Author: nlclement

A narratively complex, visually arresting coming of age story set in 1989 off the coast of Maine, director Derek Kimball’s Neptune is a fascinating indie offering that will delight just as many as it confounds, leading to passionate praise in some circles, if not outright rejection in others. This is a film that’s interested in having the audience feel something, and because it’s less concerned with traditional plot points and story structure, the dreamy tone might be considered to slow for less attentive viewers. Centering on the peculiar life lessons of a 14 year old girl as she develops a fixation on a local boy who has gone missing, but more a study of a mind in flux and a body and spirit in transition, Kimball and his co-writers Matthew Brown, Matthew Konkel, and Douglas Milliken add layer upon layer to their emotionally gripping story in an almost fevered effort to stack the deck. Results are extremely rewarding if a bit emotionally oblique, resulting in a movie with commercial prospects that seem relatively small, unless a passionate and adventurous distributor were to work some further festival exposure and VOD magic. With the right partnership, this film would receive the attention and viewings that it deserves.

First time actress Jane Ackermann is Hannah Newcombe, a teen living with her strict guardian who happens to be a Reverend (Tony Reilly, commanding). She’s attending an all-girls school when something tragic happens in her small town which takes her down a road of unexpected self-discovery. A local boy goes missing, prompting her to deeply question everyone and everything around her, with the film possessing an experiential quality that becomes instantly engrossing. She abandons her religious upbringing, which of course spurs on resentment from the Reverend, and she develops a unique relationship with the missing boy’s father, Bill McDonough in a subtle yet emotionally frazzled performance, taking a job working on his fishing boat, helping him with the lobster traps. What Kimball and his co-writers were going for with this somber and introspective tale is to hold accountable a society and its seeming randomness as a way into the psyche of a young woman as she herself takes on a certain level of outward and inward change. Ackermann is up to the task in more ways than one, fleshing out here character in nonverbal ways which help to anchor her quiet performance with a level of severity, and projecting a young Sarah Polley quality that was noticeable in any number of scenes and instances.

Kimball infuses his unpredictable debut with a creepy sense of atmosphere all throughout, while displaying a firm grasp of the material and essentially crafting exactly the sort of film that it seems he set out to make. Refreshingly uninterested in traditional narrative, his surrealist strokes come across as studied, adding a further component to the evocative mix of ingredients. Whether or not that will satisfy certain audience members remains to be seen, because while Neptune does contain what many would consider to be expected payoff, the journey to get to those moments is one filled with a sense of unplanned discovery and an interest in mood more than concrete plot developments. The tech package may be low in budget but it’s high on smarts and confidence, with dual cinematographers Jayson Lobozzo and Dean Merrill making huge, deeply moody impressions (the underwater photography is especially memorable), while Kimball’s astute editing creates a steady sense of unease. Sound design produces the intended chills in all the right spots. Neptune recently screened as part of the 2016 Slamdance Film Festival.

Take elements of Aguirre, Wrath of God, add a dash of Malick, a hint of Jodorowsky, and a pinch of Gaspar Noe at the finish, and you’ve got a rough approximation of what to expect from the wild new black and white psychological horror film Embrace of the Serpent. Playing almost like a thematic cousin to Ben Wheatley’s descent into madness A Field in England, this bold and challenging new film from Columbian writer/director Ciro Guerra announces an exciting new voice in independent cinema, as he’s cooked up a film that feels indebted to previous masters and their magnum opuses, but a work that feels adventurously alive as well as completely unpredictable. If you’ve seen the trailer, you might think you know what you’re in for, but one of the best aspects to this mind-freak-fest was that while it unfolded, it constantly subverted my expectations. The narrative contains two parallel stories, taking place between the years 1909 and 1940, and is fused together by the appearance of an Amazonian shaman named Karamakate, who happens to be the sole survivor of his tribe. The film details the journeys and experiences of two scientists, a German named Theodor Koch-Grunberg (Jan Bijvoet, the enigmatic star of the amazing film Borgman), and an American named Richard Schultes (Brionne Davis), both of whom were looking for the sacred, ultra-rare and potentially life altering Yakruna plant.

The script was loosely inspired by the two men’s diaries which detailed their work in the jungle. I loved this film, but I can totally understand why it might frustrate and alienate some viewers. This is one of those hearts of darkness exploration films, where men are guided by sometimes insane and stupid methods of thought, in an effort to seek some form of enlightenment not thought to be attained any other way. The themes of religious paranoia, the destruction of indigenous cultures, and the exotic setting of the jungle when juxtaposed by the high-contrast monochromatic cinematography by David Gallego all add a further layer to the surreal aesthetic package; lingering shots of the jungle and an emphasis on nature certainly point to the works of Malick, and it’s fascinating to continually observe that artist’s influence over so many young, upcoming filmmakers. The fully immersive sound design and at times mournfully soulful score by Nascuy Linares imbues the film with a sense of unique vitality. Embrace of the Serpent has, rather shockingly, been nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at this year’s Oscars (I simply cannot believe this fact…), while it won the Art Cinema Award in the Directors’ Fortnight section at the 2015 Cannes Film Festival. Filmed on location in the Amazonia region of Columbia and spoken in a variety of languages including Portuguese, Latin, Amazonian, German, and Spanish, the film is continually unnerving, and by its cosmic finish, more than a little trippy.

CAUTION: Only watch this film if you like your comedy JET BLACK. Dark comedies rarely get darker or meaner than Ben Wheatley’s misanthropic road-trip satire Sightseers. Sort of like the British version of Bobcat Goldthwait’s hysterical underrated gem God Bless America mixed with shades of Falling Down and Happiness, it’s a film that revels in its diseased nastiness, and one that has a distinct (if deranged) point of view concerning society and its various malfunctions. Lead actors and co-screenwriters Alice Lowe and Steve Oram are both terrifically vile and frequently hilarious, going totally for broke with their insane conceit, never looking back one, and matched every step of the way by a director who was totally in synch with their poisonous yet smart worldview. Wheatley is such a playful sadist and has such a great sense of visual space that he allows the film to open innocuously, only to then pepper the proceedings with one transgressive moment after the next. The unassuming yet stylish cinematography from Laurie Rose also plays with expectations, favoring day light for all of the big, nasty moments of violence, and placing an emphasis on camera placement and off the cuff shot selections. The toxically hilarious and ironic final moments are absolutely unforgettable. Wheatley’s wife, Amy Jump, was an additional contributor to the script, while Edgar Wright served as one of the producers. Sightseers screened at the 2012 Cannes Film Festival as part of the Director’s Fortnight section, and is really a movie only for those who enjoy the bitter and unrelentingly sour taste of cruel.

Enemy, the glorious head-scratcher from French Canadian director Denis Villeneuve (Prisoners, Incendies, Sicario, the upcoming Story of Your Life and Blade Runner 2), is a twisted mystery with all sorts of philosophically loaded implications. Is it the slyest version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers that’s ever been pulled off? Is it a metaphysical exploration of divided souls hovering in a unique state of otherworldly stasis? Is it the simple yet complex story of one many having a nervous breakdown? Or is it none of those things and something completely different? That’s the brilliance of this tricky, multi-layered, and extra-creepy piece of work, which features an on-fire Jake Gyllenhaal in dual performances. One version of Jake is a regular office dweller, repressed and atypical, going about his daily routine without much in the way of surprise, and the other Jake is the ultimate version of himself, what we project ourselves to be: Commanding, sexy, dangerous, and strong. When the two of these entities “meet,” the film becomes a mind-twisting exploration of identity and fate, all filtered through the always intriguing notion of the doppelganger. Based on Jose Saramago’s novel The Double, Villeneuve shoots in Fincher-esque pea-soup green and piss-stained yellow, giving the film an ominous visual sheen that’s both highly sketchy and ugly-slick. Each shot is perfectly designed, and I’m sure a frame-by-frame analysis of this film would be immensely rewarding. And then there’s the film’s final shot, which is a massive doozy, a true show-stopper, a legit candidate for the most WTF moment of any cinematic year. Actually, make that the film’s last TWO shots. It’ll create the impulse to hit the rewind button on your Blu-ray remote, as the stunned look on your face quickly gives way to nervous laughter, and then full on dread, followed by a discussion with yourself or the person(s) you’re watching it with. This is a hot-blooded mental-mind-fuck that will play twister with your brain.

Directed by Stanley Kubrick’s ghost by using Jonathan Glazer’s body as a vessel, the eerie, creepy, totally brilliant (and disgustingly underrated — 38% at Rottentomatoes – are people insane?) 2004 movie Birth is a film that gets absolutely no love. And that’s just wrong – anything this powerful and trippy needs to be repeatedly studied, explored, and discussed. A complete 180 in terms of style and tone from his debut picture, the crime masterpiece Sexy Beast, Birth marked new territory for Glazer as a filmmaker. Visually haunting at every turn (shot by the late, legendary director of photography Harris Savides), with a memorable classical musical score that accentuates every scene, this is a hard-to-describe drama about a grieving widow (Nicole Kidman, never better except for maybe in To Die For), who is paid a visit by a 10 year old boy (Cameron Bright, also excellent in Wayne Kramer’s exuberantly nasty Running Scared) who claims to be her reincarnated husband. From the chilly opening moments of this offbeat, strangely wondrous film, you’re under Glazer’s moody directorial spell, and he never lets you out of his stylish grasp for the entire run-time.

One shot in particular – that of Kidman entering an in-progress opera in an extremely fragile emotional state, all done in one, extra-long take – is one of the greatest single shots I’ve ever seen in any movie. A bit hyperbolic maybe, but trust me, you’ll be blown away by the power of this extended moment, which ranks as the best single scene of acting Kidman’s ever given us; the shot means more because it heightens the narrative while stretching the limits of Glazer’s striking visual aesthetic. Alexandre Desplat’s soulful, haunting, and almost overwhelming score sets a funeral tone from the first moment, offering moments of psychological acuity not normally reserved for musical arrangements. Honestly, I dare not spoil ANYTHING to the uninformed viewer; the less you know about this film going in, the better of you’ll be. This is the sort of cult-favored classic that Twilight Time DVD Label or The Criterion Collection should look into licensing, a film made by a still budding auteur, and now with the popularity of Glazer’s hypnotic game-changer Under the Skin, I think it’s time that more appreciation be heaped upon Birth, as it’s truly one-of-a-kind in all the best ways that cinema can offer.

Room is a gut punch. This film snuck up on me and overpowered my emotions. I knew the general gist before sitting down, but I wasn’t prepared for how powerful the film would be. Lenny Abrahamson’s critically acclaimed film concentrates on a horrifying, immensely terrible situation – the imprisonment of a woman with the subsequent birth of a child in captivity – and does so with verve, intelligence, and a keen understanding of what constitutes as cinematic. Brie Larson, in nothing less than a shattering performance, conveys every emotion you might think possible for a human being, never over emoting or coming off as grandstanding; there’s a level of sensitivity to her work in this film that was gracious and revealing, though all of her previous performances have hinted at this doozy of a role. In film after film, especially Short Term 12, Greenberg, and her scene stealing work in Trainwreck, she’s been a major attraction, and in Room, she’s given a part that every single actress must’ve been dying to get. And very much her equal is newcomer Jacob Tremblay, who plays her five year old son, and does so with a sense of honesty and openness usually reserved for actors ten times his age. The filmmakers have taken the interesting approach by focusing the story on Tremblay, with much of the film unfolding through his internalized point of view, which makes the narrative even more contextualized and layered. It’s important to note that, yet again, another challenging and distinctive piece of art was produced by the people at A24; if only they could figure out the distribution portion of the filmmaking process.

Make no mistake – this film is not going to sit well with many people, as it’s themes are beyond disturbing, emotionally devastating, and all too believable; this sort of thing happens way too often. By shooting in 2.35:1 widescreen in such a cramped setting, Abrahamson and his sharp cinematographer Danny Cohen play with expressionistic angles and skewed vantage points, as the first 45 minutes of this movie are almost entirely contained to the nightmarish shed that Larson and Tremblay have been calling home. The sequence showing Tremblay’s escape is knot-in-your-stomach intense; I haven’t been that edge of my seat in a long time in a theater, at least since the tunnel sequence in Sicario. And when you mix in “This Will Destroy You” by The Mighty Rio Grande on the soundtrack, those moments take on massive visceral impact. Again, Abrahamson’s inherent understanding of what’s cinematic in a story like this is sort of bracing to witness; time after time, this movie doesn’t exactly do what you think it will. Joan Allen is terrific in a small but pivotal supporting role, and the final act stings with a truthful poignancy that wisely makes it clear that NOTHING is OK by the time the credits start rolling. I questioned one, maybe two small things from a plot standpoint, but they were hardly major issues. And as a new parent, I’d be lying if I said that this movie didn’t make me upset on numerous occasions, as there’s something so primal about the ideas at play during this unquestionably forceful piece of filmmaking and storytelling.

Straight Outta Compton is robust, vital entertainment, painting a vivid tapestry of one of the most turbulent periods of modern societal unrest, and telling an oversized, extremely engrossing tale that’s distinctly American and part of the greater cultural shift over the last 20 years. In a field of 10 potential nominees, even if I felt that there were better films, I am shocked that this movie didn’t have enough votes to get a Best Picture nomination with the Academy, especially considering the fact that it received a hat tip in the Original Screenplay category. It’s timely, it’s provocative, and it’s BIG. But whatever…Oscars or no Oscars…the movie was a massive critical and box office success, and for journeyman director F. Gary Gray, easily the best, most polished work of his career. The film has a dynamic visual style thanks to the slick yet gritty cinematography by Matthew Libatique, and it goes without saying, the movie moves to a SERIOUSLY awesome beat as a result of the near constant greatest hits that play over the soundtrack. Performances across the board are excellent and emotionally affecting, especially those by Jason Mitchell as Eazy-E, O’Shea Jackson, Jr. as Ice Cube (Cube’s son in real life, hence the uncanny physical resemblance), and Corey Hawkins as Dr. Dre. All three of these guys absolutely ripped into their roles with conviction and gusto, and are never unconvincing at any point. They have a great sense of chemistry with one another, and they all complimented each other’s performances by never allowing any one actor to overly dominate.

And what Gray and his crew of screenwriters achieved extremely well in Straight Outta Compton was to present the viewer with a time capsule of a city, and a nation, in flux, with the topical discussion of racism and unnecessary brutality and harassment at the hands of the police still an important and incendiary top of discussion. Gangster rap is as American as apple pie and baseball, intrinsically linked to certain sections of this country, with seepage occurring at random and all over. To denounce gangster rap as sensationalistic or as a glamorization of violence and drugs and misogyny would require you to push back against years of TV shows and movies that have all done the same thing – exploit the exploitable elements with a certain degree of swagger. But the difference, if you’re paying attention, was that there were messages in the songs of NWA, songs that spoke to a distinct set of people first and foremost, but offered a glimpse into another world for many others. Yes, the film has a traditional arc, and you get the scenes you’d expect from the musical biopic genre, but even then there’s a zesty sense of professionalism occurring in every filmmaking department. Fans of NWA will love this film, and the uninitiated should walk out with a new understanding, and hopefully respect, for an art form that may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but one that speaks its mind loud and clear, with an understanding of the difficulties of life at the center of the action. Version screened was a Blu-ray of the 2 hour 50 minute unrated director’ cut; I think I know which bit of sexual shenanigans was cut by the prudish asses at the MPAA.