Mysterious ‘Lamb’ from Iceland is ‘Shear’ Brilliance

Mysterious ‘Lamb’ from Iceland is ‘Shear’ Brilliance

By Alex McPherson  

Director Valdimar Jóhannsson’s offbeat, poetic, and emotionally complex “Lamb” stands in a league of its own, adding yet another gem to A24’s ever-expanding oeuvre.

This bleakly twisted fairy tale unfolds within a secluded Icelandic mountain range bathed in thick fog that reflects the quiet gloom of our main characters, sheep farmers María (Noomi Rapace) and Ingvar (Hilmir Snær Guðnason). One night, an unseen, heavily breathing presence startles nearby horses and farm animals, targeting one sheep in particular. Meanwhile, María and Ingvar go about their days, which involve maintaining crops and caring for their animals, with subtle detachment. Even though they enjoy each other’s company, an unspoken rift exists between them. Something’s missing in their relationship, casting a dark shadow over their household. 

When one of their sheep gives birth to an odd hybrid that has to be seen to be believed, María creates a motherly bond with this creature, whom she names Ada. Ingvar, initially shocked but determined to ensure his wife’s happiness, gradually slips into his new role as a father. Much to the dismay of Ada’s birth mother, who bleats outside their bedroom window every night, Ada has rendered both María’s and Ingvar’s lives more fulfilling. However, as Ada grows up and the film progresses through three distinct chapters in her life, a sense of dreadful anticipation looms — reaching a boiling point when Ingvar’s rowdy and unpredictable brother, Pétur () shows up on their doorstep.

A cinematic morality tale confronting humankind’s flawed connection to nature and the perils of motherhood, “Lamb” is difficult to describe, but an absolute treat to witness. The film takes viewers on a mesmeric trip through valleys of sadness, joyfulness, and fear. It’s utterly impressive that the plot’s crazier elements don’t hijack its dead-serious heart.

“Lamb” exudes patience, nearly to its detriment — in shot compositions, pacing, and vague nuances in character interactions — to set a disquieting mood. For the first 20 minutes or so, dialogue is kept to a bare minimum, letting us observe María’s and Ingvar’s ennui along with them. Jóhannsson forces us to sit in their melancholy, surrounded by their sheep and pets who seemingly question their decision to adopt Ada, providing some of the best animal acting I’ve ever seen. 

Neither María nor Ingvar question the creature’s origins — they have a new purpose in life and a chance to rekindle what they lost in the past. Guðnason beautifully conveys Ingvar’s transformation into a loving father, but this is truly Rapace’s film, and we can see through her eyes that she will not, under any circumstances, lose this opportunity to be a mother. As a result, her uncompromising love for Ada seems wholly believable, and even heartbreaking, for Ada’s arguably not hers to begin with. 

This dichotomy between nature vs. nurture fuels the drama, as we want this family to thrive, but recognize the moral ambiguity of rearing Ada away from her kin and robbing her of agency. Indeed, “Lamb” explores the humans’ connection to Ada more than Ada herself, but perhaps that’s intentional. She’s inhabiting two different, opposing worlds, and Jóhannsson emphasizes her inability to truly fit in.

Pétur’s arrival brings with it some welcome comedic relief, but “Lamb” soon slips back into a slow-burn dread leading into its inevitable but nevertheless shocking conclusion. In keeping with Jóhannsson’s folkloric inspirations, the film resembles a potent mix of the fantastical and the grounded, basking its absurdism in a cautionary reminder of nature’s colossal power and the extreme lengths some take to assuage grief, no matter the repercussions.

“Lamb” would have benefited from tighter editing here and there, particularly surrounding a somewhat unnecessary love triangle that Pétur initiates, shifting focus away from Ada, but this is a wild and wooly debut feature. If viewers give themselves over to the film’s unorthodox premise, they’ll find one of the most memorably unnerving stories of the year. 

“Lamb” is a horror-mystery-drama from Iceland, directed by Valdimar Jóhannsson and starring Noomi Rapace, Hilmir Snær Guðnason and Björn Hlynur Haraldsson, Rated R for some bloody violent images and sexuality/nuditym its runtime is 1 hour, 46 minutes. In theaters Oct. 8. Alex’s Grade: A-

German Sci-Fi Rom-Com ‘I’m Your Man’ Is A Love Story That’s Far From Robotic

German Sci-Fi Rom-Com ‘I’m Your Man’ Is A Love Story That’s Far From Robotic

By Alex McPherson

Director Maria Schrader’s sci-fi dramedy, “I’m Your Man,” presents multifaceted questions about love, humanity, happiness, and loneliness in a time when technology molds to fit our every need.

Based on a short story by Emma Braslavsky, the film centers around Alma (Maren Eggert), an anthropologist working for the Pergamon museum in Berlin, studying Sumerian cuneiform tablets for traces of poetry. She’s a closed-off workaholic leading a mundane life — getting along well with co-workers, but holding deeper sadness and resistance to anything resembling romance. In exchange for more funding for her research, Alma reluctantly agrees to participate in a three-week-long study where she’s paired with a humanoid “man of her dreams” named Tom (Dan Stevens).

This android is calibrated to match her personality and adapt over time in accordance with Alma’s reactions. Unsurprisingly, things don’t go smoothly at the beginning. From the moment Tom speaks the phrase, “Your eyes are like two mountain lakes I could sink into,” Alma isn’t impressed.

As the days go on, however, Tom grows more sensitive, relatable, and attractive to her. Alma slowly but surely starts falling for him, while simultaneously regretting her burgeoning feelings, and ends up confronting the roots of her melancholy. 

Although this android might develop like a person would, is Alma’s love authentic, or purely artificial? What is Alma willing to sacrifice to achieve satisfaction in a relationship, and should humanoids like Tom be available to the public in an increasingly isolated world? Schrader doesn’t opt for easy, convenient answers — which renders “I’m Your Man” a more contemplative watch than viewers might expect.

In large part, thanks to Alma’s complexity as a protagonist and Stevens’ poignant, drolly humorous performance as Tom, the film soars in both moments of light-heartedness and serious drama, with a story ripe for discussion once the credits roll.

Indeed, “I’m Your Man” isn’t so much a conventional science-fiction story as it is an exploration of desire and the befuddling mechanics of relationships. On top of that, Schrader’s film has comedic moments sprinkled throughout — mostly involving Tom’s flawed attempts at fitting in — that lend the proceedings a certain gentleness, not exploiting the premise for crowd-pleasing cheesiness. 

Eggert’s masterful performance conveys Alma’s yearning, resentment, joy, grief, and emotional growth in a way that ensures we always empathize with her as she navigates morally fraught waters.

The script — co-written by Schrader and Jan Schomburg — gives credence to multiple, contrasting perspectives regarding her situation, and encourages viewers to ponder some of the same topics themselves in their own lives. Does the end goal of true happiness justify the means, and is the pursuit of happiness something that makes us human to begin with?

Stevens, while giving a less naturalistic performance, is absolutely outstanding as Tom. For all his robotic, stilted movements and occasional cluelessness, Stevens imbues him with a tangible soul nonetheless, as he learns and evolves from his experiences. He veers further from his robotic roots into someone approaching a human, as well as a mirror for Alma to explore her own flaws and potential for change.

Funny, cathartic, and bittersweet, this intelligent love story rarely falters. The film’s slow pace is guided along by Benedict Neuenfels’ crisp, eye-popping cinematography — initially framing Alma behind glass, looking outside with her manufactured reflection standing beside her — and Tobias Wagner’s jazz-inflected score that becomes rather haunting by the final act. Some viewers might be frustrated by the plot’s low-key rhythms and somewhat ambiguous ending, but as a meditation on a plausible near-future, “I’m Your Man” whirs with life.

Dan Stevens and Sandra Huller

“I’m Your Man” is a science fiction romantic comedy that is in German with English subtitles. Directed by Maria Schrader, it stars Maren Eggert, Dan Stevens and Sandra Huller. Rated R for some sexual content and language throughout, the runtime is 1 hour, 45 minutes. It is in theatres Oct. 1 and digitally Oct. 12. Alex’s Grade: A.

‘The Alpinist’ Documentary Has Soaring Highs and Sobering Lows

‘The Alpinist’ Documentary Has Soaring Highs and Sobering Lows

By Alex McPherson

A nerve-shredding documentary spotlighting a one-of-a-kind athlete, “The Alpinist” cements itself as an imperfect, yet consistently moving watch.

The film, brought to us from “The Dawn Wall” directors Peter Mortimer and Nick Rosen, follows a fairly goofy, unassuming 23-year-old named Marc André Leclerc, who quickly and quietly rose through the ranks of professional climbers to become one of the all-time greats. Leclerc relishes the solo climb, preferably without much safety equipment or anyone accompanying him on his escapades.

Since childhood, Leclerc found climbing to be a welcome escape from the cacophony of daily life and an opportunity to embrace living in the moment, dangling from scarily high places where a single misjudged movement could cause his demise. 

Leclerc’s also not fond of media attention, residing with his girlfriend, Brette Harrington, in a tent in southwestern British Columbia. While it’s surprising that Leclerc agrees to participate in the documentary, the filmmakers proceed to capture his insane feats traversing huge geographic landmarks in Canada, Patagonia, and beyond, as much as they can, while seeking to understand his mindset.

Featuring camerawork sure to render viewers scared of heights clenching their stomachs in nausea, but leave everyone else completely awe-inspired, “The Alpinist” is chock full of staggering sequences where we observe a master at work. Cinematographers Jonathan Griffith, Austin Siadak, and Brett Lowell display Leclerc’s Spider-Man-esque abilities conquering sheer mountain faces — sometimes requiring adaptations from rock to ice, snow, and back again on a single climb.

They zoom out the camera to render him a miniscule speck amidst beautifully imposing surroundings. The truly memorable images, though, come from Leclerc himself, who records on a GoPro — the background music fading away as we watch him navigate his largely unrehearsed climbing routes with a shockingly calm demeanor, completely absorbed in his craft. It’s frankly spellbinding to witness.

“The Alpinist” balances these terrifying moments with a relatively cerebral approach to storytelling throughout. Indeed, Leclerc is filmed with an almost spiritual aura, a man full of enthusiasm following his own, insatiably ambitious path. Containing interviews with Leclerc’s loved ones and fellow climbing peers, including a grizzled climbing guru named Hevy Duty, we get a portrait of a reclusive, amiable individual who’s not in it for the glory, but for inner satisfaction and happiness. His love for alpinism and his personable nature make him a more relatable subject than most other famous athletes. He seems like a laid-back dude, who just so happens to crave putting his life on the line alone on a regular basis — much to the frustration of the directors when he goes AWOL about halfway through the runtime.

“The Alpinist” can’t quite escape the sense that we’re only breaching the surface of Leclerc’s personality, however. The collection of interviewees are fun to watch as they discuss Leclerc’s grandiose achievements, but they often shy away from addressing the perilousness of his lifestyle, scared to consider the dark possibilities that might lie ahead. If viewers go into the film knowing what transpires, some might take issue with the way this film invades Leclerc’s privacy in its finale, and hides the timeline of certain interviews for suspenseful effect later on.

Similarly, the overarching message of pursuing your dreams to the fullest, no matter how infeasible they might seem, doesn’t ring hollow by any means, but feels slightly superficial for such a distinctive subject as Leclerc. Still, Leclerc’s dedication deserves to be recognized, and “The Alpinist” triumphs in this respect. While he remains mysterious, this is a heartfelt piece of filmmaking. It’s an earnest tribute to a courageous, adventurous human being.

“The Alpinist” is a 2021 documentary directed by Peter Mortimer and Nick Rosen, and starring Marc-Andre Leclerc. It runs 1 hour, 33 minutes and is rated PG-13 for some strong language and brief drug use. It opens in theaters on Sept. 10. Alex’s Grade:B+.

‘The Lost Leonardo’ Documentary Looks at the Darker Side of Art

‘The Lost Leonardo’ Documentary Looks at the Darker Side of Art

By Alex McPherson

Director Andreas Koefoed’s new film, “The Lost Leonardo,” thrills, chills, and raises salient points about the essence of art itself.

This documentary chronicles the tumultuous happenings surrounding an infamous portrait of Jesus titled the “Salvator Mundi,” which some people believe was painted by Leonardo Da Vinci. An idiosyncratic art buyer named Alexander Parish purchases the painting at a sketchy New Orleans auction in 2005 and shows it to a prominent historian and restorer named Dianne Modestini.

She ends up restoring a large portion of the piece, but determines — based on a barely perceptible stylistic choice — that it’s a work by Da Vinci or, at the very least, a student of his. Thus begins a globe-trotting mess of a story, where disagreements about authenticity abound, reputations are tarnished, and influential figures use the Salvator Mundi to further their dogged pursuit of money and power.

As the tale unfolds, “The Lost Leonardo” crawls under your skin, becoming ever-troubling as we get an inside glimpse into the shadier corners of the art world. Presented in a clear, carefully researched fashion that’s cut together like a bleak investigative thriller, Koefoed successfully renders initially dry subject matter into something altogether fascinating. He lets the material’s head-spinning happenings fuel the pacing, yet allows key players to retain their human complexities.

Featuring interviews with historians, critics, dealers, curators, reporters, and CIA agents, “The Lost Leonardo” does a praiseworthy job at presenting varying perspectives in easily digestible fashion. As outsiders, we can never be fully sure of some of the interviewees’ intentions — do they honestly believe that they’ve stumbled upon a hidden masterpiece, or are they just continuing a narrative to satisfy themselves and their bank accounts? Doubt and suspicion permeate the film, leading to several provocative moments when their words are juxtaposed against each other. Koefoed, however, doesn’t fully take one side or the other amid the chaos.

The cast of characters aren’t all the most transfixing of personalities, but there’s still enough to ensure plenty of surprises through to the disquieting conclusion. Memorable presences include Modestini, passionate about preserving art and displaying it for the public to see, and critic Jerry Saltz, who cuts through the increasingly convoluted plot to provide bursts of incisive, irreverent commentary that underline the ridiculousness of the situation. 

When you strip away the faux decorum and pretenses of professionalism, after all, the whole shebang reveals itself to be centered around ego and perceptions of superiority. As the painting is repeatedly bought and sold by various parties, what constitutes the actual “truth” of its origins gets distorted. Power-hungry forces get their hands on the Salvator Mundi and bestow it worth that draws international attention. 

“The Lost Leonardo” weaves a cautionary tale of how true appreciation of art can become morphed by greed, casting aside its inherent craftsmanship in favor of purely monetary value. What begins rather modestly evolves into an ambitious, wholly relevant story that paints a picture of the lengths some will go to maintain falsehoods for personal gain. Indeed, “The Lost Leonardo” urges viewers to look more critically at artwork of all kinds and to recognize the potentially corrupt machinations behind closed doors — supporting those who maintain their integrity and bravery in the face of tangible risks. 

Although the mystery loses some steam in its middle section involving discussion of the “free port” system and a legal battle with a Russian oligarch, “The Lost Leonardo” builds a haunting crescendo by the end credits. Koefoed’s film eschews simplicity in showcasing a real-life adventure that features patterns of behavior prevalent throughout human history. It remains one of the most enlightening films of 2021 so far, and a doc that both art connoisseurs and novices alike should give a look.

“The Lost Leonardo” is a 2021 documentary that premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in June. Directed by Andreas Koefoed, the movie runs 1 hour and 36 minutes. It is rated PG-13 for nude art images. Alex’s Grade: A-

‘Jakob’s Wife’ Is Vampiric Delight

‘Jakob’s Wife’ Is Vampiric Delight

By Alex McPherson

An allegorical horror film with more on its mind than gore-splattered carnage, “Jakob’s Wife” provides some thematically juicy morsels for viewers to sink their teeth into.

Directed by Travis Stevens, the gonzo film centers around Anne (Barbara Crampton), the wife of a small-town Christian minister named Jakob (Larry Fessenden). Anne’s not happy in her marriage, and Jakob is unaware of the ways he casually disrespects her. He frequently talks over her and seems content with maintaining rigid gender norms in their household. His condescending actions have nibbled away at Anne’s psyche, leaving her feeling depressed and quietly despondent.

A Nosferatu-esque creature has different plans for her. After a brief romantic rendezvous with an old flame (Robert Rusler), Anne is bitten by the aforementioned blood-sucker, and she soon adopts a very different, ravenous lifestyle. Possessing renewed confidence in her daily life, she refuses to put up with Jakob’s B.S. any longer. She risks throwing away her previous existence if she chooses to fully give herself over to the strange presence targeting her.

“Jakob’s Wife” has a rough start, indulging in tropes such as dooming the first Black character introduced and deploying easily foreseeable jump scares. To its credit, the beginning of the film establishes a monotonous rhythm that slowly but surely builds suspense as Anne’s malaise reaches a boiling point. Thankfully, after she’s bitten by “The Master” — a pasty, scabbed-up entity spookily portrayed by Bonnie Aarons — “Jakob’s Wife” really starts to pick up. Stevens deploys a more flamboyant style in keeping with Anne’s newfound boldness that keeps viewers on their toes, notwithstanding some formulaic plot points.

Crampton is perfect for her role, and viewers see her simultaneously experience fear and thrill from her urges with real pathos. Scenes of Anne twirling around her living room holding a lamp and tasting blood within a meat package at a local grocery store are off-puttingly hilarious, particularly when juxtaposing them with her initially mild-mannered demeanor. For all The Master’s promises of liberation, though, Anne still loves Jakob, and she isn’t immediately ready to throw her old life away. Her inner battle of temptation takes center-stage in the film’s second half, where we aren’t sure whose side she will ultimately take.

Viewers might expect characters like the titular Jakob to be promptly disposed of, but “Jakob’s Wife” renders him a more complicated presence capable of positive change, despite the sharp left-turn in his arc that’s difficult to buy. Yes, he’s still cartoonish, and his high-and-mighty insistence on being the hero is deeply ironic, but “Jakob’s Wife” provides a refreshing change of pace for how these sorts of stories usually play out. Fessenden is able to flex his comedic muscles as a “man of the household” encountering a shifting power dynamic.  

The more traditional genre aspects of “Jakob’s Wife” are less involving, but they get the job done with enough gruesome kills to satiate fans’ bloodlust. The film incorporates deliciously visceral practical effects and a large helping of gallows humor. Indeed, “Jakob’s Wife” loses some of its scare factor and emotional resonance through its tonal shifts, but the humor itself works well, for the most part — the kind of dry self-awareness that this tongue-in-cheek material benefits from. Jay DeVon Johnson is particularly amusing as a jaded police sheriff who wouldn’t be out of place in a Coen Brothers joint. 

It’s disappointing, however, that the themes are staked so heavy-handedly into viewers’ brains by the end. Stevens brings up prescient topics — sexism and what it means to live your life on your own terms among them — without reaching anything particularly illuminating. The satirical, B-movie qualities rub against its more serious implications, rendering both somewhat less biting by the other.

Most sins being forgiven, there’s still enough batty fun here to recommend “Jakob’s Wife.” Stevens’ film is a knowingly goofy, surprisingly multifaceted horror outing. It delivers fittingly violent set pieces, while also wrapping its ghoulish tale up in important, disconcerting societal truths.

“Jakob’s Wife” is a 2021 horror film directed by Travis Stevens and starring Barbara Crampton and Larry Fessenden. It is not rated and runs 1 hour, 38 minutes. It is available streaming on Shudder and on video on demand platforms. Alex’s Grade: B

‘Together’ Is Muddled Lockdown Story

‘Together’ Is Muddled Lockdown Story

By Alex McPherson

Directors Stephen Daldry’s and Justin Martin’s new film set during the current COVID-19 pandemic, “Together,” is an intense, powerfully acted, and morally troubling drama.

The film centers around an unnamed couple in the UK struggling to maintain their sanity in pandemic lockdown. “He” (James McAvoy) is a self-satisfied, conservative Alpha Male who manages a boutique consulting firm. “She” (Sharon Horgan) is a left-leaning charity worker with an acid tongue of her own. They live a middle class existence, while neglecting to give their introverted son, Artie (Samuel Logan), much parental attention.

From the moment viewers lay eyes on them, He and She bicker incessantly, piling on the insults in semi-teasing awfulness. The two opposites are stuck together in dire times, developing some semblance of compassion toward each other and the world at large as they endure the COVID-19 emergency.

Daldry and Martin’s film, with a screenplay by Dennis Kelly, is timely to a fault — using current events that have impacted us all as a background for an irritatingly predictable narrative. Despite this, however, “Together” is still a captivating viewing experience, largely thanks to its theatrical presentation and the dynamism of the two leads.

Indeed, “Together” feels highly reminiscent of a stage play, as He and She talk directly to the camera from the first scene onwards, vying for the center of viewers’ attention. This cinematic technique successfully puts viewers in the uncomfortable position of feeling like they’re right in the thick of things with these two flawed “adults,” forced to view their chaotic conversations without a possible exit. As interactions oscillate between being mean-spirited and hopeful, smirk-inducing and devastating, “Together” is relentless during the full 90-minute runtime.

Horgan and McAvoy have tangible chemistry, and their fast-paced dialogue conveys a mostly believable relationship. They’re able to handle comedic lines effortlessly — including an embarrassing exchange about their sex life — while also nailing the more dramatic beats as the months drag on. McAvoy, likably hyper as ever, showcases the insecurities that bely his character’s cynicism. Horgan shines as someone firm in her “good” beliefs who retains her own selfish tendencies. Combined with the film’s fourth-wall-breaking presentation, He and She seem like real people viewers might know. They both dislike and, deep down, care for one another.

Still, “Together” can only stay afloat on acting talent for so long. The story, good intentions notwithstanding, plays upon real-world traumas to somewhat generic effect. A particular subplot involving She’s elderly mother is emotionally devastating but foreseeable from the get-go. It concludes with an impassioned speech from Horgan about the meaning of the word “exponential” regarding viral infection and the government’s fumbling of crucial facts surrounding the illness. In retrospect, it all seems pretty obvious for anyone who isn’t a devoted consumer of misinformation.

“Together” is packed with scenes designed to elicit tears from viewers, but it doesn’t add anything particularly new to the discussion surrounding the global health crisis, nor does it illuminate a perspective that needs to be illuminated. The protagonists are so privileged, all things considered, and their respective character arcs surrounding basic human decency and not taking loved ones for granted aren’t exactly revelatory. If films like “Together” set during COVID times become more common, filmmakers run the risk of using it as a gimmick to grab viewers’ attention, instead of exploring it from new, insightful angles. This film, unfortunately, falls into the former category.

For all its attempts at relevance and its first-rate performances, “Together” doesn’t sit particularly well amid our current climate, where there’s no end in sight regarding the virus’ evolving mutations. It brings together broad social commentary and standard plotting to end up with something above average, but markedly inessential.

“Together” is a 2021 romantic comedy-drama directed by Stephen Daldry and co-directed by Justin Martin and starring James McAvoy, Sharon Horgan and Samuel Logan. Rated R for language throughout, the movie runs 1 hour, 31 minutes. In theaters Aug. 27 and on demand and digital Sept. 14. Alex’s Grade: B-

‘Nine Days’ Is Enthralling Sci-Fi Debut

‘Nine Days’ Is Enthralling Sci-Fi Debut

By Alex McPherson

A thoughtful, meditative, unabashedly far-out sci-fi gem, Edson Oda’s directorial debut, “Nine Days,” asks intriguing questions about the rollercoaster of life.

This quietly bonkers film centers around Will (Winston Duke), an individual deciding which souls get the privilege of being born in a human body. He watches present-day Point Of View footage from everyone he’s allowed into the “real world” from the comfort of his modest house in the middle of nowhere, a salt lake limbo, taking copious notes on their day-to-days in an attempt to understand humanity.

Sometimes accompanied by his good-hearted helper and friend, Kyo (Benedict Wong), Will takes pride in seeing them lead healthy, happy lives. One of them unexpectedly perishes, however, tearing Will apart inside as he struggles to make sense of what happened — vowing to never let it happen again. 

Thus, a vacancy opens that needs to be filled. Will meets a variety of applicants wishing to experience life. This archetypal group of souls includes the self-doubting Mike (David Rysdahl), the laid-back Alexander (Tony Hale), the hard-justice-driven Kane (Bill Skarsgård), the earnest, wide-eyed Maria (Arianna Ortiz), and the inquisitive, plot-altering Emma (Zazie Beetz), among others.

They are asked to watch the POV screens and to give answers to various questions examining their moral toughness over the course of nine days, with a victor announced at the end. Upon failing, some applicants get a chance to have a moment they’ve observed recreated for them before disappearing into nothingness. As the group winnows in the passing days, Will is forced to reckon with his own inner demons and consider the unknowable nature of life itself.

A captivating effort from everyone involved, “Nine Days” uses this bold premise to explore what it means to be alive. Oda’s unconventional allegory plays out in frequently powerful fashion — carried by excellent performances and an ethereal, at times mournful atmosphere pulsing with feeling. Along with methodical editing, arresting cinematography, and Antonio Pinto’s haunting score, the film brings viewers into this twisted median space in a manner mixing warmth with menace. 

Although the finer details of the film’s universe aren’t clarified (don’t think too much about how or why Will acquired his “job”), “Nine Days” sinks emotional hooks into viewers from the first frames onward. It’s somewhat of a downbeat watch, prizing patient reflection over bombast, but “Nine Days” knows when to strike lighter notes as well and occasionally poke fun at itself despite the bleakness.

Duke does sterling work portraying a mysterious man playing God who’s trapped by his own cynical worldview, his decisions rooted in a desire to protect the applicants from a reality he views as cruel and demoralizing. Thanks to Duke’s pathos and the script’s empathy towards Will, his troubled mindset remains easy to connect with regardless of his flaws. Duke, with wire-rimmed glasses and a reserved demeanor, conveys Will’s inner tensions with a subtle performance that brilliantly showcases his severe facade gradually being chipped away.

Similarly effective is Beetz, a compassionate critical-thinker who doesn’t view human beings in a simplistic manner. Rather, she realizes the importance of relishing the good in the world, not letting negativity or nihilism corrupt her worldview. Her conversations with Will, inquiring into his own troubled past and encouraging him to reflect on what it all means, feature some of the most moving moments in “Nine Days,” tying into overarching takeaways. 

Wong is a lovable, comforting presence as Kyo, helping Will recognize his faults and his potential to grow as a human being, providing the bulk of the film’s unexpected humor. The other characters, brought to (sort-of) life by a wonderful cast, get less screen time and aren’t as well developed as the main three, but there’s more to most of them than meets the eye. Like every human soul, they cannot be simplified to a few characteristics — rendering their passage or failure all the more heartbreaking. Their “Last Moments” are masterfully directed and difficult to forget. 

Heavy without being dour, intricate yet accessible, “Nine Days” builds towards a conclusion that contains one of 2021’s best scenes. All the emotions felt throughout the film coalesce into a marvelous, life-affirming, slightly convenient resolution that’s aware of its own bizarreness while remaining highly impactful. 

An assured effort from everyone involved, “Nine Days” satisfies both the mind and the soul. The world is full of darkness, but there’s still rays of hope bursting through the shadows. Oda’s film is a provocative reminder to appreciate the light where we can and strive to see another day in our beautifully inexplicable existence. 

“Nine Days” is a 2020 sci-fi fantasy drama written and directed by Edson Oda and starring Winston Duke, Benedict Wong, Zazie Beetz, Tony Hale, David Rysdahl, Arianna Ortiz and Bill Skarsgard, Rated R for language, its runtime is 2 hours, 4 minutes. The film is available in theaters beginning on Aug. 6. Alex’s Grade: A-

David Lowery’s ‘The Green Knight’ is Hallucinatory Spectacle to Behold

David Lowery’s ‘The Green Knight’ is Hallucinatory Spectacle to Behold

By Alex McPherson
Based on the 14th-century Arthurian tale “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,” director David Lowery’s film, aptly titled “The Green Knight,” is an impeccably constructed fantasy epic with bizarre imagery and dense themes begging to be mulled over for years to come. 

The story begins in Camelot, with Gawain (Dev Patel), an aimless young warrior and nephew to King Arthur himself (Sean Harris), getting the chance to finally give his life purpose beyond drinking and cavorting his days away. During a Christmas gathering, the aging King and his wife, Queen Guinnevere (Kate Dickie), draw attention to the fact that Gawain doesn’t have any stories to tell — not yet, at least — and a mysterious, bark-covered giant shows up, calling himself the Green Knight (voiced by Ralph Ineson with imposing gusto).

The gritty medieval Groot offers a challenge to the Round Table — he will allow anyone brave enough to strike a blow against him, so long as they agree to receive the same treatment in one year. Gawain, careless as ever and wanting to impress his company and his suspicious mother, Morgan Le Fay (Sarita Choudhury), agrees to the challenge when nobody else will, promptly decapitating the Knight. He immediately regrets his decision, as the Knight, holding his severed head, gallops away on his horse laughing maniacally. In one year, Gawain must complete his end of the agreement. Oops. 

The clock begins ticking, and once the year passes, Gawain sets out on his journey across a fantastical land to reach the Green Chapel and fulfill his pact. Unsurprisingly, the quest is grueling, and the self-doubting Gawain encounters a variety of strange entities — mischievous themes, a mournful spirit, and a fox companion, among others — that require him to confront his supposedly heroic ideals and his own mortality in the pursuit of becoming a legend. 

Absolutely brimming with cinematic artistry and featuring a magnificent performance from Dev Patel, “The Green Knight” won’t appeal to viewers seeking a more traditional, action-packed epic that spoon-feeds them what to think or how to feel. Rather, Lowery’s masterpiece embraces all the sensory qualities of the film medium to fully transport viewers into Gawain’s journey, which winds up being far more existential than some viewers may be prepared for. There are certainly physical threats to be found along the way, but “The Green Knight” renders most of Gawain’s conflicts internal, as he grapples with his self-imposed burden and slowly but surely grows not only as a warrior, but as a human being, with imperfection to match his courage.

From its opening frames, “The Green Knight” is devoted to walking its own path and being undeniably weird while doing so. There’s tons to feast on stylistically — evocative, period-accurate costuming, lighting that evolves from decorated interiors to fog-drenched forests and blood red lakes, deliciously tactile sound design, and mystical yet lived-in environments, with a score by Daniel Hart fitting for a horror film in its off-kilter, slightly crazed rhythms. All of this is complemented by sweeping, at-times mind-boggling cinematography that flows through the royal interiors and vast landscapes that Gawain traverses, becoming ever-stupefying as Gawain treks onwards, further into his own soul. This is a film that demands to be watched on the biggest screen possible and with limited distractions. 

Of course, Lowery’s film isn’t pure style over substance, and there’s plenty to contemplate in terms of storytelling and characters here. Gawain is a naive and reckless individual who isn’t initially easy to care about but develops in a significant fashion by the end. He’s forced to consider the sacrifices necessary for greatness, the notion of honor itself, and the fallibility of human nature despite illusions of superiority. Like Lowery’s other films, especially “A Ghost Story,” “The Green Knight” is focused on the concept of death, mortality, and Nature’s grip over us all. Indeed, the proceedings are depicted so ambiguously that some viewers may become frustrated with the film’s opaqueness. For this critic, however, the events — especially a nightmarish, darkly poetic sequence late in the film — haven’t left my mind, and keep revealing additional thematic layers the more I ponder them.

Lending “The Green Knight” an emotionally grounded core despite its vagueness, though, is Patel. A subversive casting choice for a story typically dominated by white men, he portrays the warrior’s growing insecurities in a subtle fashion that endears us to him from his first appearance onwards. Alicia Vikander also does excellent work playing dual roles, as Gawain’s lower-class girlfriend, Essel, and as a seductive temptress later on. Ineson, as the Green Knight, is intimidating, but has an aura of warmth and amusing self-awareness nevertheless. Barry Keoghan and Joel Edgerton give memorable turns as a creepy brigand and an uneasily jovial lad that Gawain encounters near the finale. 

There’s a lot to digest once the credits roll — make sure to stay through them —  that I’m eager to dive back into this wondrous, often frightening world to decipher all the symbolism and peculiar characters to unearth more meaning. I haven’t felt this way about many other films released in 2021 so far, but “The Green Knight” stands head and shoulders above most of them in terms of pure intellectual engagement and eye-popping creativity. Cinephiles shouldn’t expect anything less from A24, and viewers should go in knowing that “The Green Knight” engages the mind just as much as the senses, even if multiple viewings are all but required to fully appreciate it.

“The Green Knight” is a 2021 historical drama directed by David Lowery and starring Dev Patel, Joel Edgerton and Alicia Vikander. Rated R for violence, some sexuality and graphic nudity, it has a runtime of 2 hours, 10 minutes. The movie opened in theaters on July 30. Alex’s Grade: A+ 

‘Fear Street Part 3: 1666’ – A Riveting Final Chapter

‘Fear Street Part 3: 1666’ – A Riveting Final Chapter

By Alex McPherson

Well, dear readers, the time has sadly come for the conclusion of director Leigh Janiak’s “Fear Street” series. Fortunately, “Part 3:1666” ends the trilogy in an emotionally fulfilling, adrenaline-fueled fashion.

Without going too far into spoiler territory, “1666” sees Deena (a wonderful-as-ever Kiana Madeira) being transported back in time in Sarah Fier’s body, originally played by Elizabeth Scopel, to witness the origins of the curse that’s haunted Shadysiders ever since. The film features a new cast of characters, but most of them are portrayed by the same actors from former installments, some of whom adopt similar dynamics. Most notably, this includes Olivia Scott Welch, who plays Sarah’s love interest in “1666,” as well as Sam, Deena’s lover, in 1994. Ashley Zukerman, who embodies Sheriff Goode in 1994, also makes a meaningful return as Sarah’s friend Solomon, who holds his own secrets.  

Although there are opportunities for hard-working Sarah to relax, her story is relentlessly grim — containing themes of superstition, intolerance, and hatred of the Other that have remained prevalent throughout human history. As Sarah finds herself embroiled in a web of deceit, misogyny, and fateful events that have long-lasting repercussions on Shadyside’s future, there’s little hope for escape. Once her tragic ordeal wraps up, Janiak sends viewers back to 1994 once again, as Deena, Josh (Benjamin Flores Jr.), C. Berman (Gillian Jacobs), and janitor Martin (Darrell Britt-Gibson) attempt to rescue Sam from demonic possession and use their newfound knowledge to finally end the curse.

Tonal inconsistency notwithstanding, “1666” is a disturbing, intelligent, and rewarding finale that successfully ties up loose ends while enhancing what’s come before. Janiak delivers an experience with more layers than both “1994” and “1978,” capping off the overarching narrative with panache. 

“Fear Street” has progressively grown creepier with each entry, and “1666” is the eeriest of the bunch. Indeed, by bringing viewers back into such an antiquated period, the film is able to distill its horror into a more potent, disquieting brew. Most plot developments even feel scarily plausible on some level, drawing comparisons to the Salem Witch Trials. Along with convincing set design and a more immersive atmosphere than its predecessors, “1666” is able to conjure dread-inducing moments aplenty. Janiak’s serious-minded approach, at least for the first half, underscores the monstrousnesses of Sarah’s bigoted townsfolk just as much as the actual supernatural forces at play.

It’s initially jarring to be sent so far back in time and see actors we’ve grown attached to inhabiting different people, with questionable accents, but Janiak uses this dissonance for subversive effect. Throughout the films, for instance, the Shadyside curse inspires a sense of fatalism in many residents that they’re stuck in an endless cycle of death and alienation from the outside world. Seeing recognizable faces where it all began heightens viewers’ desire to see Deena and friends right the wrongs of the past in the present, attempting to break the pattern once and for all.

Additionally, forbidden love rests at the heart of Sarah’s flashback, and “1666” is able to use that connection to forge an attachment with her from the get-go, utilizing viewers’ investment in Deena and Sam’s relationship to heighten poignancy and encourage reflection on biases that carry over across timelines. Sarah remains an intriguing character on her own, and her plight is easy to become invested in as she gradually begins to doubt herself yet retains bravery in the face of humanity’s worst instincts.  

With an ever-mounting sense of hopelessness, Sarah’s tale isn’t easy viewing, replacing subtlety with visceral impact, but it leaves a chilling aftertaste. Then, however, “1666” takes a hard left turn back into the self-aware, occasionally cheesy tone of “1994” to wrap things up. The tonal shift is certainly jarring for a bit, but once viewers become acclimated, there’s pleasure to be had in watching the heroes make their triumphant last stand — not just for themselves, but for the future of Shadyside itself. 

Some elements, like the major plot twist, feel undercooked, and the second half resembles the largely scare-less final act of “1994,” yet it’s still oh-so-fun to see what happens to these courageous characters. For all the haunted-house-roller-coaster pacing, the revelation effectively adds a new layer to the previous films, encouraging viewers to rewatch them and examine how all the pieces fit together. 

Whether or not viewers can overlook the semi-fractured feel of “1666,” there’s little denying that Janiak and company have created an impressive whole, one that has matured over its duration to form an ambitious, albeit far-fetched, allegory targeting resonant societal truths. There’s definitely imperfections to be found in each film, but Janiak’s R. L. Stine-inspired project reaches its stride in “1666,” leaving the door open for future adventures in Shadyside.

“Fear Street Part 3: 1666” is the last film in a 2021 trilogy now streaming on Netflix, adapted from R.L. Stine’s book series. Directed by Leigh Janiak, it stars Kiana Madeira, Benjamin Flores Jr., Gillian Jacobs and Ashley Zukerman. Rated R for strong violence and gore, language, some sexuality and brief drug use, it runs 1 hour, 54 minutes. Alex’s Grade: A-.

‘Fear Street Part 2: 1978’ Is An Underwhelming Summer Bloodbath

‘Fear Street Part 2: 1978’ Is An Underwhelming Summer Bloodbath

By Alex McPherson

Director Leigh Janiak’s “Fear Street Part 2: 1978,” based on R.L. Stine’s novels, lacks the spark of the first installment, but still delivers a moderately engaging slasher throwback with bucketloads of gore.

After the ridiculous events of “Fear Street Part 1: 1994,” Deena (Kiana Madeira) and Josh (Benjamin Flores Jr.) meet up with C. Berman (Gillian Jacobs), a survivor of the 1978 Camp Nightwing massacre, hoping to learn how to end Sarah Fier’s witchy curse.

As the traumatized woman recounts her experiences, viewers are transported back to Camp Nightwing to witness what transpired. The protagonist is Cindy Berman (Emily Rudd), an uptight, goodie two-shoes camp counselor who becomes aggravated when other supervisors prioritize drugs and sex over doing their jobs. Her sister, the trouble-making Ziggy (Sadie Sink), holds a nihilistic view towards life — remaining an outcast among fellow campers, but a friend of counselor and future Shadyside sheriff Nick Goode (Ted Sutherland), as well as being a victim to nonstop bullying from mean girl Sheila (Chiara Aurelia), who insists that Ziggy’s an actual witch. 

Just in time for the camp’s annual “Color War,” a capture-the-flag-esque event in which the vicious rivalry between Shadysiders and their stuck-up Sunnyvale neighbors rears its head in full force, things start to get creepy. After Nurse Lane (Jordana Spiro) violently confronts Cindy’s innocent boyfriend, Tommy Slater (McCabe Slye), suspicions arise as to whether Fier’s curse has returned. Cindy, accompanied by a few others including her ex-best friend, an irritating mumbler named Alice (Ryan Simpkins), attempt to find out what’s going on themselves. You guessed it, dear readers, all hell breaks loose, and the body count grows scene by scene. Can Cindy, Ziggy, and company make it out alive, or are they doomed to perish in a seemingly never-ending murder spree by an axe-wielding attacker?

Lacking the craftsmanship of “1994” regarding character depth and creativity, “1978” ends up being a fairly straightforward genre film that’s above average, but represents a downgrade from the trilogy’s opener. The second entry loses much of the adventurous fun of “1994,” coming across as rather dour, bleak, and unforgiving in comparison — full of cliches, yet promising better things to come in “Part 3.”

It’s clear that Janiak is attempting to tackle a different tone than “1994,” more akin to “Friday the 13th” than “Stranger Things.” In keeping with the change, “1978” begins rather generically once Berman begins her story, setting up the atmosphere of Camp Nightwing in a way that mostly doesn’t break from formula.

“1978” is a definite slow-burn compared to its predecessor, taking time to get underway, but effectively conveying a sun-drenched retreat with a dark heart and sickening future. Combined with a soundtrack of 70s era songs, Janiak once again captures the time period with a fitting attention to detail. In terms of camerawork, though, “1978” doesn’t feel as precise, featuring impressive tracking shots and spooky set design — enhanced by a sinister original score — but containing some dimly lit sequences and shaky cam that break immersion.

The batch of characters are decidedly inconsistent, but a few are explored meaningfully. Among them are Cindy and Ziggy, whose tensions are grounded in reality and easy to sympathize with. Living with a single parent and barely able to keep their house, the rift between them — with Cindy trying to support their family and Ziggy being increasingly pessimistic — is huge, but just like in “1994,” Janiak shows how frayed bonds can strengthen under shared threats. Rudd and Sink both give poignant performances and have solid chemistry with one another. Their dialogue is largely convincing, but interactions overall are missing the playful dynamic present in “1994.” 

The “Shadyside Curse” rests at the heart of characters’ conflicts in “1978,” creating a sense of existential dread in their fates seeming out of their control — accentuated by Alice’s character, a young woman who uses drugs to compensate for her mental struggles. Nick Goode’s character is also cleared up a bit from “1994,” as he gradually falls for Ziggy and considers what the supernatural events entail for his career in Shadyside.

The remainder of the characters adopt boringly plain archetypes — the attention-seeking leader, promiscuous hippie, etc. — and viewers don’t spend much time with them before they’re graphically murdered (younger campers are often slain off-screen). They certainly have a lot of blood to spill, on the other hand. Indeed, “1978” almost goes overboard here, rendering many saps expendable fodder for the big baddie.

Speaking of, Janiak’s film feels limited by only having a single main threat for the characters to face, relegated to using a single weapon. “1994” was far more unpredictable in its kills, and while “1978” never ceases to shock, the violence starts to feel repetitive by the end credits. At least the sequences surrounding the destruction are more suspenseful this time around, feeling more frantic and distressing than before, as the leads scramble to save their friends and loved ones while trying to figure out what’s really going on. 

With nearly as many flaws as strengths, “1978” fails to reach the heights of the original, but still offers its own gruesome, albeit unimaginative, pleasures. If nothing else, the film successfully builds hype for “Part 3,” which takes place in 1666 and details the background of Fier’s execution. There’s plenty more questions to answer and scares to be had, and I’m ready for the trilogy to surprise me once again.

“Fear Street Part 2: 1978” is part of a movie trilogy on Netflix, the first set in 1994 and the next one in 1666. Directed by Leigh Janiak, it stars Emily Rudd, Sadie Sink and Gillian Jacobs. Rated R for bloody horror violence, sexual content, nudity, drug use, and language throughout, its run time is 1 hour, 49 minutes. The movie began streaming on Netflix July 9. Alex’s Grade: B-