Tag: Movie Review

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Staggering steps: Zombie flick Blood Quantum takes on colonialism

Horror fans will find a solidly terrifying escape in the zombie feature Blood Quantum. The film has plenty of eerie parallels to the current state of societal conflict in reaction to the coronavirus. Image courtesy Elevation Pictures

Love them or hate them, zombie stories remain popular because they represent the nagging fear that the problems we allow to persist will eventually overpower us. Zombies are husks, barely recognizable as humans, possessing our shape and our need to consume but lacking morality, symbols of our collective failure as a society.

In the 52 years since Night of the Living Dead revolutionized the genre, many of those problems have remained unsolved, and are therefore frequent themes for zombie films: racism, consumerism, inequality, militarism, and a lack of faith in the institutions designed to protect humankind.

In Blood Quantum, from filmmaker Jeff Barnaby, the undead invasion parallels an even deeper, centuries-old tragedy: colonialism. A mysterious virus arrives by water and soon spreads to the entire region, confining the Mi’kmaq survivors to the Red Crow Reservation, where hordes of invaders are intent on wiping them out. (“Blood quantum” itself refers to laws first created in the Colonial era, the ratio of one’s ancestry that determines status as a Native American. The laws were often used to persecute, to facilitate extermination and forced relocation, and have been blamed for creating racism where none existed within tribes.)

Blood Quantum

R, 96 minutes

Streaming (Shudder, Amazon Prime)

The story is frighteningly prescient, not only given the current global pandemic, but as the Cheyenne River Sioux and Oglala Sioux tribes are battling with the governor of South Dakota for their right to maintain checkpoints on all roads leading in and out of their reservations due to coronavirus. Barnaby could not have predicted the specific events of today when he wrote and directed the film, which premiered at festivals last year, but it feels ripped from recent headlines.

As with many of the best horror films, Blood Quantum is scariest when it explores the plausible consequences of fantastical events. After the scramble to understand this virus, the Mi’kmaq learn that they are immune, and that the Red Crow reservation’s remote location is strategically useful in keeping out unwanted elements. But the immunity is no boon, as they are still in danger of being eaten alive, and geographic isolation means being confined behind metal walls until they die or are overtaken. The promise of staying alive is enough for some survivors, while others cannot envision a future within the fortress’ walls, succumbing to drugs, anger issues, and other destructive behaviors. Each solution only creates a new problem; reservations did not erase the ills of colonization, and the strongest walls do not protect against self-destruction.

Barnaby shows his extensive knowledge of zombie film history, and draws on those movies’ stylistic innovations to build the foundation for Blood Quantum. But even the most seasoned genre fan will be taken aback by some moments, especially in the film’s first act. In the opening scene, we see gutted fish begin to flop on dry land, and it’s disturbing, even for a genre built on shock value.

The opening credits also pack an emotional punch, revealing structures like bridges and buildings from uncomfortable angles. You might not expect the sight of a bridge at a 90-degree angle to be so jarring, but when viewed in the context of an imminent catastrophe, it’s quite effective. The structures we’ve built, whether physical or institutional, have become hollow. At best, they are simply shapes in a barren wasteland, at worst, they hasten our doom. A bridge is no longer a bridge, it is a liability. A police officer has no more authority than a hooligan. Was it always this way? Was our existence always barely contained chaos, or had we fooled ourselves into believing we’d created order?

Of the zombie tales that came before, viewers might find the most similarity with “The Walking Dead”: a character-driven story where reckoning with the past is as vital as contemplating the future. Michael Greyeyes, who portrays former officer Traylor, was even featured on “Fear the Walking Dead” as Qaletaqa Walker. Greyeyes is an excellent anchor for the film throughout; in his former life, his every action suggested a man frustrated by powerlessness, but bound by an unspoken moral obligation to try and make change. His son, Joseph (Forrest Goodluck, The Revenant and The Miseducation of Cameron Post), frequently causes trouble with Lysol (Kiowa Gordon, Twilight), and though they commit petty crimes together, when push comes to shove it’s revealed how truly different they are. There are so many characters with terrific performances that the story might have worked best as a miniseries. But as it is, Blood Quantum offers plenty to enjoy and contemplate.

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Culture

Trust science: New documentary profiles pioneering immunologist

The documentary Jim Allison: Breakthrough premieres April 27 on PBS. "All the things thatprobably you wish you could see working in solving COVID right now … Jim embodiesall that," says filmmaker Bill Haney. Photo by LeAnn Mueller

No one could have predicted the global pandemic of COVID-19 when production began on Jim Allison: Breakthrough, but its foundational message is so resonant that there might not be a more perfect time for it to reach audiences. Chronicling the life and scientific research of Nobel laureate and trailblazing immunologist James Allison, whose work with T cells revolutionized treatment for immunodeficiencies and some types of cancer, the film is the opposite of the escapist binging that occupies many people’s queues in this moment.

There is no fantasy or fatalism in Allison’s tale. Instead, director Bill Haney navigates the harsh realities of devastation wrought by cancer (including one patient whose life was saved directly by Allison’s research) and the small-thinking minds that stand in scientists’ way, while maintaining a fundamental optimism that an answer can be found.

“When I was a little boy and I was late for dinner,” says Haney. “My mother would say to me, ‘What were you, out curing cancer? Get in here and sit down,’ because that was the impossible dream. Nobody would ever be out curing cancer. But Jim Allison, for 20 percent of the patients, and 20 percent of the tumors, did. And he did it by personal charisma, scientific insight, persistence, resilience, humor, warmth, teamwork. All the things that probably you wish you could see working in solving COVID right now…Jim embodies all that.”

Born in Alice, Texas, Allison’s extraordinary life was forged by early struggles. Losing his mother at a young age to lymphoma, and later losing a brother to melanoma, Allison deeply understood the human impact of his work. A bright student, he butted heads with the head of his school’s science department who blocked all discussion of evolution in the classroom, and gained confidence to confront those who stand in the way of progress. Whether he is determined or stubborn will be up to the viewer to decide, but his work ethic is an inspiring blend of long-term dedication and impatience with problems he knows can be resolved.

“There’s something magical about Jim,” says Haney. “None of us do everything the right way, but he’s trying to do the right things for the right reasons.”

An immunologist and blues harmonica player, Jim Allison sits in with Willie Nelson on occasion.

There is a careful balance filmmakers must strike when chronicling scientific breakthroughs and the trailblazers who made them happen. If they focus too much on the technical details, they run the risk of losing the audience. If they go too broad with metaphors and framing devices, the importance of hard work and scientific rigor is glossed over. On top of that, who knows how the world will look when the film finally premieres? Will new research negate the findings presented in the film? 

Breakthrough sets the standard for how films about scientists can do justice to their subject’s work, their personality, and those around them. Allison is a lifelong blues harmonica player who has shared the stage with Willie Nelson. A detail like this might have been treated as a comical sidenote or postscript in other documentaries, but his zeal for life and his need to create are intrinsically linked.

Regarding the role of Allison’s creativity in his scientific work, Haney believes that “it’s central, absolutely central. And by the way, part of creativity is the willingness to follow the music wherever she takes you,” he says. “And if he had to ignore the convention and ignore the existing papers and change the way the FDA thought [about]  it and persuade them, then that’s what he was going to do.”

“The next adult you speak to, ask them to name for you five or 10 creative Americans,” Haney says. “And they will name, I promise, musicians and poets and playwrights and novelists and actors and directors. How many will name a scientist? I think almost no one, and yet they are the people who invent the devices that become our daily lives, the folks who are reimagining life right now. …If you’re a 12-year-old girl and want to have a creative, soulful life, even if you just say creative, how many of those are going to think that that’s an engineer or a biologist? I’m afraid that it’s shockingly small. To their loss and ours.”

Though the film was completed before the novel coronavirus began to spread, it is not a far jump from watching Allison at work to being interested in the work of scientists on the front lines of the search for a COVID-19 vaccine. We have to follow facts, not leaders with conflicting interests. We have to challenge conventional wisdom about what problems are insurmountable, not succumb to them. A great film about a compelling man, Breakthrough may be the antidote to hopelessness in our current pandemic.

The documentary Jim Allison: Breakthrough premieres April 27 on PBS’ “Independent Lens.”

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Culture

Good to see: The Invisible Man benefits from studio reshuffling

A modern adaptation of The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells finds Elisabeth Moss on the run from her abusive, mad scientist husband. Universal Pictures

From the opening moments of The Invisible Man, writer-director Leigh Whannell sets the stakes for the journey to come. Cecilia (Elisabeth Moss) is enacting an escape plan from her abusive boyfriend, Adrian Griffin (Oliver Jackson-Cohen). His house is a shrine to his pathological need to control while giving the illusion of freedom: walls made entirely of glass on the outside, omnipresent security cameras on the inside. She’s drugged his water to keep him asleep, and then repositions or disables every security camera in the building, by going into a mysterious control room. When Cecilia’s sister meets her outside the compound walls to drive her to safety, we get a glimpse of what makes Adrian dangerous, as he smashes through the passenger window with his fist.

This opening scene is noticeably longer than in similar movies, and it is vital to our emotional investment. Though we don’t yet know many of the narrative details, we know that Adrian is as wealthy as he is obsessive, with unfathomable financial and technological resources. We know that his abuse was frightening enough that Cecilia couldn’t simply leave, she needed to escape. And because the film is called The Invisible Man, we know that the subsequent stalking and gaslighting by an unseen force are not her imagination. Her fear of going outside is more than a trauma response. She figures out Adrian’s plan long before she can explain it to those who might help, but even then she is powerless to fight back. The suspense is not in what is happening, but in how to stop it.

The Invisible Man

R, 125 minutes

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX, Violet Crown Cinema

Whannell’s depiction of an abuse victim is notable for its sensitivity and honesty toward the subject. Great genre and horror films succeed by literalizing our most extreme, intangible fears in the form of monsters; the effects of abuse linger after the apparent threat is over, and many victims do not come forward because they think they won’t be believed, or that support will be inadequate. The worst films are voyeuristic, where it feels like the director is secretly enjoying the abuse hurled primarily at women. The former is a cathartic meditation, the latter is a misanthropic fantasy. The Invisible Man is very much the former, bolstered by another bravura performance by Moss, as well as Whannell’s exceptional knack for pacing, which is alternately lingering and explosive depending on the needs of the scene.

The Invisible Man is the first film to come from Universal’s reshuffling of its Dark Universe project following the spectacular failure of 2017’s The Mummy. The focus has moved from interconnectedness to standalone stories, enlisting producer Jason Blum of Blumhouse to do what he does best: low-cost movies that give storytellers freedom. Between this and recent entries in the DC Extended Universe that are much more grounded (relatively speaking), the move away from bloated tentpoles has been a positive one. Even if you’re on the fence about The Invisible Man, it’s worth supporting so that big studios will continue this reorientation, raising the overall quality of their output and diversifying the sorts of stories that get a green light.

Local theater listings

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema 375 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056.

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213.

Violet Crown Cinema 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000.

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King Kong

G, 150 minutes

March 15, Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX

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Arts

Missing the action: The Rhythm Section falls flat and out of sync

Blake Lively stars in The Rhythm Section, a not-so-action-packed thriller with a weak message. Image courtesy Paramount Pictures

The Rhythm Section’s title refers to the parts of the body an assassin must keep steady in order to be most effective: heartbeat and breathing. Everything else is tactical and depends on the specifics of the situation, but those are what truly matter. And in this film, those are the only parts that are any good.

It would be one thing if these moments, full of effective sound design, clever editing, and solid acting, reflected the adversity Stephanie (Blake Lively) overcame to become a highly effective assassin, succeeding where other intelligence agencies failed. Traumatized by the murder of her family by an international terrorist, she’s hit rock bottom and has nothing left to lose. If only Stephanie could then exact justice, go where others won’t, see what others can’t, suppress her hatred, and channel her rage—now that would be a movie. Too bad it’s not this movie.

The Rhythm Section

R, 109 minutes

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX, Violet Crown Cinema

The first problem is, she never gets very good at this assassin stuff. In one hit, she loses a fight then waits as the guy dies of a preexisting condition. In another, she hesitates and quits, leaving her trainer/handler (Jude Law) to execute plan B, which is way messier and more intolerable than if she’d done things the stealthy way. The climax is yet another failure upwards, and while I won’t spoil it, an unintroduced character does something unmotivated for Stephanie’s sake, and it’s treated like a victory. What’s all this focus for if she just waits for someone else to figure it out? For someone who says she’ll do whatever it takes, she has a knack for doing less than the bare minimum.

If this were a tale of a person out of her depth, realizing that doing what’s right is politically and morally murkier than it should be, by all means, leave the dirty work to the jaded vets. That’d be a spy tale with a dramatic core worth exploring. What we get instead is a paint-by-numbers thriller.

There’s one known bad guy and another whose identity is still a mystery. Here’s a pro tip from Roger Ebert: Find the A-list actor whose part seems too small. Boom, that’s the secret bad guy. The reveal is less of a surprise than the assumption that you didn’t know who the villain was.

What remains in The Rhythm Section is weak, noncommittal geopolitical commentary on defeating terror. Maybe that would work, if it had anything interesting to say about the state of the world. Its insights end at noting that some Middle Eastern people are terrorists and some Middle Eastern people are not terrorists. They’re either totally good or totally evil. We know more about the humanity of white people who show up for one scene and get killed than the people around whom the plot revolves.

Director Reed Morano has done her best work in television, and if this story had any legs to begin with, The Rhythm Section might have been best developed for the small screen. It’s certainly episodic enough. Instead, it’s an international spy thriller with no intrigue, and the only parts that show any craft are the occasional breathing sequences. So if you hate action, don’t know anything about the world, and love watching bad assassins breathe, your new favorite movie has finally arrived.

Local theater listings

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema 375 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056.

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213.

Violet Crown Cinema 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000.

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Green Book

PG-13, 130 minutes

Feb. 9, The Paramount Theater

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Arts

Cinéma réaliste: Les Misérables is a compelling exploration of modern strife

Ladj Ly’s Les Misérables is a multi-faceted, socio-political thriller set in suburban Paris. The film won the Jury Prize at the 2019 Cannes Film Festival. Image courtesy Amazon studios

Despite its name, Ladj Ly’s Les Misérables is not a retelling of Victor Hugo’s famous novel. But there are many ways it closely resembles its namesake. Within the confines of a tight thriller and a runtime of less than two hours, Ly explores questions of justice, crime, redemption, rebellion, collective and individual responsibility, and the socio-political role of architecture in modern-day Paris—including in the same suburb that inspired Hugo’s novel. The particular issues of today are different than the 1832 June Rebellion, but the underlying questions facing humanity remain the same. If an insurrection is morally justified but destined to fail, should it be quashed before it begins? Should we punish lawbreakers or maintain stability? If society is a pot about to boil over, should we struggle to keep the lid on and risk building more pressure, or let it happen and face the consequences?

Though the title invites comparisons, Ly’s Les Misérables is very much its own film, a bold societal and stylistic statement on par with City of God and Do the Right Thing. It’s an incredible mix of crime thriller, day-in-the-life police procedural, and social realist commentary with spectacular flourish, and would be an easy favorite to win Best International Feature Film if Parasite were not also nominated.

Les Misérables

R, 102 minutes

Violet Crown Cinema

The film follows the SCU, a team dedicated to monitoring lower-income, predominantly immigrant communities in Paris led by Chris (Alexis Manenti), whose methods wouldn’t be out of place in the Old West; depending on how you look at it, he’s either highly effective or completely reckless. His partner is Gwada (Djibril Zonga), an officer of African descent who is prepared for the worst but favors containment and cooperation over confrontation. Joining them is Stéphane (Damien Bonnard), nicknamed “Pento” or “Greaser.” During their regular patrol, they must address tensions after a boy named Issa (Issa Perica) steals a lion cub from Roma zookeepers. To stop an all-out confrontation, the SCU has to find Issa and return the cub, but the distrust they’ve created in the past complicates the present, particularly when a series of mistakes by the police threatens Issa’s life.

What follows is best left unspoiled, but is a masterstroke of stylistic and thematic escalation. A situation arises that could have been avoided, but once it arrives, it cannot be defused. The characters can only hope to navigate these events with their lives and their values intact. Some may not appreciate the ending, calling it a cliffhanger, but it is the only honest way to complete the emotional arc of this film. Issa is left with a choice: stand up for himself and risk everything, including the lives around him, or stand down and continue in his unsustainable life. This is where we are as a society: We can either act now to avoid this unwinnable game, or be prepared to lose everything in the blink of an eye, the pull of a trigger, the lighting of a Molotov cocktail.

As a film, Les Misérables is top-to-bottom perfection. The direction is nimble yet grounded, always focused even as the events of the story spiral out of control. The tension stays at a low hum, the characters are deep no matter how secondary to the narrative, and it has a compelling moral core even if it has no definitive answers; attempting to wrap everything up would have been dishonest and manipulative. At the start of the movie, Issa and his friends sing “La Marseillaise” in celebration of a soccer victory, and like that anthem, Les Misérables is a call to fight for what’s right, but also a warning that the solution is not as simple as taking up arms.

Local theater listings

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema 375 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056.

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213.

Violet Crown Cinema 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000.

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Groundhog Day

PG, 103 minutes

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, February 1 and 2

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Arts

Bold classic: Greta Gerwig takes Little Women to new heights

Little Women’s outstanding cast and the savvy direction of Greta Gerwig make for a refreshing take on the literary classic. Image courtesy Columbia Pictures

It would be against the spirit of Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of Little Women to compare it to other versions, particularly the 1994 one directed by Gillian Armstrong. Just as the March sisters are all different yet equally deserving of a fair shot at happiness, so too does each adaptation tap into a separate aspect of Louisa May Alcott’s enduring tale of family. If you have a particular attachment to Katharine Hepburn or Winona Ryder as Jo, you need not put that aside in order to appreciate Saoirse Ronan.

What sets Gerwig’s film apart is the way she modernizes the story while preserving the time in which it was written. It’s stylistically bold yet thoroughly classic, adding an inventive nonlinear structure. The characters are true to the text yet deepened, but not artificially inflated. And perhaps most impressively, Gerwig’s metanarrative feels decidedly un-meta, growing naturally from the story as if it had been there all along. How a filmmaker can achieve a postmodern throwback, an innovative-yet-classic work of brilliance on her second feature is, frankly, nothing short of astonishing.

Little Women

PG, 135 minutes

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX, Violet Crown Cinema

The story follows the irrepressible March family in Civil War-era Massachusetts: sisters Jo, Amy, Meg, and Beth (Ronan, Florence Pugh, Emma Watson, Eliza Scanlen) live with their mother (Laura Dern) while their father serves in the Union Army. The sisters are always up to something, talking about someone, staging a play, constantly with a whirlwind of energy. Scenes from their youth are juxtaposed with their lives seven years later, showing us how their shared childhood shaped who they’ve become. Along for the ride is Laurie (Timothée Chalamet), a boy from a neighboring family whose charming yet occasionally self-centered demeanor makes him alternately a love interest and object of scorn for Jo and Amy.

One important thing Gerwig does is respect her characters. She doesn’t reduce them to one trait nor does she talk down to the very real emotions of young people. Jo is a born storyteller and just as driven as any successful man, but cares about others as much as her ambition. When she considers leaving her writing career behind to marry, it truly stings because we know how hard she has worked and how much she thrives in the company of those she loves. When Amy pursues a mature career after a lifetime of being a near terror to Jo, we can see the pride and regret in her eyes. And when Laurie grows up, his journey is deeper than losing his spoiled tendencies.

(It would be a crime not to mention the exceptional supporting cast. There are no small parts here, and though Ronan and Pugh shine, everybody enhances the story, including Watson, Dern, Chris Cooper, Tracy Letts, Bob Odenkirk, and others too numerous to name.)

Though Little Women is a massive leap in technique and style for Gerwig, it is a continuation of themes she’s explored in her previous work, as writer-director of Lady Bird and co-writer and star of Francis Ha—finding balance between who you are and who you want to become, discovering the moment you can no longer coast through life, and accepting responsibility without losing your most cherished traits. That she’s made such a personal story from an internationally renowned novel, and managed to innovate a text that has been beloved for a century and a half, updating the plot and characters without robbing them of their time and place, is a subtle miracle.

Local theater listings

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema 375 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056.

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213.

Violet Crown Cinema 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000.

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Xanadu (glow-along)

PG, 96 minutes

January 11, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema

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Arts

Good looks: Movies that moved us in 2019

Film critic Kristofer Jenson share his top 10 of 2019. Top-tier work could be found at all levels, from megaplexes to arthouses and even on demand.

This year was an embarrassment of riches when it comes to quality filmmaking. Long-established directors were firing on all cylinders, while new talents were upping their game. Top-tier work could be found at all levels, from megaplexes to arthouses and even on demand.

So, while these are my picks for the best of 2019, they are not the only great films of the year. If your list is different, we’d love to see it!

  1. The Nightingale

  2. Parasite

  3. Little Women

  4. Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood

  5. Uncut Gems

  6. Us

  7. The Farewell

  8. The Irishman

  9. Midsommar

10. In Fabric

Please note that The Nightingale is one of the most harrowing, disturbing films I’ve ever seen. This is recognition, not recommendation. If you consider yourself a movie-lover in the sense that you enjoy a night out at the pictures, this is not that. If you’re a believer in the power of cinema to explore the most essential problems of humanity, including our most ugly, violent, and vicious tendencies and the systems we create to enshrine those vices (colonialism, private property, human servitude, and slavery), then you have to recognize The Nightingale as an unmitigated masterpiece.

After assembling this list, I was struck by the prevalence of sophomore features. Jennifer Kent’s The Nightingale, Greta Gerwig’s Little Women, Jordan Peele’s Us, Ari Aster’s Midsommar, and Lulu Wang’s The Farewell are all the second full-length films for their respective directors. It’s a fascinating trend; the follow-up is usually where the wunderkind stumbles, but not only do these films succeed on their own terms, they each show a singular and uncompromised vision for what are sure to be long, rewarding careers behind the camera.

For the more established directors, we saw a tendency toward reflection and self-examination. Many of Martin Scorsese’s films feature characters on a collision course with one of two outcomes: death or regret. The Irishman works as a coda to the excitement of Goodfellas; in the latter, Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) never lost the gleam in his eye from a life of crime; he simply acted out of self-preservation and wishes he could still live his old life. Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro), on the other hand, outlasts and outsmarts everyone, but can you consider yourself a successful criminal if the end of your life is spent wishing for repentance?

Quentin Tarantino, similarly, digs deeper on his prototypical hero in Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood. Long an admirer of 1960s and ’70s pop culture, his dive into the making of Hollywood mythology questions what it means to be that archetype. Is it all great clothes, tough attitudes, and excellent soundtracks? How much of it is fed by toxicity, and how complicit are we in overlooking the dirty deeds of those we admire? Fun, funny, and endearing in its own right, it’s also his most thoughtful film yet.

With more space we could examine our remaining three films: Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite, the Safdies’ Uncut Gems, and Peter Strickland’s In Fabric, but let’s summarize it this way: producers, please finance any films these people want to make. Audiences, please see any film of theirs that gets produced.

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Arts

Dress success: Funny and surreal, In Fabric is a perfect fit

Say yes to In Fabric, a bizarre horror comedy in which a possessed dress brings strange occurrences upon its owners. Image courtesy A24

Subverting genre conventions is one thing. Channeling them into a wholly unique artistic vision is another thing entirely. This is what sets English filmmaker Peter Strickland apart as an innovator, even as he works with decades-old material. Film after film, he manages to be postmodern yet devotional, ironic yet totally sincere. A giallo slasher with no violence (Berberian Sound Studio) and a Rollin-esque Eurosleaze lesbian romance fantasy with no nudity and virtually no sex (The Duke of Burgundy) might seem like gimmicks and auteurist indulgences. But Strickland repurposes the stylistic language of those genres for a deeper connection with the logic-defying worlds of his characters, erasing the space between our suspension of disbelief and our ability to empathize.

In Fabric takes a simple, absurd low-budget horror idea—what if a dress is possessed/haunted/evil?—and uses the opportunity to explore vanity, self-perception, and ambition. When we dress to impress, are we more than glorified mannequins? Are we placing too much of our self-worth in a dead piece of fabric as our soul deteriorates within? When we fall for a sales pitch, are we signing part of ourselves away? Do we define our identity too much by external factors, including our occupation?

In Fabric

R, 117 minutes

Now streaming

In Fabric follows a size 36 red dress (that miraculously fits every person who wears it) on its journey from high-end (and probably demonic) retailer Dentley & Soper to several otherwise unconnected Londoners. We start with Sheila (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), a single mother and bank teller trying to reenter the dating scene. After a hard sell from Miss Luckmoore (Fatma Mohamed), she buys the dress, but notices strange events, such as a peculiar rash on her chest, vivid dreams, strange sounds in her closet, and the dress appearing where she did not leave it. The dress then goes to Reg Speaks (Leo Bill), a washing machine repairman who is forced to wear it on his stag night, again experiencing the strange occurrences.

This is without a doubt Strickland’s silliest movie, but that never comes in the form of self-deprecation, knowing winks, or tired references. He never belittles or satirizes the source material, preferring to earn laughs from the absurdity of this universe in which bosses call lunch break “feeding time,” detailed technical descriptions of washing machine repair are hypnotic and pleasurable, and a clearly nefarious store like Dentley & Soper can continue to operate. Strickland casts famous comedians Julian Barratt and Steve Oram as Sheila’s bosses, fixated on the length of toilet breaks and polite gestures toward superiors. It is also a delight to see Gwendoline Christie given the opportunity to chew the scenery as Sheila’s son’s model girlfriend.

Despite the lighter tone, Strickland sacrifices nothing in terms of style, using a striking color palette reminiscent of 1980s kitsch. His incorporation of comedy is a surprising fit, having made such powerful statements on dread and alienation in the past. If you are new to Strickland’s work, In Fabric is a perfect place to start.

Local theater listings

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema 375 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056.

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213.

Violet Crown Cinema 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000.

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It’s a Wonderful Life

PG, 130 minutes

The Paramount Theater, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema

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Riding it out: Familial clashes move Waves through a complex narrative

Parent-child relationships ebb and flow with intensity in Waves starring Kelvin Harrison Jr., Taylor Russell, Sterling K. Brown, and Renée Elise Goldsberry. Image courtesy A24

Trey Edward Shults’ Waves is an ambitious next step for the writer-director of Krisha and It Comes at Night, balancing his atmospheric skills against a complex narrative of parental pressure, trauma, transgression, and redemption with overtones of race and class. It is very nearly a runaway success in all categories, as the cast brings life to layered characters and Shults’s stylistic flair is never gratuitous, always serving a narrative or thematic purpose. And while the film’s social commentary can be uneven, a deep sense of empathy is palpable. Shults’ good intentions are sincere and you will not leave the theater unmoved.

Waves is a story in two parts, following the Williams family before and after a shocking event. Tyler (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) is a high school senior, a wrestler from a financially secure family with a loving girlfriend, Alexis (Alexa Demie). Pressure from his father Ronald (Sterling K. Brown) helps him excel, but cracks begin to show in Tyler’s stable life. A shoulder injury threatens his athletic career, and he treats the pain with stolen prescription pills. His girlfriend becomes pregnant, and decides against an abortion, and his furious reaction causes them to break up. The series of decisions that follow will devastate everyone permanently and irreversibly.

Waves

R, 135 minutes

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX, Violet Crown Cinema

The perspective then shifts to Tyler’s sister, Emily (Taylor Russell), who has led an isolated social life until beginning a relationship with Luke (Lucas Hedges). She finds some normalcy and reconnects with her father, so that when it comes time for Luke to face his own troubled relationship with his father, they can break the cycle of resentment and hate.

The main metaphor is front and center: no person is isolated from the waves created by the actions of others. Sometimes they’re big, sometimes they’re small, and sometimes we don’t notice them until we’re already drowning. Heightened moments frequently involve water and its many properties: redemptive, playful, loving, calming, and dangerous. Water has more than one characteristic, as do people. It’s always wet, we’re always human, but that has different meanings in different contexts, not all of them pleasant.

The most trenchant observation Shults makes is in the meaning of forgiveness. There is no taking back what happened, there is no ignoring the past, but there is also no changing it. Forgiving someone does not mean they are no longer responsible for their actions. It does mean acknowledging their humanity and freeing yourself of the hate you feel toward them. (This observation borrowed from Mr. Rogers; in a curious coincidence of unexpected overlap, I watched Waves immediately after A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.) No deed is undone, no punishment unserved, but through forgiveness, we can break the cycles that make us feel trapped—expressed visually with a change in aspect ratio, from wide and full of possibilities, to tighter, restricted, and suffocating.

As an analysis of rage and catharsis, Waves is excellent. As social commentary, it’s murkier. Through dialogue, it’s suggested that Ronald’s parenting is rooted in pressures he felt to excel, needing to work twice as hard to get ahead as a black man. Brown convincingly embodies this mentality, pushing Tyler so hard that he all but disregards Emily’s needs. Luke, on the other hand, was abused by his addict father, and constantly fights with his mother, but is emotionally present and attentive for Emily, and his father-son reconciliation comes quickly. This could be a statement that the racism experienced by previous generations still clings to people of color while white people have the privilege of moving on, despite socioeconomic status. If this is the message, it is made less emphatically then the film’s other themes, and as a result distracts from the film’s other qualities.

These questions aside, Waves is gorgeous to behold and devastating to experience, led by strong performances and contagious optimism.

Local theater listings

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema 375 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056.

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213.

Violet Crown Cinema 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000.

See it again

Elf

PG, 97 minutes

December 14, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema

Categories
Arts

Sharp and intriguing: Knives Out is an Agatha Christie-style thrill ride

Rian Johnson’s Knives Out is an instant classic with an all-star cast that delivers charming wit and whodunnit suspense. We think we know who did what, how, when, and why, but that’s not the story we’re watching. LIONSGATE

In the grand tradition of Agatha Christie comes Rian Johnson’s Knives Out, an ingenious, exciting, rollicking good time. It’s best experienced with no knowledge of the plot, so if that’s enough to convince you to see it, our job here is done. If you need a little more, read on, where we will endeavor to review with as few spoilers as possible.

Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) is a successful mystery writer whose apparent suicide shocks his family. What should be a clean-cut investigation is then complicated by the arrival of Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig), a detective of some renown, who is hired by an anonymous note in an envelope filled with cash. The suicide was somewhat uncharacteristic, and Blanc navigates the complicated network of trust and hate among the clan. All felt some anger toward the patriarch, but each had an interest in keeping him alive so they could ride his gravy train, even as they suffer from delusions of being “self-made” despite his immense financial assistance. Joining Blanc in his investigation is Marta Cabrera (Ana de Armas), Harlan’s nurse and close confidant with a secret of her own.

Knives Out

PG-13, 130 minutes

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX, Violet Crown Cinema

The film is immediately charming, with its delicious intrigue and gut-busting laughs. The wit is fast and sharp, the setting straight out of a classic whodunit. The colorful characters are brought to life by an all-star ensemble cast: Plummer, Craig, de Armas, Chris Evans, Jamie Lee Curtis, Don Johnson, Michael Shannon, Toni Collette, Lakeith Stanfield, Jaeden Martell, Katherine Langford, and Riki Lindhome—a reviewer could devote his entire word count to their performances.

Alfred Hitchcock once described the difference between surprise and suspense: imagine two people are sitting at a table, and suddenly a bomb goes off. Yes, the explosion is a surprise, but it’s not very exciting and it’s not much of a story. If, however, the audience sees the bomb and knows that it will go off but the characters do not, that’s suspense. We’re now fully engaged, counting the seconds until they find out. The same is true of mysteries. If the only important part of the story is the big reveal, our enjoyment is based only on how surprised we are, and rewatching is essentially pointless. And if we can predict the perpetrator, we’re just spinning our wheels for two hours while the story catches up.

What is it that sets Christie stories apart, and how does Johnson build on that so effectively? There are the surface-level qualities: high-society characters with countless secrets, an unstoppable detective facing an unsolvable crime. The complexity of the story makes you wonder how everything will unravel, and the resolution makes you gasp, even if you predicted some version of it. And even once you know what happens, you want to experience the story again and again.

That final component is the real key to success in Christie’s stories, and in Knives Out. For much of the film’s duration, the emphasis is not on whodunit, but on how a particular character will conceal a crucial bit of information, doing so with the audience’s full sympathies as the lead detective carries out his investigation. We think we know who did what, how, when, and why, but that’s not the story we’re watching. Johnson is devilishly clever in the way he pulls this off and frees us from having to solve it for ourselves so we can enjoy how well the story is told.

Throughout it all, Johnson’s use of the current political climate is the slyest of all his tricks. In a family this large and affluent, there are sure to be competing beliefs, and disagreements amplify the divisions between them. But characters are not measured by political sympathies, rather by who they seek for comfort when their position is threatened. There’s stability in wealth and family, more so than in sacrificing status for professed beliefs. Class solidarity unites the wealthy across the liberal-conservative divide, and the Thrombey family only unites when their employee, an immigrant woman, becomes their main obstacle.

Knives Out is thrilling, funny, and brilliantly realized. There is no weak link in the ensemble cast, no dull moment in the dialogue. The tone is breezy but wonderfully tense. A taut, breathless, instant classic.

Local theater listings

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema 375 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056.

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213.

Violet Crown Cinema 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000.

See it again

Meet Me in St. Louis

NR, 113 minutes

December 8, Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX