The Matrix Resurrections (2021)

Lana Wachowski’s fourth entry in the era defining series of Matrix films is a fun and extensively meta exploration of the themes and narrative established in the original trilogy. The Matrix Resurrections is relentless in it’s presentation right from the start. Tempting the audience to see parallels between it and the previous films, Resurrections goes on to create something quite fresh and clever. Though it doesn’t ever match the panache of what has come before, the cast and execution are all admirably bold and compelling, as suits a new chapter in this daring franchise.

The story is rekindled with Thomas Anderson having been plugged back into the Matrix and feeling again as if things are not what they seem. When he’s contacted by a new crew of humans from the real world, Thomas, or Neo, once again undergoes the process of being awakened. Subsequently, he decides that he must do the same for Trinity, who he’s encountered sporadically within the realm of his new digital prison. What follows is a twist and turn filled adventure story, comparable to the first film in several elements, while also commenting on and advancing the thematic concerns that fans of the series have come to know.

Like many rebooted franchise properties, Resurrections could always have been something much less original and worthwhile. Thankfully, Lana Wachowski and her co-writers (David Mitchell and Aleksandar Hemon) have opted to tell a story that engages with this very topic. The new film is crafted so that it says something substantiative about the state of popular filmmaking and it’s trajectory, rather than retreading familiar beats purely for the sake of a bombastic and inarticulate cash grab. Beyond ruminations on recent developments in Hollywood, it speaks to a broader notion of the way that people consume in general, lamenting a lack of challenging ideas in favour of fawning nostalgia. Taking the audience right up to the precipice of an unsubtle and overdone didactic wallop, Wachowski manages to restrain herself so that the film still delivers a fulfilling and exhilarating ride down the rabbit hole, without becoming too exhausting and losing all sense of fun.

With regard to visual flair and tone, Wachowski doesn’t seem to have come undone in any way between now and the earlier films, even without her sister as co-director this time around. New additions Jessica Henwick and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II each deliver strong performances. Jonathon Groff and Neil Patrick Harris are also great in their roles, and Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Anne Moss are reliable as ever. Overall, everyone looks to be having fun.

The action and cinematography are still sharp, but the real strength on a technical level lies in the production design by Hugh Bateup and Peter Walpole. While acknowledging the aesthetic that the trilogy created, the new film veers in another direction. Wholly realised and commendable in it’s ingenuity, Resurrections looks like a Matrix film ought to after almost twenty years between it and Revolutions.

Lacking the intensity and narrative originality of the earlier films, The Matrix Resurrections still serves as a fairly solid coda to the series. Wachowski’s return to her most popular work is both nostalgic and refreshingly challenging. In this way it echoes the two sequels to the first film, but also manages to distinguish itself as something different within the universe. It also benefits from the decision to make it more playful and less grim than previous entries. For lifelong fans and casual audiences alike, The Matrix Resurrections is a new adventure that delivers thrills and an acute metaphor that resonates in an era of low hanging cinematic fruit.

3.5/5

The Mystery of D.B. Cooper (2020)

John Dower’s The Mystery of D.B. Cooper is an inquisitive and elaborate look into an unsolved American crime which has bedazzled the public since it took place in 1971. Canvassing multiple subjects who claim to know who Cooper was, but also the nature of their suspicions in the context of an obsession, the film posits that the truth is unlikely to ever be known. Using staged recreation, archive footage and talking head interviews, Dower’s film is an exhaustive and sometimes garbled meditation on the famous hijacking, as well as the way a mystery can ensnare the public and private imagination of those who develop an interest in it.

The facts are few and relatively straightforward in the way they’re presented. In November of 1971, a man using the name Dan Cooper boarded a plane flying from Portland, Oregon to Seattle, Washington. Using what he claimed was an explosive device, Cooper hijacked the aircraft and demanded $200,000 in ransom money along with four parachutes. After receiving the money and releasing the hostages, the man dived out of the plane at 10,000 feet and was never seen or heard from again. Beyond this, we enter into the conjecture of various people who believe they subsequently discovered Cooper’s identity.

While the mystery of the hijacking is certainly engrossing, the film’s structure at times becomes bogged down with repetition and a lack of any definitive resolution. Dower uses the inconclusive suppositions of his subjects, however, to make an interesting point on the nature of obsession and the motivation in people to believe something without an objective basis in fact. This aspect is perhaps the most engaging part of the film, which is otherwise something of a cookie cutter documentary. The story itself is compelling enough to sustain the interest of those who haven’t already heard it, but the lack of focus on this element of human behaviour feels like a missed opportunity.

The Mystery of D.B. Cooper does a good job of recounting facts and gathering evidence to support various conclusions, but, in the end, it doesn’t deliver anything particularly revelatory on the subject of the only unsolved plane hijacking in American history. First hand witness accounts, exposition from law enforcement involved in the investigation and the theories of researchers and those who believe they knew Cooper in their own lives all make for an interesting history of the event. Unfortunately, the film suffers due to the lack of a resolution and only a trivial focus on what the various theories say collectively about a society’s drive to know that which is unknowable. While it remains an entertaining spectacle, Dower’s film leaves the audience clutching at straws and with only a vague understanding that people are capable of believing just about anything.

3/5

Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn (2021)

Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn is an unconventional and very clever provocation of a film. Radu Jude directs our attention to hypocritical and privileged positions in society which underline self serving behaviour amongst individuals and groups, crafting an incisive satire that occasions laughter and despondency by turns. Challenging at the level of both visual depiction and tone, Jude’s film is bold in the way it sticks to it’s convictions throughout long takes and scenes, each of which pay off handsomely in the end.

Emi is a school teacher in modern day Romania who, in the opening scene, has sex on camera with her husband. Soon we discover that the video has been uploaded and shared widely online, causing concern on a professional level and scandal in the wider community. As Emi goes about her day, stalled at times by the Covid pandemic, she encounters not only strangers who seem to recognise and harass her, but also various petty grievances expressed by her fellow Romanians. Ranging from moments of passive aggressive tête-à-tête to outright elitist and racist interactions, it becomes clear that people in Jude’s projection of the world in this film are often seen to be selfish and arrogant in both subtle and more overt ways. Culminating in a lively confrontation between Emi and the parents of her students, the absurdity reaches a fever pitch and the satire becomes all the more powerful as almost every character presented surrenders to the worst inclinations of their own thinking.

Bad Luck Banging starts out with an effort to shock the audience into letting go of preconceived notions of decency on screen. The unsimulated sex that makes up the first part of the film is depicted as raw and unflinching as any act in the safety and comfort of the bedroom can be. There is also an extended sequence in the film which serves purely as a demonstration of the various absurd and contradictory aspects of modern life. This montage of conceptual ideas paired with images, along with scenes of everyday encounters between people, gives the audience a humorous and at times tragic insight into the hypocrisy of life in many different contexts. The effect is to challenge the comfort of our reliance on things that are simple rather than complex, causing one to appraise the meaning behind socio-political understandings that we take for granted, but also, at times, fail to understand.

The film uses long, uncut takes of urban environments in order to capture the many nuances of behaviour and expression which hide in plain sight amongst every densely populated cityscape. This seems like a deliberate choice when, later on, audiences might be tempted to look away, but have by that point in the film become used to their obligation to keep watching. By no means is Bad Luck Banging an uplifting film in so far as it concerns how people treat each other without regard to their own whims and shortcomings. Having said that, the script is whip smart and funny enough to propel the action forward in a way that compels an audience to go along for the ride anyway.

Without a doubt, Jude’s Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn is an experimental triumph of a film which continues to shock and provide laughs up to the moment that it ends. Though it seems more directly observational in style, the didactism inherent within the script is clear in the depiction of people as selfish and prejudiced without any relative self-awareness. Using the absurdity of the response to the inciting incident to wrestle with the understanding of propriety and hypocrisy within our modern society, this blistering satire is somewhat relentless and beautiful in it’s confidently drawn effort to challenge audiences for the sake of intellectual and moral understanding.

5/5

Dune – Part One (2021)

The blockbuster adaptation of Frank Herbert’s science fiction epic Dune is a film bursting with high fantasy and visual wonders. Denis Villeneuve’s two and a half hour film (encompassing about half of the first book in the series) strips back the detail in order to tell a sleek and compelling story of political intrigue and indigenous resistance to colonialism. Between the immensity of the narrative and the effects used to render it upon the big screen, Dune is an impressive bit of filmmaking, even if it is sometimes dense, daunting and uneven.

The powerful Atreides family is selected by the Emperor of the universe to become the stewards of the planet Arrakis, where they will ensure the continued production of Spice, the most valuable commodity in existence. Their mission is complicated by the planet’s former master, Baron Harkonnen, who seeks to destabilise the Atreides rule by way of murder and sabotage. Paul, the young heir to Duke Leto Atreides, must learn how to survive amidst the brutal politics of this feudal order, as well as the ways of his new home, where water is sacred and giant, deadly sand worms populate the desert environment.

Villeneuve and his writing team have chosen to pare back certain elements of the story in order to create a more fluid and less complicated narrative in this film. While the exposition is dense and easy to miss, the bones of the story are there and work to create a feeling of dread and wonder as Paul discovers the dangers of his situation, as well as new strengths within himself previously unknown. Some elements seem hobbled together and could potentially have been fleshed out more cohesively. In saying that, however, one must also acknowledge the weight of the story and also the fact that the film fits together and flows quite well. For the most part the action of the plot continues to move forward throughout, though there are some moments of quiet, dramatic tension which don’t work so well. This comes down less to the writing as it does to some of the casting.

Timothée Chalamet is good in the lead, although at times his performance becomes a little melodramatic. This isn’t enough to derail the film though, especially when you consider he is essentially playing a teenager completely out of his depth. Stellan Skarsgård and Oscar Isaac are both excellent in their relatively few scenes and Rebecca Ferguson does well in the role of Paul’s mother, Lady Jessica. She brings to the film a balance of power and timidity which suits the character and narrative quite well. The real star, undoubtedly, is Jason Momoa. His confidence and charisma is a constant throughout the film. This is a contrast to Josh Brolin’s performance which at times feels wooden and forced.

The visual effects in Dune are fairly remarkable. Where in other films of this size and scope the CGI can become bombastic and off-putting, Villeneuve manages to restrain these elements so they appear seamless. The score by Hans Zimmer is also a winner, in that it doesn’t feel intrusive, merely complimenting the visual style and tone of the film. The editing by Joe Walker (a regular collaborator of both Villeneuve and Steve McQueen) is also strong, creating a feeling of dreams blending into reality.

While Dune isn’t a perfect film, it gets pretty close to being a masterpiece of science fiction cinema. Far superior tonally and in consistency to the oft-maligned film by David Lynch (still quite good, for all it’s faults) Villeneuve’s adaptation is a film that deserves multiple viewings. This serves not only a better understanding of all the moving parts, but will also allow it to unwind slowly in the minds of audiences. While we can only hope that the next film in the series is as bold and well executed as the first, Dune – Part One works in it’s own right as a cosmic and cinematic opus which filmmakers in the genre are sure to draw from in the years to come.

4/5

Eternals (2021)

Eternals, the latest blockbuster in the MCU and the first big action flick to be helmed by Chloe Zhao, is a film at odds with itself. Struggling to maintain a coherent narrative while also introducing ten major characters, the result is overwrought and messy. In moments that are all too brief, Zhao manages to instil the characters with some emotional depth and nuance. Unfortunately, her direction is stifled by the onslaught of heavy exposition and MacGuffins which make up too much of the film.

Eternals tells the story of heroes from another universe who have protected an unwitting humanity from 5000 BC onwards. After disbanding at a time when the team became fractured, these immortal beings are brought back together in the wake of tragedy and the return of their beastly enemies. Told in both the present day and with flashbacks to the group’s prior history, the story and even individual scenes are disjointed and flush with expository dialogue that always feels squeezed in. There are moments that are not only underwhelming in terms of the narrative complexity, but also as if they’ve been edited in a way to shorten the run time. This is odd, considering it might’ve helped to have one less action scene and a bit more time to flesh out the drama in a film that still runs for two and a half hours. The character development is hurried along for the sake of too many of these computer generated smackdowns, making the Eternals themselves hard to care about.

Zhao brings to the film some moments that hint at her strong track record in human drama. There are quiet and reflective scenes that develop certain characters in a way that is relatively fresh for Marvel, but they come across as mere lip service in a film that is barrelling along at an unwieldy pace. While real world exteriors do count for a lot in making Eternals look better than quite a few previous outings, they are too often overpopulated with CGI phantasmagoria, demeaning the value of their inclusion in the first place. Terrence Malick (if he’s even aware of the film and the way his name has cropped up in marketing babble) is likely not going to be a fan. In saying that, however, some of the more cosmic sequences are handled well.

Above all, the film is long-winded and action packed. This might be a reason why it matters less that a great deal of it doesn’t make total sense. Gemma Chan does good work in the lead role and some of the narrative turns do compliment and highlight a worldview that is less black and white than a traditional goodies and baddies set up. Zhao is an interesting, though potentially unnecessary choice as director for this type of material, but elements of her talent do shine through here and there. Eternals certainly won’t be remembered as one of Marvel’s home runs, but the experiment will hopefully remain a touchstone for future projects.

2/5

The Frighteners (1996)

Peter Jackson’s The Frighteners is a weird and comedic riff on traditional horror in film. Working from a script he and screenwriting partner Fran Walsh developed out of their own pitch for TV’s Tales from the Crypt (also produced by Robert Zemeckis), the film is at times unbalanced, though hits it’s stride with help from humour and the pageantry of the horror theme. With what are consistently interesting visual and practical effects, Jackson’s foray into the genre is one that works better if the audience worries less about plot and pacing and chooses instead to go along for the ride.

Michael J. Fox plays Frank, a psychic and exorcist who scratches a living in small town America with the help of three friends who happen to be ghosts. When the town falls under the malevolent influence of a supernatural entity, Frank must take responsibility and work against the bumblings of law enforcement in order to solve the mystery plaguing his home. With a plot point or two that draws on the history of serial killers, as well as the conventions of horror, Jackson’s film is a romp where the wheels always seem just shy of coming off. The director’s talent for consistency and a lack of self seriousness allows for The Frighteners to make it to the end without becoming a complete parody of itself.

The film is easier to appreciate the longer it goes along and as various narrative threads develop towards the climax. The pacing and plot mechanics don’t always work, but the performances of Fox and especially Jeffrey Combs keep things mostly above water. Jake Busey and Dee Wallace also give great character turns in their roles. The strength of the cast is reinforced by Jackson and his team’s understanding of visual effects. Though designed more as comic relief than with any real intention to scare, the work of Rick Baker in makeup and Weta Digital in CGI is to be commended.

It may not all flow together, but The Frighteners gets extra points for simply committing to the ridiculousness of it’s premise. Peter Jackson demonstrates a confident hand in keeping a great many balls in the air and underwrites the tension in the darker elements of the story with strong humour throughout. With some genuinely scary moments, his film is a thrilling exercise in the horror genre.

3/5

The Power of the Dog (2021)

Jane Campion’s quiet and brooding entry in the Western genre is an insightful examination of masculinity and isolation set in Montana circa 1925. The Power of the Dog bristles with tension and brings audiences a story that could easily take place today. With performances and a score that each contribute to the film’s masterly quality, Campion delivers something special which understands itself and the world in which it’s set.

Wealthy ranchers George and Phil Burbank live in stoic and solitary calm within the confines of their parcel of land in Montana. When George marries a widow from the closest town, Phil’s world is upended and he is forced to share his home and brother with an outsider for the first time in years. Using a brutal, however magnetic persona to dominate his world and the people that populate it, Phil eventually develops a relationship with the widow’s less than workmanlike son. This relationship goes on to impact not only himself, but the fortunes of his immediate family life.

The cast of this western melodrama are each well suited to their parts. Jesse Plemons and Kirsten Dunst are comfortable in their supporting roles as George and his new bride, Rose. Plemons utilises his quiet and soft demeanor as a husband who only wants everything to run smoothly and Dunst gives one of her finest performances as a mother and wife out of her depth and outmatched by the menacing Phil. The acerbic and demanding rancher, Cumberbatch unravels his character slowly to reveal a complex and troubled man whose outward persona may be a facade to hide a more sensitive nature. Kodi Smit-McPhee holds his own against actors with a great deal more experience and continues upon a solid career trajectory.

Campion directs the film with the grace and confidence that her previous work attests to. The story plays out in a way that marks the tone of the film as more observational than didactic. Though we glean insight through the editing and cinematography, the director trusts the audience to make their own way towards understanding and the film is much stronger as a result of this choice. Jonny Greenwood’s score also percolates throughout. The drama builds along with his multi-layered musical presence and it often feels like composer and director were made for each other.

The Power of the Dog, at just over two hours, is a potent rumination on the subject of dynamics between people that either create a bond or inhibit one from being made. Cumberbatch’s performance anchors the film and creates a feeling of unease throughout, not unlike the tension that his character carries with him. Campion’s latest is clever and exacting, not so much asking questions directly, but making us aware of their inherent place in the depiction of the story she tells onscreen.

5/5

Barry Lyndon (1975)

Stanley Kubrick’s Georgian period piece is an aesthetic and narrative tour-de-force, ahead of it’s time in 1975. More ambitious than almost any widely released studio film of today, Barry Lyndon may well exist as strongly in the mind as it does on screen. Like the great landscape paintings to which it pays homage, Kubrick’s film rolls along in different segments and the details continue to amass. The result is something wholly original which never manages to overwhelm the audience.

Redmond Barry is a poor Irishman who lives with his mother and is dependent upon the generosity of relatives with better financial prospects. After falling out with his benefactors over a matter of love and pride, Redmond leaves his country home and is swept up in many adventures. As he slowly learns to profit from each of these endeavours with the absolute bare minimum of effort, Redmond eventually marries rich and assumes the name which gives the film it’s title. From here the story becomes one of undeserving position and privilege, but also speaks to the emptiness and fallibility of the character’s incessant scheming and readily apparent unscrupulous nature. Barry Lyndon is a man with very little to offer in the way of substance, though his strength is found in representing himself as the very modicum of success and taste.

Kubrick and his cinematographer John Alcott famously shot almost all of this film with natural and period accurate light sources. The effect is to draw in the audience the same way a great painting from that era does; with enough contrast and definition to create something unique and inspiring, however shrouded in darkness. Shots begin in close up and pull back slowly to reveal tableaux and landscape. This technique allows for reflection on the complexity of the characters as well as the exterior and interior settings. The editing also nudges our understanding of the themes in the right direction. Shots either linger or cut to demonstrate the socio-political goings on between characters, all of whom seek to play their own game. These technical elements combined with the soundtrack of classical orchestral pieces present us with one of Kubrick’s more substantial and satisfying masterworks.

Barry Lyndon is a tragicomic epic told with aplomb and intelligence. Kubrick makes of Thackeray’s picaresque fiction a lively and stirring film, though it is excessively (and rightfully) patient in the execution of it’s narrative and thematic presentation. With a cast of actors that each seem aware of their place and function in the story, this cinematic treasure deserves it’s spot in the pantheon of classic 70’s film.

5/5

Shang-Chi and The Legend of the Ten Rings (2021)

Shang-Chi and The Legend of the Ten Rings, the first film in the MCU led by a predominantly Asian cast and superhero, is a thrilling ride that pays homage to martial arts cinema. Directed with a stable hand by established drama filmmaker Destin Daniel Cretton, Marvel’s foray into this world is grounded by a well oiled cast and a script that allows itself a deal more maturity than audiences have previously become used to.

After escaping the criminal empire of his father, Shang-Chi lives peacefully amongst his friends as Shaun in San Francisco. When mercenaries come to endanger that security, he is plunged back into the world of mythic warriors and tests of his strength. With his estranged sister and best friend along for the adventure, Shang-Chi must navigate the path of his destiny, confronting the past for the sake of the future.

Simu Liu is a confident and capable leading man, imbuing the character of Shang-Chi with force and humility. He also bounces well off the comedic elements within the script, supplied mostly by his friend Katy (Awkwafina in a feisty role that she seems born to inhabit). The entire cast perform well, including Meng’er Zhang and Tony Chiu-Wai Leung as his sister and father, respectively. Veteran Asian cinema actor Leung brings complexity and depth to his role as the villain, and Michelle Yeoh lends gravitas to the film and her performance as Shang-Chi’s aunt. Furthermore, the return of Ben Kingsley’s oafish Trevor Slattery saves the film from an exposition heavy midway slump, providing laughs in a way that appears effortless.

The script and execution are, for the most part, quite good. There are moments here and there that could be trimmed for the sake of a shorter run time, like the repetition of jokes as M-rated catchphrases. Despite this and the inevitable (sometimes incomprehensible) CGI slugfest that ends the film, Cretton threads the story together well with flashbacks that aren’t burdensome and fight choreography that works consistently with fluid camera work. The martial arts sequences are especially good and give a respectful nod to the cult films that Shang-Chi looks to update and incorporate into the unwieldy MCU.

Though it works to the established formula, Cretton’s film is an assured and refreshing entry in this ever-expanding universe of films. Better than any of the more recent Avengers movies, Shang-Chi and The Legend of the Ten Rings gives audiences a bold new hero and manages to represent Asian culture in a way that is neither cringeworthy or cloying.

3.5/5

No Time To Die (2021)

The final chapter in Daniel Craig’s era of James Bond has finally been released. No Time To Die is an overcooked and underwhelming mess of ideas and concepts which tries to break new ground, but only manages to undermine the franchise and also the better entries in this most recent series.

Cary Joji Fukunaga’s film is a very direct sequel to Spectre and suffers for it right out of the gate. Bond has left MI6 and is enjoying life with Madeline, but it isn’t long before the desire for an overt and superfluous resolution sees him brought back into the fold. Tasked with tracking down a Russian defector who has developed a weapon of mass destruction for the antagonist (Rami Malek), the former 007 returns to the world of gadgets and daring do. Unfortunately the story jumps from one silly plot point to another, failing to justify the almost three hours it takes to wrap up multiple elements of Craig’s tenure in the role.

Reminiscent of the more ridiculous Roger Moore outings, No Time To Die is beset by problems that the cast and director can’t work around. Daniel Craig performs admirably as Bond, although there is a sense of him being tired and less motivated than his previous efforts. Léa Seydoux is good, but the script doesn’t anchor that performance. Though her character propels the narrative, Madeline feels very much like a cog designed to give Craig’s Bond a neat and tidy exit. The artifice is often galling as a result. Malek is in a similar position. If the script focused on him more his characterisation would be quite intriguing, even scary. Safin instead becomes almost a caricature of past villains, tempting the audience to see more in him than the film delivers.

Fukunaga keeps things floating with his bombastic and highly stylised direction of the action sequences. The young director demonstrates great zeal and prowess in these moments, though in between the film slows to a crawl. The humour in the script is also a let down, as it feels interjected and too on the nose to really make us laugh. After about the fifth joke alluding to the title of the film, one begins to feel that Pheobe Waller-Bridge’s work here has been misjudged by the producers and by the film as a whole.

This incarnation of James Bond will likely be one of, if not the most controversial in the history of the franchise. Splitting itself down the middle and at the seams, No Time To Die appears to fundamentally misunderstand the appeal of the character. The outcome is a film which relies on more recent tropes in action-adventure filmmaking, but also poorly executed notions of fan service. A feeling of “too many cooks” pervades the film and leaves a pall over the franchise.

2/5