To say that Pablo Larraín has a talent for biographical filmmaking would be an understatement. What he does with the genre is much more interesting than a strict documentation of a person or a period in their life. In Neruda, Larraín’s film about the Chilean poet and politician Pablo Neruda, he takes the skeleton of a biography and twists it into a detective story turned mythological tale; so spellbinding that it seems implausible that it could resemble anything close to the truth.
If I’ve taken one lesson from Paul Verhoeven’s rape-revenge drama Elle, it would be to never fuck with an angry French woman. I’ve also learned that hunting down your stalker is always done best when wearing killer outfits.
Watching this, the film that has caused shockwaves amongst cinephiles and won its lead actress, Isabelle Huppert, a Golden Globe, I often swung from one extreme of the emotional scale to the other. At one point, I find myself admiring the interiors of a palatial, Parisian home in one scene before being left literally open mouthed in shock at the next.
Despite the fact that they leave a mark on so many, mass shootings have an air of mystique around them. They create monsters; the kind that are immortalised in TV news broadcasts and Wikipedia pages. Unless we scour for them, we never witness the events that led them to that moment. All that we’re aware of is the brutal hysteria that stems from the act itself.
Laura (Laura Dern) works as a lawyer, and has been trying to convince her client that this case can’t be won. But after 8 months of hard work, she gives up and suggests a male lawyer who tells the client exactly the same thing. This time the client agrees, proving that sexism is still present.
Gina (Michelle Williams) is barely handling her marriage. She can’t make a connection with her daughter, and the only escape she gets is a morning run and a few drags of the occasional cigarette. Despite this, she keeps denying the existence of all of her problems.
There are real life magicians working today who have performed lesser feats than what Damien Chazelle has done with ‘La La Land’. Like, actual magicians. The kinds that pull rabbits from top hats and all that.
Even those who adored the director’s miraculous, perfectly paced debut ‘Whiplash’ were a little apprehensive at the thought of his follow up being a fully fledged musical. An appreciator of fine composition, both musically and in film, Chazelle has stuck to his guns here, presenting us with a rare, lovingly made movie that the messed up modern world has been calling out for.
Miles Teller is an undeniable talent, albeit one still waiting to match the greatness of the film that made him a star. Back in 2014, Damien Chazelle’s ‘Whiplash’, a ‘Raging Bull’-inspired musical tour de force in which boxing gloves are swapped for drumsticks, won the young actor the respect of both critics and fans alike. For a while, he’s been tied down by young adult fiction franchises and been left bobbing in the shallow end of Marvel’s comic book universe – neither of which making much use of his expertise. Two years later, Teller was still waiting, until his attachment to Ben Younger’s, Scorsese produced boxing flick ‘Bleed for This’ had his supporters chomping at the bit to see him succeed again.
Past Life, Avi Nesher’s highly anticipated follow up to 2013’s The Wonders, is a moving moral fable about how we face and process the demons that can define our lives.
The year is 1977, and Sephi Milch is a young woman studying vocal performance and composition in a Tel Aviv university. A trip to West Germany leads her to a shaking encounter with a woman who, recognising her last name and language, labels her father a murderer. Unaware of what could have led to this, she alerts her outspoken older sister Nana of what she has heard, and together they band together to visit scenes of his wartime past in an attempt to uncover the truth.
In Pablo Larraín’s Jackie, The White House frames Jacqueline Kennedy the way castles frame their queens. The definitive First Lady of the 1960s, who also earned herself the title of a fashion icon, made that place her home; her appreciation of fine decor and relics appearing in almost every room. It makes sense then, that Larraín’s eagerly awaited biopic of the icon feels like the kind of film Kennedy herself would make; astute, swooningly good-looking and blessed with an extraordinary leading lady.
If anybody could add innovation and colour to a film by Illumination Entertainment, chances are that person would be Garth Jennings. The British director, who previously helmed the ‘Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy’ remake and the charming ‘Son of Rambow’, has a tendency to make movies packed with both warmth and wit. We haven’t seen anything new from him since the latter hit our screens back in 2007, but he marks his big screen comeback with ‘Sing’, the latest inevitable box office smash from the studio behind ‘Minions’ and ‘The Secret Life of Pets’.
There’s something sort of ominous about the way the alien spaceships in ‘Arrival’ simply hover over earth in relative silence. Perhaps, after years of directors choosing to depict unknown entities blasting the living daylights out of our landscapes, it’s even more intimidating to see them sit still and do nothing as we wait for their unpredictable reaction. That is, in a way, what makes Denis Villeneuve’s follow-up to the widely acclaimed Sicario so special. We’ve come to expect our science fiction films to have grandiose set pieces and stunning CGI, while Arrival burrows itself under your skin by swapping out violence in favour of conversation.