One of my favorite directors, with Bugonia, Yorgos Lanthimos has done it again. However, D noticed that there are quite a few beheadings in this latest venture. Not surprising when you notice Mr. Midsommar himself, Ari Aster, produced. Aster probably gave the most input on how to fake blood realistically, the aforementioned headlessness and the customary face smashing with a blunt instrument. Why normalize Ari Aster? That said, Aster’s darkness counterpoints well with Yorgos’ typically deep exploration of human psychology, existential angst, stupidity, pathos — and the absolute tragi-comic essence of it all. That’s a lot to contain in a movie and I’m so glad that Yorgos goes for it.
Not to put too fine a point on the beheadings but D and I thought we would get a lot of those in 2016’s Ben-Hur, starring Morgan Freeman. It’s a gladiator movie after all. But no, they are all here in Bugonia instead.
Speaking of Bugonia, Teddy (the great Jesse Plemons — who could forget his recent turn in Civil War) has got a lot on his mind. His mother has a terminal disease and is in a coma, his neurodivergent cousin is thinking about starting a family, his co-workers are bending the knee, afraid to make waves. All the while he has cracked the code on identifying the Andromedans who have infiltrated our planet. But Teddy has a plan. He is going to fix all of this and save our species. He simply needs to have a sit down with the alien chief aboard their spacecraft.
As with anyone who has ever picked up a paintbrush, a pen or a camera — the artist has a reason. Even if the reason is not to decry violence or war but simply to make art for arts sake. Or perhaps just as simply to make a buck. There is a reason. What Yorgos is saying in Bugonia is really worth thinking about. Maybe a re-read of Andy Grove’s seminal business text, “Only the Paranoid Survive” is in order here.
Bugonia is intense, all the way through. It grabs you and holds you. You want to look away but you know you can’t. It’s partly a suffocating horror film (thanks, Ari!) with an epic score that lends to the gravitas. But it is equally a meditation on our shared humanity; on where we ultimately put our faith.
Splittsville wins for my picture of the year, 2025. While watching a film, a lot of times I wonder, “How did they do that?” referring to some technical aspect of filmmaking. But the duo of Michael Angelo Covino and Kyle Marvin amazed me with their combinations of slapstick, portrayals of the depths of human anguish and holding this comedic and dramatic tension for the entire film. After watching a lot of predictable, blockbuster, franchise films recently, Splitsville renewed my faith in movies. However, I’m certain at least one goldfish was injured during the making of this film. I’m sure these filmmakers made up for it somehow. They seem like those types of people. This duo also made a film called The Climb , which D reviewed.
Click the link and read all about it. I’m looking forward to rewatching Splitsville and whatever Covino and Marvin come up with next.
Anemone
We were very excited to watch DDL do his thing. And he comes out of retirement to do it in this movie, directed by his IRL son. There were some deeply moving and even painfully amusing scenes in this film but I could never escape that it was Daniel Day-Lewis, Acting. There is DDL looking serious…there is DDL having spit run out of his mouth because he’s so angry…there he is running on the beach! You get it. However, if you’re a DDL completist or someone particularly interested in The Troubles of Northern Ireland, Anemone is worth watching. For the rest of us, a rewatch of Phantom Thread is in order.
One Battle After Another
When a new Paul Thomas Anderson film is coming out, we have tickets weeks in advance. That expectation is ultimately why I felt disappointed by OBAA. It’s essentially a comic book, with big broadly painted characters doing over the top things. I recognized the writing as something I could have come up with, and that’s not good because I’m objectively not a very good screenwriter. Benicio del Toro is already being nominated for awards for his performance, which, yes I did enjoy. But I also felt it was so easy for him. I would love to see him in a part with some teeth. I felt like, there’s BdT telling a funny joke…there’s BdT kicking someone out of a car…there’s BdT being cool. You get it. One person who did deliver a really astonishing performance was Sean Penn. At one point towards the end, D leaned over and said, “That’s Sean Penn.” and I had to laugh. But that is exactly what a truly great performance is all about. The actor, no matter how well-known or famous, transforming themselves into this other person.
I was rapt during moments behind the scenes at the immigration detention center. Since even our elected officials are denied entry into these places, it’s left up to the Cinema to shine a light on their inhumanity for us. However the film runs off the rails and becomes a Quentin Tarantino parody. And sadly, the characters here have no arc. They start out one way and end up that same way. That’s another real disappointment. Finally, the ending doesn’t ring true for the main subject. I’m not sure who’s supposed to be excited about OBAA apart from a political partisan. If he’s supposed to be inspired by The Battle of Algiers, PTA missed the greater message about how there are no winners, no good guys, in war. Ultimately, the story feels like pandering instead of understanding the logical motivations and possible choices that these characters would make. D keeps saying he wants to watch this again, which makes sense since he’s a self-described PTA junkie. But I’m good.
After the Hunt
This film was truly well acted, honest and believable. Julia Roberts sinks into this character. Sometimes I’d think, “There’s Julia Roberts.” I’d follow it with, “I love watching her act.” And then I would forget, falling back into the story. Michael Stuhlbarg deserves a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his role has her psychiatrist husband. One scene of his is particularly hilarious and biting.
This story tackles difficult topics and does a French intensive gardening method with our recent social, philosophical and political situations. The characters at times do illogical things but not enough to break the spell of the story. The worst parts of the film for me were the strange musical and non-diegetic sound choices. It’s not a horror film, what is going on here? Maybe because the Director is Sicilian, there is a loose, European sensibility with the score. It was anachronistic to the verisimilitude of the character depictions. Also, things have been written and said about the final scene. I found it absolutely unnecessary. We’re all adults here and can come to our own conclusions. You don’t need to throw these characters under the bus. Overall, I found this film to be thought-provoking, fearless at times and included some fine performances. Certainly worth watching if you are in for some serious Cinema.
Blue Moon
D said we are going to Linklater film. And that’s all I knew going in. I didn’t even know the title. As I’m writing, I still don’t know the title! What’s amazing about this film is how it is contained essentially to one set, a bar. Luckily the bar happens to be the famed thespian haunt, Sardi’s, in Midtown Manhattan, so the possibilities grow. Of course, anyone who has seen 12 Angry Men, knows that a great script and great acting can transport you. Blue Moon doesn’t feature any flashbacks, it leans on the great Ethan Hawke and the great Ethan Hawke delivers. His character is so pathetic and repulsive at times, cringy. And then at others sympathetic and even empathetic as well — most people have acted like absolute fools at some low point or another. So that as a viewer, you are emotionally spinning. This certainly feels like a film that would not have been made at the peak of the #MeToo movement. It’s unapologetic about advancing a story that’s still feels uncomfortable. The phrase warts and all may never have been so applicable. After the film, I asked D, “I’m not sure who this film is for?” And without missing a beat, he said, “No one.” We both laughed. I’d say that if you’re interested in the history of musical theater in America, or that you might enjoy a period piece from 1943, or absolutely love watching Ethan Hawke at the top of his game, this one is for you. I did find it to be a solid and I’m sure memorable piece of filmmaking.
It’s been a good run the past few months. Somewhat hit or miss but these movies are all asking thought-provoking, intriguing questions, include great performances and are well over the $6 Tuesday bar at Marcus Cinema. Free popcorn too. …Meet us at the movies!
Editors note (L): We had been talking about scrapping the actual writing of this blog and simply video recording our post-movie debrief —which occurs on our ride home. But I’ve been balking since I have enough video editing projects in my life. And I like writing the blog, even though it means, ultimately, that less of the movies we see will get reviewed. On this trip, we had help from GB who suggested that we audio record our rant. I took it a step further, wondering what if we put our 4 minute rant into Google Notebook LM (Language Model aka AI). It turned around a 9 minute podcast with hosts Jean and Raj in about 2 minutes…maybe less! Weirdly, or maybe not so weirdly or maybe just scarily, it understood the context of these comments without any explanation from us. It understood it was a car ride rant right after a movie and went off from there. D did a great job editing this down for time and readability. So enjoy our first ever L&D Report AI generated guest blog entry. Guest contributors always get an L&D Report t-shirt. What size do you think Jean and Raj wear?
Editors note (D): …. starring Rami Malek, Laurence Fishburne, and probably some other people.
Jean: OK, so let’s talk about this idea. Like, how many times can a movie ask you to just ignore logic before you just throw your hands up and say, nope, I’m out?
Raj: Yeah, that’s a great question. And it seems like that’s exactly what happened with the listeners we’re focusing on today.
Jean: Right. We’ve got this really interesting source. It’s basically an informal audio recording. Some folks talking right after seeing a movie called Revenge of the Nerd (L&D had just screened The Amateur)
Raj: And just to be clear, not the 1984 comedy. This is apparently a very different film.
Jean: Oh, definitely. And our whole mission here is to kind of unpack their reactions, figure out why this specific movie just, well, failed to connect with them so badly.
Raj: It’s fascinating because it’s so raw, you know?
Jean: Yeah.
Raj: You’re getting their immediate thoughts unfiltered. It’s a really unique window into that audience experience.
Jean: Absolutely. And one of the first things that jumped out at me from their chat was this idea of a suspension of disbelief budget.
Raj: A budget, huh? Okay.
Jean: Yeah. You only grant a film so many moments where you have to consciously decide to ignore something unbelievable. And for them, with this movie, they felt that budget was just blown completely.
Raj: That makes a lot of sense. We all go into a movie willing to accept certain things, right? Fictional worlds have rules, but there’s a limit.
Jean: Exactly.
Raj: Too many breaks in that believability, too many wait, what, moments, and you just get fatigued. It pulls you right out.
Jean: Yeah, you stop being immersed. They even brought up what they called the Indiana Jones exception.
Raj: Oh, yeah.
Jean: The idea that some movies just seem to get a pass, you know? They can get away with way more unbelievable stuff. Why do you think that is?
Raj: Well, I think with something like Indiana Jones, the film signals its reality level right from the start. It’s heightened. It’s adventure with a capital A.
Jean: OK, so there’s an understanding up front.
Raj: Exactly. An unspoken agreement. Maybe Revenge of the Nerd, this one, either didn’t set its rules clearly or maybe it violated the internal logic it did try to set up. So the unbelievable moments felt jarring, not fun.
Jean: That tracks. Now, another big thing for them was predictability. They felt the plot was just completely obvious. Someone said, you already knew it was going to happen just from the revenge angle.
Raj: Hmm. Predictability. That can definitely be a drag on the experience, can’t it?
Jean: You think so. How much does that lack of surprise really matter?
Raj: Well, a lot of the fun of watching a movie is discovery, right? Finding out what happens next, if you feel like you’re always five steps ahead.
Jean: Yeah, it takes the wind out of its sails.
Raj: Right. You lose those potential aha moments they mentioned wanting. You become more of an observer than like an active participant in the story. It’s a real challenge, especially in genre films, to use familiar ideas but still make them feel fresh.
Jean: Keep you guessing somehow.
Raj: Exactly. You need that balance.
Jean: And speaking of not being invested, they really hammered the pacing, especially Act One. Act One took so long, someone said. Oof.
Raj: A slow start is tough. Yeah.
Jean: They even joked about getting confused, thinking maybe they were watching The Accountant instead at first. Which, I mean, that tells you how little it grabbed them early on.
Raj: Yeah, that first act is so crucial. It’s where the film’s supposed to, you know, set the tone, introduce who matters, what the stakes are, basically give you a reason to care.
Jean: To stick around.
Raj: Precisely. If it drags, you start checking your watch, you get restless, you lose that initial buy-in, even if things pick up later. It needs to build momentum, make a promise that the journey’s worth it.
Jean: And it sounds like, for these viewers, that promise felt pretty empty. They actually pointed to a specific moment where they felt it all just went downhill.
Raj: Oh, really? What was that?
Jean: It was when the main character, after blackmailing someone, apparently just decides, OK, now I’m going to go kill them myself.
Raj: Oh, OK. That’s a shift.
Jean: Yeah, their reaction was basically, that’s totally unbelievable. It’s amazing how one plot point can just shatter everything for a viewer.
Raj: It really speaks to character motivation, doesn’t it? And, like, logical progression. Even in a wild story, you expect characters to act in ways that make some kind of sense for them.
Jean: Right, based on who they are, what’s happening.
Raj: Yeah. And that sudden jump from blackmail to personal execution, it sounds like it felt completely unearned or illogical to them. And boom, there goes that fragile connection to the story’s reality.
Jean: Snapped just like that. They also seem to go in expecting something… Different, like maybe more of an action movie.
Raj: Ah, genre expectations.
Jean: Yeah, they felt this wasn’t really it. And the comparison they used was pretty brutal. A poor man’s Enemy of the State.
Raj: Ouch. OK, that’s telling. Enemy of the State suggests they were geared up for a certain kind of thriller, you know, tech, conspiracy, maybe some slick action.
Jean: Right.
Raj: And calling this a poor man’s version implies it just didn’t deliver on that level. Quality, pacing, maybe the thrills just weren’t there compared to what they expected. It really shows how important it is for a film’s marketing or even just its basic premise to line up with the actual movie.
Jean: Manage expectations, basically.
Raj: At least meet the expectations you set up.
Jean: Then there was, well, the ghost of the wife show, as they put it.
Raj: The what now?
Jean: Yeah. Apparently, a subplot involving the protagonist’s dead wife appearing. Their reaction was just universally negative. Pointless. Nobody bought it.
Raj: Oh dear. That sounds like a subplot that did not land.
Jean: Not even close, it seems. What happens when something like that, intended maybe for emotion, just falls flat?
Raj: It could be really detrimental. If a subplot feels forced or unbelievable or just unnecessary, it distracts from the main plot. Instead of adding depth, it just muddies the water.
Jean: Makes it feel cluttered.
Raj: Exactly. Or worse, unintentionally funny or just awkward. Sounds like this ghost wave thing felt like a total misstep that pulled them further out of the story.
Jean: Despite tearing it down pretty hard, they actually had ideas for how it could have been better.
Raj: Oh, like what?
Jean: Well, shorter runtime for one, maybe even cut most of Act One, a simpler plot, fewer bad guys maybe, and a more believable escape for the villains.
Raj: Okay, streamlining it.
Jean: Yeah, they specifically called out a very public kidnapping scene as being so unbelievable it sounds like they just wanted something tighter, more focused.
Raj: That makes sense. Taken together, their suggestions point towards wanting a story that was just more plausible within its own context. Faster pace, clearer conflict, and events that didn’t constantly strain credulity. That kidnapping scene sounds like a real breaking point for them.
Jean: A bridge too far. And maybe the biggest issue, which came up near the end of their chat, was the protagonist himself.
Raj: What about him?
Jean: They just couldn’t connect. Someone said flat out, you have to sympathize or empathize with the protagonist. And here, there was nothing really redeeming about him at all.
Raj: Wow. That’s tough for a film to overcome.
Jean: Isn’t it? How crucial is that connection, really? Do you have to like the main character?
Raj: I mean, not always.
Jean: Yeah.
Raj: But you need something to hold on to. Empathy, understanding, fascination, even. If you find the central character completely off-putting or unrelatable…
Jean: Why should you care what happens?
Raj: Exactly. It creates this huge emotional distance. It’s hard to get invested in the journey if you have no connection to the person taking it. I bet a lot of you listening have felt that, where you just can’t find anything to latch on to with the main character.
Jean: And it wasn’t just him. They pointed out they knew almost nothing about the wife he was supposedly avenging.
Raj: The ghost wife.
Jean: Well, the wife before she was a ghost, presumably. The only detail they could recall was that she goes to conferences for work.
Raj: Goes to conferences. That’s it.
Jean: Apparently, it just highlights how underdeveloped things felt. If even the core motivation, the wife’s significance, feels vague or underdeveloped.
Raj: It makes the stakes feel really low, doesn’t it? Why is he going through all this? If her character is just a cipher defined by professional conference attendance?
Jean: Yeah, it feels almost absurd.
Raj: It makes it hard to buy into the emotional core of the story. Those little details, or lack thereof, they add up.
Jean: So summing it all up, their final take was pretty scathing. Worst movie since Mother, one person said. Another thought it was definitely one of the worst of all time.
Raj: Pretty definitive judgments there.
Jean: Yeah. It really brings us back to where we started, doesn’t it? The whole deep dive was about why it failed, and it seems it was a failure on multiple levels for these viewers. Believability, pacing, plot logic, character connection.
Raj: And connecting this back for everyone listening, thinking about valuable insights, this conversation really highlights how vital that narrative contract is.
Jean: The unspoken agreement.
Raj: Exactly. Audiences need consistency. They need believable motivations, even in fiction. You push that too far, ask for too many leaps, make characters act nonsensically, you risk losing people completely, like these viewers were.
Raj: It’s a fragile thing, that suspension of disbelief.
Jean: Very fragile.
Raj: So maybe a final thought for you to chew on. What’s the movie that tested your limits the most? Was there one specific moment, one plot point, one character choice that just made you mentally check out and say, nope, not buying it?
Raj: And thinking about that, what does it tell us about that unspoken relationship, that delicate dance between the storyteller and the audience?
The Materialists *** I think you will enjoy going to this movie and talking about it with your friends. I don’t think this is a terribly good movie, but it does have a lot to say about life in the Big City, much of which is probably true. Lucy (Dakota Johnson) is a professional matchmaker for Manhattanite-types that can afford professional matchmaking services. Harry (Pedro Pascal) is a zillionaire “unicorn” (a perfect match for pretty much any female looking) and John (Chris Evans) is a bumbling idiot from Lucy’s past. There is a lot of “math” in this movie — for men the key addends are height and income, for women being young and rail thin (say, BMI < 20, not ≤ 20). The movie is billed as a rom-com, but I didn’t find it terribly funny (though there were several amusing sight gags). Does that make it a drama? There is definitely a meditation on how financial resources — or the lack thereof — shape life’s possibilities, especially in New York. There are some interesting exchanges and conversations throughout, but some baffling plot elements that are worth at least one * off.
The Phoenician Scheme ***Wes Anderson’s latest features Benicio del Toro as an industrialist and international man of mystery, Mia Threapleton as his daughter and would-be heir (or perhaps his heir and would-be daughter, tough to say), and with Michael Cera as the traveling secretary, Bjorn. The cast is also littered with supersars, Jeffrey Wright, Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Scarlett Johansson, Benedict Cumberbatch, Willem Dafoe, F. Murray Abraham, and, of course, Bill Murray. Unfortunately, there aren’t many writers that can support that kind of cast, and this is no exception. I saw this a few weeks ago and couldn’t tell you the main takeaway from the movie, though I can recount a half dozen amusing moments and scenes. As per always, Anderson makes it clear who is directing with the set pieces and the props and the deliberate, sharp color schemes. If you are an Anderson fan, this one is a no brainer. If I was in the market to re-watch an Anderson movie, this one would be at least five or six deep in the queue.
Bride Hard ½* Ostensibly a Die Hard spoof set at a ritzy wedding, this one falls flatter than Hans Gruber from the top floor of the Nakatomi Plaza. Within the first minute of watching I sensed I was in for a long evening. Rebel Wilson in the lead has a couple of moments (using curling irons as nunchucks gave us a moment), but what appears to be a pretty talented cast (Wilson, Anna Chumsky, Da’Vine Joy Randolph) wasn’t enough to overcome a bad script and lazy writing. L liked it quite a bit more than I did, and my estimated rating for him is *½.
F1 ***, ***½ if you see it on the big, big screen. This is a summer action film, big stars (Brad Pitt, Javier Bardem), loud music, rumbling cars, some reasonably strong plot lines. Not that strong, though. Mostly, but not entirely, predictable. If you are looking for two hours of extraordinary film production from Daytona to Budapest to Belgium to Abu Dhabi and back again to Baja, then this one is a good choice.
There is one weakness in the sci-fi, rom-com, horror picture, Companion. It’s that Josh (Jack Quaid), feels that instead of immediately trading in murderous companion robot, Iris (Sophie Thatcher), back to the Empathix company, he must first say goodbye. At issue is that Iris is all tied up at the moment, literally. She figured out that she was not human and about to be shut down, unpaired and replaced. In Josh’s defense, she did just kill a guy and is covered in tons of blood. On the other hand, titanium or otherwise, the guy was a creep and Iris acted in self-defense. Do robots have a right to self-defense? How about if they don’t even know that they are robots? This ethical question comes much further down the list of questions like, Are these “companion” robots unwitting sex slaves? Yes. Yes they are.
In one of the first sci-fi films ever created, Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927) depicts an inventor, Rotwang, trying to resurrect his lost love, a woman named Hel. The iconic cinematography and art direction has been copied many times over the decades, from Young Frankenstein to Poor Things. I was lucky enough to watch Metropolis in a one screen art house cinema in Paris’ Left Bank. Like many others, it left a lasting impression on me.
No major spoilers but let’s just say Metropolis doesn’t have a happily ever after ending. This is like almost any of the films that depict the animation or reanimation of machines and/or machine and human hybrids for the singular reason of fulfilling the emotional void and base desires of human protagonists. Terminator goes on a rampage against Sarah Conner, Jexi tries to take Phil out, Ava erases Nathan, permanently, in Ex-Machina, Samantha, in Her, psychologically blends Theodore into so much emotional mush, etc. It’s really only in Blade Runner where you can point to a somewhat happyish ending where the robot (or maybe robots?) end up together. But how long can these replicants stay alive? At least, we believe, they will be free.
As AI evolves, like Josh in Companion, people will start projecting human feelings, emotions and even consciousness to this bloodless, immortal collection of chips, wires and metal server farms. Like Rotwang in Metropolis or the Wizard of Oz himself, AI Owners like Sam Altman want you to believe that the army of engineers, mathematicians, programers, designers and marketers have created a sentient being, here for only you. And out of convenience, loneliness or many other complex reasons we are slowly turning over our ability to do things like: sit calmly, grieve or think clearly for ourselves. Is AI useful? Yes. Will it be abused? Yes. Will it try to get revenge? Your guess is as good as mine.
I was the Cinematographer of a rom-com feature, Big Gay Love. Harvey Guillén who plays Eli in Companion, was featured. He was charming, a natural and such a pleasure to have on set. It doesn’t surprise me that his star keeps rising in Hollywood. In Companion, Harvey has a touching relationship with the cyborg Patrick, played by Lukas Gage. I mentioned to D. that this was most likely the first depiction of a gay robot love story in a feature film. He calmly burst my bubble with a simple combination of letters and numbers that would otherwise be meaningless. “C-3PO”.
Listen to me. Everything we see that is ugly- stupid, cruel, and ugly. Everything is your fault…
But especially the ugly.
That is the best punch line of The Brutalist, Director Brady Corbet’s epic exploration of the Affluent Society. It is also, arguably, the thesis of the film.
I loved watching this film on the very big Marcus screen. People often say this about movies shot in Montana or Australia, big landscapes, blue skies, astonishing weather fronts, that sort of thing. Remarkably in The Brutalist, many of these landscape views are scratchy stock film from the ’50s heralding the post-WWII industrial boom. The stock film is often co-narrated by the guy from the school movies of your childhood, and backed by the gasp of an accordion, or some pulsing, syncopated beats.
Meanwhile, much of the main action is shot with what is — gosh, I don’t know, where is L when you need him? — maybe a hand-held camera? The effect is this disorienting and sometimes suffocating intimacy that pervades the movie. There were times where I swear I could see two sets of eyes on characters bouncing up and down in their cars. But it seems like it wouldn’t work as well on a television.
Anyhow, this is a very long movie, clocking in at over 200 minutes, so hunker down. About 15 minutes in, the cacophony of visual and aural and intellectual stimulation was so overwhelming that I knew I wasn’t going to be able to process and put it all together in real time. So the four-hour theater experience, including a 15-minute intermission, was not one of your relax-at-the-movie experiences.
And the film takes on the Big, Big issues, the Holocaust, the camps (the main characters are survivors), remorseless capitalism, immigration, assimilation, covert and overt anti-Semitism, and, perhaps least of all, the place of art and architecture in the emergent industrial age.
The main character, protagonist, possible hero, and subject of the movie is László Tóth (Adrien Brody), the brutalist himself. His journey is Brady Corbet’s characterization of America.
Tóth makes it to America in the opening scene and the first outdoor American shot in the film is an upside-down Statue of Liberty. (Could this possibly be a metaphor of some sort?). His first stop is the City of Brotherly Love to live with and work for his cousin, Atilla (Alessandro Nivola). Atilla is the proprietor of a small furniture business and has reimagined himself as an American Catholic named Miller! More foreshadowing here as the cousins converse about what is expected in America, what it takes to be accepted in America.
Tóth isn’t impressed. He doesn’t seem like the compromising type, and certainly not one to compromise his vision for the sake of bean counters or pencil pushers. Yet, he is also pragragmatic about some of the ends to get to his means, particularly with respect to the use of abundant and inexpensive concrete! And so away we go.
Much of the movie involves Tóth’s relationship with his new patron, Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce). These patron-artist relationships are always a dicey and touchy area for the artist. Who is paying and what exactly are they paying for? What if they want you to comprimise? What if they delegate oversight to some penny-pinching philistine? But Van Buren’s real role is that of the industrialist archetype. He represents the post-war economic and construction boom that’s helping Pennsylvania and the United States into the modern age.
Van Buren’s son, Harry Lee (Joe Alwyn), also features prominently for plot-related reasons, but ultimately he represents the financiers. At one point László asks him, “how does that work exactly? The company paying themselves to finance?”
As it says on our masthead, to ask the question is to answer it.
So the politics of the movie aren’t altogether complicated, but László’s relationships with his wife and niece certainly are. Right off the bus in Philadelphia, Cousin Miller tells László that he has received word that they are alive! So throughout the first few hours of the movie there are repeeated voiceovers back-and-forths between László and Erzsébet in an attempt to get her to the states. I must admit that I don’t watch trailers, so I wasn’t entirely sure that she would ever really make it.
But, spoiler alert, the intermission credits provide a decisive wedding picture that helps secure her immigration visa, so Erzsébet (Felicity Jones) and their niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy) make their way over to join László at the Van Buren estate. There is a lot going on here in terms of the state of their marriage, the state of their Jewish faith, their places in America, to name a few. There is no easy way to characterize Erzsébet, she understands ambition and ambitions, but she also is reflective and shows gratitude in spots where I’m not sure you would expect it. She is definitely an interesting add and a welcome riposte to Corbet’s otherwise simplistic American caricature.
The other main and recurring character is Gordon (Isaach De Bankolé), who László meets in a food line early on in the movie. Gordon’s role seems to be to provide opportunities for the script to explore László’s character and humanity. He often shows up right as László is responding to a new plot development.
And what of the Brutalism? Huh. I guess I will continue to reflect on that question as I continue to process all of this. My big takeaway is that the movie is a commentary on the economic and cultural response to World War II coming to a close.
I think the acting is splendid, Brody really is great. I’m not sure who else might have pulled this off. Felicity Jones earns her money, too. I also loved Salvatore Sansone as Orazio in the Italy scene –– “dangerous work.” The entire sequence in Italy is just remarkable. There is so much to like.
The verdict. I thought this was a great movie to watch, though it isn’t a great movie. I do recommend you head to see it on the big, big screen if you can. It was loud in there, too! Make a day of it.
A shout out to Dr. B for braving this one with me. He didn’t get up and leave or doze off, so I think he liked it, too.
If the opening scene of Anora doesn’t get your blood moving one way or another, I have terrible news for you. You have died. … The silver lining is of course that even as a dead person, you’re still able to watch movies and read movie reviews. That opening shot, tracking across a line of guys getting lap dances, drops you right into the world of eponymous heroine, Anora, with no apologies. It’s made apparent quickly enough that for these working women, it’s just another day at the office. Except that in this career there is no 401(k), health insurance or paid time off. This is the world of men. If you don’t like it, there’s the door.
It’s within this milieu that Anora, who shares an apartment with her sister and brother-in-law, takes on escort work. Back at Headquarters strip club, as a Russian speaker, she’s assigned to entertain the son of a wealthy oligarch, who asks if he can see her outside of work. Here the so-called fun and games of the story ensue. And they do ensue, extending Act I almost uncomfortably. Has the director lost control of this story? — Or what you realize later. You’ve been wonderfully set up.
Act II takes you into the realm of comedy but with the real threat of violence underpinning every moment. It’s unnerving but you settle into it. The strength of Anora is that it simultaneously holds what could be an absurd Eastern European folktale within the bounds of a tangible New York City universe. Here, broken noses are felt. As our friend B., who’s an M.D., leaned over to give us a real-time diagnosis of one of the characters. The prognosis wasn’t good. The severity of the mounting symptoms meant that the other characters needed to rush the injured one to the ER. STAT.
And broken dreams are deeply felt as well. Disappointment is the millstone that’s anchored around every neck in Anora. And one apparent theme is that just because you wish something to be real, doesn’t mean it is.
There are a few outrageous and memorable scenes in Anora. The Coney Island tow truck scene stays with you. And the haunting final scene reveals the depth and complexities of the characters. Cutting to a silent credit sequence gives you no reprieve and invites reflection. A perfect antithesis to the chaotic euphoria of the opening shot.
It doesn’t surprise me that Director, Sean Baker, a kid from New Jersey, walked away with the Palm d’Or at Cannes for Anora. He has a track record of fearless filmmaking, expressing himself by any means at his disposal. In the character of Anora he found a kindred spirit.
The odyssey. Odysseus. Ten years away at the Trojan war, ten years to get back. Past the Cicones, the Lotus Eaters, the Cyclops (“Nobody” tricked him!), the Wind God, Circe’s Island, to Hades and back, the singing Sirens, through Scylla and Charybdis, on to the Isle of the Sun God and to Caylpso’s Island. What a trip!
Ithaca. Queen Penelope raising the son, Telemachus, keeping the many suitors at bay. Famously weaving a funeral shroud by day, covertly undoing it at night. For 20 years! The suitors weren’t the sharpest group.
Setting the stage for the return. Just not setting the stage for The Return.
While Penelope was unwinding, Odysseus found his way to Phaeacia, where he recounts his tales to King Alcinous and the Phaeacians — I actually wrote a college term paper on how this penultimate stop served as a transition from the fantastic back to the more mundane toil of life in Ithaca (not exactly an original thesis, I know). It was the sea-smart Phaeacians that help Odysseus find his way back to Ithaca.
None of this makes it into The Return, unfortunately, especially the part about Odysseus talking a lot. Instead, The Return focuses solely on Odysseus (Ralph Fiennes) back in Ithaca to (presumably) reunite with Penelope (Julia Binoche). I say presumably here because Odysseus of The Return is a troubled, broken shell of a man, and not at all in a talking mood. He has misgivings about his time as a warrior and his heroics in the Trojan War. He can’t muster up the courage to confront the suitors and reunite with Penelope. He is seemingly all alone — there is no sign of the goddess, Athena, who has been his #1 fan and protector over the past 20 years. The entire movie, in fact, is a godless affair, and not in a good way!
The movie does capture Odysseus’ renuion with his loyal dog, Argos. My recollection is that Odysseus passes by on his way back to the palace and Argos looks up from the dung heap, notes his master’s presence, wags his tail, and passes on from this life. The Return doesn’t let him off that easy, instead extending into several minutes of pointlessness before finally letting Argos go. Even so, on behalf of L&D, I will say we wish we would have checked out of the theater when Argos passed on.
Revisionist Odyssey didn’t work for us. If you are looking for action, drama, intrigue, tension, emotion, suspense, you best look elsewhere. This is one of the worst viewing experiences in the L&D canon.
Did you notice the title has the Roman numeral II in the middle of it? Indeed, that is about the most subtle part of the Gladiator remake. This is the second Ridley Scott project in recent memory — Napoleon being the other one — where it seems like it would have worked better as an eight-to-ten part Max or Netflix series. But instead we get sloppy storytelling that sets up a variety of spectacular visual sequences.
If you are familiar with Gladiator, you can see where this movie is going from the length of the Roman empire away. The charasmatic warrior Lucius (Paul Mescal) is captured by legions led by General Acacius (Pedro Pascal) and then sold into gladiatorial servitude to the enigmatic Macrinus (Denzel Washington himself!). Lucius turns out to be exceptional at killing man and beast and makes his way to the Colloseum. General Acacius and Macrinus have sketchier motives, I guess we’ll have to see about all of that. And we are introduced to the decadent emporer tandem, Geta and Caracalla. Lucilla (Connie Nielson) shows up and seems concerned about the fate of Rome. Contrived drama. Big finish.
With Gladiator, we all knew Maximus (an in-shape Russell Crowe) was pals with Marcus Aurelius and had been unjustly railroaded. He reluctantly did his killing to get his chance for vengeance, “in this lifetime or the next.” The big difference here is that there is some mystery surrounding who the actual protagonist is — is it the gladiator? General Acacius? Denzel? Lucilla? The fratelli imperatori?
The bad news is that if you haven’t seen Gladiator, it might be a little difficult to follow along. The good news is that it doesn’t really matter. This movie is the battlefield and the Roman Circus. Ridley Scott gives us a naval assault and a great siege to open the movie. He gives us a gladiator mounted on great rhinosoraus (hat tip to a classic Bugs Bunny short for the rhino’s fate). He turns the colleseum to a great, shark-infested naval theater. This is definitely one of those “see it in the theater” type movies because they spent a lot of money making this look spectacular.
Conclave is a surprising film. In fact, its theme is don’t be confident that what you think is true. The question is posed and answered by Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), the Dean or manager of the conclave to elect a new pope, “If we were certain of the answers, why would we need faith?”
Although I wasn’t thrilled with the plodding pace of the film, the plot got more intriguing as the story grew more complex. A solid performance by Stanley Tucci (most recently seen eating his way through Italy in a Max series) and star turns by Lithgow, Sergio Castellitto, Carlos Diehz, Lucian Msamati and Isabella Rossellini leave a lasting impression on the viewer.
As usual, your faithful correspondents, L & D could be heard laughing at all the wrong places and zinging away with our zingers. But there were quite a few other folks in the theater (another surprise) and so a little restraint by us was in order.
The film really got interesting when D. started applying his “This Film is like The Shining” theory on the fly. We recently watched the 40th anniversary release of The Shining on the silver screen (I’m still processing) and lo and behold the analogy between these films can easily be made. The cardinals are sequestered in a hotel with long hallways. There is a room that no one is allowed to enter, which the pope died in. There is intense cello playing throughout. The footprint here is indeed one of a horror film. The horror being that the Church may decide to turn its back on the progress it’s made in becoming a voice for peace.
I won’t say more except Conclave is well worth the watch and way over the $6 Tuesday bar. Be prepared to check your assumptions at the church steps.
L&D Report 
