Review: Blonde

Image courtesy of Netflix.

If director Andrew Dominik's "Blonde" was aimed at ruffling some feathers - well then, mission accomplished. Reactions to the bleak and often punishing two-hour-and-45-minute epic have varied from ecstatic (well, there are at least a few of those) to visceral hatred. For those seeking a film that captures the magic of Norma Jeane Baker - a movie star who combined magnetic star quality with superb comic timing - suffice it to say: This is not it.

That being said, while "Blonde" - which is based upon the Joyce Carol Oates novel of the same name - is very much a flawed picture, it's also one of interest. No, everything in it doesn't work - it's entirely too long, it often reduces Marilyn Monroe to victimhood and little else, several of the sexual exploitation sequences border on luridness, and its final 30 minutes seem to be channeling David Lynch, but in this case not to the film's benefit.

One key thing to keep in mind is a word I used earlier: Novel. While some of the hinted-at biographical details in the picture - yes, it's been said that Joe DiMaggio (played here by Bobby Cannavale) engaged in physical abuse while married to Monroe and, yes, it's entirely possible that President John F. Kennedy Jr. had some sort of dalliance with the actress - are rooted in truth, Dominik's film is more about dissecting a myth and focusing - almost solely - on that person's pain, and how they were used by a system that propelled them. Whether that should be the film's laser focus is another question entirely.

The film's opening sequences - which are the most compelling from a visual standpoint - play like a horror film and that funereal atmosphere never quite fades away during the entire course of the picture. Young Norma Jeane (Lily Fisher) lives with her mentally ill mother (Julianne Nicholson) in tight lodgings somewhere in Los Angeles in the early 1930s. The girl is told by her mother that her father was a Hollywood star but - not surprisingly - Norma Jeane never gets to meet him. 

The scene's best sequence comes early. Norma Jeane and her mother travel in a vehicle through the Hollywood Hills amid one of California's raging wildfires, and they are told repeatedly by a policeman to turn back. But no, Norma Jeane's mother wants to continue on toward the blaze - a mantle that her daughter will take up again and again in her life. The scene is a frightening vision of hell and feels like something pulled out of Dante's "Inferno."

After Norma Jeane's mother is deemed no longer fit to care for her daughter - an attempted drowning will do that - the girl is whisked off to an orphanage. We cut to some years later, and Norma Jeane - now going by the name Marilyn Monroe and portrayed by Ana de Armas in a stunning performance in which teardrops seem to be permanently stained on her face - is now making her way through Hollywood. In a particularly dispiriting moment, she auditions for the film "Don't Bother to Knock," gives an intense line reading, and is criticized as acting like a mental patient, that is, prior to a studio executive reducing her allure to the curvature of her backside.

For close to three hours, Marilyn suffers. She has to sleep with lecherous old men to get Hollywood gigs, DiMaggio beats her, two early male friends (Evan Williams as Edward Robinson Jr. and Xavier Samuel as Cass Chaplin) act like they are good friends only to later betray her in multiple cruel ways, and others don't take her seriously. Although playwright Arthur Miller (Adrien Brody in a solid supporting performance) is the most sympathetic man in her orbit, even he questions where she heard a bon mot she drops in a conversation about his play for which she's auditioning, comparing a character to another in a Chekov play - as if she couldn't have come up with the thought herself.

Needless to say, "Blonde" is a grim affair. But that's not to say it's a bad one. Some might accuse it of misogyny - and I wouldn't completely discount such accusations. This is an instance in which intent will be disagreed upon. Despite some ill-judged responses to recent interview questions about the film, I don't believe Dominik is playing the role of a sadist here. The men in the film are mostly loathsome and Marilyn - despite being portrayed as a victim throughout, while also mostly leaving out what made her presence so unique - is undoubtedly a sympathetic character, which is greatly due to de Armas' stellar work.

Dominik is a filmmaker of some considerable skill - his "Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" is a masterpiece, while his "Killing Them Softly" is a solid crime drama with higher aspirations - so I don't believe his intention here was to make a disreputable film that slags one of moviedom's brightest stars.

At the same time, there are some miscalculations. One is the considerable amount of time spent on fetuses in Monroe's womb, whose voices taunt her after she goes through an abortion or two. I don't believe the film is making any sort of anti-abortion statement here - the torment seems to come from the fact that Monroe wanted a child but various circumstances, most of which were awful, got in the way of that - but the continuous return to the fetal shots are oddly unnecessary. The vaginal POV shot was also, um, a bit much.

It's in the final 30 minutes that the picture really starts to slip. Despite being relentlessly bleak, the first two hours are often visually resplendent, extremely well acted and, for lack of better phrasing, consistently interesting. But starting with a completely ludicrous - and absurdly lewd - sequence in which Monroe visits JFK at the White House, the film starts to become less effective. Almost as if it doesn't know how to pass the time until we get to Monroe's death, it just piles on the misery and drug abuse. De Armas is certainly impressive in how committed she is to the role, but the film gives her little to do other than suffer.

And yet despite all this, this is a movie I could recommend to those who I'd deem as interested in the medium of cinema. No, I wouldn't suggest this film to the casual viewer or those who might want to see a glamorous depiction of old Hollywood. This film plays like a nightmare - and for the first two hours, it mostly held me in its grasp, regardless of whether I found the entire endeavor to be necessary. 

It's a flawed picture but one with a whole lot of talent on display. Whether that talent is well utilized will likely be a source of debate, but "Blonde" - if nothing else - is a good showcase for its leading lady. Some will say that Marilyn Monroe deserved better than this - and that's true. She deserved a whole lot better in general. "Blonde" may not do her talents justice, but it certainly makes you feel her pain -  and, as such, it's a gut punch.

Review: Don't Worry Darling

Image courtesy of Warner Bros.

Olivia Wilde's sophomore feature, "Don't Worry Darling," may only be intermittently compelling and its creepy spell begins to wear off once we've figured out exactly what's going on, but I'll say this for it -  it looks fabulous, from the retro clothing and set design down to the gorgeous, shimmering imagery. Despite a twist that is eerie in its timeliness, the film has some gaping plot holes, an explanation that won't hold up to scrutiny and narrative choices that borrow heavily from better movies.

As the film opens, Alice Chambers (Florence Pugh) is a housewife in a suburban desert town somewhere in the west in what appears to be the early to mid-1960s. She lives an existence similar to every other woman on her perfectly-designed street: She makes her husband, Jack (singer Harry Styles), breakfast and sees him off as he drives his convertible to work in single file with all of the other men and has a cocktail in hand ready for him when he arrives home in the evening. 

But something seems off. The men all work for a mysterious organization known as the Victory Project, which they keep top secret from their wives - and the women seemingly don't think to ask what it is they actually do. However, Alice does just that after another housewife - the only Black one in the community - seemingly loses her mind and eventually commits suicide in front of Alice.

Alice begins to question their existence, especially after seeing a plane crash and the driver of her trolley acts passively about it. In all honesty, the plane crash is never quite explained and acts as an odd transition for Alice's eyes being opened to the nefariousness of the Victory Project and its cult-like leader, Frank (Chris Pine). As Alice begins asking questions, the men pass her off as hysterical and even her best friend, neighbor Bunny (Olivia Wilde), distances herself from her.

There are some compelling concepts at play in "Don't Worry Darling" - for example, men trying to control every aspect of women's lives and men not believing women when they tell them that their lives are in peril - that feel especially prescient, considering the current national mood. Also, the gorgeously styled visuals and exquisite set designs go a long way to make up for the film's trouble spots.

Ultimately, the good doesn't quite outweigh the not-so-great in "Don't Worry Darling." When you finally realize what's going on in the film, it's less of a revelation and more of a question whether the filmmakers couldn't have come up with a better twist. There are echoes of other - and in some cases, better - films here such as "Vanilla Sky" or "The Stepford Wives." 

Also, while I'm not a stickler for over-explaining complicated plots, the twist in "Don't Worry Darling" leads to a whole lot of questions that probably have no enlightening answers. The more you scrutinize what is going on in the picture - especially once you know its secret - the less sense it makes. 

This is a film that is often great to look at and one that introduces some interesting concepts - especially in regard to the freedom of women to decide their own fates and make their own choices - but it ultimately doesn't know how to make them cohere into a satisfying whole. The film gets points for trying, but it's not quite successful in its endeavors. 

Review: Moonage Daydream

Image courtesy of Neon.

Brett Morgen's "Moonage Daydream" is less your typical music bio documentary about an incredible artist and more an attempt to capture its subject's essence through sound and vision. As such, it's an almost otherworldly experience for much of its running time before settling into some more familiar documentary beats in the final 30 minutes. 

Personally, I preferred the original approach - which is an aural and visual feast of old movie clips, psychedelic imagery, David Bowie concert footage, archival stock footage of all manner of things and some images that border on the unexplainable and felt seared into my brain.

Morgen's approach is an ambitious one, but it makes sense. There are some artists that can't be explained through a simple talking head-style documentary in which we follow the rags-to-riches rise, fall and rebirth of a musician. Honestly, what would you prefer - people telling us what made Bowie unique or an absolute mindfuck of a movie set to the tune of some of his best music? I'm glad that Morgen chose the latter.

The film has less of a narrative structure than a stream of consciousness informed by images of Bowie dressed in outrageous outfits performing onstage as screaming fans wait for him outside of auditoriums, and visual clips of everything from his childhood to surreal visions and clips from both films in which he starred - Nicolas Roeg's essential "The Man Who Fell to Earth" and Nagisa Oshima's "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence," for instance - to others than clearly influenced him (everyone from Bunuel and Bergman to Kubrick and "The Wizard of Oz" are visually name checked).

Rather than throwing around dates or seminal events, the story is mostly told in order by the music. Although it kicks off with a stunning montage to his lesser-known 1990s song "Hallo Spaceboy," the music of Bowie informs us as to which era we're in, whether it's his "Ziggy Stardust" and "Aladdin Sane" years, his groundbreaking work in Berlin - "Sound and Vision" makes a joyous appearance, and we get a terrific live version of his incredible "Heroes" - or his later, pop-influenced work in the 1980s.

For a movie that involves little talking about the artist by others, this is a film that actually unveils quite a bit about its subject. Interspersed throughout the phantasmagoric audio-visual onslaught are a handful of interviews in which Bowie tells us quite a bit about himself through suggestion - for instance, that his constant creation of work (music, film, painting, etc.) are a form of therapy, or that the outrageous personalities he created early in his career (Ziggy, Aladdin Sane) are extroverts providing cover for a deeply introverted person.

Bowie's nomadic nature - he travels, seemingly alone, to everywhere from Vietnam to Africa in search of artistic inspiration; and his much-vaunted stint in Berlin, which was meant to be a respite to kick a bad drug habit, resulted in some of his most groundbreaking work - is also of great interest. 

In the film's few interviews, Bowie notes that he wants to connect more with others but his obvious discomfort with revealing much about himself - always a wry interview subject, my favorite is when asked about his childhood, he notes it was "normal" and, when pressed for more detail, he says, "I went to school, I ate" -  speaks of a possible loneliness.

As I'd mentioned, the film's final quarter takes a more straightforward approach, ironically, as it covers his 1980s work, which was more commercial. We get brief mentions of his relationship with Iman and a clip of a commercial he did with Tina Turner - and this section of the film feels a little less daring than its previous sections. 

Regardless, "Moonage Daydream" is a fascinating and unique dive into the aura of one of rock 'n' roll's most original performers, songwriters and personalities. Much like Todd Haynes' remarkable Bob Dylan film, "I'm Not There," it understands that rather than try to explain an artist who can't be put into a box, it allows you to experience their essence and, as such, it's all the better for it.

Review: Pearl

Image courtesy of A24.

In a year full of solid horror movies, director Ti West's "X" remains among the best. Shortly following the release of that film - which follows a film crew making a porno in the late 1970s as it is savagely murdered by a crazy old woman named Pearl (Mia Goth) and her equally wacko husband in rural Texas - it was announced that West had already made a prequel and that another sequel known as "MaXXXine," which will be set in the 1980s, would be next.

The concept of a horror trilogy with indie roots sounded intriguing, especially after the success of "X," so it's disappointing to note that the prequel - "Pearl," which is set in 1918 and focuses solely on how the evil old woman from the first picture became that way - is mostly unnecessary and one-note, despite a committed - and often deranged - leading performance by Goth and some solid period details.

In the film, Pearl is a lonely young woman living on a farm with her overbearing, harsh German mother, Ruth (Tandi Wright), and invalid father. Pearl's husband, Howard (who assists her in her killings in "X") is away due to World War I, so Pearl spends much of her time tending to their farm, but also enjoys sneaking into the town to watch silent films, much to her mother's displeasure.

Pearl dreams of becoming a movie star herself - that is, when she's not stabbing ducks with a pitchfork and feeding them to her alligator "friend" off the dock near her home - but these dreams are sneered at by Ruth, who tells Pearl she is destined to fail. But Pearl sees a possibility of escape when her husband's blonde sister, Misty (Emma Jenkins-Purro), tells her about a dance competition in the town that could lead to the winner being cast in a movie.

Meanwhile, Pearl strikes up a friendship that eventually turns sexual with a cad of a projectionist (David Corenswet), who claims he'll take her to Europe where she'll share his bohemian lifestyle. He also shows her stag films and gets a little creepy when he tells her he'd like to see her star in such a movie. 

Needless to say, as things begin to go south for Pearl and her dreams of escape, those around her pay with their lives. Pearl is a bit imbalanced - and despite the projectionist being a jerk, it's difficult not to share his opinion that Pearl is a bit scary, especially when she screams at people until her eyes appear they're about to pop out.

There are some technical details in the film that make it rise above the typical genre outing - for example, the great use of Technicolor-type visuals and a sweeping, old-fashioned score, although both would be more at home in a 1950s picture, and not so much one set during World War I.

Goth gives a disturbingly effective performance, whether it's during the final shot of her face as she holds a creepy smile that ranks with the best of them, or taking part in a lengthy monologue in which the camera holds closely on her face as she unburdens herself to someone who'll later wished they hadn't offered to lend an ear.

But otherwise, "Pearl" is a mostly by-the-numbers story of how a psychopath became the way they are. In fact, the film plays exactly as one might expect a generic origin story about the killer of "X" might play out. Other than some stylistic touches and Goth's impressive work, this is a movie that seemingly only exists because the filmmakers appeared to have a good time making one film and decided to make another to keep the party going. Alas, it doesn't quite do that. "Pearl" has its moments, but it's not nearly as good as the film that came before it.

Review: Clerks III

Image courtesy of Fathom Events.

The last time I had a positive reaction to one of Kevin Smith's films was "Clerks II." After having seen "Clerks III," that sentiment remains. And this is a shame because even when his forays into horror - "Red State," "Tusk" and "Yoga Hosers" - weren't exactly a successful career detour, a previous return to the well proved to be fruitful.

But as was the case with "Jay and Silent Bob Reboot" - a sequel to a Smith movie that I counted as an early strike-out - banking on nostalgia didn't work as well this time around. Whereas "Clerks II" took a soulful approach to the story of two guys with dead-end jobs who realized that they just really liked spending time together, this third film in the series merely mines for nostalgia by - at times literally - recreating scenes from the original "Clerks" shot-for-shot.

The premise is this: caustic Randall (Jeff Anderson) and beleaguered Dante (Brian O'Halloran) are still at the Quick Stop in New Jersey dealing with the same batch of regulars - Elias (Trevor Fehrman), from the second "Clerks" movie, shows up with a sidekick called Blockchain (Austin Zajur) in a running gag involving costume changes that quickly becomes tiresome - although Dante has had a major life change in that his wife, Becky (Rosario Dawson), has died and pops up randomly as a ghost of some sort to give him life lessons.

Randall has a "widow maker" heart attack - the type Smith himself miraculously survived some years back - and notes that he saw his life flash before his eyes.  "And it sucked," he quips. Dante suggests that Randall should make his own movie, rather than spend his life watching other movies, and an idea to chronicle the happenings of the Quick Stop becomes a screenplay that he decides to turn into a film.

But rather than Randall and Dante's adventures in filmmaking acting giving any further insight into their characters as the previous entry in this series did, "Clerks III" is content with regurgitating scenes - as they are being shot for the movie in black and white - from the original film, almost verbatim. Most of the original cast returns for scenes in which they recreate the past, but there's nothing that wasn't funnier or cleverer the first time around. Jay (Jason Mewes) and Silent Bob (Smith) show up for more antics.

Then, the movie takes a turn for the heavy, and Smith leans into sentimentality. The line "I wasn't even supposed to be here today" is used multiple times in the film's final third, all for different purposes, and the potential for a reflection on mortality is there - especially considering Smith's own life experience - but a sad moment comes and goes, and the film ends up pretty much exactly where the second one left off.

"Clerks III" is a disappointment, but it's also an unnecessary trip down memory lane for nostalgia's sake only. The second film in the series was poignant in exploring the two characters' low-key lives, but it left them in a place of moderate contentment and growth. It would have been fine to end the series there. This latest and - for pretty obvious reasons - final "Clerks" film feels like a regression for the characters and the series. 

Review: Barbarian

Image courtesy of 20th Century Studios.

 

There has been an abundance of uncommonly smart, unsettling and gripping horror movies this year - the highlights include "The Black Phone," "X" and "Watcher" - and director Zach Cregger joins that creepy crowd with his structurally interesting, occasionally socially relevant and often quite eerie "Barbarian."

Set in Detroit - and making great use of that city's vacant, decrepit and forgotten neighborhoods, much like 2015's "It Follows" did - the film settles into an uneasy vibe from the get-go. Tess (Georgina Campbell) is a researcher in town for a job interview with a documentary filmmaker who is making a movie about the burgeoning music scene in Detroit. 

Tess has some bad vibes about the Airbnb she books - it's an unusually charming little home in the middle of a street that looks like it never quite revived after an air raid. But rather than listen to her own good judgment - although Tess' character is likable, especially as the film goes on, she was written to continuously make bad decisions - she decides to stay the night.

She is surprised to find that the Airbnb already has a tenant - a seemingly too-accommodating man named Keith (Bill Skarsgard) who just happens to be involved in the music scene that the woman with whom Tess is interviewing is documenting. Although something seems slightly off about Keith - and the film does a great job of toying with what we believe to be the threat - Tess is warmed by his chivalrous nature, and they strike up a quick friendship.

But upon returning to the Airbnb the next day after her interview, Tess makes a terrifying discovery - a basement that includes a room with a stained bed, video camera, a bucket and bloody handprint on the wall. When Keith returns, Tess attempts to flee, but he insists on checking out the scene himself. Tess returns to the basement after Keith has been gone awhile, and discovers something even more terrifying.

And then we cut to Justin Long's intentionally obnoxious AJ flying down the coast of California in his convertible and getting a call about some bad news - the actor's pilot is being cancelled and the lead actress in it is accusing him of raping her. AJ realizes that his funds are dwindling - he apparently really needed that pilot - and the money he'll have to spend on lawyers will bankrupt him.

He heads to Detroit to take a look at some rental properties he has there so that he can sell them. You'll never guess where one of those properties is located. Once AJ has searched around the Airbnb, made the same shocking discovery in the tunnels under the basement and found himself in, well, a predicament, the film cuts again.

This time, it's to the early 1980s, where we see a creepy older man drop by a store and pick up some items for his wife, who will soon home-deliver a baby. But instead of going home, the man spots a young woman in a parking lot and follows her home, gaining entry under the pretense that he is an electrician checking her house after outages in the area.

Needless to say, all of these stories will come full circle - though the third one is developed just so much to allow it to remain mysterious. It's difficult to discuss much more about "Barbarian" without giving away its secrets, but suffice it to say that Cregger does a great job of ratcheting up the suspense before its bloody finale.

The film could also be described as a #metoo horror movie, from the early scenes in which Tess weighs whether she feels comfortable staying in the Airbnb with Keith - whom she asserts would be able to just stroll in unconcerned if the situation were reversed - to the accusations against AJ, and the dawning realization he has that he might not be such a great guy. There's even a scene in which Tess - who has momentarily escaped from the basement's horrors - tries to convince some uncaring male cops about her situation, and due to her unkempt appearance they don't believe her or seemingly just don't care.

"Barbarian" might get a little over the top in its final scenes - and rather gory too - but it's the sign of a filmmaker showing confidence in his first shot at a studio-backed feature film. The picture might be filled with characters making dumb decisions but - like a handful of other impressive horror movies this year - it's a lot smarter than your average horror movie fare.