Review: Close

Image courtesy of A24.

Lukas Dhont's "Close" - a Cannes award winner about two Belgian boys whose friendship could be described as being "like brothers" or maybe even something more - is a well made and deeply sad story of how societal conditioning can lead to tragedy. 

The film is very well made and acted - especially by its two young leads Eden Dambrine (who portrays Leo) and Gustav De Waele (who plays Remi) - and often gorgeously shot, even if it doesn't know exactly where to go next after a tragic scene occurs about midway through the picture.

As the film opens, Leo and Remi are about as close as friends can be. When we first meet them, they are playing some sort of game and then running through a field - an action repeated in the picture along with the numerous and impressive up-close shots of them riding bicycles - back to Remi's house, where Leo is considered an extra member of the family. The boys sleep together in the same bed and an overhead shot almost portrays them as if they are spooning in their sleep.

What exactly is their relationship? Leo and Remi are at that age where sexuality doesn't quite come into play when examining a close friendship. There's nothing overt in the film to suggest that the boys have sexual feelings or attractions for one another, and yet there's nothing dispelling this notion either. The relationship is kept intentionally vague.

It's not until some boys - probably conditioned by reactionary parents - and even a few girls begin to question whether the boys are a "couple" that things start to go wrong. During a later sleepover, Leo seems more hesitant to share a bed with his friend, and on one particular morning Leo rides his bike to school alone without waiting for Remi. When questioned about it on the playground, Leo's attempts at shrugging it off lead to a scuffle between the two boys.

Shortly thereafter, something tragic occurs - and frankly, it's difficult to discuss the rest of the movie by tiptoeing around it because it informs everything that comes afterward. Suffice it to say that Leo continues to try to move further away from the life he once led, becoming more interested in beefing up his skills on the hockey team, of which he is at this point a member. His teammates - and new friends - are among those who previously questioned his sexuality. 

His relationship with a member of Leo's family becomes a focal point during the final half of the movie. While this relationship yields the most genuinely emotional scenes in the movie, it's also one in which the filmmakers struggle slightly in terms of conveying how the audience is meant to feel about it. After a powerful - and long awaited - confession during a car ride, the other person in the car reacts in a manner that you'd expect in a movie, but this is then followed by a reconciliation. I'm not sure the entire exchange would be handled so simplistically.

But despite this, "Close" is a powerful, sad, and often lovely film to behold. It's filled with gorgeous camerawork - especially, as noted before, the scenes of the boys running through the field or riding their bikes to school together - solid performances, and a warmth that is, of course, later replaced by the melancholic events that follow. 

The film has been embraced by Cannes jurists and critics alike, and it's not hard to see why. This is a moving film that likely speaks to the lived experiences of many people who have been heartbroken or had their lives altered by the forces of social pressure. Even if its final scenes of reconciliation in the face of a tragedy feel a little forced, this is a picture that will likely affect those who experience it.

Review: Marlowe

Image courtesy of Open Road Films.

Some reviews have categorized Neil Jordan's "Marlowe" as old school, while others have complained that this visually stylish throwback doesn't bring much new to the detective story, relying instead on old tropes and cliched story beats. This is all true - and yet, the film is an example of one that takes familiar material and does a good job of presenting it.

If you've seen a dozen other neo noir dramas set in the past - this one takes place in 1939 in Los Angeles - then, yes, you're probably going to guess where "Marlowe" is going and not find too many surprises in its occasionally labyrinthine plotting (the film seems to often be taking its cues from "Chinatown," from a creepy father figure-daughter relationship to the appearance of Danny Huston, who portrays a creepy exclusive club owner and whose director father played a large role in Roman Polanski's 1974 film).

It's also curious that Liam Neeson, who is 70 years old, was chosen for the title role, as Raymond Chandler's private investigator, Philip Marlowe, has previously been portrayed by men who were - at the time - in their 40s or, at latest, 50s. That list includes, of course, Humphrey Bogart, Elliot Gould, Dick Powell, and James Garner.

But regardless of all this, "Marlowe" mostly works. Naturally, it all starts with a married femme fatale, Clare Cavendish (Diane Kruger), coming to him with a job - in this case, it's locating a lothario lover who has gone missing and been reported dead, although Clare claims to have seen him alive and well in Mexico following the reports of his death.

The plot flies off in too many directions to describe, but suffice it to say that Marlowe's investigating leads him to the aforementioned club run by a creepy Huston as well as Clare's mother, a former Hollywood star named Dorothy Quincannon (Jessica Lange, having fun with the role), and a shady underworld figure portrayed by Alan Cumming and his driver (Adewale Akkinuoye-Agbaje).

Director Neil Jordan has never made an outright noir, but he has long dabbled in filmmaking that skirts around the edges of the genre - the criminal figures in "Mona Lisa," the noirish period romance "The End of the Affair," and the classic thriller "The Crying Game." While "Marlowe" doesn't represent Jordan at the top of his game, it's a fun detective movie that has great cinematography and some snappy dialogue that Neeson and others toss off with relish. 

It is beholden to other films of its type from the past five decades - "Chinatown," "L.A. Confidential" and any other number of modern noir thrillers - and doesn't feel particularly original. But any time a film incorporates a figure as iconic as Philip Marlowe, you're probably going to get what you expect story wise. After all, the character has been around for more than 80 years, although this film isn't based on an actual Chandler novel. But not every film has to be wholly original and, in this case, the picture is an example of familiar territory for the most part being handled expertly. 

Review: Saint Omer

Image courtesy of Super LTD.

Filmmaker Alice Diop has made the leap from documentaries to feature films with the disquieting "Saint Omer," a story based upon a court case to which the director was privy in 2016.  The case was tried in the titular French town, where Diop listened to the testimony of Fabienne Kabou - in the film, the character is named Laurence Coly and is portrayed by Guslagie Malanda in a mesmerizing performance composed completely of courtroom testimony - who drowned her infant daughter on the Berck-sur-Mer beach.

However, Diop was mystified by the vague and unsatisfactory answers provided by the woman on trial - in the film, Rama (Kayije Kagame), an author in search of material for her new novel, which is meant to be a modern meditation on the story of Medea, who murdered her own sons, is a stand-in for Diop. When asked why she drowned her baby, Laurence replies that she hopes to find the answer to that question during the course of her trial.

As the film opens, Rama is lecturing to a class on Marguerite Duras - an author and filmmaker whose style is somewhat mimicked in "Saint Omer," from its placing women at the center of the story to the long pauses and silences throughout the picture. We recognize that Rama is a successful author and seemingly has a happy home life.

It's only about halfway into the film that we learn Rama is pregnant, and her ambivalence about it sheds some light as to why she seems so moved by Laurence's trial. The question is whether she's moved more by the infant's death or the plight of the mother, who is referred to as an "unseen woman." Laurence is educated - a teacher who testifies against her smirks as she notes that her pupil wanted to write a thesis on Wittgenstein, but she insensitively suggested that she instead focus on someone closer to her own culture (Laurence is Senegalese; so is Rama).

Laurence lived with a much older, white Frenchman, who testifies that he cared for the baby and was shocked by Laurence's behavior. However, Laurence testifies that he refused to acknowledge to his ex-wife or anyone else that he was involved with her, and he wouldn't claim the baby as his own. Interestingly, Rama is also involved with a white man who has impregnated her, although their relationship seems to be much more stable.

As the trial wears on, Rama comes into contact with Laurence's mother, who appears concerned that Laurence is coming off as arrogant and unfriendly during one particular morning of testimony. Laurence had earlier testified that she'd fled her home country because of her difficulty getting along with her parents. Her mother insisted on Laurence speaking French as a girl and wanted her to assimilate, and Laurence has clearly done so - but what little good it has done her.

"Saint Omer" is a film about the act of listening. Much of the film is set within the confines of the court chambers and a significant amount of the dialogue is testimony. Diop has noted that she wanted to make a film in which we listen to a woman's story - and that's exactly what "Saint Omer" does. It poses questions, but provides few answers. The film's judge appears to want to get to the bottom of what happened - and even shows some sympathy toward Laurence - but she, like audience members, most likely will be baffled by her answers.

While Laurence's case may be incomprehensible - at least, in terms of what happened and why - Rama's presence as a listener is a filter for the audience through which the strange and tragic tale is conveyed. We may have no better sense of why Laurence did what she did by the film's end, but some helpful musical accompaniment by Nina Simone, and a final scene in which Rama seems to find peace in what appears to be a fraught relationship with her mother might provide clues as to what Diop is getting at. "Saint Omer" requires some patience, but it's repaid.

Review: Magic Mike's Last Dance

Image courtesy of Warner Bros.

Less a raunchy stripper movie than a hey-kids-let's-put-on-a-show throwback dance movie, Steven Soderbergh's "Magic Mike's Last Dance" is the first legitimately fun movie I've seen in a year that, so far, has been populated by bleak and gloomy movies. The picture is enjoyable and funny, and although it often plants its tongue firmly in cheek, it takes its implausible scenario serious enough to deliver the goods - in this case, a series of impressive dance sequences.

Set just after the end of the COVID-19 pandemic, "Magic" Mike Lane has lost his furniture business and is tending bar at parties thrown by rich people in Miami. At one such party, he is recognized by a young woman at whose bachelorette party he once performed some years prior. This tidbit is passed along to Max (Salma Hayek), the rich lady throwing the party, and she solicits Mike to give her a dance that, well, materializes into something more.

In a scenario that I'm just sure happens every day, Max tells Mike that she wants to hire him after he gave her a night she won't soon forget - no, not as a gigolo but rather to put on a show at an historic London theater that her family owns. She tells him she wants him to create a performance that will give to other women what the dance he performed for - and on - her gave to her.

Once you've squared yourself away with this fantasy that feels like a reverse "Pretty Woman," the film kicks into overdrive. Mike and Max - during one of the film's best scenes - travel around London and watch street performers do their stuff with the intention of enlisting them for the dance show that Mike is putting together. It will replace a play currently running at the Max's theater, although Mike decides to keep the woman who plays the lead in that performance.

Mike also befriends Zadie (Jemilia George), Max's adopted daughter, and has grudging respect for Max's droll butler, Victor (Ayub Khan Din). While Tatum brings the same amount of charisma to the lead role - and he impressively is one of the few current Hollywood stars who can actually dance - Hayek's character is given equal billing. 

Max is in the process of getting divorced from her controlling British husband, and her project at the theater with Mike is an example of her trying to flex her newfound freedom. It helps that Tatum and Hayek have good chemistry - but it's not just of the romantic sort. The two are also business and creative partners, and the rehearsal scenes in which they spar over the direction of the performance make their partnership compelling.

But ultimately, "Magic Mike's Last Dance" is an old-fashioned dance movie. On that front, it delivers. The final third of the movie captures the show that Mike has put together - which may rival the actual Magic Mike review in which Tatum is involved that is currently performing in London - and it's a spectacle of lighting, music, dance and high energy. There's an especially captivating performance in which Mike and a young woman dance and glide across the stage in a rainy setting.

Soderbergh directed the first "Magic Mike" movie, which was a surprisingly good, raunchy and funny story about the trials and tribulations of a male stripper in Florida. The second "Magic Mike" movie - which was sans Soderbergh - could best be described as a strange male bonding odyssey across the South. 

This latest - and seemingly final - entry, which finds Soderbergh back at the helm, is nothing less than a goofy, charming and entertaining fantasy. It's directed with panache, its dance performances involve great skill and it has two likable leads. Most people attending a screening of the film will go in knowing exactly what they'll get - and they'll get it. The surprises here have nothing to do with plot, but rather how effectively the filmmakers pull it off. 

Review: Knock At The Cabin

Image courtesy of Universal Pictures.

Director M. Night Shyamalan makes a familiar mistake in his latest, the (mostly) chamber piece "Knock at the Cabin," which sees the director once again thrusting a group of characters into a stressful and somewhat preposterous situation - this, of course, involves the fate of mankind - and posing the question of how one would handle such a situation.

There's an interesting setup to be had here - a gay couple, Eric (Jonathan Groff) and Andrew (Ben Aldridge) and their young daughter, Wen (Kristen Cui) - find their weekend at a secluded cabin somewhere in Pennsylvania disrupted when four individuals - second-grade teacher Leonard (Dave Bautista), a former ne'er-do-well (Rupert Grint), a nurse (Nikki Amuka-Bird), and a young mother (Abby Quinn) - show up at their door with some medieval weapons and say they're on an important mission.

The home invaders tell the trio that they have all had visions that the world will end if they - Eric, Andrew, and Wen, that is - don't decide which member of their family they will sacrifice to prevent this, and then carry out the horrific deed. The invaders note that they can't make the decision for them and will not perform the execution. In fact, they begin executing themselves each time the family fails to make a decision, which then seemingly causes disasters - tsunamis, planes falling out of skies, a plague - around the world, at least, according to the news.

Andrew (especially) and Eric (mostly) don't believe these assertions, and Andrew is convinced that the unpleasant visit has something to do with a hate crime perpetrated against them at a bar some years ago. In flashbacks, we see Eric and Andrew discussing their plans to adopt Wen, when a homophobe at the bar asks them to keep their voices down. Andrew basically tells the guy to piss off, and the man breaks a bottle over his head. Still scarred years later - and having developed a righteous sense of anger - he believes the invaders are some sort of fanatic religious group who targeted the couple out of homophobia.

It's easy to take Andrew and Eric's side - not only because they are the victims of home invaders, but also because the prophecies being foretold by the visitors sound nuts. And herein lies the problem with "Knock at the Cabin." Shyamalan often creates scenarios in which ordinary characters must make difficult decisions or find themselves up against powerful and unusual forces - and what tends to make these scenarios compelling (as in the case of "Signs," another secluded thriller that was extremely tense and well-crafted) is how these characters react to these challenges and which elements of their personalities ultimately make them a good fit for combatting them.

Shyamalan has never been shy about his faith - which is perfectly fine - and this often makes its way into his work. "Signs," for example, includes some of this toward its conclusion. In the case of that film, which is genuinely scary and much more thematically resonant, the faith-related issues are woven in in a manner in which it doesn't overtake the narrative. In more recent films - and especially "Knock at the Cabin" - Shyamalan has placed less emphasis on how his characters react to the scenarios in which they find themselves in, but rather on whether they believe what is taking place and, if so, how they will make their choices accordingly.

This, unfortunately in the case of this film, is significantly less interesting than how its lead characters - a gay couple, who are not typically the lead characters in a studio film of this type - react to the challenges they face. The flashbacks of the couple's relationship - and how the attack on Andrew informs his views on the home invasion - are way more interesting than whether Andrew and Eric can muster up the faith to believe that the world is ending or what Leonard and company tell them. And yet, the film aims to drive its suspense with this plot point.

Secondly, the film begins to get repetitive after the first of the invaders is killed by the others - which then unleashes the next of the plagues across the world. By this point, we know where the film is going - and it heads in exactly that direction. The only attempt at a plot twist - which is a Shyamalan signature - falls a little flat late in the film.

Shyamalan's early films - "The Sixth Sense," "Signs," and "Unbreakable" - were well-made, well-written, and thoughtful suspense films with a blockbuster mentality. A majority of his films since then - "Split" had its moments but otherwise had problems - have been misfires for various reasons. "Knock at the Cabin" falls somewhere in the middle of that company. It has its moments, but it focuses much of its attention on elements that aren't nearly as compelling as some of those it mostly ignores. The performances are fine - Bautista does a good job of making Leonard come off as both gentle and intimidating - and it moves quickly enough. But for those hoping for a long-awaited Shyamalan comeback, this isn't it.