The Holdovers (2023) – Film Review

Could you imagine anything worse than being forced to spend your long-awaited Christmas holidays with your cantankerous and condescending class teacher? Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa) certainly can’t in Alexander Payne’s quaint and charming dramedy, The Holdovers. Set in 1970-1971, it follows Paul Hunham (a consistently funny Paul Giamatti), a Classics teacher with a lazy eye who often delights in handing out poor grades to his unenthused “delinquents”. However, the only student he rewards a respectable grade to is Mr. Tully, a noticeably intelligent but frustratingly wayward teenager who’s left with Mr. Hunham during the school break because his mother wants to go on her honeymoon with Angus’ new stepfather. While a cranky, middle-aged educator and an unruly adolescent may not initially appear to have much in the way of commonalities, their dynamic, of course, blossoms into an amiable, albeit still deeply sarcastic, friendship that simply cannot be resisted, even if it is a tale as old as time.

Perhaps their relationship becomes more pleasant thanks to Mary (stunningly performed by Da’Vine Joy Randolph), the school cook who recently lost her son, Curtis, in the Vietnam War. Her grief encourages the two bickering men to put their petty differences into perspective and realise that, while their situations over the festive season are not ideal, there are people behind closed doors who are going through the unimaginable. Mary really is the heart of this story; there’s one scene where she visits her pregnant sister which is one of the most subtly heart-breaking moments to come out of Payne’s film. Once Mary begins to let her guard down emotionally to Hunham and Tully, the mood in the story slowly but surely begins to shift. What follows is an often sombre (but still highly comical) series of events that’s sure to make The Holdovers a staple to watch during the winter months.

The film is carried by the three central performances from Giamatti, Joy Randolph, and Sessa; without strong acting from the trio, this all could’ve easily fallen apart. Luckily, Paul Giamatti can always be relied on. Sardonic in the most beautifully passive-aggressive manner, his portrayal of Hunham is nothing short of iconic. It’s easy to imagine him going down as one of the most celebrated film teachers of the 21 st century, similarly to Robin Williams in the 1980s with his character in Dead Poets Society. Then you’ve got Joy Randolph, who’s brilliant at allowing both Giamatti and Sessa to show off their comedic capabilities while simultaneously humbling their characters with Mary’s mature, no-nonsense perspective. There’s so much going on with her eyes; even though her character does not shy away from her son’s death, it feels like there’s still a lot left unsaid, purely because she simply can’t bring herself to talk about it all. Sessa, meanwhile, is an acting newcomer, and what a remarkable debut performance he delivers. Often a smirking figure and a frequent know-it-all, Angus Tully never becomes unpleasantly smug or unlikeable. From the very beginning, it’s only natural to gravitate towards his unsure, slightly awkward demeanour; he often looks like a lost little boy inside a grown man’s body. Wait for one exchange in particular between Tully and one of his family members; it’s amongst the most heart-dropping moments in the film, and Sessa is never better than he is in this understated interaction with someone his character holds dear.

The Holdovers also features a grainy filter throughout that wonderfully emulates 70s aesthetics. Rather than being an imitation of films from decades before, it actually feels like something released within that very era. This provides Payne’s comedy-drama with a great sense of authenticity that you don’t often find in modern cinema or TV. The direction by Payne, meanwhile, is rightly simple, ensuring that the focus isn’t pulled away from the performances and narrative, which are the two components that drive The Holdovers so brilliantly. Flashy direction simply isn’t required in a film that contains one of the most amusing chase scenes to come out of the silver screen in a long time, as well as one of the most sincere and heartfelt handshakes between two characters, which was more moving than many onscreen hugs and kisses.

Payne’s latest directorial work certainly doesn’t break much new ground, but what it lacks in originality is made up for by the unforgettable main performances, its cuttingly humorous script (Giamatti delivers an insult so satisfyingly brutal towards the end of the story that it’s almost wheeze-worthy), and the enjoyable friendships that are formed along the way. Destined to be a Christmas classic? I think so.

Poor Things (2023) – Film Review

A visual marvel, Yorgos Lanthimos’ latest directorial work is an unforgettably bawdy and beautifully bonkers reimagining of the Frankenstein narrative. Starring the wonderful Emma Stone in her boldest and most physically demanding role to date, this adaptation of the 1992 book of the same name by Alasdair Gray offers an endlessly wild ride through the continents as the protagonist, Bella Baxter (Stone), experiences a plethora of situations and emotions for the first time. Along the way, she meets various perverted (and often pathetic) men, who are enchanted by Bella’s innocent beauty but often horrified by her uncouth and socially improper actions.

This all begins with Dr. Godwin Baxter (or ‘God’, in the eyes of his adopted daughter). Noticeably disfigured after being experimented on in his youth, the ambitious and morally ambiguous scientist reconstructs Bella to give her a second chance at navigating the plight of life in Victorian London. To say any more about the plot would do a major disservice to anyone wishing to see Lanthimos’ carnivalesque project; it’s certainly preferable to go into Poor Things with no preconceptions so its gleeful insanity can take charge.

It goes without saying that Emma Stone is the one to beat at this year’s Academy Awards ceremony. The most daring, unorthodox, and hilariously guileless performance to come out of the silver screen for quite some time, Stone is captivating as Baxter. From her robotic infancy to her rapid sexual and intellectual development, she perfectly emulates the stiff physical movements that have become a key staple of Lanthimos’ visual humour. A character with almost no comprehension of a social filter, Baxter’s use of language is so wonderfully cutting (often without her realising), and it is such a treat to witness Stone’s wide-eyed, vacant delivery of such brutal lines. One man who is on the receiving end of Baxter’s sharp words and constant rejection is the caddish Duncan Wedderburn (played by a deliciously hammy Mark Ruffalo in his best role yet). Entertainingly displaying Wedderburn’s woefully desperate longing for Godwin’s experiment, Ruffalo is hysterical in almost every scene he appears in. And let’s not forget that magnetic dance that takes place on the cruise: it’s an idiosyncratic stroke of genius that perfectly embodies the unrestrained characteristics of both Stone’s Baxter and Ruffalo’s Wedderburn.

Poor Things doesn’t shy away from Lanthimos’ signature aesthetic; in many ways, it exaggerates it. His masterful use of the fisheye lens has become an integral component of his unique style, and it is applied here to create an unnatural and often voyeuristic atmosphere. Another noteworthy aspect is the beautiful change in filters throughout. When Baxter is still trapped by her creators and mentors, her world is in bleak black and white, but a beautifully crisp and fairytale-like yellowish tint appears once Baxter begins to explore the world beyond the confines of her first home . Indeed, the distancing from the black-and-white world highlights the complexities quickly developing within Baxter’s psyche. As our eccentric central character charmingly puts it: ‘There is a world to explore… traverse… circumnavigate’. Once her vocabulary begins to exponentially expand, so do the possibilities of the world, reflected exquisitely through Lanthimos’ eye for enchanting wonderment in a depraved, debauched society.

From her raucous rendezvous with Wedderburn to the more eye-opening sequences in a Parisian brothel, it often feels wrong to see Baxter in so many compromising positions with various problematic men (squirming and wincing are basically guranteed during the viewing experience). However, the men are ridiculed to such a degree that the uncomfortableness of these scenes blends terrifically with offbeat humour and ridiculous visual gags. A lot can be said about the debate surrounding Poor Things and how much agency Baxter truly has when her mental age is initially so young (how quickly does it develop? At what time is it appropriate for the men to find her physically irresistible? Is it ever appropriate for them to feel this way about her?), but it doesn’t appear that Lanthimos dwells on these questions. Ever the humble director, he concedes that his films are not for everyone, nor are they meant to be. Some will throw their heads back in hysteria, others will walk out after the first thirty minutes in disgust; such is the nature of a project helmed by such a polarising figure in cinema. But Lanthimos’ should be applauded for his refusal to spoonfeed anything. Love him or hate him, he does everything his way and has never lost confidence in his unconventional vision. Add this to the fact that Stone is so transparent in her trust and affection for him (crucial for such an exposing role) and you’ve got a match made in what can only be called “crazy people heaven”.

The talent on display in Poor Things – from the acting, directing, and cinematography to the production design, costumes, and addictingly haunting musical score – is undeniable. The music thrills and entices as much as it disturbs and horrifies (major props to Jerskin Fendrix for propelling this captivating score forward), another juxtaposition that reminds you of exactly where you are and what you’re doing: sitting down to watch a Lanthimos film. An unlikely contender for Best Picture due to its controversies, Poor Things is still a remarkable piece of work, thanks to its wonderfully weird wit, clever dialogue, outrageous sexuality, and sequences that look like they’ve been taken out of a haunting 19th-century painting. Good luck finding a cinematic experience that holds your attention quite as much as this one this year.

Napoleon (2023) – Review

Occasionally amusing, often uncomfortable, and definitely uneven, Ridley Scott’s latest directorial work can shine as much as it can baffle the viewer. While Joaquin Phoenix and Vanessa Kirby are both convincing as Napoleon Bonaparte and his wife Josephine, it feels like Scott’s most recent film never truly becomes a cohesive whole. Bonaparte was undoubtedly a complex (and very strange) figure, but sometimes it’s not always clear what the motivations behind his actions were. The experience of watching the film was enjoyable and intriguing overall, but I came away from it with a rather inadequate understanding of what Bonaparte dealt with internally, resulting in several aspects of the film feeling slightly hollow.

The main focus of Napoleon is the tumultuous relationship between Bonaparte and Josephine. After falling madly in love with Josephine, the couple runs into various issues, such as adultery, infertility, and illness. Many of the interactions that take place between Napoleon and his wife (again, wonderfully acted by Phoenix and Kirby) are deliberately unnerving, especially considering just how much Napoleon despairs that she cannot bear him a child. A tragic truth, but because Bonaparte treats his significant other so poorly, the audience’s sympathies clearly lie with Josephine. The trials and tribulations faced by this problematic couple were the highlight of the film, as they truly depicted just how cold, callous, and pathetic Napoleon could be as a husband. They are also the only moments in the film where I felt like I understood what kind of man Napoleon was.

On the other hand, the battle sequences, while visually impressive (and deeply upsetting in a few instances), struggled to convey to the audience what Napoleon was thinking and feeling. To me, the scenes felt like more of a spectacle than a deep dive into Napoleon as a military figure, which is more of what I expected and wanted. This is where it becomes difficult to navigate Napoleon’s overall journey in the film. Due to the nature of the rather odd pacing and several scenes feeling slightly random and out of place, the film, unfortunately, transforms into a bit of a mess. Well-acted and visually impressive, but it still falls short of greatness because of its difficulty in balancing everything out. The one constant in Napoleon is how brilliantly and tragically Josephine is portrayed, while scenes and sequences without Kirby delve more into standard biopic territory.

There was nothing grossly offensive or outwardly bad about Ridley Scott’s latest project, but it could’ve been a serious Oscar contender if it found its footing that bit more in the moments that did not revolve around Napoleon’s troubling relationship with his wife. It’s also worth noting that history enthusiasts may be angered by the evident inaccuracies, but that is all dependent on how much you are willing to suspend your disbelief. However, there’s much to be gained from watching Napoleon; amazing sets, great costumes, and two engrossing lead performances. This was enough to see me through the two-and-a-half-hour runtime, which would’ve been a gruelling process with a lesser film.

Gilda (1946) – Review

“Gilda, are you decent?” is the question Ballin Mundson (George Macready) asks his elegant wife (Rita Hayworth). As she flips her curly, voluminous hair with flirtatiousness, she cheekily responds with “Me?” It is one of the most iconic moments in the history of Hollywood film noir, made even more famous in 1994, when the lustful prisoners in The Shawshank Redemption swoon over Gilda’s grand entrance. Does this 1946 feature, though, offer anything beyond this unforgettable moment, beyond Hayworth’s undeniable glamour and natural allure?

Gilda is a story of luck; specifically, a story of making your own luck. Johnny Farrell (Glenn Ford) knows all about creating his own fortune when he assists Mr Mundson in his seedy casino business; in return, Mundson feels lucky to have Johnny by his side during his misdemeanours, recognising the young man’s incorrigible talent for cheating and scheming. Perhaps even better at making her own luck is Gilda herself, marrying the obnoxiously rich Mundson after knowing him for just a single day because, well, why not? Gilda is here to have fun, to be lavished in expensive finery (all of Hayworth’s outfits are absolutely fabulous, by the way) and to move on from Johnny, the man she loves to a painful degree. Imagine her horror, then, when Johnny Farrell is in her line of sight once more, after she performs her monumental hair toss. What follows is a deliciously passive-aggressive conversation between the former lovers, and it does not take the audience long to realise that Gilda’s husband has connected the dots, can feel the romantic tension pulsating through the room. My favourite line in this confrontation belongs to the beautiful femme fatale: “Oh, I’m sorry. Johnny is such a hard name to remember, and so easy to forget.”

There is always an element of avoidance, of mystery, in 1940s film noirs; in this instance, the audience leaves this viewing experience knowing very little about Gilda and Johnny’s past fling. Their history is not important. What’s more interesting is how they interact with each other now, constantly flirting whilst simultaneously mocking each other, and we’re always anticipating the climactic moment where Mundson snaps, when he refuses to be made a fool of any longer.

Mr Mundson is no saint, however; in many ways, he is more detestable than his evidently younger counterparts. More than aware that Gilda only agreed to be his wife for his money, he parades her around as his most valuable possession, showing off his gorgeous spouse to a plethora of insanely jealous men. They wish to dance with her, drink with her and, with any luck, court her. Mundson proceeds to act even more spitefully when he asks Johnny to observe his wife’s behaviour around these potential lovers, very conscious of the fact that Johnny harbours romantic feelings for Gilda himself. Mundson’s employment of Johnny was initially one of admiration and companionship; now, it is one of psychological torture, one of hatred.

Gilda is ahead of its time in the sense that marriage is frequently presented in an undesirable fashion. Despite its monetary perks, it is a form of entrapment. Gilda moves from one prison of matrimony to another, but it is only towards the latter stage of the picture that she starts to feel the brutal weight of marital enclosure. Even the ending (which can be interpreted as a cop-out Hollywood conclusion) feels uncertain, rather sinister. The black and white cinematography breeds a smokiness, eeriness, making whatever the future may hold for the characters appear to be bleak. There are even hints of nihilism in here; the characters do or say whatever they like, tending not to care about who they hurt in the process. Maybe they create their own luck because they know that no one is watching over them; their lives are without meaning, and the ending lacks any real semblance of conclusive fulfilment.

This is not to the film’s detriment. Gilda is at its best when it relishes in this emptiness. I took issue with the ending initially, and it may perhaps include one too many coincidences to be wholly satisfying, but the final scene does not seem to be as neat and obvious as we are led to believe. Gilda and Johnny make a horrible couple, gaining enjoyment out of shaming and ridiculing each other, and I’m not convinced that the writing team wanted us to root for them, either. This is the very joy of film noir; behind the glamour, beauty and seductiveness, there is weariness, manipulation, passionate loathing.

As far as film noirs go, Gilda has enough for any enthusiast of the genre to chew on, but it also has the bonus of looking visually exquisite, even by 21st century standards. The shots are very intimate, and the lighting makes Hayworth look as radiant and heavenly as humanly possible: an angel with devilish intentions. Furthermore, the actors shine; Macready is an enjoyable – even quite compelling – villain. Ford is gloriously dry in his line delivery yet manages to be malicious when the story requires it. It goes without saying, though, that Hayworth steals the show from the men with her wit, charm and suggestive expressions, as well as with her singing and dancing ability (Hayworth is lip-syncing in every musical sequence apart from the acoustic version of “Put the Blame on Mame”, but she sings it with such sincerity and finesse that it makes you question why the studios even bothered to dub her). The poster reads “There never was a woman like Gilda!”, and there really wasn’t. Nor was there a woman like Rita Hayworth – even the camera falls under the spell of her captivating aura. It is to Hayworth’s credit that she performed as well as she did, being a cripplingly shy person in real life. “Every man I knew went to bed with Gilda and woke up with me”, Hayworth once despairingly noted. I guess reality, like the world of Charles Vidor’s noir, is full of disappointments.

★★★★

Rating system out of 5 stars

My Top 10 Films of 2019

I did not get to see all of the films I wanted to in 2019, but it is a tradition of mine to do this list annually. Despite not seeing as much this year, 2019 still provided me with the laughs, scares and cries that I always so desperately crave. Now that the decade is officially wrapped up, it’s time to discuss the cinematic viewings that hit me the most.

Before I begin, here are a list of 2019 films I have not yet seen (due to them not being released in the UK yet or just lack of opportunity for me to see them in my free time):

The Lighthouse

Parasite

Portrait of a Lady on Fire

1917

The Farewell

The Irishman

And here are films I loved in 2019, but I could not put them on this list since they are technically 2018 releases:

The Favourite

Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Without further ado, here are my favourite films of the final year of the 2010s:

10. El Camino: A Breaking Bad Story (Dir. Vince Gilligan)

I really did not know what to expect from a film spinoff of one of my favourite shows of all time, but once I saw Gilligan named as the director, I think I knew deep down that it would not disappoint. And it certainly did not. Aaron Paul was still as beautifully heartwrenching as ever as the tortured Jesse Pinkman, the cinematography was reliably spot on and, most importantly, it gave long-time viewers of Breaking Bad a finality to a fan favourite character that the show did not fully give us. There are few writers now that are as meticulous in their writing and directing style as Gilligan. We’re lucky to have him.

9. Toy Story 4 (Dir. Josh Cooley)

A number of people were disappointed with the fourth instalment in this beloved animated franchise, but I was not amongst this crowd. It is the weakest film, but Toy Story 4 is still full of well-written jokes, introduces a fresh bunch of likeable characters and contains some of the most gorgeous animation I have ever seen in a CG animated film. It also poses questions not yet explored in this film franchise: can you adapt to a new owner after being so attached to your previous one? Is a toy’s purpose just to please a child, or can it go beyond that? Not an entirely necessary sequel, but still a very welcome one.

8. Joker (Dir. Todd Phillips)

A crossover of Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy that happens to be about Batman’s greatest villain? How could I possibly refuse? Joker is deeply unpleasant, which is, understandably, a huge turnoff for anyone looking for light entertainment. But the 70s stylistic edge it had, along with Joaquin Phoenix’s remarkable performance, won me over. It also goes without saying that it had one of the most exciting and bombastic climaxes of the year.

7. Us (Dir. Jordan Peele)

Although released early on in the year, Us left a lasting impression. Jordan Peele’s latest feature may not be as funny as his directorial debut, Get Out, but it is just as thought-provoking and includes some stunningly shot sequences, particularly one linked to a ballet. Like any good horror film, it taps into the unknown and prys on fears we sometimes cannot even fully explain. Not to mention that the concept alone is fantastic; the idea of alternative versions of you and your family members invading your home and terrorising you is bone chilling enough. Luckily, Peele makes the most of the premise, creating a horror that feels original and is just completely crazy.

6. Little Women (Dir. Greta Gerwig)

Lady Bird was one of my favourite films of 2017, so it only feels right that Greta Gerwig’s followup was far from a disappointment. The jumps between the past and the present were not a distraction, and provided the story with some emotionally rich parallels. Although all of the performances worked, Saoirse Ronan and Florence Pugh were easily the standouts (no surprise there, as they’ve both proven that they’re two of the best actresses working right now). I was wrong to expect a simple, girly and fluffy story from this premise; Little Women is a moving and complex narrative about not just sisterhood, but childhood in general. Like Bradley Cooper’s A Star Is Born, this charming yet emotionally gripping romance-drama has breathed new life into a well-known (and well-loved) story.

5. Midsommar (Dir. Ari Aster)

Yes, I am not quite finished with talking about how fantastic Florence Pugh is yet. Modern miracles, indeed, can still happen: it’s astonishing how Ari Aster’s arthouse, adult-rated and wildly absurd horror movie got a wide release, but the fact that it was also a success restored my faith in modern filmgoers. Despite only having seen it once, I must admit that Midsommar really stuck with me and will be one of the cinematic experiences I’ll think about when I look back on 2019, although I still rank four films higher than it. Opening with one of the most brutally upsetting sequences I’ve witnessed from a horror in years, Midsommar absorbs you from beginning to end. Even when you want to look away, you cannot quite bring yourself to do so.

4. Knives Out (Dir. Rian Johnson)

What an absolute treat this was (and more than enough proof for Rian Johnson naysayers that he is, in fact, a wonderful director, and that The Last Jedi is not the disaster many make it out to be). This spin on an Agatha Christie crime thriller is full of the genre’s usual twists and turns, but none of them feel tacked on or out of place. Casting wise, Knives Out was spot on – this is the best I’ve ever seen Daniel Craig act and Blade Runner 2049‘s Ana de Armas can clearly carry the weight of a film on her shoulders. Visually stunning and full of epigrammatic wit, this is one of the best murder mysteries to come out in recent memory.

3. Booksmart (Dir. Olivia Wilde)

Not since watching The Nice Guys back in 2016 have I laughed so much at a comedy. Olivia Wilde’s directorial debut is undoubtedly hilarious, but the strong companionship between the two female leads (Beanie Feldstein and Kaitlyn Dever – both equally fantastic) is what elevates it to a comedy with actual substance. Pondering questions about leaving high school, it asks viewers to consider what is a healthy balance between studying and having fun while you’re young, as the two central characters are too immersed in their studies to go out and party. Cleverness aside, the film really is just funny – the threatening of the pizza delivery man alone is a work of comedic magic.

2. Marriage Story (Dir. Noah Baumbach)

Safe to say that this is the best that Scarlett Johannson has acted in years, and Adam Driver delivers his best performance ever, stacked against his plethora of strong performances over the past few years. What’s wonderful about Noah Baumbach’s masterpiece is that it never asks you to take the side of either Johannson’s Nicole or Driver’s Charlie amidst the tough process of their divorce. Do not panic either if you are concerned about it being a two-hour long film where the actors do nothing but shout at each other. This is a gracefully quiet, nuanced and layered journey with these two characters, and I can safely say that as soon as Marriage Story started, I did not want it to end. Believe me, that’s a rarity nowadays. If you do not tear up at the final scene, your heart must have converted to rust.

1. Rocketman (Dir. Dexter Fletcher)

As soon as I walked out of my first screening of Rocketman, my immediate thought was “I want to see this film again. Right now”. Unfortunately, I had to wait until the next day, but the second viewing was worth the feeling of mild impatience during that 24-hour stretch. I’m sure my pick for the top of this list will not come as a shock to a single soul. As a fan of both Elton John and over-the-top, well-choreographed musical sequences, Rocketman was everything I wanted it to be and more. Effervescent energy exploded through the song and dance numbers, the self-love message was poignant without becoming pretentious, and the homosexual elements were not downplayed to appease bigoted audience members. On top of that, it’s the only film I have ever seen in the cinema six times (the sixth screening was a singalong version. How could I refuse?). Marriage Story may objectively be the best film of the year, but Rocketman is my totally subjective favourite.

Thank you for reading and all the best for 2020! What were some of your favourite films of the year? Feel free to leave a comment below!

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood – Film Review

It’s happened, folks: Quentin Tarantino has officially bought his own hype. This is a man who has been lauded with endless praise for the entirety of his career, but I’ve always felt up until now that this praise was rather justified. I’m more of a David Fincher and Christopher Nolan woman myself, but there is no doubt that Tarantino – whether you love him or hate him – is one of the most influential and significant filmmakers of his generation. The impact he has left on the world of cinema is simply undeniable.

However, Tarantino is very well-known for being a stuck-up egotist, telling an interviewer “I reject your hypothesis” when they asked him why Sharon Tate (an excellent Margot Robbie) had barely any lines of dialogue for the entire 2 hour and 40 minute runtime of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. You may reject the hypothesis (although it wasn’t really a hypothesis, but whatever), Quentin, but I, like the interviewer, would love to see you not dodge a question for once and at least try to defend yourself when someone brings up a justified criticism of your work.

That’s the main issue with this film: it felt like Tarantino made it only for himself and his filmmaker buddies. The whole thing feels like an inside joke that we, the general moviegoing audience, are not privy to. It also feels like this is the film where Tarantino thought to himself “I can put out anything I want and people will love it because my important name is stamped all over it”. Apologies, Quentin, but your name alone was not enough to win me over on this one.

It’s really not all bad, though. Brad Pitt was very enjoyable to watch as Cliff Booth, who begins the film as the stunt double to Leonardo DiCaprio’s Rick Dalton. Booth appeared to be the more laid-back of the two men (there were many instances where DiCaprio flails around like a blubbering mess), but Pitt also managed to provide his character with this subtle melancholy that, unfortunately, wasn’t explored enough. Still, he was very much the highlight of the film and his line delivery managed to get a good chuckle out of me every now and then. I can’t really fault DiCaprio either and I was rather entertained just by how pathetic and self-absorbed his character was. However, this film is almost three hours long and, since the characters don’t go through massive developments, the pathetic Rick Dalton act started to get old very quickly. The only real laugh DiCaprio got out of me was during the ludicrous end-sequence. Honestly, me describing the climax of the film to you would not do it justice. It’s so daft and tonally inconsistent with the rest of the film that I didn’t know whether to admire it as a work of strange genius or just finally accept that Tarantino has lost the plot (I mean that both mentally and narratively).

Perhaps the biggest insult is how the character of Sharon Tate is a complete caricature, a symbol rather than a person. What I always loved about Inglorious Basterds (which is absolutely Tarantino’s best film) and Django Unchained was that it felt like those films provided some catharsis for the victims of the Holocaust, slavery and just racism in general. Within the contexts of those films, the victims of these real-life events were allowed to take control of their own narratives. Tate is not allowed to do that. It is a criminal shame as well because I thought Margot Robbie did a fantastic job with the very little she was given (and trust me, it was very little). She lit up the screen and it was slightly eerie just how much she sounded like the real Tate. However, if all you want is to see Sharon Tate dance, smile, look pretty and waltz through the streets of Los Angeles for virtually her entire screentime, this will be the film for you. For me, all I could think about was how misunderstood and tragic Tate was. Like Marilyn Monroe, she wanted to be taken seriously as an actress and for people to not just focus on her good looks. Both of their lives were cut short and they never got the chance to do so. The fact that such a complex woman was reduced to just being a heavenly, angelic and almost silent figure is honestly rather inexcusable.

Tarantino has been called many things by his minority of naysayers over the years, but one thing I’ve never heard him be called is boring. But I’m afraid to tell you that that’s exactly what Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is, even if it did contain a few individual scenes that I thoroughly enjoyed. So many scenes in this felt endless. There’s one scene in particular with Clint Booth interacting with his dog in his trailer and I genuinely felt like time had reached a complete standstill. Shots linger for a long time, which would be fine if these shots created some kind of deeper meaning, but they really don’t. Tarantino’s witty, dialogue-heavy style isn’t built for a slow-burner film like this. Django Unchained is a long film but it always felt like the plot progressed in a very natural way. I can’t decipher any kind of narrative structure out of this. Scenes just begin and end. These scenes weren’t all awful, but I was just baffled by all of these loose ends.

Maybe I missed the point. Maybe I’ve hit a new low in my life where even a Tarantino film is too smart for me. Maybe there’s some secret genius about how Hollywood corrupts the innocent buried beneath all this madness. But the problem was not whether Once Upon a Time in Hollywood had a deeper meaning or not. The problem was that the film didn’t make me care enough to figure that out.

Booksmart – Film review

I’ve always enjoyed coming-of-age films, but it’s rare for me to identify strongly with the protagonists because, well, every person’s teenage experience is different. Some teens rebel against their parents; others very rarely backchat in an aggressive manner. And then you get the young people who spend their entire educational lives doing nothing but trying to get the best grades possible. Molly (Beanie Feldstein) and Amy (Kaitlyn Dever) come under this category. When I was at school and college, I also came under this category.

This may sound obvious, but there is nothing wrong with being ambitious and wanting to achieve great things in your life. Why would there be? But what Booksmart beautifully points out is that, yes, studying is important, but you’ll also regret your high school experience if you don’t learn to have fun along the way. It’s been four years since I left high school (and two years since I left sixth form) and I do regret spending all of my free time in my room with my head in a textbook, thinking about all of the exciting experiences I could be having if I had the courage to step back from my education for once. In the words of Littlefinger in Game of Thrones, “knowledge is power”. But what use is this knowledge if we can’t adapt to the realities of our world properly? The only way we can better ourselves in society is to be a part of (and engage with) our society. But that’s not always easy.

So, yes, one of the main reasons why I loved every second of Booksmart was because I related strongly to Molly and Amy. On the last day of school, Molly interacts with people she considers to have low intelligence, just because they enjoy partying and don’t seem to take their education that seriously. However, they tell her that they have all managed to get into prestigious colleges despite the time they spent going out and having fun. This surprising information hits Molly like a tonne of bricks, and she believes it is her duty to tell Amy about this. Amy is the more passive member of their friendship coupling, so she doesn’t seem to be too bothered by this revelation. Molly, however, tends to take charge, and she convinces Amy that they must enjoy one night of wild partying before graduating the following morning.

From there, the film delves into strange, extreme and, above all, hilarious, territories. The duo end up on a lavish boat party that no one (bar a couple of eccentric characters) turn up to. Drugs are (mistakenly) taken. There’s a hysterical animated sequence in which the two teenagers hallucinate and see themselves as naked dolls. They jump into a car of a man they haven’t even met in order to get to a guy’s party. And then, of course, there’s Gigi (a scene-stealing Billie Lourd). She’s bizarre to say the least, and difficult to define. She keeps unexpectedly turning up to different locations and is , somehow, always one step ahead of everyone else. Throughout the entire film, I had no idea what she would do next, and it was a joy to watch. All of the characters have funny lines in this, but virtually everything Gigi said and did cracked me up. I’m glad she was not overused because she certainly didn’t outstay her welcome, at least from my perspective.

This is only Olivia Wilde’s feature directorial debut, but she’s already established herself as an inventive and original filmmaking talent. There is a lot of flare and energy in her directing style, and she moves the story along at a very fast and exciting pace. I had no urge to check my watch during the film because I simply didn’t want it to end. The use (but also lack of) music was very clever and funny (I particularly liked a very cute dance scene between Molly and Amy at the beginning of the film). Credit also has to be given to the four writers on the film; the dialogue is sharp and intricate, establishing the personalities of each character without making things too obvious. A lot of comparisons have been drawn between Booksmart and Superbad. Superbad is also a great comedy, so this is understandable. But the former film is not a gender-reversed copy of the latter. There’s enough social commentary in here to make Booksmart stand out.

While the two main characters are evidently smart (they even speak to each other in Chinese at one point), they are not skilled at judging books by their covers. They see their fellow school peers as sex-crazed morons, but they discover that there’s a lot of depth to them over the course of the narrative. The film is actually rather melancholic, something that I certainly wasn’t expecting. Even wildcard characters like Gigi are hiding insecurities and a deep sadness behind their persona, and this is a topic the film addresses wonderfully. It’s the kind of story that will make you think twice about letting your first impression of someone fully determine how you perceive them. What was also admirable was the focus on Amy’s homosexuality. It didn’t feel like it was forced into the narrative just to please people. It felt like an integral part of Amy’s character arc, as she carries around a lot of fear and feels like a coward for not putting her true self out there. I also loved how supportive Molly is of her sexuality; their discussions about this topic are often very funny, but more importantly, they feel really natural. They’re the type of conversations you can imagine two teenage girls having, and it’s very refreshing to see a friendship that has no limits when it comes to subjects of conversation.

The pairing of Feldstein and Dever is pitch perfect. It is clear that the two actresses are very comfortable around each other because their line delivery felt confident and assured, even when their characters were feeling awkward and insecure. They also have impeccable comedic timing and understand what needed to be done in order to fit Wilde’s eccentric filmmaking techniques. Above all else, Booksmart is an incredibly charming and endearing story about allowing yourself to let go every once in a while. In a world full of anxiety and stress, that’s the type of message we need right now.

3 Musical Biopics I’d Love to See

I’ve made it no secret these past couple of weeks that I’m a huge fan of Dexter Fletcher’s wonderfully energetic and vibrant Rocketman, a biopic covering the highs and lows of Elton John’s early career. Having now seen the film four times (I know, I know), I have finally started seeing other films at the pictures. I saw Aladdin the other day and was surprised to discover that I didn’t hate it (it still wasn’t my cup of tea, however, and I’ll definitely be sticking to the animated version).

Nevertheless, even though I have *slightly* moved on from how great Rocketman was (although I’ve been filling up most of my days by listening to the electric soundtrack), I can’t stop thinking about the other biopics about musicians that I would love to see one day. If Fletcher’s film has taught us anything, it’s that biopics – with their cliched stories about struggling artists – can be creative, original, exciting and just a lot of good fun. So, with that said, here are three musical biopics I would love to see get made.

Fleetwood Mac

I think this is the one I’d be most desperate to see. Fleetwood Mac have arguably one of the greatest discographies of any musical group out there, but what is even more fascinating about them is what took place behind the scenes during their wild career. When their most famous album, Rumours, was released, the romantic relationships within the band hadn’t just broken down; they had collapsed. There was much tension behind the scenes and, of course, a substantial amount of drugs were taken. And the band members are yet to fully reconcile to this day (vocalist Stevie Nicks kicked her ex-boyfriend and significant member of the group, Lindsey Buckingham, out of the band in recent years). But, through all of these bitter arguments, the band still managed to create some of the greatest music of all time. Who wouldn’t want to see how they managed to hold it all together, against all odds?

Is it likely to be made? It’s difficult to tell at this point. Nicks doesn’t seem to be against the idea, having stated that she would love to see Reese Witherspoon play her. However, the singer now believes Witherspoon is too old for the role, so a suitable replacement would have to be found. Anyone would struggle to find the perfect cast for one of the world’s best bands. I think Bradley Cooper could be a good fit for Buckingham, although, despite his evident vocal talent in A Star Is Born, I’m not sure if he could hit the high notes that Buckingham is famous for. With that said, the members of Fleetwood Mac don’t strike me as the type of people who worry about their private lives being brought into the spotlight, so I wouldn’t entirely rule out the possibility of a biopic going into the works.

What would the film be called? “Rumours” seems to be a very good fit. Not only was it the name of the band’s most successful album, it would also hint at everything that was taking place between them behind closed doors.

Frank Sinatra

Ah yes, ol’ blue eyes. From what I already know about Frank Sinatra, he seemed to be a very complex figure. Here was a man who sang some of the most iconic songs of all time and did so with charm, class and sophistication. But he was also someone who had many romantic relationships, suffered from bouts of depression and even had social ties with gangsters. Seeing these two sides to Frank Sinatra’s personality would be very interesting indeed, although it would be a lot for an actor to take on. More than anything, though, I am just obsessed with his music and have been for a long time. He had one of the most soothing voices ever, and I would love nothing more than to see an actor with some vocal power sing the likes of “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”, “Luck be a Lady” and “New York, New York” in a musical with a 1950s movie backdrop.

Is it likely to be made? The chances are, unfortunately, very slim. Legendary filmmaker Martin Scorsese has wanted to make a biopic on the singer for years, but was unable to do so due to the fact that Sinatra’s family do not want the more controversial aspects of Frank’s life being dragged into the spotlight. This is understandable, but nonetheless disappointing, as it would make for a very interesting and unique film. Rocketman’s Dexter Fletcher has also expressed interest in making the biopic recently, but Sinatra’s family would have to be appeased first. It sounds like I may have to give up on my dream of seeing Richard Madden play Sinatra in a 1950s-themed musical with an extreme classic Hollywood vibe. One can only hope.

What would the film be called? “Sinatra” would be a simple title, but it’s a classy surname that fits in with Frank’s suave persona. Alternatively, it could be called “My Way”, but it would seem less appropriate given Sinatra’s well-known distaste for one of his best-loved songs.

David Bowie

One of the most innovative musicians of the 1970s and 1980s, David Bowie was a fascinating musical figure. Indeed, no one has ever made music like his, and I doubt anyone will ever be able to fully replicate his strangeness and otherworldly wonder. Like Rocketman, I could imagine a biopic about Bowie being fantastical and surrealistic, considering that Bowie was also taking a lot of drugs during the 70s. It would also be fascinating to see how the media portrayed Bowie in the 70s, given how flamboyant and bizarre some of his outfits were. But there was a magic to Bowie that made him so special, and I’d love to see songs like “Space Oddity”, “Life on Mars?” and “Heroes” being tied into a dreamlike fantasy film. As far as I am aware, Bowie didn’t have a very controversial private life, so it’s doubtful that his family would have to worry about the way he’d be portrayed onscreen.

Is it likely to be made? I’ve heard numerous times that a Bowie film will be made, but there never seems to be much follow-up on these claims. However, out of the three I’ve listed, this is surely the one that is most likely to be made. A number of actors are being considered for the role, and David’s family do not seem to be against the idea, as long as the singer is done justice. I’m not entirely sure what angle they would take and which aspects of his life they’d focus on, but the very prospect of a biopic actually happening is undeniably intriguing.

What would the film be called? The fantastical film about Elton John was called Rocketman, so why not “Starman” for Bowie? It seems like a very apt choice.

Are there any musical biopics you would like to see? Or are you already tired of them after Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocketman? Let me know in the comments below, or start a conversation with me on my following social media links:

Twitter – @laurenxoprice

Instagram – laurenxprice

Rocketman – Film Review

I love musicals. My favourite film of all time (Singin’ in the Rain) is a musical. I also love Elton John, having listened to his energetic and vibrant music for most of my life. So you can imagine how overjoyed I was to discover that the musical sequences in this Elton John biopic aren’t entirely attached to reality. This was the best way to approach this story – it means that Rocketman isn’t completely tied down to the restrictions that are normally placed on biopics.

Some, however, will probably not like this approach to the story, as a significant amount of people hate musicals. But I could never be a part of this group – the fantastical and abundantly creative musical numbers were often exciting, often emotional and, thankfully, deliciously camp. I haven’t smiled so much since I saw Colin Firth and Stellan Skarsgård belting out “Dancing Queen” whilst reenacting a scene from Titanic on a boat in Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again last year. The director – Dexter Fletcher – allows every song to explode onto the screen. I found it very difficult to sit still, but I managed to restrain myself in order to avoid some mild embarrassment.

The biographical elements of the story are all there. Taron Egerton stars as Elton John, and the film documents the highs and devastating lows of his life during the wild early stages of his career. The film opens with him arriving at rehab (in the most hilariously over-the-top outfit possible) and he reveals his struggles with alcohol addiction, drug addiction, sex addiction and, well, pretty much every addiction there is. And like many biographical films, it shows John’s unhappy childhood, a time when his father was largely absent, his mother (a wonderful Bryce Dallas Howard) was cold and passive aggressive, and neither of them were particularly loving towards their only child. His only real companion was his grandmother, a sweet and warm woman who realised that her grandson is a musical prodigy. She inspires him to seize every opportunity. Young Elton does just that; eventually, he is recognised for his almost inhuman piano skills and he slowly works his way up to success.

His road to success is, of course, bumpy. Fans of the most recent season of Line of Duty will be pleased to know that Stephen Graham appears in the film as the first person to cut Elton a real break, albeit very begrudgingly. Although it is a very small role, Graham is really memorable and funny, passing out insults in the most blunt way possible. It’s safe to say that he is not impressed with the upcoming musician at first, but is completely won over after he hears “Your Song”, arguably one of the greatest pieces of music ever written. He decides to sign on the singer- as well as the singer’s lyricist Bernie Taupin (Jamie Bell) – and tells Elton to not kill himself with drugs. Sound advice.

One of the most delightful aspects of the film is the loving friendship that develops between John and Taupin. Egerton and Bell have great chemistry – just the small happy glances that they aim at each other say so much. Rocketman shows that the world of fame can be a deeply lonely place, but Taupin was always one of the few people who cared about Elton and adored him for who he is. The fact that Elton is gay didn’t phase him in the slightest, and the brotherly love displayed between the two of them shows how platonic love can be just as powerful as romantic love. Their relationship is definitely a lot more genuine than the one that develops between Elton and John Reid. Richard Madden – who is well-known for being a noble son in Game of Thrones and a troubled ex-soldier in the BBC hit-drama Bodyguard – plays against type as the sleazy Reid. He is a man who charms Elton into bed and ends up becoming his manager, even though he is quick to verbally and physically attack him as soon as things, in the words of Elton, “get too real”. Egerton and Madden do not hold back during these scenes, and both are brilliant during the moments that depict the downfall of their tumultuous and highly dysfunctional relationship. We even get a duet out of them – the pair sing “Honky Cat”, flirting with each other throughout the entire sequence whilst wearing the most camp outfits imaginable. Madden even sports a kimono at one point – something I didn’t know I needed until now.

There were complaints that last year’s Bohemian Rhapsody was “not gay enough”, and many believed that the age 12 rating really restricted the film and held it back. Since it has an age 15 rating, I doubt this’ll be the same case for many people with Rocketman; it explores and fully embraces Elton’s sexuality. The film doesn’t shy away from Elton’s excessive alcohol and drug use either, so excessive that these addictions almost killed him. What the film is about, above all else, is Elton’s desire to be loved. Both of his parents rejected him (his father even remarried and had more children, embracing them in a way that he never could embrace Elton). His mother tells him that a life as a homosexual will be depressing and finding real love will be impossible. This deeply wounds Elton, and he starts to believe his mother’s cruel words when his relationship with his first boyfriend rapidly gets out of hand. As corny and bright as the film is, it really doesn’t avoid delving into the dire and bleak parts of Elton’s journey towards self-acceptance.

I can’t think of a musical number that I didn’t enjoy, but I think my favourite one was probably “Crocodile Rock”, which occurs approximately halfway through the film. Elton struts onto the stage in dungarees and a star-patterned top, and initially sings very slowly. But it doesn’t take long for him to bolt out of his piano chair, kick objects with excitement and bop along. The crowd goes wild – Bernie is amongst the people who jump around and sing along to this vastly upbeat song. Then, in one of the film’s most memorable fantastical moments, Elton (and the rest of the crowd) begin to levitate. It is very euphoric, allowing Elton to fully take in the magic of this moment. After gravity slowly pulls everyone back down to earth, the post-chorus section of the song begins. When this happens, Elton, his band and the crowd sing along in unison. This one scene pretty much cements to me why taking a musical approach was the best choice for the film – these timeless songs are elevated and become otherworldly. This approach is also effective because Elton was heavily intoxicated at many points during the 1970s, so he himself did not feel fully attached to reality.

“Crocodile Rock” was the standout, but all of the musical sequences are passionately put together and tend to tie into the attitudes presented in each of the songs. “Saturday Night’s Alright (For Fighting)” involves high-energy, amusingly choreographed pub and street punch-ups, while “Your Song” is a slow and touching moment in which Elton establishes his familial love for Bernie. My greatest hope for the film was that they would get an actress to step in as Kiki Dee so we could get an overwhelmingly cute scene of her and Elton singing “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart”. We get just that, and it was at that moment where I felt like all of my dreams for the film became realised. Taron’s voice is amazing and he captures the genuine emotion that Elton did in all of his songs, but it was an unexpected (yet very welcome) pleasure to see a large chunk of the supporting cast get a chance to sing too.

Having said all of this – how great the supporting cast are, how invigorating the musical numbers are, how the film is a very moving story about self-love (a message people with mental struggles need right now) – the film does really belong to its star. It has been a while since I have seen an actor love playing a role so much, and I think it’s gonna be a long, long time (I’m sorry for the obligatory awful joke) until I see an actor put so much passion into a performance again. It is no surprise that Elton wanted Taron specifically for the part – he has even stated that he has never heard anyone sing his songs better than the young actor. Taron’s voice isn’t identical to Elton’s, but I’m glad it isn’t. It gave Taron the agency to do his own thing and add a new spin to these beloved songs, whilst still managing to capture what made Elton’s music so special in the first place. Earlier this month, Egerton arrived at the Cannes Film Festival and weeped with joy for practically the entire night. He clearly holds the film in a deeply personal place in his heart, and his gratefulness for this experience is simply infectious. I hope the performance garners the attention it truly deserves because he hits every emotional beat with so much honesty and sincerity.

I also hope that the age 15 rating won’t hold the film back from doing well. Rocketman has evidently been made by a cast and crew of people that have loved every single minute they spent on this project. It has also breathed new life into the biographical genre by tackling this true story in the style of a proper musical, providing the film with lots of liveliness and colour. Considering how much I’ve gushed over the likes of La La Land and Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again! in recent years, is anyone really surprised that this is my favourite film of the year so far?

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) – Film review

See, this is the type of war film I enjoy the most. One that delves so deeply into the human psyche. One that focuses on the effects of war on the men who had to suffer through it, rather than the events of the war itself. Like most people, I tend to have negative preconceptions about watching films that are almost three hours long, but The Best Years of Our Lives may very well have killed that prejudice forever. It really is that good.

The story begins just after the end of WWII, and it is here we are introduced to our three wonderful main characters. There’s Fred Derry (Dana Andrews), who is so utterly charming and suave throughout. Accompanying him on the way home to their loved ones is Platoon Sergeant Al Stephenson (Fredric March), a stern yet ultimately loving husband and father to two children, and Homer Parrish (Harold Russell), a young man who unfortunately lost both of his hands during an explosion.

On the way home, the three men bond over how terrified they are to reconnect with their loved ones after all this time, and they’re all individually interesting due to their own emotional baggage. Fred will return home to his wife Marie (Virginia Mayo), a materialistic and self-centred woman who Fred quickly realises he doesn’t love. Instead, his attentions turn to Al’s daughter Peggy (Teresa Wright), who’s instantly attracted to him but represses her feelings to avoid becoming a “homewrecker”. Al, meanwhile, barely recognises his own two children and hopes that he can reconnect with them after all this time. But the most poignant story has to be Homer’s. He’s in love with his neighbour named Wilma (Cathy O’Donnell), and he doesn’t realise that his newfound disability does not bother his fiancé one bit: she loves him unconditionally. This strong bond is represented in one of the film’s most powerful scenes towards the end.

The Best Years of Our Lives is not just a brilliant film because of the way it masterfully addresses some very relevant issues post-WWII – veterans struggling to find a fulfilling career, men feeling threatened that veterans will take all of their jobs, soldiers dealing with post-traumatic stress – it’s also because the three men learn important life lessons from each other. This isn’t like Love Actually where numerous plot threads are painfully forced together to try to connect the various narratives. The characters, through their friend’s individual traumas, figure out what means the most to them in life. You want all of these men to get a happy ending; Fred may be in love with someone that isn’t his wife, but we sympathise with the fact that he was forced into a marriage he didn’t want. Also, from Marie’s first introduction in the film, we can already grasp that she’s a nightmare and is completely incompatible with Fred. Peggy, meanwhile, comforts Fred during his nightmares about the war and doesn’t see any of his mental traumas as a burden at all. Fred longs for the type of love Al has. Indeed, when Al tells Fred he’s been with his wife for 20 years, Fred responds by saying he hasn’t even known his wife for 20 days. It’s obvious from the very beginning that their relationship is unsatisfying, and it is only through Al’s undying love for his wife that he learns what true love actually is. Homer, meanwhile, is guided by his older peers. They help him come to terms with the fact that he is not the same man who left for the war all those years ago.

There are various tear-jerking moments; the reunions with their loved ones; Homer opening up about his feelings to Wilma; of course, the ending is unforgettably beautiful too. I can only imagine the ecstatic critical reaction the film received in 1946. The war had not so long ago ended, and veterans would be turning up to their local theatre to relive the horrors they encountered with Fred, Al and Homer. It’s not just the physical effects of war that damage you, the mental struggles are just as difficult to overcome. The feeling that you no longer belong to society; the shame and guilt that comes with fighting a war that resolved nothing; the belief that your loved ones would be better off without you. The 1940s was a terrific decade for film; gone were the years of romantic escapism (equally as great in its own right) and in were heavy-hitting dramas. Films like Casabalanca and The Best Years of Our Lives will forever be timeless. Not because they revolve around WWII, but because they contain characters who long for the deepest human connection: love. That is a theme that will remain universal forever, and there are few war films that are as likeable, terrifically acted and exquisitely directed as this one.

Conclusion: Directed by William Wyler, the masterpiece The Best Years of Our Lives highlights the struggles – but also the benefits – of returning home after suffering the most horrific ordeal imaginable.

Rating: 10/10