Pop Chomp http://popchomp.com Geek Culture, Gaming, Movies, Music, & More! Mon, 18 Jan 2021 04:09:23 +0000 en-US hourly 1 Forget Tenet and Watch Synchronic http://popchomp.com/forget-tenet-and-watch-synchronic/ http://popchomp.com/forget-tenet-and-watch-synchronic/#respond Mon, 18 Jan 2021 04:07:08 +0000 http://popchomp.com/?p=3935 Perhaps the most alluring aspect of time travel is the idea that if you went back, things would be simpler. You’d find yourself transported to a more innocent time, an era without the complications of everyday modern life. Whether it’s the comfort of the 1950’s of Back to the Future or the inherent silliness of every age, as presented in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. The present is infuriating and the future is unknown, so it’s the past that we all cling to. Sure, we’re all aware of the inherent dangers of travelling back to the past—the ‘butterfly effect’ and all that—and we’re also aware of the backwards ideas and dangerous lifestyles of days gone by. But we don’t care much do we? We think that if we had the power to travel through time, we would find the right era, live in peace, and perhaps even change things for the better. Which is why Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead’s Synchronic, a movie that literally has its main character scream, “the past f***ing sucks”, is such a refreshing change of pace for a well worn staple of the sci-fi genre.

 

Benson and Moorhead have been carving out a small niche for themselves for close to ten years now. They specialize in high concept, low budget genre films that are far more interested in character dynamics than any of the zany ideas their films are supposedly focused on. Their first film, Resolution, was a deeply sad portrait of two former best friends struggling to come to terms with their lives and choices. It was just disguised as a mystical and cult heavy horror film. Their sophomore effort, Spring, used the horror genre to explore the pitfalls and wonders of modern relationships. It remains their masterpiece. Their third film, The Endless, was a wild and trippy ride through a series of time loops that was mainly interested in helping two brothers come to terms with their past. They are humanistic genre filmmakers; guys who have a clear idea and understanding of how sick humanity is but also want to believe that people can get better. Unlike a lot of horror and sci-fi and thriller directors, they don’t leave hope off the table. In fact, hope seems to be the thing they are most interested in.

 

 

 

 

And now here they are with Synchronic, their first film with a decent budget and well-known actors. Anthony Mackie and Jamie Dornan star as a pair of New Orleans paramedics who have been best friends since middle school and who stumble upon a series of gruesome deaths that all appear to be connected to a designer drug. When we first meet them, they are complaining about an ambulance driver who dropped them off at the wrong address. Mackie is hung-over and has forgotten to wear his uniform. Dornan scolds him for it, but not without affection. The performances and dialogue evoke a natural rapport and history between these two men. We understand their dynamic instantly and it feels lived in. Then two patrolmen arrive on the scene and one of them mistakes Mackie for a culprit, shrugging off his mistake by saying, “hey, you show up to work dressed like Tupac, what do you expect to happen?” We see the rage in Mackie’s face at such an aggression and in Dornan’s too. They’ve been through this sad routine before, but both of them seem to not want to rail against it, only to move on.

 

We learn more about them both. Dornan is married with children, though they are separated by 18 years. His baby daughter has just been born and his 18 year old, Brianna, has that disaffected look that so many teenagers seem to cling to like a lifeboat. She likes Mackie, thinks of him as the cool uncle, even though his life is spiral of alcoholism and one night stands. We don’t learn much about Dornan’s relationship with his wife (Kate Aselton, wonderful as always) but we get the sense that they were young lovers who got stuck together and have somehow found a way to make that work. Or maybe not. Dornan and Mackie share many scenes together where they rail about their past and their regrets, each believing the other to be ‘the lucky one’. These scenes, like so much of Benson and Moorhead’s work, have a raw quality that overcomes the often on the nose dialogue. These guys like actors and are more than happy to let them go off in order to create scenes that feel truthful and well observed. When Mackie nurses a headache in the ambulance while Dornan practices his golf game, we get the sense that this scene has played out over a thousand times.

 

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Benson and Moorhead film without a heavy genre element and this is where we get into minor spoiler territory. Read no further if you want to go in unscathed—though my headline kinda gives the game away.

 

 

 

 

Basically, Mackie discovers that this designer drug, called Synchronic naturally, is essentially a pill that allows the taker to travel backwards in time. The rules of this are explained, in the movie’s only clumsy scene, by the man who invented the pill and now wants to destroy it. But none of that really matters. As Mackie says directly to the camera at one point, “It’s a time travel pill”. That’s all you need to know. While a movie like Tenet bends forwards and backwards (no pun intended) to explain the insane and illogical rules of its time travel plot to no discernible end, Synchronic simply says, “here’s a pill that allows you to travel through time” and lets you figure out the rules on your own . It’s a movie that doesn’t treat you like an idiot and lets you go on this wild ride without alienating you from the characters and the dire situations they find themselves in.

 

About those dire situations: this is frequently a very devastating movie. It is easily the darkest work of these two filmmakers despite the fact that it is always exuberant, exciting, heartfelt, and also very funny. There’s an unpleasant sadness that hangs around every frame of this film and though the message is ultimately upbeat, some viewers may find it too hard to accept. There’s an anger and sense of loss to this film that is not present in their other work. Much of that comes from the idea that a white man would be able to travel through time without impediment while a black man would find struggle and horror everywhere he goes. As Mackie travels, he discovers (even though he probably always knew) that the warm nostalgia of Back to the Future is misplaced at best and woefully incorrect most of the time. The past is not kind to man of his color. And my god it’s wonderful for a movie, in this age where nostalgia is king, to stick a sharp fork right into the very eye of that idea while making a deeply topical and important point abut race.

 

 

 

 

The performances are exemplary. Mackie and Dornan are two actors I have largely been indifferent on. That’s not to say I’ve never liked them; I’ve just always kind of “nothinged” them. Dornan was fine in The Fall and bad in the Fifty Shades movies. Mackie has been in some interesting stuff but he’s mostly known for his MCU work and I’ve found his presence there largely underwhelming. Here, these two guys rise to the occasion. There are two scenes that transcendent; one where they both scream all their resentment at each other (the way only long term friends can) and another where they reconcile and confess deep secrets (the way only long term friends can). Both scenes are so well written and performed one has to wonder what it would be like if Benson and Moorhead just made a straight drama. They have the ear for it.

 

But they don’t seem to want to do that. They like using the fantastical as a way of exploring human relationships and I love them for that. They are also directors who are clearly deeply in love with their locations, and not in an obnoxious way. There’s a wonderful scene where Dornan and his daughter play Basketball in an outdoor pavilion and then the camera pulls back to give us a full panoramic view of the whole landscape. It’s beautiful and also demonstrably not present just because they liked the shot. It’s there to remind us of how these people live and what they see every day. It grounds us in their world. Benson is credited as the writer and Moorhead as the cinematographer. Any studio would be lucky to pick them up for either task.

 

 

 

 

There’s one more interesting element about Synchronic and it is perhaps the most potent and moving thing about it. Yes, it’s a movie that thinks nostalgia is poison. Yes, it’s a movie that thinks nearly all other time travel movies have their heads firmly up their butts. Yes, it’s a movie that hates the past. But it doesn’t hate your past. It doesn’t hate your memories. As the narrative gets more confusing and complicated, so does the filmmaking. Scenes begin to be presented out of order, the present mingling with what happened to the characters days earlier and sometimes years earlier. It’s as if the movie is suggesting that your own past is always with you and is not something to be feared or ignored but to be embraced. That day you found your best friend? It’s still there. That moment when you changed your friend’s life by introducing them to someone? It’s still there. That time you felt absolute happiness for even the briefest of seconds? It’s still there. Time marches forward and we all struggle to make sense of it but our past isn’t gone. It’s all still there.

 

Synchronic is currently available to purchase on Amazon Prime. It will be available to rent on most streaming services January 29th.

 

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Quarantine Viewing: Shoplifters http://popchomp.com/quarantine-viewing-shoplifters/ http://popchomp.com/quarantine-viewing-shoplifters/#respond Fri, 13 Nov 2020 05:37:08 +0000 http://popchomp.com/?p=3919 I’ve been trying to figure out a way to write about Shoplifters ever since I saw it; searching for an angle or a ‘hot take’ like a shark out for blood. I read a lot of reviews of the film and watched a ton of YouTube video essayists discussing it but I felt like I was coming up empty no matter where I searched. Because the truth is, Shoplifters affected me the way very few films do, hell, the way very few works of art do. How to put into words the immense feeling it invoked? How to describe it’s profound insight and its utterly human and moving look at families and relationships? It’s one of those films where words simply fail. It’s a text so rich and honest, so funny and surprising, so deeply sad and moving that all one can do is gawk at it and applaud. Nevertheless, I shall trudge forward.

Shoplifters is a film from acclaimed Japanese director, Kore-eda Hirokazu, a man with a rather lengthy filmography that I must admit I am largely unfamiliar with. I saw one of his early films, After Life (about people having to choose only one memory from their waking life to take into the great beyond) when it first came out in 1999, didn’t understand it, and moved on. Shoplifters was only on my radar because it was nominated for Best Foreign Language film at the 2019 Oscars and I always try to pay attention to those. I watched it very early on during quarantine—maybe the third or fourth week—without having a clue what it was about or who directed it. It just seemed like a good time to watch a foreign language film that I probably would have put off forever were I not stuck at home for what felt like an eternity.

The story is well told and elegant in its simplicity. The film opens with an older man and a young boy walking into a store. They seem to have some kind of silent code. The man nods at the boy, nearly unperceptively. The boy causally walks past a shelf of goods, waits for the older man to distract an employee, and then piles a series of those goods into his bag. They walk out of the store, giggle a bit at their brilliant heist, and begin the long trek home. One gets the sense that this is a routine for them, as common as going to work in the morning or taking a daily shower. The walk home reveals their economic state. They walk past buildings that are piled on top of each other in areas that might be considered derelict, but this is clearly home for them and they don’t care. It was interesting to watch and see the obvious parallels between this film and Parasite. Both works are about class division and what those underneath the status quo must do to survive. But while Parasite takes a somewhat cynical and angry route to that subject matter (to great effect, Parasite rules), Shoplifters goes down a different road.

 

 

 

 

The two characters arrive home and we meet the rest of their family. They feel oddly traditional. There is a mother figure, the man’s wife. She scolds the two boys for being late as she cooks dinner. There is a grandmother, who dispenses wisdom as if she was born to do so, and a slightly rebellious teenager (the mom’s sister) who would be right at home in a John Hughes comedy. They argue and bicker the way families do, but without rancor, and then they settle in for a meal made up of stolen goods. There’s a level of warmth to this sequence that is impossible to pin down. It feels as if we are not merely observers but participants.

After dinner, the husband and wife go out for a walk. It’s cold outside and we can feel the chill in the air. They discuss mundane things and we realize that shoplifting is simply a way of life for them, a way to get by. They’re not necessarily pleased by it but, in the words of the oldest cliché, “it is what it is”. As they walk, they come upon the porch of an apartment. There is a little girl sitting on the stoop. She is no more than three years old. She sits with a raggedy blanket around her shoulders as her parents scream at each other inside. Their screams are loud and vitriolic. Our two main characters see the little girl nearly freezing to death and decide to take her back to their apartment for a home cooked (albeit stolen) meal. She follows along without complaint. They tell themselves they will bring her back to her parents tomorrow. But we know this child is here to stay.

And that’s the movie. On the surface, yes, it is about a pair of kidnappers who justify their actions by saying that the little girl is “better off”. As the narrative progresses, we begin to realize that every single relationship is not as it seems. That the grandmother might not be directly connected to anyone by a bloodline. That the sister might just be a lost soul who found some people to let her in. And that the little boy who is so good at shoplifting might have more similarities to the little girl than he or we expect. He forms a concrete bond with that little girl, for they are both from broken worlds, and discovers that having someone whom he can call ‘sister’ is far more valuable than any stolen goods.

 

 

 

 

To say more would be to give the whole game away so I would like to focus on the film’s two most moving sequences. The first occurs between the husband and the wife. It takes place on one of those hot summer days where it feels like no amount of AC will make any difference. They’re home alone, for once. The kids are out playing, the grandmother is at the market, and the older sister is on a date. The two leaders of this makeshift family sit next to each other and remark that they haven’t had sex in quite some time. The conversation feels jokey, flippant even, as if they are remarking on some comedy sketch they both saw the previous evening. Then they have sex. The movie does not show the act, only the aftermath. It cuts to them lying next to each other, smoking, and enjoying the company of shared love. There’s nothing erotic about the scene, nothing exploitative. It is simply a moment of genuine human connection, rendered with the grace of a classical painter. So many movies are interested in risqué sex scenes. It’s the rare piece of work that is interested in what happens afterward, as people lie together and feel a sense of peace. It is simply beautiful.

The second sequence occurs very late in the film (and is 100% the reason the movie got any Oscar attention) when the entire family goes out for a day at the beach. By this point, the little girl has been with them for quite some time and has begun to develop the ability to vocalize her feelings. The “mother” holds her by the sea as the waves crash in and asks her about her previous family. The little girl tells her that they loved her but beat her constantly. The mother frowns for the slightest of seconds and then tells the child that someone who loves you doesn’t hit you, doesn’t hold you like that. Instead, they hold you like this, and she wraps her arms around the child’s chest. They hold you like this, and she kisses the girl’s forehead. They hold you like this, and she wraps herself so thoroughly around the child that it is hard to tell one apart from the other. The girl laughs and cries and the mother does too. It’s a moment of tenderness so profound that one has to wonder how anyone on set was able to sit through the sequence without crying. What also comes through, and which makes the sequence even more powerful, is that we get the sense that this is not one, but two people dealing with the aftermath of abuse. Yes, the little girl is comforted but the mature woman is comforted more. We learn very little of her past but we can assume it’s not sunshine and roses. As she holds this poor little child close to her heart, we can almost hear her begin to heal.

To say more would be disingenuous. I cannot recommend the movie enough but must add a warning: this is not a strictly upbeat piece of work.  Everything is not wrapped up with a nice little bow. Tragedies occur, secrets are revealed, and no character is left off the hook.The final shot is a hopeful one but also open to interpretation. Nevertheless, getting to know these people is beyond rewarding. There’s this horrid stigma that hangs around foreign films like a disease, suggesting they are unknowable and dangerous. Yes, there is a barrier between subtitles and dialogue but that doesn’t mean that this stuff isn’t worth watching. And there are a lot of great foreign films out there that aren’t in the horror or thriller genre. Trust me, you can deal with the subtitles. Because when a woman wraps her arms around a child and tells her that she is loved and beautiful, do you really need subtitles? Doesn’t the action speak for itself? Don’t you know what she means?

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Host Is The Horror Movie We Need Right Now http://popchomp.com/host-is-the-horror-movie-we-need-right-now/ http://popchomp.com/host-is-the-horror-movie-we-need-right-now/#respond Tue, 04 Aug 2020 03:04:18 +0000 http://popchomp.com/?p=3910 There is a new horror movie on Shudder. This is not news. Shudder releases new content every other week, but this one is unique. It’s called Host. It was made during our current era of Covid and quarantine and takes place during that timeframe. So, of course, it takes place entirely on Zoom, an app that I think most of us had never heard of before March of 2020 and one that has become immeasurably important now. It is also less than 60 minutes long. The film focuses on a group of friends who decide that it might be fun to conduct a séance during a Zoom session and…lets just say that things go awry. I heard of this concept for the first time a few weeks ago and scoffed at it, in my typically arrogant way. “How could that work as a movie?”, I shouted to no one. “How dare you capitalize on a real life tragedy?”, I railed to the walls. “How stupid can you be?”, I said to myself as I paced around my apartment for the 100th time in a single day. I put the film on because I wanted to either laugh at it or confirm my suspicions that it was a hollow, offensive endeavor. I was wrong on both counts. Host is close to masterpiece. A genuinely frightening, inventive, exciting, well performed, well made, genre exercise that somehow manages to capture the anxiety we are all feeling right now while holding its own as a purely skillful horror movie. It’s terrific. And it’s the first movie I’ve seen in ages that genuinely scared the crap out of me.

 

The premise, as I’ve said, is simple. Six friends who have been stuck in quarantine, for what appears to be quite awhile, meet up on Zoom and hold a séance. Right away, every character is fully realized and genuine. Their dialogue cracks with authenticity. There’s nothing performative, no knowing winks to the audience, no clever references to Covid, nothing that makes you feel like this isn’t really happening right now. It just feels as if you are part of the Zoom session. Because you know these people. Anyone who has a solid friend group will connect to the way they talk to each other, to the way in-jokes work, to the way that petty grievances rise to the surface in any conversation, and to the genuine affection they all have for one another.

And that might be the movie’s greatest asset. The fact that we instantly like these people adds a lot to the terror that eventually unfolds. A LOT happens in this movie. If you’re wondering how much mileage a filmmaker can get out of a Zoom session, it’s as if director Rob Savage asked the same question and decided he would milk that idea for all it’s worth. Does the film rely on jump scares? YOU BET. But they’re all earned and the whole work has this palpable sense of dread that each and every viewer will feel. There’s something insidious about the way it takes the edict of “stay home and stay safe” and then asks the question of, “but what if your home isn’t safe either?” For these characters, in these times, there is literally nowhere to run.

 

A quick word about jump scares now. There is this odd myth among horror fans and critics that jump scares are cheap and reduce horror films to ‘funhouse rides’. Enough with that. Jump scares can work when they are earned and when they are based around a situation that the audience can understand and relate too. They’re not cheap if they’re based in a semblance of reality. And every jump scare in Host fully captures that sickening feeling when you’re alone in your home and hear a strange noise. Or see something that shouldn’t be there. Or just when you get that prickly feeling on the back of your neck that tells you that something is off. It captures the fears of being alone without exploiting them but by observing them carefully and with great empathy.

And while we’re on the subject of empathy, this is not a movie made to exploit the Covid era but one that was made to reflect it. Like all great horror films, it takes a long, hard look at a real world issue and filters it through a palpable lens that we can all understand. Part of the reason it feels so lived in and real is that the actors are all playing versions of themselves. Their dialogue feels so natural because they all know each other and have clearly had variations on these conversations and dynamics. It feels real because, to a certain extent, it is real. And it’s the kind of movie that would never have been made were it not for the state of the world. I’ve been dancing around saying this but the hell with it: Host feels like the first great piece of art to come out of our current predicament.

 

Beyond that though, it’s just a damn good horror movie. One that feels like it fully understands how you can use the camera to fill the viewer with dread. We’re constantly scanning every aspect of the frame because we know that something terrible is lurking right on the edge of it. And it’s clever in the way it uses Zoom to enhance that aspect. I’ve spoken with several friends who have watched it and they were all DEEPLY affected by it. One friend in particular sent me several texts that just amounted to, “I’m terrified” over and over again. (Hope you’re ok, Ana).

 

It’s also refreshing to see a movie that has zero interest in classical character tropes. None of these people can be labeled as the ‘stoner’ or the ‘slut’, as so many horror movies fall back on. They’re all just people. People who we know. So when they get dragged across the room or set on fire by an unseen entity, we REALLY feel it. It reminded me a bit of The Blair Witch Project in the sense that it just feels so lived in. But you know what? I liked this better.

Perhaps that’s just because of the state of the world right now. Maybe Host won’t hold up in ten years. But for now? This is the type of movie we need. It’s a forward thinking entry in an ancient genre and one that proves that horror will always be relevant. And goddamn, it’s less than 60 minutes long? There are 3 hour movies that don’t approach the depths of Host. I can’t wait to watch it again. And you should watch it too. But maybe just make sure you have a close friend nearby who you can run to. Just don’t hug them when they save you. Rub elbows. Cuz no matter what, even if you’re being stalked by an evil demon, it’s important to still practice social distancing.

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Quarantine Viewing: The Souvenir http://popchomp.com/quarantine-viewing-the-souvenir/ http://popchomp.com/quarantine-viewing-the-souvenir/#respond Sun, 17 May 2020 18:37:55 +0000 http://popchomp.com/?p=3901 The painting shows a young woman carving her lover’s initials into a tree. A dog looks on as she does so. When Julie (Honor Swinton-Byrne) is taken to see this work of art by her boyfriend Anthony (Tom Burke), they both stare at it not with a sense of wonder but with the curious eye of artists who enjoy dissecting the works of others. Julie eventually says that the woman looks sad, while Anthony insists she looks determined. One begins to wonder if there is much of a difference between the two interpretations.

 

This is a crucial scene in Joanna Hogg’s semi-autobiographical film, The Souvenir, which shares its title with that of the painting. The film chronicles the years long and often troubled relationship between Julie, a film student, and Anthony, who works in the foreign office in Britain. Because of the film’s subtle sense of tone and shot construction, we know that their relationship is doomed. There are a lot of films out there about poisonous relationships (Marriage Story immediately comes to mind) where one gets the sense that the director is using the narrative for a cathartic release or a purge of hateful emotions they’ve kept bottled up for years or even decades. But Hogg’s film is wiser and far less interested in navel gazing than most work of this nature. First of all, she understands that bad relationships don’t always leave a black mark on your soul; they are often necessary and even helpful in shaping the rest of your existence as a person. Also, she displays a great deal of empathy for both characters without ever shying away from their ugly or more naïve aspects. She sees them as people, warts and all, and this allows us to connect with them on a deeper level than we are perhaps used to.

 

Julie and Anthony meet at a party in Julie’s flat. He listens to her as she describes the film project she is currently working on. She wants to make a movie about the city of Sunderland, which has fallen to decay. Her narrative will focus on a young boy of the city who loves his mother too much and loses her as his hometown begins to crumble, with her demise acting as a metaphor for the wreckage of the city. It’s a film student idea if ever there has been one and Anthony is the first person to point that out to her. He’s a few years older than her and while his tone can be condescending and patronizing, he also seems genuinely interested in her work and eager to help her improve on it in any way he can. She’s drawn to his passion. We then see them going out to dinner, visiting an art gallery, and before we know it, he’s moved into her flat.

 

These early scenes have a quiet romantic quality to them. There are no grand pronouncements of love, no theatrical displays of affection, just little moments of tenderness, beautifully observed. One of the most affecting and humorous scenes of the film involves a classic dispute that every couple will recognize as they argue about who has more room on the bed. It starts as somewhat petty, with Anthony genuinely bemoaning his lack of space before turning affectionate and goofy as he soon declares a line of demarcation on the mattress and points out that half of his body is hanging over open air. We can feel the genuine warmth between the two of them in this silly little couple’s spat. It endears us to them in a way that is both strikingly relatable and as affecting as the typical grand plea for love and forgiveness that ends most romantic comedies.

 

Their relationship progresses and we also follow Julie’s burgeoning film career as she struggles to hone her project and get it off the ground. Professors ask her why she is the right person to tell this story and what personal connection she has to it. She does not seem to truly know, calling it a ‘universal’ idea and highlighting how proud she is of her metaphors. We listen in on conversations with fellow students about film in general and Hogg makes it quite clear that she has a lot of disdain for film snobs. This is one of the wisest and most cutting pieces of work about film discourse ever made. Most movies that call attention to their own medium have characters talking about films that the entire audience will be aware of, but Hogg has her characters talk about film theory instead and more than half of them come off like obnoxious blowhards, with each of them declaring their own brilliance and wisdom (they are all huge Truffaut fans, of course).

 

As the narrative continues, it becomes clear that Hogg is not merely poking fun at film brats but also allowing these scenes to function as a treatise on the nature of film itself, particularly The Souvenir. Julie is the only one of these students who listens, who adapts to new ideas, and who changes her perspective on what type of narrative is right for her. It’s meta in a way that does not call attention to how clever it is but that serves a real purpose: Julie will grow and improve while leaving others behind. I don’t think it’s a huge leap to suggest that this is how Hogg feels about her own career.

 

Speaking of growing and improving, we soon realize that Julie has surpassed Anthony in regards to their respective maturity levels and that he is using her in more ways than one. It starts innocently enough, with him asking to borrow a few pounds. Soon enough, he’s borrowing so much that she has to keep taking loans from her parents, all under the ruse that it’s for ‘film equipment’. Now, a lesser movie would use this to paint Anthony as a monster and leave it at that. Hogg does not take the easy way out, as she gradually reveals that Anthony is suffering from a severe heroin addiction and is forever at the mercy of it. She does not let him off the hook nor does the film turn into a harrowing examination of addiction. Instead, it paints this aspect of him as a troubling part of a more functioning whole. He hates what he is doing and often denies it—more to himself than to Julie—as a defense mechanism. And he wants to get better but may not have the strength for it.

 

We also see other more subtle cracks in their relationship, as Julie grows tired of his patronizing advice and holier than thou demeanor. Like the early sequences of relative domestic bliss, these scenes have a real lived-in quality to them in which both participants are wrong and right at the same time. Hogg also presents a memorable and romantic trip to Venice in tidbits, giving us tastes of it throughout and occasionaly injecting it into the narrative to show that Julie is still tied to, and even living in, happier times. If one is going to ask the lazy question of why she stays with him, one need only look at the way Hogg plays with memory to find the answer. She suggests that it’s an ever-present force in a person’s mind and can easily tie you to something that is past its expiration date.

 

I wonder if I’m making the film sound like a bit of a slog and it isn’t. This is for a few reasons. Hogg never forgets to pepper in moments of humor, such as the moment when Julie visits Anthony in rehab and notices an old man outside the grounds. Anthony says in a deadpan manner, “Oh yes, he gets out every day, was brandishing an axe yesterday” and Julie looks at him in shock before they both burst into hysterics. As a writer and director, Hogg is smart enough to know that little moments of warmth and humor like this are always present between two people even in the worst and most trying circumstances.

 

Then there’s the music. The score is often somber and harrowing, but Hogg also fills the soundtrack with pop songs that seem to reflect Julie’s inner state and her populist outlook on life. As their relationship starts, “Is She Really Going Out with Him?” suddenly roars to life. Later, when Christmas comes along, “2000 Miles” by The Pretenders plays over images of beautifully lit city streets. These music choices pep us up and make us recall our own soundtracks that we play in our heads during fun times. Hogg also uses them sparingly and cuts them off without warning, plunging us back into the reality of the situation.

 

Finally, there are the performances. As Julie, Swinton-Byre is a marvel, beautifully conveying affection, anger, fear, and shock all at the drop of a hat. But she’s also overflowing with energy and it never feels as if you are watching an unspeakably depressed person wander about. She stays upbeat as much as she can, which I think wisely reflects how most of us try to be when dealing with turbulent circumstances. As Anthony, Tom Burke seemingly does a lot by not appearing to do much at all. He’s always reserved, always holding something back. But he never forgets to display the character’s fierce intelligence, cutting humor, and passion. He makes it easy for us to see why Julie stays with him. I would also be remiss if I did not at least mention Tilda Swinton who plays Julie’s mother (and is Swinton-Byrne’s mother in real life). Swinton sometime gets criticized (unjustly in my opinion) for always creating larger than life characters and making insane choices. So, it is somewhat refreshing to see her play a straight-laced, normal person, who nevertheless possesses deep wells of compassion. One of the most powerful scenes comes towards the end when she decides to take on her daughter’s pain, if only for a night.

 

The Souvenir does not offer a lot in the way of a traditional catharsis or an easy lesson and that’s largely why it is so powerful and moving. The last scene of the film finds Julie back at film school, working on her project with newfound passion. We know she’s been through intense emotional turmoil but we also know that it has not ruined her. Her time with Anthony is a part of her now and she will always treasure aspects of it even while being acutely aware of the pain it caused. Their relationship cannot be described as simply ‘toxic’ or ‘bad’ but rather as ‘formative’. She’s on the other side of it now and has used it to help her mature, rather than wallow. As she takes a step out of the film studio and looks at the skyline, it’s hard to tell what she’s feeling. Is she determined? Sad? Perhaps both? We cannot be sure, but the colors of the sky are bright with potential.

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We All Slept On The Nightingale http://popchomp.com/we-all-slept-on-the-nightingale/ http://popchomp.com/we-all-slept-on-the-nightingale/#respond Mon, 17 Feb 2020 02:16:55 +0000 http://popchomp.com/?p=3883 When Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook first arrived on screens a few years ago, it felt like the arrival of a bold new voice and one that was going to be very hard to ignore. It’s not uncommon for an indie horror/genre film from a foreign country to break through the crop of blockbusters and carve out a name for itself (see Goodnight Mommy, Let the Right One In, and, on a much grander scale, Parasite) but it’s very rare for a movie like that to become such an embedded part of cultural consciousness. Even if you haven’t seen the movie, you’ve heard of The Babadook and know what it is. From its status as a LQBTQ icon to its complete dominance over memes and gifs for a few years, Kent’s first feature became iconic overnight. The question then developed into what was she going to do for a follow up? She was reportedly offered over a dozen studio projects, including a few Marvel movies, but turned them all down. Instead, she decided to make a brutal and uncompromising ‘rape and revenge’ movie set in Tasmania during the early 1800’s. It is called The Nightingale and it came out a few months ago. Nobody went to see it. Critics mostly ignored it or reviled it. And the few critics who did champion it did so very quietly. To a certain extent, this is understandable. The Nightingale is not an easy movie to like or even to sit through. It’s overflowing with rage and feels like a savage howl at the sky. But it’s also one of the most powerful, moving films of 2019 and we all should have given it more attention.

It’s easy to see why the movie didn’t even come close to getting half the amount of attention that The Babadook did. Horror fans are often a narrow-minded bunch and if their new favorite writer/director isn’t making a straight up horror film next, they’re more than likely to give it a pass. Then there were all the reports of walkouts and boos when the film premiered at the Sydney film festival. Kent was surprisingly understanding about the reaction, saying that people have “every right” to walk out and that she understood why so many of the film’s scenes were considered too upsetting to watch. Here’s the thing though: Scenes or movies that are too ‘disturbing’ to watch are often so because they treat violence or rape as something to be exploited, gawked at, or, in the worst cases, as something titillating. Take the way Game of Thrones frequently used rape as shorthand for character development. Or the way Lars Von Trier used brutal violence as nothing more than pure provocation in The House that Jack Built. Or the way most kill scenes in horror films are set up as a joke, with people’s guts spilling out as the punch line. These things are difficult to watch, sure, and an argument could be made that they sometimes have artistic merit. However, what’s even more difficult to watch is a movie that dives headfirst into all the implications, emotions, and consequences that come from situations like the ones presented in The Nightingale. This film doesn’t remove itself from any of its grim subjects. Instead, it actually deals with them and engages with them in a way that is probably ‘too real’ for a lot of viewers. Full spoilers for the film are going to follow. This is not a movie one should tip toe around.

 

The Nightingale begins in Austrailia in the early 1800’s, when Tasmania was struggling as a British Penal Colony known as Van Diemen’s Land. We meet Claire (Aisling Franciossi), an Irish convict who works as an indentured servant for Lieutenant Hawkins (Sam Claflin). She is married with a young child. Hawkins has promised to give her freedom but keeps dangling it in front of her like a cat toying with a mouse. She has a beautiful singing voice, which earns her the titular nickname, and frequently performs for visiting army men. One night after a performance, Hawkins takes her into a room, berates her for asking about her freedom, scolds her for not being grateful to him, and rapes her. The next day, Hawkins is passed over for a promotion. He visits her cottage with two of his underlings. All three torment she and her husband, using mind games and status to display their power. After her husband tries to fight back, they kill him. As the baby wails, one of the men crushes its head against a wall. Then they rape Claire again. And again. She is left for dead.

 

This all occurs within the movie’s first thirty minutes. And yes, it is A LOT. It is more than understandable that people walked out. These scenes are disturbing on a deeply profound level and to call them ‘triggering’ barely even does justice to the term. Part of the reason they are so disturbing is because of Kent’s perspective. I couldn’t help but recall one of the more dreadful moments in Game of Thrones when Ramsay rapes Sansa and the camera focuses on Theon’s reaction to it. Such a move serves two purposes: 1. It softens the blow by removing the audience from the visceral intensity of such a violent act and 2. It reveals that the creators do not actually want to follow through on what such an act would mean for Sansa. It’s about how the sympathetic and flawed man reacts to it, not about how the victim reacts to it. Kent wisely keeps her focus on Claire the entire time, highlighting her pain and violation in a way that almost makes the audience feel as if it is happening to them. You can practically feel Kent’s rage radiating off the screen. I wonder how many rape scenes she has watched that put the perspective on the attacker or observer rather than the victim. She is clearly tired of and sickened by such immoral creative choices and chooses instead to demand the viewer actually reckon with these violent acts rather than distance themselves from them. It’s a lot to ask of the audience, perhaps too much, but it’s also honest about violence in a way that most pieces of art would either shy away from or avoid entirely.

 

 

Once Claire is able to move again, she sets out on a path of revenge. There is no processing, no tears, no pleas for justice; there is only righteous anger that she needs to direct at her attackers. We venture into very uncomfortable territory here because now would be the point that many viewers would no doubt critique Claire’s choices. They would say things like, “well, she should do this” or “she should do that” which I believe is dangerous to say about someone like Claire. Her reaction to the attack is entirely her reaction, not yours, not someone elses, and certainly not society’s idea of how a victim should behave. Claire can behave and react to her attack in any way she damn well pleases. We don’t get to hold the moral high ground here and tell her how she should react. All we can do is watch her actions and try to understand them from her perspective. Kent and Franciossi pulls this off beautifully. Kent trusts her performer to display all of her anger through steely glances, body language, harsh wordplay, and howls of rage. And Franciossi never flinches, never asks the audience to put their own thoughts on her. She simply charges forward without thinking twice. There’s something purifying in her anger.

This is also the section of the movie where Kent reveals that she is playing a deeper game. She could have easily made a movie about sexual power dynamics and how they sadly have not changed much in hundreds of years while tossing in undercurrents about the have’s and have not’s and the movie certainly pulls all of that off. But Claire needs a guide to lead her through the wilderness to find her attackers. She chooses an Aboriginal tracker named Billy. And we learn that Claire is an unrepentant racist. She tosses vile terms in his direction as if they are accurate descriptors and treats him as less than lower class, more like a thing she can simply command. Is this because Claire is a product of her time? Of course. But that does not prevent Kent from making this aspect of the character any less ugly. And it becomes clear that Kent is interested in different levels of power and privilege and how they can make monsters of us all. As Billy, first time actor Baykali Ganambarr has his own demons to rage against. He’s oppressed and violated just as Claire is but there’s a wide gulf between them that their culture will not allow them to cross. As they get to know each other, their dynamic softens a bit but not in a grand, melodramatic way where they wind up embracing halfway through the movie. As the narrative continues, they both simply begin to understand that they have a common enemy and would be stronger together than apart.

 

Now about those common enemies: if there were anyone on the planet happy about The Nightingale’s total lack of impact, my guess would be it’s someone from Sam Claflin’s PR team. As the completely irredeemable, vile, and terrifying Hawkins, Claflin is almost too good. In a way, there’s a level of bravery in his performance similar to Franciossi. The actor takes his good looks and weaponizes them. There’s no detachment in his characterization. He jumps into the role headfirst, allowing himself to look ugly without ever appearing ‘cool’ or ‘badass’. He’s helped greatly by Kent’s view of the character. In addition to being a vile monster, he’s a bad solider and a pathetic whimper of a man: the kind of guy who believes he deserves a promotion only because he’s ‘good enough’ for one. Titles are something owed to him, not something he ever should have to earn. He believes himself to be better than anyone and feels no need to justify his actions because those who are on the receiving end of his violence are barely even people to begin with. He’s the most biting social commentary in the film and an unforgettable villain in his own right. I, for one, will be hard pressed to ever be able to view Claflin as anything else.

His underlings, played by Damon Herriman and Harry Greenwood, are also sharp critiques of male weaknesses that are all too often celebrated as attributes. Herriman is the idiot of the three, a man so stupid he can barely clean himself but because he follows orders and defends his superiors, he gets to advance. Greenwood is a little more complicated, being the only one of the attackers with any form of a conscience. But still, he’s the one who kills the baby and he does so because he’s the personification of weakness. His boss told him to do it so he had to. And that’s that.

Greenwood is also the first attacker Claire catches up with, in a scene so harrowing it somehow manages to equal the raw power of the early violence in the film. She shoots him in the leg, disabling him, but then her rifle jams. They struggle for a bit before she is able to plunge a knife into his chest. Then she plunges it in again. And again. And again. And again. Kent shoots this action in horrifying close-up until his chest is so brutalized it barely looks human anymore. It’s not dissimilar to the way a lot of the violence in movies like Saw is shot, which makes one wonder if Kent is criticizing audience’s desire for bloodlust. But she doesn’t stop there. Greenwood lingers for a bit, murmuring and whimpering. He speaks one final word, “mother”, a pitiful, desperate plea, before Claire bashes his head to mush with the butt of her rifle. Billy stumbles on the aftermath and asks, “What did he do to you that made you do that to him?”

 

 

This scene represents the movie’s turning point. Up until here, Claire has been focused on killing her attackers and nothing else. After the horrible, disgusting violence of this sequence, she begins to lose her interest in vengeance. It’s as if she has realized that revenge is a zero sum game. The scales cannot be balanced and justice will not be served. There is only more violence and horror to create. It’s at this point that she begins to process what happened to her in a series of dreams and visions that make her call into question who is the attacker and who is the victim. Beyond that, what makes these sequences so moving is that Kent understands on a very deep level how difficult, nigh on impossible, it is for a person to process the type of violence that Claire has gone through. And this is especially true of a woman in Claire’s time. There are no trauma centers, no therapists, no police who will listen to her, no friends to back her up. All she is left with is her own thoughts and they are far from pretty. The trauma she has gone through is a part of her that she has to figure out some way to live with, no matter how forever changed that life will now be. The rest of the movie beautifully chronicles the painful process of living with and accepting violence as part of your DNA.

Kent does not offer easy solutions but instead presents the audience with two curious scenes of catharsis. Claire confronts Hawkins at his new post, in front of all of his superiors. She calls him out for his actions and his superiors appear to believe her, at least in the moment. It’s a release for her but one that also feels somewhat empty. She has said what she wanted to say and her voice has been heard but is that going to change anything? The movie does not appear to think so. After she leaves, Claflin sits right back down at his table as if nothing happened. I think what Kent is representing here is this as Claire’s first moment of self-actualization, with many more to come. It’s not a moment of finality, but one of beginning. The healing process has begun.

But then Kent undercuts the scene with a second version of traditional catharsis. Billy, enraged by the further depraved actions of the remaining soldiers, tracks them to the room they are staying at and kills them both, sort of unceremoniously. The level of violence that’s been on display for the previous screen time of the movie is lacking here. Yes, he uses a spear to kill them both and it’s certainly violent but it plays more like traditional movie violence: fast and loud. Claflin dies quickly, without much suffering at all. And then Billy and Claire flee to a beach, where they will presumably be caught and arrested by the cavalry, if not outright killed. Upon first viewing, I was puzzled by this choice on Kent’s part. It’s how a standard ‘rape and revenge’ movie is expected to end, with the villains dead and the heroes victorious, but it felt so empty. And it seemed to completely toss aside Claire’s earlier moment of power. However, I think Kent is making a larger and more affecting point with this conclusion.

 

 

First of all, I’ve barely scratched the surface when it comes to the character of Billy. An entire post far longer than this one could be written about him. And what I think Kent is getting at is that simply because one person’s rage has subsided, that does not mean that another person’s rage has. Billy’s anger is just as righteous as Claire’s and he does not possess the ability nor does he have the privilege of processing his trauma in the same way she does. All he can do is kill. Because that’s all he knows and all he’s been taught. It’s also a pointed conclusion in the way it negates Claire’s previous moment of triumph, as if Kent is saying: you can have your moment but that doesn’t mean anything has changed and it certainly doesn’t mean that all of your work is done. The violence and trauma that Billy and Claire have gone through provides no answers, no conclusions, no helpful platitudes that will guide them on where to go next.

They stand on the beach. Billy watches the sun rise and chants a tune that brings him comfort. Claire wipes the tears from her eyes and begins to hum. They stare at the horizon, hoping it will bring some form of change or maybe burn away their pain. But we know it won’t. The Nightingale ends on a moment of ambiguity. We don’t know what the future will bring for these two people but we can assume it won’t be sunshine and roses. It may sound dispiriting but there’s something revelatory and freeing in the way Kent refuses to supply any easy answers or present any profound moments of genuine growth. Sometimes there isn’t room for any. Sometimes all you can do is trudge forward and howl at the sky.

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Best Films of the Decade http://popchomp.com/best-films-of-the-decade/ http://popchomp.com/best-films-of-the-decade/#respond Tue, 31 Dec 2019 21:32:40 +0000 http://popchomp.com/?p=3850 With the decade coming to a close, I decided to take the time and make a list of my choices for the 20 best films of the past ten years.  20 films for 2020 was kind of the idea.  Of course, this is entirely subjective and just felt like a fun thing to do.  I’ve included some links to reviews by professional critics who are far smarter than me and can hopefully convince you to check out some of these movies if I failed to sell them properly.  I also included a few honorable mentions at the end because I like a lot of movies! Without further ado, here are my choices, starting with my pick for the best movie of the last ten years:

1. Ida

 

I’ve thought about this movie every day since I saw it, and that was quite a few years ago now. Pawel Pawlikowski’s lyrical drama about a young nun confronting her past appears simple and straightforward on the surface.  It clocks in at a scant 82 minutes, contains minimal dialogue, and little in the way of major plot developments.  Underneath the surface though, this is a film with greats wells of emotion and a righteous anger towards historical atrocities and the systems that support them. As the title character, Agata Trzebuckowska leaves a striking impression despite not appearing to do much of anything at all.  This is a woman who has grown up in isolation, trusting and understanding only the conventions and rituals of her religious order.  As she travels the stark countryside with her Aunt (Agata Kulesza, in a devastating performance), the camera takes long moments to simply stare at her face, allowing the viewer to share in her wonder, disillusionment, and confusion about the world she is confronted with.  The black and white photography makes the landscape and places she visits seem alien and mysterious even if they are somewhat banal in reality. Her journey is a universal one, fraught with revelations about the past that make her question her resolve while deepening her understanding of her place in the world.  There’s a quiet moment towards the end of the film that remains one of the most unadulterated illustrations of pure joy ever captured on film.  And the conclusion, with Ida refusing to go with the current and instead choosing to forge her own path forward, is both profoundly moving and incredibly well-earned.  The film is also hauntingly gorgeous with shots of such stellar composition you just want to cry.  This is a film worth revisiting over and over again and one that is well-worthy of your attention if you’ve never seen it.  As film critic Dana Stevens wrote in her review for Slate, ” The truths this young nun and her aunt discover in the Polish countryside are terrible, but the journey they undertake together to unearth those secrets is hauntingly beautiful. Take it with them.”

 

2. Brooklyn

 

Part fable, part coming of age story, part romantic comedy, and all charm, John Crowley’s Brooklyn is the kind of populist entertainment that we could use a lot more of nowadays.  It also cements Saoirse Ronan’s place as one of the finest performers of her (or any) generation.  There’s a lightness to the tone of Brooklyn that most films would struggle to create but feels effortless here.  The film deals with heavy subjects such as immigration, loss, and displacement but never loses its light footing.  Which is not to suggest that it dismisses any of those subjects either.  Granted, this is a narrow look at immigration that offers an upbeat perspective on the process that many would not share today.  Still, the idea that moving to another country does not have to be as harrowing or tragic as most think it would be is an idea worth embracing.  Vince Mancini summed up the films’ main thesis in his review for Uproxx: “Emigration is hard, but not tragic, liberating, but not without sacrifice, and at a certain point, inexorable”. Beyond that, there’s all the little pleasures the movie has in store for the viewer, from Emory Cohen’s warm performance to the hilarious dinner conversations that occur at the boarding house where Ronan’s character lives for most of the narrative (I would have watched a whole movie set at that dinner table).  It also has one of those grand, upbeat Hollywood endings that feels perfectly placed and genuine rather than cynical and calculated.  I would hug this movie if I could.

3. The Handmaiden 

 

Park Chan-Wook’s The Handmaiden is so deliciously entertaining it almost feels like a crime. There’s not a dull moment in its near three hour run time.  Ostensibly a lurid melodrama about  con artists, the wealthy elite, and decadent rituals, it has its roots in pulp fiction as much as the more stately period novel its loosely based on.  It speaks about class issues without ever talking down to the viewer, melds traditional romance with indescribable passion, and has such a wickedly clever and dark sense of humor there are moments when all you can do is gawk at it.  It also functions as a superbly entertaining mystery, with so many secrets and clever plot twists it’s difficult to keep up with all of them.  The camera sweeps through the South Korean countryside and mansions that the characters navigate with reckless abandon, creating a distinct feeling of otherworldliness.  It should have won all the Oscars when it came out and illustrates that many South Korean films are making ‘classical’ but modern Hollywood movies far better than anyone in Hollywood actually is. Not without controversy, the movie was criticized by some for its sex scenes which many found to be exploitative.  I think they’re missing the point but I’m going to leave the last word to the New Yorker’s Jia Tolentino who pointed out that, “Sex is an essential tool in each character’s deception—but the women, unlike the men, are wrenching themselves toward self-actualization.”

 

4. You Were Never Really Here

 

Despite having only made four feature films, Scottish director Lynne Ramsay is an absolute master and You Were Never Really Here might be her finest work and most impressive tightrope act.  A brutal deconstruction and criticism of the “lone badass wolf seeks revenge” type of movie that gets churned out by the system every other day, the film also manages to be a deft and touching exploration of trauma and loneliness.  Joaquin Phoenix has never been better as Joe, a hired gun who specializes in brutality and whose gruff exterior masks a deep seeded sense of isolation and despair.  Usually these types of characters are presented as the essence of ‘cool’ but there is nothing cool about Joe.  It’s a pleasure to watch Ramsay and Phoenix point out just how profoundly disturbed these types of guys would be in real life while still treating the character with great empathy.  Ramsay handles violence beautifully, hardly ever showing the action but lingering on the disturbing aftermath.  There’s also a role reversal at the film’s climax that is just pitch-perfect.  But perhaps the most impressive thing about the movie is how economical it is.  Ramsay apparently hacked the thing to pieces, cutting out any scene or shot that didn’t add to the overall narrative, and the result, as film Sheila O’Malley said, is, “a taut and almost unbearably intense 90-minutes, without an ounce of fat on it. Ramsay doesn’t give you a second to breathe.”

 

5. Mother

 

Bong Joon-ho’s films defy easy categorization and Mother is no exception.  As a thriller, its relentlessly tense and disturbing, with shocking reveals lurking around every corner.  As a study in class differences, its ferociously angry and still all too topical.  However, it works best as a character study with the focus squarely on Kim Hye-ja’s unnamed title character.  A widow living on the edges of the lower middle class with a mentally disturbed young son to take care of, this is a portrait of the type of person movies so rarely focus on and it’s quite a welcome change of pace.  This woman seems unassuming and somewhat anonymous at first but once her son is arrested for murder and co-erced into signing a confession, years or repressed rage and determination comes rising to the surface of her personality turning her into an unstoppable force to be reckoned with.  As the late great Roger Ebert said, “So much depends on Kim Hye-ja’s performance as a remorseless parent defending her fledgling. Likely she has spent years helping her clueless son escape one dilemma after another, and now she rises to the great occasion of her life.” As she doggedly searches for the truth, Bong Joon-ho’s film pulls off one last great trick with the final reveal, transforming the narrative from a deep character study into a dark mediation on the depths people will go to in order to protect the ones they love.  It’s a movie that piles on idea after idea and when the hauntingly beautiful final shot dances onto the screen, our minds are still reeling.

 

6. Elle

 

The most shocking thing about Elle–a movie made up of almost only shocking things–is how deceptively complex and nuanced it is when talking about such taboo topics as rape and consent.  Any movie that starts mid-rape is going to be provocative at the very least and exploitative at the very worst.  But director Paul Verhoeven and lead performer Isabelle Huppert are asking the audience to go with them on a dark and twisted journey through the corridors of sexual power dynamics.  They provide no easy answers and ask difficult questions meant to make viewers uncomfortable.  Huppert’s character does not behave as a traditional rape victim and the movie asks you to engage with her reasoning and logic rather than rail at her for not doing what you would do in the same situation.  I’m going to let Sheila O’Malley once again speak on the very complicated and troubling ideas the film is dealing with.  When discussing a moment late in the film when Huppert’s character is turned on by sexual violence and her partner becomes disturbed, O’Malley writes, “He’s almost turned off by her sexual agency. And that, ultimately, is the most cutting observation in “Elle,” and Verhoeven’s aim is accurate and deadly. Men not knowing what to do with a woman who wants sex and knows how she wants it, men needing to be the “top,” always, threatened by a woman taking the “top” role (not in sexual positions, but in attitude) … well. These issues have been with us from the beginning of time, and won’t be solved overnight. But “Elle” is one of the smartest films about consent I’ve ever seen.” That a film as disturbing as Elle is also manages to be funny and even moving at times is a testament to how well Verhoeven and Huppert handle the material.  And despite him being behind the camera, I believe most of the film’s success is due to Huppert.  She’s a performer who makes you work to understand what’s going on behind her eyes, who gives nothing away easily but is totally in command of the screen.  It’s incredible what she can do with the twitch of an eye or a subtle shift in body language.  Not every performance needs to spell everything out for the viewer.

7. Little Women

 

Greta Gerwig’s revisionist and thoroughly modern take on Louisa May Alcott’s classic novel works both as a revitalization of the story while retaining everything that made it such a crowd-pleaser to begin with.  Every performance is stellar but I think it’s Florence Pugh who steals the show as Amy, the sister long thought of the most frustrating of the March family.  The scene where she confesses to Laurie that she is not as talented as she once hoped she’d be is so quietly devastating it deserves applause.  Pugh also gets the film’s biggest laughs and gets to show off the most range as she chronicles Amy’s journey from self-absorbed and jealous to caring and content.  The empathy Gerwig affords to Amy applies to every character in the piece, making much of the film feel like a warm embrace straight from the heart.  The ending of the film is already causing think pieces to pop up all over the internet (here’s the best one I’ve read, from Caroline Siede of the AV Club) and whether or not you like Gerwig’s choice is somewhat immaterial.  What it deftly illustrates no matter how you feel about it, is that this is a rich text that deserves a new and updated adaptation every twenty years or so.

 

8. Roma

 

Alfonso Cuaron uses Roma as a means to chronicle the history of his country while looking back on his childhood without nostalgia and from the perspective of someone he always knew but maybe never understood.  This is the kind of autobiographical work that would come off as hollow and selfish if it weren’t so wise and empathetic.  As Cleo, the hard working maid at the center of the film, Yalitza Aparacio, does something similar to what Isabelle Huppert does in Elle: she betrays nothing.  There is hardly a second when she is not on screen and very few moments where we can pinpoint exactly what she is thinking. She is never presented as a magical figure, as a shining example of an ‘other’, or as some sort of epitome of grace.  There’s the lingering sense that she is completely trapped in her role as caregiver to the family she serves and is maybe only breaking out of it at the very end.  Writer Slavoj Zizek has an interesting take on the film’s climactic moment after Cleo saves the children from drowning and is embraced, calling it, “a moment of false solidarity if there ever was one, a moment which simply confirms that Cleo is caught into the trap that enslaves her”. You can feel Cuaron’s palpable sense of guilt at having figures like Cleo in his life and taking them for granted.  Is his film an apology or a celebration? I think it’s neither and works better as a stark portrait of the kind of a life that most people never even think about.

 

9. Zootopia

 

I’ve heard many criticisms that Zootopia’s take on racism is too simplistic and reductive to be truly effective.  I understand that and agree in some ways but also think that a children’s movie even attempting to handle such a complex topic is commendable and worth celebrating.  Beyond that, Zootopia is a triumph of world building.  The sequence where Hops takes the train into the big city for the first time should be shown in film classes as the shining example of why the insistence that movies should “show and not tell” is 100% accurate.  Zootopia is fun without being silly and trivial, smart without being condescending, and manages to create a fully realized world in a manner that seems completely effortless. If you’ve dismissed this one out of hand, I cannot recommend enough giving it another shot.  After all, as the movie says, try everything.

 

10. John Wick

 

If You Were Never Really Here is the sharp deconstruction of the cool anti-hero, then John Wick is the righteous celebration.  Nothing wrong with that when the movie is this well-done and performed.  Keanu Reeves has long been an under appreciated movie star (IMO) and has found the role of lifetime here, one that highlights his strengths while kicking all of his weaknesses to the curb.  Watching the 55 year old plow through action scene after action scene like a 20 year old dancer at the top of their game is nothing short of exhilarating.  As film writer, Angelica Jade Bastien said in her review of the second film, “Cinema was created so Keanu Reeves could wear a fine black suit and slice through people with the same grace as Fred Astaire.” To say I agree is a grotesque understatement.  The John Wick films are also slightly more nuanced than most people give them credit for, offering an interesting and fatalistic look at the world of these hyper violent assassins while acting as a quiet advocate for the process of grieving in peace. Their aesthetic is also gorgeous, with bright colors and stunning visuals lurking around every frame. These are high art films very cleverly disguised as low art.

 

11. Bridesmaids

 

I’m still annoyed by the way Bridesmaids was marketed as “The Hangover for women”. First of all, no. Second of all, The Hangover is terrible and should be shot into the sun (I haven’t seen the sequels but go ahead and shoot those into the sun too). And finally, NOPE. For me, Bridesmaids is the comedy of the decade.  It’s ferociously funny, very warm, and imminently rewatchable.  Love the entire cast but think it’s Maya Rudolph who steals the show.  Wish Kristen Wigg would write more scripts.

 

12. The Counselor

 

Writer Cormac McCarthy’s first original Hollywood script is lyrical, poetic, and completely insane.  His characters are so verbose they barely even seem to understand what they are talking about.  But if you can get into the rhythm of the words, The Counselor is a rich and haunting text that acts as the definitive illustration of the idea that ‘crime doesn’t pay’.  It also features terrific performances all around and career best work from Cameron Diaz who somehow manages to be a bigger ham than Javier Bardem while still creating an intense, terrifying, and fascinating character.

 

13. Suspiria

 

Speaking of lyrical, poetic, and completely insane, we come to Luca Guadagino’s reimagining of the horror classic, Suspiria.  Very much it’s own thing, it uses the Dario Argento film to craft a gory and grim piece of work that sees the horrors of history as mirrors for supernatural madness.  There’s a lot going on in Suspiria, perhaps too much, but there’s something to be said for a film charging ahead and spilling blood all over the place before ending on a scene of quiet revelation and acceptance of pain for its two main characters.  And those dance sequences are, forgive the pun, absolutely spellbinding.

 

14. We Need To Talk About Kevin

 

And we’re back to Lynne Ramsay once again.  Her adaptation of the terrifying novel about a mother struggling to reconcile with her son after he commits terrible acts of murder, is one of the most disturbing films ever made.  Ramsay does not shy away from the idea that the mother (perfectly played by Tilda Swinton) is somewhat responsible for her son’s actions.  In fact, she embraces the idea, creating two main characters who are broken at their core and are left to pick up the pieces of the horrible damages they leave in their wake.

 

15. Spring

 

Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead have made a career out of crafting small, humanist horror films that use the genre as a means to explore social issues like addiction, romance, sibling rivalry, and the perils of dating.  Spring, a romance/horror hybrid, that follows the early excitement of a relationship and then starts navigating the differences between two people that make it so difficult for relationships to last, is their masterwork.  Beautifully acted, gorgeously shot, and one of those movies that reaches the final moment and you say to the screen, “oh please end right now, this is the perfect last note” and it does.

 

16. It Follows

 

The concept of It Follows, that an STD can take physical form and move from person to person, is so good by itself that writer director David Robert Mitchell could have made a mediocre movie and simply gotten by on the strength of the premise alone.  Instead, he made a masterpiece that is terrifying on a pure entertainment level while also being a stunning and dreamlike look on how weird and transitory that first summer after High School is.

 

17. Short Term 12

 

Brie Larson has had quite a decade but Short Term 12, her breakout film, might still be her finest work.  As the young supervisor for a group home of troubled teenagers, she is as forceful and in command as she is quiet and reserved.  The relationship she strikes up with a troubled girl, played by the always great Kaitlyn Dever, serves as the heart of the film but there’s so much to admire here.  Writer director Destin Daniel Crettin creates a world that feels fully lived in and wonderfully observed.

 

18. Young Adult

 

It takes a lot of courage to be as nasty and unpleasant as Charlize Theron is in Young Adult and still expect the audience to follow you along for the ride.  Theron pulls it off.  Her character is one of the most thoroughly despicable protagonists to grace the screen in recent memory but Theron fills her with just enough humanity that we can stomach it.  The same goes for the whole movie which sees director Jason Reitman and writer Diablo Cody pulling off the best work of their career to create a comedy that gives a big middle finger everyone and everything while ripping every expected convention of a movie like this to absolute shreds.

 

19. Columbus

 

Writer director Kogonada’s first feature is one of the most meticulously crafted films I’ve ever seen.  The camera hardly ever moves, allowing each shot to fill up with glorious space while taking in the breathtaking architecture present in the title town. It’s a moving and tender portrait of two lost people (Haley Lu Richardson and John Cho) using architecture as a means to combat their grief and inner turmoil.  If it seems simplistic as a narrative, that’s only because stories of genuine personal growth and positive change sometimes need room to breathe in order to gain their full impact.

 

20. Dragged Across Concrete

 

S. Craig’s Zahler’s Dragged Across Concrete is a piece of work overflowing with hatred, a movie that seems as if it was baked in the worst attributes of 2019 and then came out of the oven as a perfectly formed distillation of every horrible idea celebrated by the trolls of the internet. Remember how Joker got everyone riled up? That movie is Sesame Street compared to this.  And unlike JokerDragged Across Concrete actually deals with the controversial ideas it brings up, letting its main characters say hateful, misogynistic, and racist things without ever patting you on the back for condemning them.  It’s a very difficult movie to like but one that is impossible to ignore.  That it also works as a pure crime drama is a testament to Zahler’s skill as a director.  It’s a film that’s stunningly cruel, featuring moments of violence so shocking and off-putting, there were several times where I needed to take a break.  Writer Karen Han of Slate addressed the film’s cruelty quite well when discussing the aftermath of the film’s most brutal scene: “How cruel, and how unnecessary—but the world, as Zahler sees it, is cruel, and he knows exactly how to communicate that. And everyone gets their due in the end. That said, as much as I think of Dragged Across Concrete, it’s absolutely not a movie I’d go out of my way to recommend to … anyone else.” I’m with her on that but I cannot deny the film’s raw power.  And I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least mention Mel Gibson’s performance, which is frustratingly good.  Gibson is not a guy I’d like to see again on my screen anytime soon but as someone who grew up watching the Lethal Weapon movies, it’s fascinating to see him and Zahler suggest that a guy like Martin Riggs would turn into the character Gibson plays in Dragged: bitter, lonely, reckless, selfish, and all to eager to solve every problem with violence.

And because I don’t feel like ending on such a sour note, here are a few honorable mentions, films that didn’t quite make the list but came damn close:

Nocturnal Animals is lurid, stupid, empty, meandering, reviled by most critics, and absolutely gorgeous to look at. I loved every second of it.

Whiplash is still one of the most nerve-wracking movies I’ve ever seen and lord does that ending stick the landing.

Arrival features Amy Adam’s best performance in a career made up of only great performances.

Cloud Atlas is achingly sincere, narratively insane, and completely involving.

The Babadook is one of the scariest movies ever made and a shockingly good look at a toxic mother and son dynamic.

Colossal, a movie that features Anne Hathaway controlling a Godzilla type monster, is wildly entertaining and a terrific examination of toxic masculinity.

Midnight Special is a great sci-fi road movie proudly in the tradition of John Carpenter’s Starman and about as good.

Midsommar is hilarious and terrifying in equal measure with another great performance by Florence Pugh. It really was her year.

The Farewell is so honest and heartfelt and they need to close the Best Supporting Actress category and just give the award to Diana Lin. She’s GREAT.

The Hunter is a surprisingly tender adventure film with career best work from Willem Dafoe.

The Master is sort of the epitome of Paul Thomas Anderson.  I mean that as a compliment.

The Favourite is as deliriously entertaining as The Handmaiden and perhaps even funnier.

Support the Girls features two great performances by Regina Hall and Haley Lu Richardson and that final shot might be the greatest howl ever put on screen.

Spotlight is shockingly entertaining for such dark subject matter and so righteously angry that all you can do is shake your fist with the same sense of rage.

And finally, T2: Trainspotting is the rare sequel that builds upon the original without ever relying on it as a cloying attempt to recreate the same magic.

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REVIEW: The Death of Stalin is the Perfect Black Comedy for These Cold, Hard Times http://popchomp.com/review-the-death-of-stalin-is-the-perfect-black-comedy-for-these-cold-hard-times/ http://popchomp.com/review-the-death-of-stalin-is-the-perfect-black-comedy-for-these-cold-hard-times/#respond Wed, 14 Mar 2018 19:04:43 +0000 http://popchomp.com/?p=3835 Early on in Armando Iannucci’s The Death of Stalin, Nikita Khrushchev (Steve Buscemi) barges into the apartment of Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov (Michael Palin). He informs Molotov that Stalin (Adrian McLaughlin) is dead and plans to release Molotov’s wife, who’s been suffering in captivity at the hands of the sadistic Lavrenti Beria (Simon Russell Beale). Despite the fact that Khrushchev screams into Molotov’s face that “Stalin is dead,” Molotov remains loyal to the ex-Despot and maintains that his wife is a “traitor” and a “parasite.” Just as Molotov is smearing his dearly beloved out of respect for Stalin, Beria himself strolls into Molotov’s dwellings accompanied by Molotov’s wife, safe and sound (in a way). This scene is one of the many standout moments that mark The Death of Stalin as one of the funniest, sharpest, and darkest comedies of the last several decades. I haven’t consistently laughed throughout an entire film in the cinema since…The Grand Budapest Hotel? The Guard? Four Lions?

The stroke that ultimately struck Stalin dead occurs towards the beginning of the film. Naturally, a doctor is needed. Unfortunately, all of the Soviet Union’s finest doctors are either dead or rotting away in a gulag because Stalin believed they were all trying to poison him. As a result, the only remaining doctors are rounded up — or literally picked up off the streets in one case — to examine him. While all this transpires, Stalin’s closest minions, from Khrushchev to Beria to Deputy Secretary Georgy Malenkov (Jeffrey Tambor), are already plotting to usurp each other to rise to the rank of Stalin’s successor. However, there’s always the possibility that Comrade Stalin will suddenly wake up, recover, and liquidate them from existence, as he was wont to do.

If this story were told as an Oscar-bait® drama, The Death of Stalin would be unwatchably grim. The fact that Iannucci manages to make a film this uproariously funny from beginning to end about Stalin’s goons is a stroke of genius. Further, to avoid that most onerous and patronizing of Hollywood cliches, Iannucci allows every actor to speak in their natural speaking voices, the one glorious exception being Jason Isaacs playing General Zhukov as a Yorkshireman. His performance is a riotous riff on his needlessly psychotic Redcoat in the unintentionally hysterical Mel Gibson vehicle The Patriot, and his performance is one of the major standouts in this extraordinary cast.

Partly thanks to the lack of Hollywood “foreign” accents, all of the performances feel real; nobody is “acting funny” despite the petty squabbling and pervasive murders in the background. Andrea Riseborough as Stalin’s savvy daughter Svetlana is particularly powerful in keeping the comedy grounded in the grim realities of the dictatorship, while Olga Kurylenko is excellent as Soviet pianist Maria Yudina, who stands stoically in the face of this dreadful regime. As expected, Michael Palin is just as hilarious as he was in the halcyon days of Monty Python. Casting him as Molotov in the first place reminded me of something John Cleese once said: that Michael Palin is so “lovable” that “it wouldn’t matter if you cast him as [Nazi Party Chief] Martin Bormann.” Indeed, it’s difficult not to feel sympathy for Palin’s Molotov, yet his performance also recalls the darkness in his extraordinary work in Brazil and A Fish Called Wanda.

But it is Simon Russell Beale as Beria who leaves the strongest impression. I defy of the Academy-Award® nominated actors of this past year, including Mr. Day-Lewis (no offense Hungry Boy), to pull off Beale’s harrowing yet hilarious portrayal of one of Stalin’s most despicable henchmen. Beale’s Beria should go down in cinematic history as one of the best villains of the movies. In fact, I’d like to launch a Kickstarter to crowdfund his Oscar campaign right now. If you’re interested in sorting out the boring details, please inquire below.

As a comedy writer, Armando Iannucci has delivered some of the finest and funniest comedy shows you’ll ever see, among them The Day Today, I’m Alan Partridge, The Thick of It, and more recently, Veep. As a film director, though, Iannucci has developed his craft significantly since his debut feature In the Loop, a spin-off of The Thick of It. Iannucci makes tremendous use of location despite limited resources, and he feels more confident with composition and framing. With his second feature, Iannucci has staked his claim as one of the few genuinely great comedy directors working in cinema.

That the poster refers to the film as “a comedy of terrors” is apt because it is precisely this perfect balance of horror and humor that makes The Death of Stalin such an exhilarating and entertaining experience; Christopher Willis’ superb score adds an extra layer of menace to the proceedings. Just when you think Iannucci might step over the line, he pulls back. Just when you think he’s going to cop out, he goes all in. At no point are the genuine horrors of the Stalinist regime downplayed or ridiculed. What is mocked, however, is the abject insanity of these duplicitous goons vying for their slice of the post-Stalinist pie like a drove of pigs diving into a toxic trough. (Minor Spoilers Ahead) Perhaps the most chilling example involves Beria’s impromptu trial for a variety of heinous crimes. Wisely, Iannucci doesn’t play the scene for laughs. In fact, the audience — all howling along with me throughout — was mostly silent during this moment. If any humor is to be derived from this scene, it’s in watching these moral cowards acting shocked, shocked that Lavrenti Beria was the psychotic scumbag they all knew he was.

Humor this dark will never appeal to everyone. After all, I still see the occasional article questioning the “good taste” of Mel Brooks’ 1968 classic The Producers, a satirical masterpiece that finds humor not in the atrocities of the Nazis but in the madness that drove them in the first place. However, I’ve always remained steadfast in my belief that there is tremendous to be had in dark humor when it’s executed properly. It’s difficult to keep one’s head above water when every new headline feels like another hole blasting through the rusted iron of the sinking Titanic. Thus, we need comedies like The Death of Stalin now more than ever. To hell with The Interview; this is how you make fun of dictators. If you can’t laugh at the perpetual of the global powers-that-be, then what the hell can we laugh at?

In short, this film is so funny that Vladimir Putin banned it. Arise, mass consumers, and make The Death of Stalin the hit it deserves to be!

Currently playing in select cities, supposedly to expand but I don’t need to remind you of the state of movie theaters in 2018. Ask your theatres if they’re not showing it!

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Columbus and the Space Between Things http://popchomp.com/columbus-and-the-space-between-things/ http://popchomp.com/columbus-and-the-space-between-things/#respond Wed, 07 Feb 2018 06:13:02 +0000 http://popchomp.com/?p=3818 A few years ago I was going through a rough time.  I was feeling lost and overwhelmed.  A friend offered me a meditation technique to help center myself whenever that pit in my stomach threatened to cripple me completely.  I’d never thought much of meditation but was willing to try anything.  I was told to take a very careful, measured look at my surroundings.  Let’s say I was in an office.  I would take a deep breath and calmly take in every object in the room.  There’s the computer, there’s the door, there’s the wires connecting the computer to the wall, there’s the mug on my desk full of pens and pencils, there’s the keyboard, there’s the desk, there’s the papers I haven’t filed yet, there’s the phone.  You get the idea.  After taking everything in, I would then focus on the spaces between  the objects.  We are surrounded by so many things all the time, be they man made or natural, that it’s difficult to notice just how much space there still is around  us.  Sounds a little cheesy, I know.  But try it some time.  You’ll be shocked by how much empty air there is for you to breathe in.  And if you’re like me, you’ll be comforted by it.

I thought of this while watching Columbus for the first time.  Here is a movie about two lost people who struggle to find meaning in the spaces around them. Jin (John Cho) arrives in the town of Columbus, Indiana because his father, a famous architect, has fallen into a coma.  To say that his relationship with his father is troubled is a bit of an understatement. Jin harbors  a great deal of resentment for a man who always cared more about buildings than about his own flesh and blood child.  As a result, Jin has little more than contempt for his father’s work.  Casey (Haley Lu Richardson) has lived in Columbus her whole life and is deeply drawn to it’s unique architecture. She should be in her sophomore year of college but has elected to stay home to take care of her mother.  She works at the library and is encouraged by friends to go to school or  move on to bigger and better things.  She tells them all she needs to stay and look after her mom.  She’s rehearsing to be one of the town’s many architecture tour guides.  She sees Jin at the hospital and, being an admirer of his father, strikes up a conversation with him.  What follows is an hour and a half of Richardson and Cho walking around Columbus, looking at buildings, and talking about their lives.  That’s it.  That’s the movie.

Or perhaps I should say that’s the surface of the movie.  A synopsis that no doubt makes it sound like Garden State by way of Lost in Translation.  But Columbus is better, wiser, and deeper than both films (especially Garden State).  This is a film that lives in the empty spaces.  The writer and director is a man named Kogonada, a former video essayist turned filmmaker.  He has a great love for exquisite framing and a a keen eye for detail.  He never wastes a shot.  In fact, the camera hardly ever moves.  Most shots are stationary, observing every element in the frame and allowing the characters to wade through them.  When the camera does move, it’s for a clear purpose.  The first time it happens is when Jin and Casey meet.  And it’s not a showy event.  The camera simply follows them as they talk, casually suggesting that their meeting is the first step in both of them moving forward with their lives.

 

In the hands of a lesser filmmaker, their relationship would be cringe-worthy.  After all, it’s such a cliche: an older man arrives in a place that feels alien to him and finds hope  by starting a romance with a young woman.  We scoff at movies that present crap like that as some sort of profound catharsis. And we should.  Columbus isn’t that movie though.  Jin and Casey form a connection, yes.  They are forever changed by their encounters, yes.  There is some sort of charge between them, yes.  But neither character is ever exploited for the sake of the other.  And they aren’t drawn to each other for some trite romantic reason.  For Jin, Casey is someone who gives him insight into the world his father lived in, which he completely rejected.  For Casey, Jin is an outsider she can share her insights with.  An outsider who doesn’t judge, doesn’t live in her world, and is more than a little eager to gain some sort of appreciation for the work his father was so obsessed with.  These two are drawn to each other not because of a desire for romance but because of a deep yearning in both of them for some sort of anchor.  The space around them is big and they need to grab on to something.

There are two key characters that further elevate the material.  Casey’s mother (Michelle Forbes) is presented as a good, hard-working person with a lot of problems.  Casey makes dinner for her, makes sure she gets to work on time, and spends her evenings checking up on her for reasons the movie eventually make clear.  She doesn’t want her daughter to stay in Columbus forever but she also has no idea what she would do without her.  Jin must contend with his father’s longtime assistant (Parker Posey), who worships the man Jin despises.  She calls Jin out when he brings up Casey, instantly questioning his intentions and reminding him that he had a crush on her so many years ago.  That scene and a scene very late in the film between Casey and her mother (which I cannot spoil) are so steeped in shared history, so fully lived in, and so well constructed that it’s damn near impossible to watch them and not applaud.

 

The central arc of both main characters is clear from the beginning.  One needs to stay and one needs to go.  And in a simpler film, both would make their choice while coming to terms with their own history and moving one in some big, grand, beautiful way that wraps up everything in a nice, neat bow.  But the fact of the matter is, life isn’t like that.  You can be angry at your parents forever and never reconcile with that fact.  You can make a hard choice to change your life, the right choiceand still be utterly torn up about it.  At one point, Jin admits that he hopes his father dies.  A more average film would have him realize how awful that is to say and make him change his mind.  Columbus doesn’t bother with that.  He feels this and he knows it’s ugly but if he’s ever going to actually deal with his father’s role in his life, then he has to acknowledge that love and hate are often opposite sides of the same coin.  Same with Casey.  Neither character gets to “come to terms” with their parents or “move on” from the past.  The past is always going to be there and sure, they can and will  move forward but not without going through incredible emotional turmoil.

The ways the film acknowledges these truths are ultimately what make it so uplifting.  So many movies teach us to expect clear lessons, obvious messages, and straight paths to enlightenment.  It’s the rare movie that says, “Hey, life is very, very hard and you need to be aware of that.  You don’t need to reconcile with that fact.  You don’t need to come to terms with it.  And you don’t need to be okay with it.  But you need to keep moving forward. Especially when it’s hard.  It won’t feel great and you’re probably not going to get a catharsis.  But you can try to look for one.  You can keep searching.  And maybe that search is all you need.”

 

When I’m looking at the spaces between objects, I often feel like I’m on that search.  I’m looking for a sense of peace and if I can even find it for 30 seconds, that’s a win.  But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to struggle.  It doesn’t mean I’m not going to find despair lurking right around the corner.  And it doesn’t mean that I’m going to find that peace permanently.  But I’m happy to look for it.  So are Casey and Jin.  The most marvelous scene in Columbus occurs early on.  Casey takes Jin to a bank, the first modernist bank in America, as she describes it, and starts explaining the building to him like an automaton.  “Wait”, he says, “Tell me what you like about this building.” She thinks for a second, the camera pulls back, takes her in from the window, and silently observes as her whole body language changes.  We don’t hear a word she says about the building but her passion shines through.  In that wonderful moment, Casey is living in the space between things and we get to be right there with her.

 

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What I From Video Games in 2018 http://popchomp.com/what-i-from-video-games-in-2018/ http://popchomp.com/what-i-from-video-games-in-2018/#respond Wed, 03 Jan 2018 13:35:21 +0000 http://popchomp.com/?p=3798 Now that the dust has settled and a giant crystal ball has slowly descended into Times Square, it’s time to look forward to 2018. While 2017 was an absolute circus on Earth, video games had one of the greatest years in their existence. There were so many amazing games to play by year end, that we simply couldn’t play them all (like this!). As we venture into any New Year I tend to think about my hopes and dreams for the next 365 days or so.

 

Nintendo’s Continued Success With Switch

When the Switch debuted Nintendo fans were filled with cautious optimism. After the WiiU’s failure we weren’t sure what to think. Nintendo’s hybrid console released in March and has had one of the best opening years that I could think of! My hope is that it continues to soar. So far there is a collection of games coming out in 2018 that certainly will help the console stay relevant in it’s sophomore year: Bayonetta 1-2, Yoshi, Kirby, Wolfenstein 2, Project Octopath Traveler. If we’re lucky enough to get a new Pokemon on Switch in 2018, then it may just be the necessary push to keep the train running. I don’t think we’ll get Metroid Prime 4 in 2018, but there’s always a glimmer of hope.

 

Spider-Man Is GOTY Material (If It releases on 2018)

I love Spider-Man, he’s been my favorite superhero since I was very young. I grew up completely lost in the Marvel Comics Universe with Spidey being the webbing that kept it all together. While his stories are sometimes amazing, his games, sometimes, are not…. He’s had some highs and lows, but few games were ever as good as Spider-Man 2 (2004) and that game hasn’t aged well. When I found out Insomniac Games (Ratchet & Clank) was developing the next Spider-Man game I LOST MY MIND. They make incredible stuff and their unique take on weapons and gear has the potential to turn this game into a masterpiece.  Everything I’m seeing from this game is no short of looking Amazing, Spectacular, or Sensational (Web?). It’s time for Spidey to get his “Arkham” game and if this title releases in 2018, it’ll hopefully be a dream come true. 

 

Dragon Ball Fighter Z Begins a Conversation….This is an ABSOLUTE PIPE DREAM

There’s a new Dragon Ball fighting game coming out from Arc System Works and Bandai-Namco called Dragon Ball FighterZ.  It’s a fast-paced 2.5D fighting game that happens to look like watching an episode of the anime. It looks ridiculous and I trust the ASW pedigree of Blaz Blue and Guilty Gear.

Wow…I can’t wait for this in late January.  Now…you may see where I’m going with this but…This game is published by Bandai-Namco; a company that has a great working relatonship with Capcom. Capcom is famous for developing some of the greatest fighting games on the planet. Most notably in this situation, they’ve developed what they call The “Vs.” series. Capcom characters have battled Marvel, Tatsunoko, and Tekken over the past 20 years. So…being that Bandai-Namco has had the DBZ and Shonen Jump licenses…I think it’s time for Jump All Stars vs. Capcom. DO IT FOR ME PLEASE!! I want to make a tag team with Goku and Ryu!!!

Mega Man 11 is Good

Yep, I’m really pumped for Mega Man 11. I’m going to buy a physical copy and if it comes with artwork, music, or a coffee table book it’ll just take all my money. It’s great to see that Mega Man’s overall awesomeness is finally being recognized by Capcom again, because the blue bomber was shelved for far too long. My excitement is somewhat hidden behind a veil of concert or caution. The gameplay footage shown late last year shows a game that looks fun, but there seems to be some issues with the animation. I know the game’s like a year out, but I’d like to see it  cleaned up and looking less like the travesty that was Mighty No. 9 (that game stunk).  Mega Man 11 has to be good or the character might be buried for another decade. That does NOT rock. I hope that Capcom has their business together and knows what we all want! I’m going to celebrate 2018 by playing through every.single.game just in time for MM11 to hit my PS4 and Switch…yeah I’m buying two.

 

Red Dead Redemption 2 Doesn’t Steal All My Money

Yippee Ki-Yay, Microtransactions! Quick look up any news article on the Internet about Star Wars Battlefront 2 or just Google “lootboxes”. I’ll wait, we’re good. I’m going to get another cup of tea because I’m exhausted. Nah, It’s fine, this is what life is like after 30. Ok you’re back. YEP, some of the biggest gaming-related topics of the year involved “pay to win” purchases, lootboxes, and microtransactions. The worst offender was Star Wars Battlefront 2, but Disney stepped in and made sure that stuff cooled down nicely. These microtransaction-based conditions made the Internet lost its collective mind and EA was forced to make some changes. Microtransactions will eventually win though, and I hope Red Dead Redemption 2 isn’t the title that makes them reign victoriously over our bank accounts. Not because I won’t buy anything…because I know that I’ll empty my bank account to make my cowboy look like a ninja-pirate-robot or the Man in Black from Westworld. Do I expect RDR2 to be awesome? Yes. Am I afraid of how much I may spend on it? More so. RDR is in the top 10 games of its generation and I hope its sequel follows suit, no matter how much I have to pay.

 

More 8 Hour Games That Cost $40

Yep, that title is confusing, but hear me out despite my inability to use the English language properly. 2017 had no shortage of 50-100 Hour long games. It’s often pretty awesome to get caught up in a deep gameplay experience, but sometimes I need a break. Zelda, Persona 5, Xenoblade, Skyrim, Final Fantasy XII Remastered, are just a selection of incredibly long games in 2017. It felt like running a marathon only to be immediately rewarded by running a 2nd marathon. Luckily, Uncharted: The Lost Legacy (Read my review) was released in 2017 and we could catch our breath. With a $40 price tag it helped to slow the never-ending cash hemorrhage we’d grown accustomed to.  Uncharted: The Lost Legacy takes about 8 hours to beat and I finished it over a weekend. I love finishing games, it makes me feel good about my choices in life, so being able to pay $40 and play a game for 8-10 hours? Sign me up. I want more game companies to take this path and create some quick-but-engaging experiences that don’t need as much of a time or monetary investment.

 

Also God of War comes out in 2018….

Those are the hopes and dreams that I have for 2018. Feel free to share some with me too? Comment on the link on Facebook, or send me a message. Happy New Year Folks!

 

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The Best Games of 2017 http://popchomp.com/the-best-games-of-2017/ http://popchomp.com/the-best-games-of-2017/#respond Fri, 29 Dec 2017 19:38:52 +0000 http://popchomp.com/?p=3772 Each year we like to celebrate the best. The best TV shows, the best Movies, the best lunches. We love celebrating what we consider to be the greatest achievement in any medium for the year. Games should be no different! These are the my picks for the best games of the year! With very little time to spare….

 

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Nintendo’s 2017 was one of the greatest years I’ve experienced as a lifelong fan. Firstly, the Switch is here and ready to rip. All concerns about the first year of its release were easily alleviated after Nintendo expressed their plans: New AAA releases each month, coupled with dozens of independent games on the E-Shop. There’s almost TOO MUCH to play on Switch in 2017. To kick this party off is The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild which just so happens to be one of the greatest Zelda games (and greatest games) ever made.

Anyone who’s played Zelda over the past decade or two knows that the LOZ formula was tired. 3 pendants unlocks a world in which you have to collect 8 more macguffins, you fight Ganon, and you save Hyrule. While I love Zelda, I have to admit that the series needed a massive overhaul. Nintendo EPD and Hidemaro Fujibayashi fly in for the rescue with a new Zelda that has a more global sensibility and a desire to return to what made Zelda, Zelda.

Breath of the Wild was built to focus on the open nature of the first Legend of Zelda leaving it up to the player to choose what to do. Very little information is given and we’re encouraged to explore with almost NO tutorial hand-holding. After the excessive training wheels in Twilight Princess and Skyward Sword this change was welcomed with open arms. Where BOTW succeeds fully is in conveying real wonder for the player as you can go anywhere and do anything, but the game trusts you enough to figure it out. The map is massive loaded  with countless collectibles and leagues of terrifying enemies. Breath of the Wild introduces verticality as well. Being able to climb everything adds a certain element that most open world games are missing, actual depth. Many open world games feel flat, but BOTW combats this by allowing you to climb every mountain or walk for days to reach your goal. Let’s just not talk about the Blood Moon…ok….

In classic Nintendo fashion The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild was able to give us something old, new, borrowed, and blue. All open world games moving forward will have to look at BOTW for inspiration.

 

Doki Doki Literature Club  

I wrote about this game in my last post, but Doki Doki Literature Club is definitely one of my favorite gaming experiences of 2017. Sadly, due to me wanting to keep this post spoiler free, I can’t say much about the game outside of it being one of the most unique and original experiences I’ve had in years. The game surprised me and caught me off guard. As a jaded, 30-something gamer…that’s a rare find. It’s also FREE and worth your 3-8 hours of gameplay!

 

Cuphead

While plenty of games looked amazing in 2017, few were as stylish and original as Cuphead. Studio MDHR delivered its take on the “Devil’s Bounty Hunter” trope with the wackiness of 1930s cartoons. They designed a game that would fit in with Depression Era Fleischer Bros. or Disney cartoons.  Most amazing about Cuphead was the amount of work that went into producing this modern masterpiece. See these animations….

THESE WERE ALL DRAWN AND PAINTED BY HAND ON PAPER! The amount of love and care that went into creating Cuphead is astonishing. The game is pretty great as well. Cuphead is most similar to the Konami Classic, Contra, or SNK’s Metal Slug; and while the game looks completely different, it plays like the best of the run-and-gun platformers of the 8 and 16 bit era. Cuphead is also tough, easily the hardest game I played in 2017. While it’s incredibly difficult, victory never fully feels like it’s out of your grasp. Cuphead is beautifully funny with a great sense of humor, but I can’t finish this blurb without talking about audio design. This game sounds as amazing as it looks. It’s got a fully orchestrated soundtrack, so as you traverse the world map you feel like you’re in Disney World. As you fight bosses, you hear some good, dirty jazz fill the room.

Cuphead proves that indie games can accomplish amazing things and that real creativity is still out there.

 

Persona 5

While we’re talking about art design, let’s look at Persona 5, the coolest game of 2017.  Persona 5 exudes everything I wish I was: A cool anime character in a cool anime Tokyo, who just so happens to make contracts with demons so he can save the eternal souls of his friends. P5 is dark, moody, relaxed, and beautiful. While flashy anime characters bombard your screen a cool, jazzy-pop OST pushes the mood, you’re cool, be cool, and do cool stuff.

Y’know, plenty of people thought the JRPG was a dying breed and that turn-based games had no place in modern gaming, Persona 5 proves them wrong. The JRPG is alive and well, and boy will it beat the crap out of you with its Demon buddies. While P5 does have some classic anime tropes, it isn’t afraid to tackle some mature themes as well. Suicide, abuse, sexism, are just some of the issues presented and addressed in this game. While it may not always handle them with the most care, it’s definitely good to see that games are willing to handle aspects of life that often go unmentioned. After the insanity that has been 2017, it’s good to see that games are addressing these topics through their own methods.

The gameplay follows series’ traditions as a solid turn-based JRPG. You also get to live out a year in the life of a teenager in Tokyo.  You’ll have a job, make friends, go on dates, and stay out too late slaying demons (or getting them to join you). Persona 5 was a joy to play…all 100+ hours of it.

 

Resident Evil VII  

Capcom still has some gas in its zombified tank. Resident Evil VII is a new RE for a new generation of gamers while not leaving behind series diehards. Resident Evil VII owes a lot more to its progenitor than the more recent releases as seen through its dedication to horror. I always felt like RE lost its way with 5 and 6, only to regain its direction with VII. The first 3/4ths of RE VII is a refreshing homage to survival horror, a genre Capcom invented in 1996. You’ll be scared, you’ll use item boxes, save on cassette tapes, solve puzzles and feel like you were in “The Mansion”. If only that mansion was populated by and undying family of maniacs. There is something reminiscent of The Texas Chainsaw Masascre about REVII.

The switch to First Person may feel off putting for some, but the series hasn’t felt this good in 12 years.  This new orientation for RE adds the horror back to this series. A key aspect that has been missing for quite some time. Resident Evil VII is SCARY and that’s a GOOD THING!  As Resident Evil 4 reinvented the genre and series in 2005, Resident Evil VII does the same in 2017. This is a great game that may have been missed due to how great 2017 has been for video games.

 

Horizon: Zero Dawn

In today’s video gaming climate, we don’t get too many games willing to take some risks. Horizon brought us a new IP from Guerrilla Games (Killzone) that represents how the company has grown past its FPS roots. Horizon is one of the most beautiful games I’ve ever seen. You can see how much time and love was devoted to its design. Sometimes you just need to stop and soak it all in, let the game breathe a little.

Horizon is a wonderfully crafted open-world game, and while it does suffer from some of the tropes of the genre, it’s unique feel and design allow it to stand out. Guerrilla Games also crafted a wonderful lead in Aloy. She’s a complex person with real, emotional depth, without sacrificing her collection action-heroic abilities. Ashly Burch delivers a real and honest performance and my favorite of the year.

Horizon was a big gamble, and it paid off. It’s great to see a new IP that feels so perfectly original.  More companies need to take these risks to deliver more original experiences. Also…robot dinosaurs…c’mon.

 

And my Game of the Year?

 

Super Mario Odyssey

Did you seriously think that a Mario game wouldn’t win this? Super Mario Odyssey was the cherry topping the 100 scoop sundae that was Nintendo in 2017. Yes, that cherry is the size of a softball and its Maraschino juice is just oozing with nostalgic grace and modern freshness. Mario Odyssey is the best Mario game to come along since 1996, and I’d argue to say it surpasses 64 in a few aspects. The world needed an open playground Mario game and Odyssey delivered on all cylinders. I don’t care that I’m mixing up metaphors…this game is that good.

Mario had been moving through some changes over the past few generations. After Mario 64 totally changed the landscape in 1996, it would make perfect sense for Nintendo to continue with that formula for quite some time. Their focus changed when Super Mario Sunshine underperformed and forced the Big N to readdress their flagship series. After Sunshine we saw Nintendo take some chances by releasing two Mario Galaxy games that didn’t quite feel as open as 64, while still being amazing in their own right. The Big N supplemented those with 2D Mario releases in the New Super Mario Bros. series, they were fun, but there was still something missing. Super Mario 3D World was a nice touch, but it wasn’t there yet.

Let’s go on an adventure, shall we? Mario hops in what appears to be a spaceship and travels to a collection of new kingdoms. These kingdoms allow us to run wild and find fun and interesting ways to collect coins, more coins, and power moons. The Power Moons work just like power stars or shine sprites, there are just ONE THOUSAND of them…yeah…there are 999 moons in Super Mario Odyssey. There is so much you can do and so much you need to do. Odyssey takes you on a journey with each kingdom being more charming than the last. The first run through the game can be conquered fairly shortly, in about 10-15 hours or so, but by “finishing” the story you unlock hundreds of other moons to collect in previous kingdoms.

Mario Odyssey is everything perfectly Mario. It’s colorful bounciness showcases how fun and odd this trip is for gaming’s greatest icon. The cap-possession mechanic is one of the coolest spins on Mario’s ability to get powerups throughout his adventures. No need for a fire flower if you can literally become a Fire Bro.

Super Mario Odyssey pays great respect and homage to Mario’s legacy while finding ways to feel fresh and new. It is a beautiful game and it encourages the player to venture out and discover a plethora of fun collectibles. It’s the perfect 3D platformer and I hope we get to see more of this game moving forward.

Ultimately, Super Mario Odyssey is JOY 100% pure JOY and my favorite game of 2017.

I hope you all had a great 2017! Have a very happy New Year and play some games!

 

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