Movies

Writers and directors Josh and Benny Safdie catapult us into a slick, shady world with Uncut Gems. The film’s energy is kinetic, unpredictable, and utterly relentless, and with it the brothers secure their place as two of the most exciting young filmmakers to hit Hollywood in recent years.

Howard Ratner (Adam Sandler) is a jeweller in New York’s Diamond District. Addicted to gambling and winning at all costs, Howard is in deep and running out of time to pay his debts. When a rare gem peaks the intrigue of NBA star Kevin Garnett, Howard is convinced his problems are solved.

The Safdie Brothers have a knack for bringing the best out of everyone they choose to collaborate with. Sandler delivers a career-defining performance, stepping far beyond what I thought he was capable of. Howard is a hubristic cheat. You never quite know whether this guy is a genius or an outright fool, if he is going to win or lose, right up to the film’s final moments. That thread of uncertainty will keep audiences clutching the edges of their seats as he makes one erratic decision after another – a truly frustrating experience.

Many in the cast are not professional actors, yet no one feels out of place or distracting. Who knew Kevin Garnett and The Weeknd could act? And really act, at that.

Much like Good Time, the Safdie’s previous effort, Uncut Gems refuses to let up. Sandler’s manic energy is perfectly complemented by Darius Khondji’s grubby cinematography and Ronald Bronstein and Benny’s fast-paced editing. Daniel Lopatin’s score is synthetic and assaulting to great effect.

Uncut Gems questions the meaning of winning; what are we willing to lose in order to win? We inhabit Howard’s life, and though he is abhorrent, we understand why he makes the crazy decisions he does. This is cinema in its most chaotic and visceral form.

Despite some tedious moments, director Marielle Heller injects A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood with sincere warmth and mostly captures the spirit of its hero, Mister Rogers (Tom Hanks).

Journalist Lloyd Vogel (Matthew Rhys) is sent on an assignment to profile beloved children’s entertainer Fred Rogers. The cynical Vogel refuses to believe Rogers is truly as kind and compassionate as he appears on his puppet-laden TV show Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

The film is anchored by a rock-solid script full of humour and poignant moments. By freeing Heller from the confines of a traditional life story biopic, screenwriters Micah Fitzerman-Blue and Noah Harpster allow her to focus on the connection between Vogel and Rogers without the portrait of this important figure feeling incomplete.

Rhys steals the show onscreen. His arc of self-discovery is beautifully constructed. It is the story of a broken man incapable of trust slowly coming back to the light by learning the value of kindness. The quiet, contemplative scenes between Rhys and Hanks are the most affecting and honest aspect of the film. The turbulent relationship Vogel has with his father Jerry (Chris Cooper) is sometimes pushed into overly dramatic territory, but the actors are capable of carrying their weight.

Hanks delivers a well-balanced performance, although his interpretation of Rogers feels slightly indulgent and disingenuous at times, which drags the film’s momentum. While he successfully embodies the man’s spirit, he delights so much in his quirks the performance sometimes forays into parody. Still, Hanks knows how to deliver an emotional punch when the time comes.

American audiences who grew up with Mister Rogers will undoubtedly find more to connect to in A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood than those who didn’t. My introduction came in the form of the excellent 2018 documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor? While I would recommend that film over this one any day, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood feels so warm and fuzzy you’re guaranteed to leave the cinema with a smile.

Four virtuosos of the gangster genre regroup to deliver a tale of cold-hearted greed in an unconventionally human way. Director Martin Scorsese gives these characters time to meditate, painting a cruel and gloomy portrait of life in the mob.

The film is narrated by an elderly Frank “The Irishman” Sheeran (Robert De Niro). He recounts his life as a hitman for the mafia, working under the wing of Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci). Ultimately, Sheeran offers his perspective on the disappearance of his friend and famed Teamster, Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino).

The release of any new Scorsese film is an event within itself. Add his first reunion with De Niro and Pesci since Casino (1995), his first time working with Pacino, and the stipulation of the mob, and The Irishman becomes something intrinsically special.

Surprise, surprise, The Irishman is another great film from Scorsese. Really great, actually. Where Goodfellas (1990) and Casino feel like cinematic adrenaline, this film is stoic and pointed, indulging in the mundane, chilling side of the gangster. De Niro, Pesci, and Pacino prove their worth as screen legends, giving younger actors a lesson in minimalism and subtlety. We hang on every word Pesci says; they feel precise where his past performances feel frantic. Hoffa is greedy, self-interested, somewhat delusional, and hilarious, and Pacino hits every beat seamlessly.

Much of the film is fast paced, jumping between time periods and plot details rapidly. Scorsese’s long-time collaborator Thelma Schoonmaker is, for my money, the most skilled editor alive. The Irishman is nearly three and a half hours in length, yet it feels no longer than two. Still, Scorsese knows how to slow things down, and the result is a collection of the most suspenseful scenes you’ll see on screen this year.

I haven’t even touched on the brilliant supporting performances, the de-aging effects (which work, for the most part), the crackling script by Steven Zaillian, or the ending, which sobered me. But it’s all there, and in the end, The Irishman is the treat it should be.

Director James Mangold takes a story reserved for car enthusiasts and makes its messages universal and its action tense, though a brighter light could have been shined on the multiple personalities that fuelled Ford’s historic battle with Ferrari.

In the 1960s, the Ford Motor Company is looking for a new audience and Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts) has his eyes on the 24 Hours of Le Mans race. Infuriated when Ferrari (who had won the previous six races) refuses to cut a deal with the American manufacturer, Ford throws money at Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) to build a car that will defeat the Italians. However, Shelby must fight for his preferred driver Ken Miles (Christian Bale) to be behind the wheel.

Ford v. Ferrari excels where it should: the racing. The climactic 1966 Le Mans race is a true nail-biter that manages to capture the speed on the track and intensity of Miles behind the wheel. Well-paced and never visually confusing, Mangold, the man responsible for Logan (2017), solidifies himself as a formidable action director.

While Damon and Bale perform to their usual high standards, other characters are somewhat sidelined, which is a shame as many of them have a similarly crucial stake in the final race. The most developed of them is Henry Ford II, with Letts delivering the standout supporting performance. Miles’ wife Mollie (Caitriona Balfe), Ford executive Lee lacocca (Jon Bernthal), and Enzo Ferrari (Remo Girone) are characters that fall victim to this, even within a two-and-a-half-hour runtime.

Still, it was fascinating to explore the difficulty of engineering a car that could survive and win Le Mans, and the mindset of a determined racer. The film also cleared up a puzzling piece of history: how another Ford driver, our own Bruce McLaren, was declared the victor when he crossed the line at the same time as Miles.

While it doesn’t use its entire runtime wisely, Ford v. Ferrari is a thrilling film that a surprisingly wide audience will enjoy.

Just as I thought we’d reached the peak of what a cinematic Joker could be, Joaquin Phoenix and writer-director Todd Phillips delve into an entirely new interpretation with a supremely focused character study that effectively disturbs and distresses.

Arthur Fleck (Phoenix) is scraping by in the bowels of Gotham City’s underworld, struggling to care for his mother while suffering from mental illness and a condition that causes him to laugh uncontrollably in times of discomfort. Arthur becomes further unhinged as his world continues to alienate him, and he begins to embrace the comedy he sees amongst the violent madness.

The Joker is a wonderfully adaptable character. He can function as a clown, a murderous psychopath, or a combination of the two. He is rarely portrayed realistically, and the mystery that clouds the character’s origin has enthralled fans for almost 80 years. Phoenix transforms over the course of the movie and we feel the danger intensify from frame to frame. Fleck begins as an outcast, misunderstood and abused. Once liberated, we see his body language and vocal cadence change organically as Phillips’ direction allows us to empathise with this disillusioned man.

Joker finds strength in its disconnection from the books that inspire it, which I say as a huge fan of comics. This is not a Batman story, and this Joker more closely resembles Travis Bickle than any previous iteration. Phillips unashamedly taps into influence from Taxi Driver and the style of Martin Scorsese, rediscovering a tone that mainstream theatres have been missing.

While the influence is there it isn’t a crutch, as the writing, direction, editing, and breathtaking cinematography (we can almost feel the grime on Gotham’s streets) support the weight of Phoenix’s masterful performance. A special mention must go to Robert De Niro as talk-show host Murray Franklin; his timing and prowess shine more in the short time he spends on-screen here than in any of his recent performances.

My eyes have not been glued to a screen like this in quite some time. I’m already itching to experience it again.

In his most light-hearted film to date, Taika Waititi reminds us that it’s okay to laugh to overcome hate. Jojo Rabbit is a comedy, through and through, and those looking for a gloomy tale about World War II should look elsewhere. Alternatively, this is a heart-warming, gut-busting tale about learning to think for yourself; overcoming the influence of a world full of hate to decide what is truly right.

At 10 years old, Jojo Betzler’s (Roman Griffin Davis) views on the war are naïve and childish. He’s a self-confessed “Hitler fanatic” who treats the leader like his favourite celebrity. He soon discovers his mother Rosie (Scarlett Johansson) is harbouring Elsa (Thomasin McKenzie), a young Jewish girl, in the attic. Jojo must confront his blind nationalism in the form of his imaginary best friend, Adolf Hitler (Taika Waititi).

Due to his age, Jojo is largely shielded from the true horrors of WWII. It is not until he is confronted by grief resulting directly from it that he begins to see the full picture. This film is not gratuitous. It doesn’t have to be, nor does it promise to be. But Jojo does not escape the Nazi regime without experiencing his share of trauma.

Taika’s screenplay gives comic talents moments to shine without detracting from the characters who really matter. Sam Rockwell, Stephen Merchant, and Taika himself never outstay their welcome, but eat up every second they have in this vibrant world. The relationships Davis portrays are visceral, particularly with McKenzie and Johansson, and this is what the film is concerned with. Each actor conveys their character’s position, and sense of humour, with pure sincerity. Who should Jojo trust: His country? His mother? Elsa? By the end, certainly not his ridiculous unicorn-eating fantasy of Adolf Hitler.

Jojo Rabbit is not about a boy learning by witnessing horrific acts, it’s about a boy talking to other human beings and concluding that they are all equal. This message just happens to be delivered through the funniest script of the year.

Maiden is an action-packed documentary that viscerally captures an important human achievement. Detailed footage from the 1980s is edited with precision to recreate an entire race across the world, although a deeper dive into its subject’s past would have painted a more complete picture.

A young British sailor named Tracy Edwards had a dream of sailing around the world. When she realised that the male-dominated industry wouldn’t allow her to do more than cook on a Whitbread Round the World Race yacht, she decided to take matters into her own hands. In 1989, she skippered Maiden, the first all-female crewed boat entered into the race, and ultimately won two legs in Division D.

Director Alex Holmes has crafted a vivid snapshot of Tracy’s environment at this particular time. We feel the scrutiny that surrounded her, which helps us empathise with her admitted “horrendous flaws”.

We see a sincere lack of fear in the entire Maiden crew, but the film shines in moments that show Tracy’s sheer drive, even when she was not popular. She was under enormous pressure and prone to anger as a result. She was forced to take the reigns as skipper on top of her duties as navigator when she fired the crew’s original skipper, the highly experienced Marie-Claude Heys, for threatening her leadership. The media wrote Maiden off as a “tin full of tarts” who wouldn’t even finish the first leg of the race. All of this caused the sworn non-feminist to reconsider her viewpoint, and the overall importance of the crew’s success. By including self-reflective interviews with Tracy, her fellow crew members, other sailors, and journalists from the time, Holmes balances this narrative beautifully.

While the film evocatively portrays Maiden’s time at sea, it doesn’t dig as deeply into aspects of Tracy’s past that undoubtedly affect her, such as the sudden death of her father when she was young. Dedicating more time to the root cause of Tracy’s positive and negative traits would have provided interesting context to her inspirational success.

The Farewell places us at the centre of an inter-generational, inter-cultural family drama. Its characters connect with each other and with those in the cinema through smart direction, good humour, and intense (but never sentimental) emotional differences.

Billi (Awkwafina), an aspiring writer, immigrated to New York with her parents when she was very young. She is still close with her relatives in China, particularly her Nai Nai/grandmother (Zhao Shuzhen). When Nai Nai is diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, the family must fly back to see her. The only hiccup is Billi’s somewhat forgotten homeland traditions, which deem that Nai Nai must not know she is sick. And so, a faux wedding is arranged to deceive her.

Writer and director Lulu Wang creates a consistent tone that allows for moments of happiness, heated disagreement, longing sadness, and love. There is no clash between conversations in Mandarin and conversations in English, it all flows seamlessly. Her efforts are entangled with those of cinematographer Anna Franquesa Solano, who uses close mid shots and distant longs to pull us into this family dynamic, at times uncomfortably so. She heavily utilises the lower third of the frame, which puts us level with the characters emotionally.

Each family member is unique in portrayal and perspective. We see how the characters feel about the situation, and how they’re struggling to accept their lies. Particularly Billi’s parents, who are in the most interesting position as Chinese people with recent Western influence. Wang revels in the fascinating cultural comparisons.

Finally, the true stars, Billi and Nai Nai. Awkwafina and Shuzhen each give breath-taking performances. The intimate moments we spend with these two are sweet, entrancing, and funny. Billi sees how overjoyed Nai Nai is when the family returns and struggles between the moral obligation to tell her the truth and the guilt of stripping her happiness away. Nai Nai’s grace infects her and she must learn to be less selfish.

The Farewell is a universally relatable story, but it could – in the wrong hands – be a boring one. With this director and this cast, boy was that not the case.

Quentin Tarantino’s Hollywood-hangout film pulls the audience into the town’s golden age by utilising two of modern-day’s most charismatic performers at peak fitness, though it doesn’t attack the senses in the same way as his revenge-led pictures.

In Once Upon a Time we join fading 1960’s western TV star Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his stuntman Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt). Dalton’s cowboy shoot-em-ups are going out of fashion, which means he and Booth could be out of work. Luckily, Dalton might have an in through his neighbours… Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) and Roman Polanski (Rafał Zawierucha).

This movie is Hollywood. Seeing DiCaprio and Pitt together on screen took me back to a time when the movie star reigned supreme. Their characters are different, but they need each other, something they embrace as the film progresses. DiCaprio plays an unconsciously lonely man whose small moments of achievement are fun to celebrate. Pitt delivers an Oscar-worthy performance as Booth. He does not overact, instead embracing the nonchalance inherent in the script – primarily communicating through badassery. Supporting characters are well placed and well cast, particularly Margaret Qualley as Pussycat and the various other Manson Family members, and 10-year-old Julia Butters, who is maybe the only actor to steal shine from the leads.

The lack of thrills will be an adjustment for some. There’s a lot of driving, a lot of talking, and payoff usually comes in the form of catharsis or comedy. Cinematographer Robert Richardson beautifully captures a half real, half fantasy 1969. The script just isn’t as tight, and the concepts not as clearly executed as we have come to expect. However, the ending was worth it. It was a wonderful ‘WTF’ moment. Tate serves as an important symbol of this time in Hollywood. Robbie plays her well but is short on standout sequences.

Films like this, with actors of this calibre rarely get made anymore. Just don’t go in expecting the regular Tarantino gut-punch. His other films are crazy, this one is cool.

While occasionally falling into coming-of-age traps, Booksmart feels genuine in a way that not many films like it do and allows a talented cast to shine in one of the year’s funniest comedies.

Olivia Wilde’s directorial debut stars Beanie Feldstein and Kaitlyn Dever as high school friends Molly and Amy, who cut loose on graduation night after realising their work-hard play-never mantra may have been for nothing.

Booksmart separates itself from recent coming-of-age flicks like Lady Bird and Eighth Grade through pedal-to-the-metal comedy. At an hour 45 minutes there is no room for filler, and there isn’t any; jokes hit so rapidly it’s hard to see them coming, which is rare.

The friendship between Molly and Amy feels lived in. While both have individual misgivings, they are not simply movie-friends. If these people existed, they really would be hanging out, which is a credit to actresses Feldstein and Dever. To spoil any jokes would be a crime, but just wait until these two need a Lyft – our audience was laughing so hard we missed a few lines.

Often a high school comedy rides or dies with its supporting characters. We have the principal, the teacher, the gay kids, the rich kids, and so on. Doomed to be caricatures, Wilde somehow gives each character enough time to breathe and develop. Saturday Night Live greats Will Forte (Amy’s dad Doug), Mike O’Brien (Pat the pizza guy), and Jason Sudeikis (Principal Brown) eat up their few minutes of screen time, and lesser-known actors Billie Lourd (Gigi), Skyler Gisondo (Jared), and Noah Galvin (George) play unique, hilarious students.

While the jokes are consistently unpredictable, the story beats sometimes are. Our leads fight, make up, and learn their life lessons right on cue. However, Wilde seems aware of this formula and brings a directorial flair to these moments through some surprising editing and sound choices that serve the story’s sincerity.

Booksmart is a good coming-of-age film wrapped in one of the funniest, most authentic comedies I’ve seen in a long time.

While The Lion King (2019), a direct remake of the 1994 film, boasts visual effects that wouldn’t seem out of place in the latest David Attenborough wildlife documentary, it comes across as an exercise in CGI, and does not justify its existence.

The visual effects team at The Moving Picture Company more than earn their keep. The animals and locations are rendered beautifully, and this treatment is not just reserved for lead characters; the Pride Lands look and feel like a natural African habitat. The combination of photo-realism with unnatural behaviours is seamless and not distracting.

However, the voice cast struggles to push real emotion through – yes, realistic – neutral-faced animals. When 1994-Simba cries for Mufasa, we all cried with him. When 2019-Simba (JD McCrary) cries, it looks very similar to how 2019-Simba smiles. There are standouts amongst the supporting cast, particularly Billy Eichner and Seth Rogen as Timon and Pumbaa, and Eric Andre and Keegan-Michael Key as Scar’s hyena henchmen Azizi and Kamari. These pairings manage to inject immediate comedic chemistry into what otherwise feels like a lazy regurgitation. Other cast members, such as Beyoncé as Nala and Donald Glover as adult-Simba, offer nothing interesting vocally and appear as stunt casting.

Another let down was the simplification of some of the finest musical moments in movie history. Scar’s scary and sassy Be Prepared is dampened and completely forgettable. Can You Feel the Love Tonight is an excuse for Beyoncé and Glover to appear on a track together, but the mix is sloppy and does no favours for either star – one friend even called it “grating”.

It seems Disney thought they had a good movie that people wouldn’t mind seeing again. The problem is that this isn’t a good movie, this is The Lion King, for many, the finest film of Disney’s renaissance. This retelling’s astounding effects and moments of comedy do not offer enough to return to this version.

After absorbing a typically fatal dose of cosmic energy, Jean Grey (Sophie Turner) transforms into the murderous titular outlaw Phoenix: a mutant consumed by rage and impulse. It’s up to her X-Men family to bring her home or bring her down.

If this all sounds familiar, it’s probably because this story has been told before, as the 2006 critical dud X-Men 3: The Last Stand. The only difference is this time around, alien imposter Vuk (Jessica Chastain) wants to exploit the mutant’s new power as a weapon.

This final outing for the X-Men under 20th Century Fox is directed by long-time franchise producer and writer Simon Kinberg. His attempts to put a satisfying bow on nearly 20 years of continuity (a term used very lightly here) fall just short of the mark, however.

At the risk of having nothing to strive for throughout, Dark Phoenix stretches its premise as far as superhumanly possible. The story remains faithful to some of the series’ mainstay character arcs, but Dark Phoenix is undoubtedly guilty of stealing the spotlight from Jean to address the failings of one Professor Charles Xavier (James McAvoy). True to form, the film reveals he spent years repressing an immensely powerful orphan’s trauma instead of working through it – to disastrous and bloody results. Good one, Professor.

After mounting their first mission into space during the first act, the climactic battle is mundanely terrestrial, taking place on a train. Speaking of mundane, Vuk’s villainous peers, the D’bari, have been hiding on earth for who knows how long – or why. They ultimately serve as fodder tasked with standing awkwardly still and occasionally charging the X-Men in waves of two or three.

Go see this movie if you’re a diehard X-Men fan, prefer character-driven superhero stories, and don’t care about who holds a series’ franchise rights. Otherwise, hold out for the same story to get a third pass when the X-Men are inevitably revamped, recast, and rebooted, in line with the one true Marvel Cinematic Universe somewhere down the line.