Review: Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga

Image courtesy of Warner Bros.

Channeling the spirit of the great Sergio Leone in its dust-covered final 20 minutes, George Miller's "Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga" is a visually stunning and breathlessly paced origin story of a character who managed to steal the thunder of the director's previously most iconic figure - Max Rockatansky - in 2015's acclaimed "Mad Max: Fury Road."

That character, of course, is the titular one - Furiosa (played with ferocity by Charlize Theron in the previous film and by Anya Taylor-Joy this time around), a young woman stolen from her family by a roving group of bandits who becomes one of the Australian Wastelands' most fierce warriors. While I typically find that origin stories can be a bit of a snooze - they mostly reiterate information that we already know - this one has earned its existence.

Much like "Fury Road," Miller's latest saga is one long series of vehicle pursuits across desert terrains, occasionally broken up by gruesome fights or scenes of torture. It's a grim movie but the film's incredible style, terrific camerawork, stunts, and scenery make it easier to swallow. People toss around the word "visionary" somewhat loosely these days - but if you say nothing else of Miller's five Mad Max films, "vision" is one that feels appropriate.

At the film's beginning, Furiosa the girl is kidnapped by the bandits and pursued by her mother, a pretty fierce warrior herself. However, her mother dies at the hand of Dementus (Chris Hemsworth), the bandits' leader, and the girl is taken in as part of the clan. Dementus plans for his clan to overtake the Citadel, operated by "Fury Road" villain Immortan Joe, as well as Gas Town, where fuel for the vehicles that are at the heart of the film's many battles are likely supplied.

As she becomes a woman, Furiosa seeks vengeance against Dementus, playing both sides and becoming friends with Praetorian Jack (Tom Burke), Immortan Joe's lead driver. He takes her under his wing and she tells him of the land of abundance from which she once hailed and to which she intends to return. Much of the rest of the film involves Furiosa and Jack trying to stave off Dementus' marauding bandits while also planning a means of escape from everyone involved. Numerous exciting and well-choreographed car chases ensue.

"Furiosa" doesn't reinvent the wheel. Stylistically, it's similar to "Fury Road" - and narratively, it's a pretty straightforward origin story (and yes, we get to see how Furiosa lost her arm). It's the execution that makes this film so immensely watchable. The "Mad Max" films create an incredible sense of place and display a mastery of style and tone - so, it's no wonder that Miller and audiences would want to return to this world. This is a summer blockbuster with purpose and eye popping visuals to spare.

Review: I Saw The TV Glow

Image courtesy of A24.

Jane Schoenbrun's eerie and melancholic gender dysphoria allegory "I Saw the TV Glow" is a film that requires some work from the viewer - but those who like seeking out offbeat works won't mind the effort. I was very much into the film's neon-lit and otherworldly vibe but was a bit baffled at its abrupt and melodramatic ending, one that reminded me somewhat of the end of "Twin Peaks: The Return," a work that likely informed this picture to some extent. And like Lynch's seminal work, I have very much come out on the side of Schoenbrun's sophomore effort the more I think about it.

The film's key line - "You still have time" - is presented as almost as a throwaway; in fact, it's not spoken aloud but rather scrawled on a nighttime sidewalk in chalk. This occurs late in the film after lead character Owen (Justice Smith) is some years past the events of the film's first half - the picture starts in 1996 and jumps around in time all the way out to 2030, by my calculations. The phrase's author is Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine), an older girl who succeeds in acting as Owen's guide through middle and high school but fails in her attempt in doing so for his adult life.

Owen meets Maddy on election night in 1996 as their parents vote at the local high school. Maddy is reading a guide to "The Pink Opaque" - a scary show for young adults that bears some similarities to "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer" and whose title is taken from a Cocteau Twins album compilation, which is appropriate considering the dreampop nature of the film's ethereal music.

Owen is not allowed to stay up late enough to watch the show, so he creates a ruse for his parents that he's going to spend the night at a friend's, but instead goes to Maddy's house to watch the show with her and a friend. We immediately get the sense that Maddy's home life is tense - it is hinted that her father is abusive - and we glean that she is into girls. When asked later about his own sexual preferences, Owen seems to have never pondered the matter. "I like TV shows," he says, adding that he's always felt empty and that were he to cut himself open, he'd be afraid to see what's inside.

Maddy continues to provide Owen with videotapes - this is the '90's, mind you - of the show's latest episodes. But after a few years, the show is abruptly canceled, ending on a devastating cliffhanger and, shortly thereafter, Maddy disappears without a trace, leaving only her burning television in the backyard. 

Owen grows up into a sullen young man. His mother develops cancer and his father scoffs at his obsession with a show that he claims "is for girls." There's one shot in which Maddy appears to help Owen get into a dress and they go out wandering - yet nothing more is made of the scene, which allows the audience to fill in its own blanks later after the film's ending.

One day, some years later, Maddy turns up out of the blue. She tells Owen that she had to escape their repressive suburb and suggests that he do so as well. She comes armed with a fantastical story - that she is now living within "The Pink Opaque" - and tells him that his destiny is to join her there as well. Owen ends up making a choice that probably seems rational, but ends up leading to the film's coda - which some may take as devastating, while others might see glimmers of hope.

So, yes, about that ending: there's a scream late in the film that reminded me of the finale of "Twin Peaks: The Return." In the context of that show, it was one of dismay for forever being trapped in one's fate, whereas in "I Saw the TV Glow," some might see it as cathartic. 

The scene that follows it involves a literal reenactment of something that Owen mentions earlier in the film. Schoenbrun has mentioned that the picture was written at the time that they were transferring from one gender to another, and Owen's final repetitive line - which I won't give away - that he keeps uttering has to do with the possibility of coming to terms with oneself, while at the same time not being ready to share it with others.

The "Twin Peaks" finale is not the only sequence that seemingly informs Schoenbrun's film. There's a dreamy and gorgeously shot sequence at a dive bar that seems very similar to the one in Lynch's show (this is the second time this year to witness such a scene; the other being Bertrand Bonello's "The Beast") and Maddy refers to the place's rotating acts (again, similar to "The Return"). The film's general atmosphere is not only Lynchian but also has shades of queer cinema icon Gregg Araki's work, especially the ever-present shoegaze music, the neon colors juxtaposed with nighttime photography, and the callout to the Cocteau Twins in the title (although none of their music appears here). 

The film includes some of the year's most memorable shots - the dreamy nightclub atmosphere, another in which Owen walks through the hallways of his school as the pink neon of the notes that Maddy scribbles to him about "The Pink Opaque" are scrawled across the screen, and numerous nightmarish images of the TV show's central villain, Mr. Melancholy, and his creepy subordinates.

This is the type of film that requires some reflection before formulating an opinion. While I was very much into the film's ethereal vibe - through a combination of image and sound - it wasn't until I'd thought over its ending and done some extracurricular reading on its gender dysphoria allegory that it all began to click. "I Saw the TV Glow" is a beautifully melancholic take on the dangers of not allowing oneself to know oneself by denying one's true self. It's a strange little movie that takes a little work to fully appreciate it - but it's worth the effort.

Review: Evil Does Not Exist

Image courtesy of Janus Films.

The title of director Ryusuke Hamaguchi's latest film holds true, at least, in the animal world. Most creatures other than humans do not cause harm out of malice, but rather out of survival, protection, the need to eat, you name it. Although this is never spoken aloud, this concept is on display all over Hamaguchi's film, which, unlike his 2021 masterpiece "Drive My Car" - a film that is pretty straightforward narratively - is increasingly enigmatic. 

There's a scene in which Takumi (Hitoshi Omika), a jack of all trades in a small mountainous Japanese village, explains to a representative from a glamping business that wants to set up a tourist site in the town that the area's deer do not attack humans unless they feel threatened or are wounded. This at first seems like a throwaway conversation but it ends up taking literal form late in the picture and is also symbolic of the relationship of the people representing the company with the townspeople upon whom they are encroaching.

Unlike the animals, the people in "Evil Does Not Exist" cause harm - at first, more nebulously, as we sit through long town halls in which Takahashi (Ryuji Kosaka) and Mayuzumi (Ayaka Shibutani), two underlings for the corporate stooge who wants to build the glamping site, try to soft peddle the fact that the new business will likely at least somewhat pollute the area's water, which is something the town's residents hold dear.

Later, the harm caused by man takes a more literal and physical form in a shocking conclusion that took me a little time to wrap my head around. While Hamaguchi's previous films - the aforementioned "Drive My Car" as well as "Akako Pts. I & II" and "Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy" - were talkative dramas about human relationships, his latest is an often strange and mysterious eco drama.

That's not to say there isn't some levity along the way. In one of the film's funnier moments, city dweller Takahashi - who along with Mayuzumi starts to see the town's residents' side of things after being criticized during the town hall - decides he wants to learn how to chop fire wood. Takumi gives him a brief lesson, he succeeds in chopping a solitary log, and then believes himself to be a new man who is ready to act as caretaker for the glamping site and, in turn, the town's frail ecological system.

For much of "Evil Does Not Exist," I enjoyed the easygoing flow of events as the glamping site reps tried to smooth talk the townspeople, who were sharper than Takahashi and Mayuzumi expected, and eventually began to find some form of kinship with them, even if it's out of necessity. However, we later realize that Takumi is similar to an animal trying to survive in its endangered environment as he becomes involved in working with the glamping representatives.

The ending is somewhat enigmatic and there will likely be different takes on what happened and, to an extent, even when things happened. I struggled slightly in putting the pieces together in the film's finale and let's just say the ending is a bit murky - perhaps, purposefully. 

"Evil Does Not Exist" isn't one of my favorite Hamaguchi films - "Drive My Car" is one of the decade's best so far and "Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy" is an engaging triptych - but on the whole it's well made and it marks new territory for this director, who is one of the finest among Japan's current crop of filmmakers.

Review: Back To Black

Image courtesy of Focus Features.

There has already been a substantial movie chronicling the life, music, and untimely death of British singer Amy Winehouse - the 2015 documentary by Asif Kapadia - and it will probably remain the last word on the subject. 

Sam Taylor Johnson's new biopic, "Back to Black," is a solid showcase for actress Marisa Abela, who does a fine job as Winehouse, but the film makes the same mistake so many musical biopics of the past have made - it treats the music as background noise, while focusing on the dysfunction, alcohol and drug abuse, and tumultuous relationships of its subject.

As such, one might believe that Winehouse was not quite the singular talent of the Aughts - a singer with a unique voice whose retro stylings and deeply autobiographical lyrics made her sophomore album, "Back to Black," a surprise sensation - but rather a woman who just drank a lot and spent much of her time pining after a guy who, based on this movie, really wasn't worth it.

That guy is Blake (Jack O'Connell), a rogue whom Amy meets at a bar who impresses her by being familiar not only with her music, but also that of the Shangri-Las as he sings along to "Leader of the Pack." As it turns out, Blake already has a girlfriend, whom he occasionally ditches to spend time with Amy.

Amy's father (played by Eddie Marsan), a cab driver, is another individual whose heart is filled with song, but he acts as an enabler, whereas Amy's "Gran" (Lesley Manville) is her "style icon," but also her best role model. When Gran dies, Amy shifts all of her attention to Blake, a self-described drug addict whom we can see is bad news.

For much of the film, Amy and Blake consume alcohol, get into fights during her concerts, get tattoos together, sleep together, break up, rinse and repeat. The recording of the iconic "Back to Black" is mostly a footnote - there's one scene of her recording the titular song, only to have it act as a commentary on Amy's relationship with Blake, while a live performance of "Rehab" is thrown in for good measure later on.

The music biopic genre is one with fairly stiff conventions. There's typically not much deviation - other than "I'm Not There," which brilliantly threw all the rules out the window, or "Straight Outta Compton," which incorporated various social elements surrounding N.W.A. and the Los Angeles riots - and "Back to Black" unfortunately focuses primarily on some of the genre's most cliched tropes - namely, addiction and the turbulent relationship between the film's subject and her paramour.

It's not a bad film - but merely an overly familiar one. Abela is the picture's bright spot. Despite that we learn little about Amy other than her relationship and addiction woes, the actress takes the material she has been given and does her best with it. Likewise, the ever-reliable Marsden and Manville are solid in their supporting roles. But if you really want to get a full view of the singer, the documentary is the way to go.

Review: Kingdom Of The Planet Of The Apes

Image courtesy of 20th Century Fox.

While I'm not sure there's much more fertile ground for this series, "Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes" manages to go to the well once more and make something interesting out of this scenario. There have been, I believe, about 10 films in this series - the 1968 classic easily remains the best of the bunch - and while this modern series is of higher quality than most of the 1970s sequels, there's probably not much more material here to mine.

That being said, this latest installment isn't half bad, even if it takes its time to get where it's going. At nearly two-and-a-half hours, "Kingdom" is just the latest film to indulge in a running time that's not quite warranted. As the film opens, we witness the burial of Caesar, the ape who acted as the leader of the world in which apes took over after humanity's fall. We skip ahead "many generations later" and meet the Eagle clan, a group of apes who train and have a connection with eagles.

When the clan's village is attacked, young Noa (Owen Teague) undergoes a hero's journey to find out where the surviving members of his family have been taken. Along the way, he meets a lone orangutan who was once a friend of Caesar and a human girl, Mae (Freya Allan), who is also traveling to the kingdom of the fearsome Proximus Caesar (Kevin Durand), who has named himself the leader of apes and perverted Caesar's teachings.

While spending time with the orangutan, Noa learns that Caesar wanted apes to band together and that the former leader actually had a soft spot for humans, who long ago created a virus that nearly wiped them out, causing them to lose the ability to speak, and in the process helped apes to become smarter and, therefore, dominate the world.

Two of the trio are captured by Proximus' army and brought to his kingdom, which is a glorified work camp where apes slave away at trying to open up a gate that apparently holds some type of secret. As it turns out, Mae is aware of what's on the other side of this gate - a plot point that's a bit underdeveloped since when we meet Mae, she seems like a girl lost in the wild - and convinces Noa and some of his clan to help her prevent Proximus from gaining access. For good measure, there's an untrustworthy human (William H. Macy) who acts as Proximus' tutor.

While it might seem that the "Apes" franchise had likely exhausted itself narratively after the previous entry - which could have been a decent send off for the series - "Kingdom" breathes some life back into it. It's a smart move to center the story around new characters, rather than again focus on Caesar, whose story was wrapped up sufficiently several years ago. 

That being said, despite "Kingdom" being a decent reboot of the series, I'm not sure there's much need to continue prolonging it. For a summer blockbuster picture, "Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes" is well made and good enough for a recommend, even if it is a little longer than might be warranted. 

Review: The Fall Guy

Image courtesy of Sony Pictures.

David Leitch's stunt-heavy "The Fall Guy" is an enjoyably silly start to the summer season, an action-comedy with two likable leads who have good chemistry, a whole lot of impressive stunts, some good tongue-in-cheek humor, and a welcome vibe of not taking itself too seriously at a time when most blockbusters are stone faced to a fault.

For a big budget action movie, its premise is pretty simple: Colt Seavers (Ryan Gosling) is a legendary stunt man who has a big crush on a camerawoman, Jody (Emily Blunt), with whom he has worked on a number of action movies and had a brief affair. Colt has long been the stunt double for an arrogant and reckless actor named Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), but after a stunt goes wrong and Colt breaks his back, he disappears from the movies and takes a gig parking cars at a Mexican restaurant.

Not only did Colt walk away from the industry, but he ghosted Jody because he couldn't find the right thing to say after disappearing and then waited too long to get back in touch without things being awkward. Things at first are indeed awkward with Jody after he's drawn back into the fold for a film shoot in Australia by Ryder's long-time manager, the shady Gail (Hannah Waddingham), but the two begin to click as they try to think up an ending for the science fiction epic that marks Jody's first directing gig.

But no sooner than he has arrived and pulled off a daring stunt, Ryder disappears and Colt is enlisted by Gail to find out where the actor has gone. It turns out that Ryder has become mixed up with a group of criminals, and Colt finds himself grudgingly mixed up in it as well. After a death occurs, Colt must juggle trying to help Jody finish her film with staying alive as Ryder's criminal pals start making threatening advances.

The film boasts a solid supporting cast, including Stephanie Hsu as an feisty assistant, Winston Duke as a stunt buddy of Colt, and a small dog that can get pretty vicious when given commands in French. "The Fall Guy" not surprisingly boasts some jaw-dropping stunt work, considering that Leitch started off as a stunt double for a number of big-name actors. The picture is a highly entertaining love letter to a group of people who often get the short end of the stick in the movie industry. The academy is finally going to hand out an Oscar for stunt work and it seems long overdue.

It's nice for the summer movie season to kick off with an enjoyable movie that is not based on an existing property - there will be plenty of time for those throughout the season, I'm sure - and that prioritizes not only people (Gosling is especially charismatic here, and Blunt is also quite good) but also old-fashioned stunt work, rather than an overabundance of special effects and blue-screen work. 

It's also a nice break from the overly serious blockbuster films of recent years in that it's unapologetically goofy and light-hearted - well, as light-hearted as a movie with this much violence can be. It's also fun, a trait with which a lot of big budget spectacles of recent years haven't much concerned themselves. 

Review: The Old Oak

Image courtesy of Zeitgeist Films.

If "The Old Oak" is truly director Ken Loach's final film, then it is a fitting farewell. The director, who with Mike Leigh has produced some of the best-known kitchen sink British dramas of the past seven decades, has long been interested in working class tales and his films put faces to the people who are affected by political and class struggles.

As his latest film opens, a family of Syrian refugees has been relocated to a small town in England following strife in their home country. The year is 2016, several years before Brexit but at the same time that Donald Trump was leading his successful and racist presidential campaign across the pond. 

The Syrian family is harassed by the predominately white denizens of the neighborhood into which they are moving, aside from TJ Ballantyne (Dave Turner) and Laura (Clare Rodgerson), the owner of a rundown but popular drinking hole and the head of a local charity group, respectfully. TJ steps in as Yara (Ebla Mari) is tormented by a man who ends up breaking her camera.

As it turns out, Yara was given the camera by her father, who is the only family member not in England. He is believed to be dead, a victim of the horrific Assad regime. Naturally, Yara, who loves to take photos, is devastated that this cherished gift from her father has been damaged. TJ, a good soul who lives alone with his pup Marra after his wife divorced him and son no longer speaks to him, offers to help Yara to get her camera fixed.

In short order, Yara and her family have befriended TJ and Laura, much to the chagrin of the anti-immigrant locals who frequent The Old Oak and believe that foreigners are taking over their neighborhood. Some of the residents eventually warm to Yara and her family - although her teenage son is mercilessly bullied by a group of bigoted young Brits - but there's a central group of four men who spend a lot of time in the bar that makes it clear to TJ that they plan to cause trouble.

It becomes a source of contention after this group of men asks TJ if they can use the bar's no-longer-utilized back room for a meeting to denounce immigrants moving into the neighborhood - although they swear they are not racist - and instead TJ is inspired when Yara sees a picture in The Old Oak's back room with an inscription from TJ's mother that says that those who eat together will stick together. 

He recalls during a miner's strike how the community stuck together and ensured no one went hungry. Yara comes up with an idea to do the same not only for the area's burgeoning immigrant community, but also its struggling English residents.

"The Old Oak" feels like a typical Loach picture - it's often devastating, it focuses on the everyday lives of the lower British working class, it's angry, and it doesn't shy away from politics. But there's a gentle sadness at the heart of this film that made it especially poignant - for example, there's a scene during which TJ explains to Yara why he's alone, how he almost made a terrible mistake some years before, and how his dog, Marra, saved his life. This is made all the more poignant later in the film after a tragedy occurs.

Loach has made a number of great movies that chronicle the struggles and lives of British working people, namely the 1969 classic "Kes," but also the Palm d'Or winners "The Wind That Shakes the Barley" and "I, Daniel Blake" as well as "Poor Cow" and "Hidden Agenda," among others. "The Old Oak" is a lovely and fitting way to round out a great filmography. It's a powerful look at how different groups of societal outcasts can come together and form a community at a time when persecution against those who are different is on the rise in what seems like nearly every society around the globe. This is a very good movie.