Tag Archives: Netflix

Netflix’s The End Of The Fucking World

Netflix’s new original show The End Of The Fucking World is impossible to really describe until you go binge it for yourself, which isn’t a tough task, considering it’s only eighth episodes, each twenty minutes or so in length. It’s a dark comedy, a road movie, a love story, a pseudo coming of age tale and everything in between, seen through a sardonic yet heartfelt lens, wicked sharp acting that’ll have you laughing in stitches when it’s not hitting you in the feels, and the beautifully blunt script to back it up. James (Alex Lawther) is a stoic seventeen year old who is fairly certain that he’s a psychopath. He’s killed all manner of household pets and local wildlife, but plans to graduate to something bigger very soon. Alyssa (Jessica Barden) is a mouthy little thing, also seventeen, with a monumental attitude problem and enough social dysfunction to fill an auditorium.They’re an odd pair, and hit the road together after James literally decks his father in he face and steals his car. This isn’t your average love story, road flick or black comedy though, which is a good thing. Mad at their families and willing to get prickly with anyone who crosses their path, these two are an odd suited pair and an electrifying couple of protagonists to spend four hours with. I could outline more of the plot but then I’d be shedding unneeded light on a beautifully unpredictable, often scary, achingly sweet and altogether unique turn of events that land with an arc that has to be seen to be believed. Out across rural England their joyride leads them, and into shenanigans ranging from puzzling to endearing to downright disturbing (there’s both a serial killer and a molester involved, but not in ways you might expect). Lawthon and Barden are two uncanny finds, bringing teenage awkwardness, earned warmth and hilarious delivery to every facet of their work. If this is a tick on the barometer for the steady uphill direction that Netflix is heading in with their originals, keep at it. Oh and please please please give us another season of this, because I’m already in withdrawal.

-Nate Hill

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Stephen King’s Gerald’s Game


Stephen King’s Gerald’s Game is exactly what horror/thrillers should aspire to be: devilishly well written, engagingly acted, crisply directed and scary enough to wake the dead. Presented on the Netflix platform with their trademark lack of marketing (they tend to hurl out content willy nilly, sans fanfare), it’s just shown up and is already one of the best horror films I’ve seen all year. Carla Gugino and Bruce Greenwood give encore performances and the best work of their careers as a couple who make their way to a cottage in the country, trying to spice up the ol’ marriage. When Brucie has a nice heart attack mid-foreplay (he popped a few of those magic blue pills), Carla is stuck handcuffed to the bed in the middle of nowhere, with no one for company except a mangy stray dog that begins to take chunks out of dead Bruce. So begins a fiercely internal, visceral psychological survival story, a brutal chamber piece that delves into her twisted childhood, troubled marriage and churns forth a tale to curl the pain on the cabin walls. There’s hallucinations, inner monologues, squirm-inducing gore, elliptical mind games and a pseudo-twist ending that had me shuddering into the couch. Gugino has never been more intense, believable or varied in her work, turning this character into something potent and tangible, bringing her past trauma and fight for survival to screaming life. Greenwood is smart, witty and so darkly funny it’s tough now to picture him as the stoic, emotionally shut off archetype he usually has embodied before this film. Additional work from ET’s now eerily grown up Henry Thomas and Twin Peak’s ginormous Carel Stryucken (terrifying here) adds class and distinction. The show belongs to Carla and Bruce, and what a show they put on, feasting on the rich, textured dialogue and playing sandbox in the story that uses depth, character and genuine menace to lasso us right in. In a year that’s seen at least one King novel unforgivably bastardized, and one other given the solid yet flawed and incomplete treatment, it’s reassuring to find one that comes up pretty much perfect in every way. Kudos to Netflix, the two leads and everyone else involved. 
-Nate Hill

Netflix Original Content: GET ME ROGER STONE

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Netflix’s newest arrival, GET ME ROGER STONE, is the best and most important political documentary since THE WAR ROOM. The film showcases the flamboyant and unapologetic architect of not only the Trump presidency but also the transformation of the Republican Party post Richard Nixon’s resignation.

Stone is proudly candid as he recounts and fully embraces his insane political power. He cut his teeth at nineteen when he got caught up in the Watergate scandal, from that point forward he became a champion in the dark shadow world of lobbying. It was during the 1980 presidential campaign that Stone met his future mentor, Roy Cohn.

What you see is what you get with Stone. He doesn’t really care about policy, the truth, or America. He wants to yield unmatched power and accrue as much money as he possibly can. He was behind the 2000 Florida recount debacle, the plethora of sexual misconduct allegations of Bill Clinton in the 90’s. He brought down former New York Governor Elliot Spitzer, and he is the man responsible for not only Trump’s brand but building his political base and capital.

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While most of the things Stone has said and done are pretty much awful, you can’t help but be amazed by his awesome power. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. He wants power and money and more power and more money. And he’ll be the first to tell you that.

Much like Trump, Stone is a showman and absolutely revels in the attention he gets. Good or bad, he doesn’t care. As Stone proudly proclaims, “it’s better to be infamous than not to be talked about at all.” Regardless of your political affiliation, or your personal feelings regarding Stone, you cannot deny that the guy is an absolute genius.

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GET ME ROGER STONE is currently streaming on Netflix.

Netflix’s Small Crimes


Netflix’s Small Crimes is a bitter, barren, gnarled piece of work that leaves an uneasy vacuum in the air as it passes. If you haven’t heard of it yet, that’s because the platform does almost zero promotion when new content comes off the assembly line, quietly slipping it onto the site without so much as a tv spot. Some are forgettable, and some are gems that could have done with a bit of buildup. This one is like David Mamet, Cormac McCarthy and Elmore Leonard sipping whiskey sours one cold, empty night and brainstorming ideas. I love the time honoured themes presented here, but what I love and admire more is the filmmaker’s courage in completely subverting, perverting and putrefying the formula. There’s countless films about disgraced cops, criminals or what-have-you who return home to a small town with designs on putting the wrong things right and finding a modicum of redemption. Thing is, in 99.999% of these films, we end up with a happy ending where all the kinks are ironed out and bygones are left as such, a trend which really cripples the stakes and grinds our expectations down with a blunt, predictable Hollywood ending. Not this one. Nikolai Koster-Waldau, aka Jamie Lannister, is a wiry, cracked out ex con who used to be a cop, before he viciously, and I do mean viciously, sliced up the town DA at the behest of a crime kingpin. Moping back into the county following a six year stretch in the pen, it’s inevitable that his very presence will stir up a few noxious vibes. Sure enough, he runs into trouble from all angles, including the vengeful DA (“, looking like he shaves with a wheat thresher), a scummy corrupt detective (Gary Cole eats up the dialogue like candy), the mobsters he used to be employed by, and even his parents (Robert Forster & Jacki Weaver), who are clearly broken by the past. There’s a feeling of inescapable doom, an inevitable choking quicksand that Waldau wades deeper into,

his seemingly noble intent on reconnecting with his wife and daughters gradually ground away to reveal the true nature of his path, and it ain’t pretty. Gary Cole has a way with words and mannerisms, and he runs away with his bent cop role, stealing scenes like nobody’s business. Forster has salt of the earth gravitas in spades, and nails a near career best scene with clear eyed conviction, nailing our attention to his presence. It’s not a perfect film though, there’s pacing issues, sometimes it gets a little vague or scattered and a romantic subplot involving a nurse (Molly Parker) seems glaringly out of place. Waldau anchors it though, a twitchy, unpredictable ne’er do well who seems cosmically incapable of getting his act together. The ending floored my expectations and remind that there is hope for fresh narratives and abstract thinking amongst writers. You’ll come out of this one bruised, but you’ll be glad you sat through the beating. 

-Nate Hill

Netflix’s The OA: A Review by Nate Hill 

I always try to find unique and original projects when choosing films and shows to watch, for we live in a time where many titles you see out there are sequels, nostalgia reboots or spinoffs. These aren’t bad things per se, but it’s also important to break new ground and produce organic material, something which Netflix has a fairly glowing track record for. Tapping the creative well that is the mind of young female director/actress/producer Brit Marling, the platform has given her the chance to tell one of the most striking, beautiful and altogether astonishing pieces of work I’ve ever seen from the long form storytelling format. Earlier this year, Stranger Things knocked me flat, and recently Westworld has captivated my attention and imagination. But The OA has done something different for me; stirred my soul in a way that few creative pieces can, with a story so unpredictable that it starts to feel like the forces of nature at work, forking off into tributary sections of narrative that you would never, ever have been able to to surmise ahead of the reveals. 

  Now, something I’ll say right off the bat: This won’t be for everyone, and I predict many confused, bitter reviews. Such is the case with work that requires effort and clarity of attention from the viewer, as well as the key ingredient: objective thinking. This is both a scientific and spiritual story, bereft of any religious implicatioms, incredibly vague, esoteric and at times left open to interpretation, or clarification we will get from a second season, fingers crossed. 

  It starts off simply enough, with the return of a girl named Prairie (Marling) to the home she disappeared from seven ears prior. Mysteriously cured of childhood blindness and very secretive of the events which have befallen her, her loving parents (Scott Wilson and Alice Krige in knockout performances) are just happy to see her again. It’s here the story turns off it’s headlights and hurtles blind into the night, going to places you’d never have thought it would, let alone be explored in a mainstream network series. Marling and Co creator Zal Batmanglij (yes that’s his real name) have outdone themselves in the originality department, presenting ideas and questions so far from the norm of what we’re used to that their story really and truly feels unique from anything else we’ve ever seen. Marling is incandescent in the role, which requires her to go to some fairly tricky places in terms of acting, handling it with the shimmering grace of an angel. It’s difficult for me to say anymore because I want you to open up this gift of a story on your own, without anything to go on, but I must mention her co star Jason Isaacs, who plays a scientific man involved in her disappearance. He’s obsessed in a feverish, sick way, and in any other actor’s hands the character may have come across as too villainous or intense. Isaacs is an unheralded genius of the craft though, and despite the callous nature of the role, he seems more human, more grounded than most. 

  I really can’t tell you much more at this point, and what I’ve said so far is much less than I usually do in reviews, as far as plot goes. This is one to binge watch, one to let wash over you like a blanket of stars, and one to think long and deep about as soon as the credits of the last episode make themselves known. For the thinkers, the wonderers, the ones who ponder what’s out there and what may be in store for us way down the road of the cosmos, The OA is a blast of nutrition for the soul.

Netflix’s Stranger Things: A Review by Nate Hill 

Netflix’s Stranger Things snuck up and floored me. You’d think that a long form mystery series concocted from the DNA of Amblin/ET/Goonies and retro, gooey Stephen King horror would have made a significant blip on my radar months in advance, but nope. That almost made watching it even more special; this wasnt something I’d spent oodles of time hyping up and thinking about (which often leads to expectations being dashed). It came out of the blue and knocked me sideways six ways to Sunday. I came home one night with the notion to check out the pilot before I went to bed. I fell deeply in love within the first ten minutes, and slashed my curfew to bits as I devoured about half the season in one go, hitting stop only because I would have been depressed to wake up the following morning and have no more to watch. I took the next day off work to finish up the remaining episodes, after which I sat there in a gaping stupor. I’ve since rewatced it all again. Yes, it’s that good. It’s not just the nostalgia bursting at the seams that suckered me in. This is is a show with a meticulous pace where you feel every beat naturally, some of the most fleshed out characters of recent times that you actually really CARE about, and a wondrous story relating to fear of the unknown, the bonds of friendships both new and old, redemption in the face of ages old trauma and grief, a reverence to all things creepy & crawly, an understanding of the importance fear holds in both our entertainment and collective psyches and above all, a sense of adventure. As soon as the retro opening credits flared up, I knew I was in for something special. They’re a flurry of neon letters that assemble in fashion and font achingly similar to King’s books, set to an ominous synth rhapsody that echoes everything from Refn to Sinoia Cave’s Beyond The Black Rainbow. Immediately we are transported to a setting drawn forth from the past and the nightmares of many other artists before it’s time, which is not to say it’s at all derivitive or lazy. That’s the issue with deliberatly nostalgic stuff: it can come across as forced or cheap novelty trying to play to our sentimental sides. This one uses it naturally and never feels like a gimmick for one second. What’s amazing is that despite the fact that nearly every element of story it uses has been done before multiple times throughout the years, it all somehow feels completely new, and never once leans on the crutch of inspiration any harder than it has to, which in this day and age deserves a goddamn medal. The story opens up in small town Hawkins, Indiana, sometime in the mid 80’s. Just outside of town, trouble brews deep within a mysterious CIA sanctioned research laboratory. A dangerous portal is opened, something from another dimension gets out, a girl with telepathic abilities named Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown) escapes into the town, and young Will Byers (Noah Schnapp) disappears without a trace from his home. All this happens in the first half hour, kicking off a well timed wind chime of inciting incidents to get the tale underway. The town is thrown into a panic as Will’s mother Joyce (Winona Ryder) frantically searches for him. The forlorn, sad sack police chief Hopper (David Harbour, beyond excellent in so many ways) tries to reign in the growing mania, but the situation only gets worse. Will’s sister Nancy (Natalia Dyer) witnesses another disappearance, and Eleven finds herself hiding out with Will’s endearing gang of buddies (Finn Wolfhard, Caleb Mclaughlin and Gaten Matarazzo), who valiantly launch a quest to ensure his safe return from the netherworld. Meanwhile, the laboratory’s sinister, silver haired head Doctor Brenner (a chilling Matthew Modine) is an amoral prick who will stop at nothing to get Eleven back and continue his godawful experiments. It’s a hell of a lot crammed into eight hours, but not a second is wasted, not a scene or a line of dialogue misplaced. Everything glides smoothly and the whole thing is so joyously watchable that I had trouble even thinking about picking up my phone or reaching for the iPad (I’m easily distracted). There’s teen drama, heartbreaking tragedy, first love, palpable danger without being too gory or messed up, and damn if the Spielberg/King flavour isn’t just delactable. The monster is a gooey, walking Venus fly trap that instills real fear in the opening moments of the pilot. The ideas explored are presented in ways that would make both the X Files and Twilight Zone jealous. My favourite performance has to be Brown as Eleven. Of all the child roles hers is the most difficult to land and she’s a revelation. Seeing the world outside the facility with new eyes, falling for Wolfhard, protecting her newfound friends, it’s all handled impeccably and I think we can expect great things from this young actress. David Harbour has consistently shown versatility in anything he does, and when one looks at his role here contrasted against work in, say, A Walk Among The Tombstones, it’s uncanny. His arc goes from sheepish to badass to tragic and he positively soars. Modine channels the very essence of King style villains, over pronouncing every syllable with poised venom on the tongue and cloaked malice oozing from every pore. Ryder works herself up into a frenzy that any mother must feel in the situation, and it’s just great to see her in a central role in anything these days. The kids provide heart and levity, proving wise beyond their years to the point of Calvin & Hobbes esque insight, yet still maintaining their innocence in the face of peril. Not only does the soundtrack showcase a whole whack of 80’s treasures (that Joy Division tho♡), the score itself by Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein is a love letter to everything from Tangerine Dream to Cliff Martinez, evoking the setting beautifully and bringing forth atmosphere in scene after scene after scene. Stranger Things lovingly blows a trumpet of times past, wears it’s influences proudly and unobtrusively on its sleeve and brilliantly blazes it’s own trail. There are monsters out there, both human and otherwise. Never give up hope, not matter how bleak the prognosis. There’s still some wonder and unknown to be discovered in this world of ours (and beyond). Redemption is only a few daring acts around the bend. Kindness goes a long way, as does trust. Friends don’t lie. These are but a few things you’ll discover if you give this one a shot, which I hope you will. Bring on Season 2, man.