose ingrained issues are apparent early on and irreversible.

Luke, by contrast, is a deeply insecure, jealous man schooled on problematic forms of masculinity where any threat to his ego and status hits like a sledgehammer: a sleight against his work-obsessed being that he’s worked hard to cultivate. Ehrenreich is excellent, as always, perpetually looking like a sad puppy behind Emily’s back — rendering Luke’s steep de-evolution into rageful hate all the more believable and chilling, albeit telegraphed early on. The further Emily climbs, the further Luke sinks into bitterness: both sides are unable to extricate their personal lives from their work lives, resulting in alarming sequences brought vividly to life by the actors, who deliver Domont’s acerbic screenplay with fanged precision.

Stylistically, “Fair Play” operates at a high level, too, enhancing the ferocity of the performances. Menno Mans’ cinematography is oppressively constrained, closing in on Emily and Luke as violent tension escalates. While not filmed in New York City, Mans’ camera, combined with jarring sound design (heightening sounds of a screeching metro or speeding cars to cold, uncaring, machinelike effect) beautifully conveys the treacherous world Luke and Emily have brought themselves into. Ominous skyscrapers loom overhead observing their every move. It’s almost like we’re watching a horror film.

By the third act, when things really go off the rails, “Fair Play” can be tough to stomach, and hopelessly pessimistic in its depiction of two characters losing their grasp on reality. But that’s exactly how we’re supposed to feel: stressed and panicked, with no room to breathe until the credits roll and we’re finally removed from this unpleasant conflict. The hysterics can be tiring, yet “Fair Play” is still compulsively watchable from start to finish, with ever-relevant themes that linger.

“Fair Play” is a 2023 drama-thriller written and directed by Chloe Domont starring Phoebe Dynevor, Alden Ehrenreich, and Eddie Marsan

It is rated R for pervasive language, sexual content, some nudity, and sexual violence, and the run time is 1 hour, 53 minutes.

It opened in select theaters Sept. 29 and began streaming on Netflix Oct. 6. Alex’s Grade: B+.

‘The Creator’: Self-Serious Sci-Fi Riddled With Bugs

‘The Creator’: Self-Serious Sci-Fi Riddled With Bugs

By Alex McPherson

Visually sumptuous but thematically reductive, director Gareth Edwards’ science-fiction drama, “The Creator,” can’t match its awe-inspiring imagery with a well thought-out story.

Edwards’ film opens with a retro-style newsreel setting the scene. The year is 2055, and advanced AI robots (some with “Chappie”-like appearances and others, called “Simulants,” who resemble humans with hollow cylinders in their heads carrying the donated consciousnesses of deceased people) assist humans in their day-to-day-lives. Disaster strikes one day, however, and a nuclear bomb goes off in Los Angeles, with AI allegedly to blame.

The American government and its Western allies ban the technology, while the Republic of New Asia, a mishmash of various Asian countries, embraces AI. Thus a war is sparked between America and New Asia–in which the American military uses a massive Death-Star-esque weapon called Nomad, which scans landscapes like a photocopier and reigns down explosive, synth-heavy destruction upon any poor saps caught in its radius. 

We meet our protagonist, Joshua (John David Washington), who lost an arm and a leg in the blast, a decade later, as he works undercover as a military operative seeking to hunt down the “Nirmata,” an inventor who’s supposedly built something that will win the war for AI. Joshua is married to a pregnant robotics whiz named Maya (Gemma Chan), who’s lived among Simulants her whole life and will hopefully lead Joshua and his team to victory, without knowing his true intentions. After a raid goes badly, Maya is supposedly killed and Joshua is injured again – Nirmata is still out there.

Five years later, Joshua (depressed and retired from the special-forces) is pulled back into the fray, after the severe Colonel Howell (an unhinged Allison Janney) shows him recorded footage proving that Maya is still alive, and that they’ve located Nirmata’s creation. Thus, Joshua and his posse travel behind enemy lines, and chaos ensues, with Joshua eventually locating the earth-shattering invention: a childlike simulant (Madeleine Yuna Voyles), who he dubs Alphie. Alphie has the power to shut down any technology with her mind, and her powers grow as she grows.

Will Joshua bond with Alphie or kill her? Will he learn the error of his ways and learn to accept the Other? Who are really the “heroes” of this story? They sure as hell aren’t Americans, or humankind in general. Could this film be any more blunt in its social commentary?

A scene still from 20th Century Studios’ THE CREATOR. Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios. © 2023 20th Century Studios. All Rights Reserved.

For all its visual magistery, “The Creator” ultimately has little of substance to say about imperialism, acceptance, and the existential threat of AI. Cobbling together elements of “Apocalypse Now,” “Blade Runner,” “Avatar,” and “District 9,” among others, Edwards’ film lumbers down a predictable path beset by insensitivity and uneven pacing. The tactility of the world-building and visceral action sequences can’t make up for the fact that, at best, “The Creator” remains a simplistically watchable sci-fi war film, and, at worst, a tone-deaf story in support of AI, where humankind is the enemy, capitalizing on real-world horrors to support its obvious messaging.

It’s a shame, because Edwards and co. truly make the most of their modest budget to present visuals going toe-to-toe with anything else released this year. From rice fields to ramshackle fishing villages, neon-drenched cityscapes, isolated beaches, and valleys surrounded by saw-toothed mountains, “The Creator” admirably grounds its futuristic technology onto a tangible, physical canvas. Much of the film was shot on-location across such places as Japan, Thailand, Indonesia, and Cambodia, and the resulting visuals, captured by cinematographer Greig Fraser with grimy, at-times documentary-esque ruggedness, have an extra layer of authenticity that further lessens the divide between the film’s alternate reality and our own. 

Additionally, action sequences unfold with weighty, removed coldness. They’re often unpleasant in terms of the sheer number of casualties (human or otherwise), and don’t shy away from showcasing the might of the American military’s weapons on vulnerable targets, or the AI soldiers’ viciousnesses in return – even more effective when Hans Zimmer’s blaring score fades away entirely from the background.

The tech on display in “The Creator” largely seems within the realm of possibility with the way our current “advancements” are trending. Elements such as the aforementioned downloading-of-consciousness and robot soldiers are chilling, along with the fact that AI sentience doesn’t feel all that far off in real-life. It’s unlikely they’d all be as valiant and upstanding as “The Creator” depicts them, though. 

A scene still from 20th Century Studios’ THE CREATOR. Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios. © 2023 20th Century Studios. All Rights Reserved.

More uncomfortable is the way Edwards and co. transpose iconography of the Vietnam War into this “futuristic” storyline. It feels problematic, to say the least, that this new “race” of beings largely stands-in for Asian characters, calling to mind cultural memories of actual atrocities, made even less tactful by the fact that the vast majority of AI characters – Alphie included, despite Voyles’ best efforts – are one-note and emblematic of the film’s unambiguous approach to storytelling; their literal inhumanity is sometimes the target of disturbing cruelty.

Indeed, perhaps the heavy-handed messaging and seen-it-before plot developments would be more excusable if “The Creator” had characters worth caring about. Washington, to his credit, tries his darndest to make us connect to Joshua, but the film’s messy editing kneecaps him, giving viewers only sporadic moments to slow down and feel his pain, anguish, and renewed purpose. Frequent flashbacks to Joshua’s time with Maya break momentum, as does the film’s confused sense of space and time itself. A character could be at the base of a mountain one moment and at the top of it the next, contrasting heavily with the otherwise naturalistic approach to world-building. It’s understandable that Edwards wants to show viewers as many sights and sounds as possible, but we lose crucial in-between moments as a result, where the characters are able to develop beyond their familiar archetypes. Voyles brings warmth, levity, and impassioned attempts at inducing tears in her performance as Alphie, but there’s ultimately not much that separates her story from other “special child” narratives.

(L-R): John David Washington as Joshua and Madeleine Yuna Voyles as Alphie in 20th Century Studios’ THE CREATOR. Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios. © 2023 20th Century Studios. All Rights Reserved.

What we’re left with is a film that’s an at-times impressive spectacle undercut by a self-serious, even queasy refusal to break tradition. The big screen might be the best way to watch “The Creator,” but viewers should leave expectations of the next great sci-fi masterpiece at the door.

“The Creator” is a 2023 science-fiction action film co-written and directed by Gareth Edwards and starring John David Washington, Madeleine Yuna Voyles, Gemma Chan and Allison Janney. It is rated PG-13 for violence, some bloody images and strong language, and runs 2 hours, 13 minutes. It opened in theaters September 29. Alex’s Grade: C+