My Thoughts on Promising Young Woman

This feels like it's been a long time coming. Not Promising Young Woman's actual release, although it does feel like an eternity since the trailer dropped back in December of 2019, but the film itself, with its combination of topical subject matter and bold approach. Emerald Fennell's slick showrunning consistently one of the best things about Killing Eve's second season, and so her directorial debut has been hotly anticipated. It's a film that has proven divisive, and its subject matter will understandably be triggering for some, but its gung-ho approach and refusal to compromise has made it one of the talking points of the last few months. So let's talk about it

Cassie Thomas lives a fairly standard life as a medical school-dropout working in a coffee shop and living at home. At night however, she's something of a vigilante, luring in "nice guys" with a fake drunk act, after which they take her home and.... the less said about the plot, the better. This is a film that massively benefits from going in cold, so if it's not in the trailer, it won't be in this review. It's clear from quite early on that Cassie is fueled by rage and looking to right a past injustice, and this is the force that drives much of the film. Again, it's a film that very directly deals with a difficult subject matter, and although Fennell refrains from any graphic depictions, the frequent, open discussion of sexual assault might be tricky for some viewers and that's absolutely fine. This is a film that takes aim at a larger system, one that enables harmful behaviour through weak justifications, damning silence and a general lack of support. As Cassie gradually works her way through the list of people who perpetuate the cycle that caused her so much pain, the film is able to find its rhythm, building and releasing tension carefully as it doles out its hard-hitting insights

A huge part of that is the cast. Carey Mulligan is arguably the best she's ever been, filling Cassie with righteous anger and deep-seated sadness that comes out in every look, gesture and expertly delivered line. Fennell's decision to cast Cassie's cavalcade of nocturnal targets as fresh-faced actors with a natural likeability is a masterstroke as well. Adam Brody, Christopher Mintz-Plasse and Max Greenfield perfectly perpetuate the idea that anyone could be a predator, no matter how many times they assure you they're a "nice guy". This casting is doubly effective when Bo Burnham turns up and sows doubt into both Cassie and the viewer. Can he be trusted, or will the film's carefully constructed pattern prove Cassie right and deny her actual happiness and fulfillment?

The tone is expertly handled, too. Fennell manages the white-hot fury under the candy-coated surface so masterfully, and the thrill of the film comes from how deftly it bounces between rom-com sweetness and something much darker. The two moods swap around so quickly and frequently that, by the hour mark, they're closely intertwined, and Fennell has managed to create a sense of genuine, palpable danger. The music plays a huge part in that, from disarmingly sugary pop like Paris Hilton's Stars are Blind to a bone-shakingly haunting rendition of Toxic in the much-discussed third act. That climax won't be spoiled here but when Fennell does show violence after holding back for so long, she lingers on it, forcing the viewer to look and fully consider what this means for the story and the culture it's commenting on. The reveals are shocking but never surprising, and that's where this film works best. The heaviest plot beats are ones that the viewer might be able to predict purely out of familiarity with the way society tends to treat such accusations, and the fact that we're at a place where that's possible is the thing that Fennell mourns most of all

And that's ultimately what the film is. For all of its stylish thrills, puncturing moments of comedy and white hot primal screams of rage against a world that seems incapable of improving, Promising Young Woman inevitably feels like an expression of grief. The ending uses Juice Newton's Angel of the Morning as an anthem for a justice steeped in remorse, going out on a supercharged high that feels absolutely true after everything that the film was building towards. It ends on a powerful note, not a definite conclusion or a catch-all solution, but a stinging social comment that lingers long after the credits roll

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

My Thoughts on Palm Springs

The last 13 months have been exhausting. Any film capturing the zeitgeist now will have to do so for an audience that is so hyper-aware of everything going on in the world and craving an escape over any sort of direct address of the world's morale. But what if a film could do both? Enter Palm Springs, a frothy, sunny rom-com that offers delightful refuge to burnt-out filmgoers, while also deftly exploring how draining it is to live the same day again and again. It took a while to arrive on these shores, but it floated onto Amazon Prime earlier this month after building up a hefty amount of buzz. But was it earned? Let's find out

The film is set over the course of a wedding taking place on November 9th, as sister of the bride Sarah meets laidback cynic Nyles. From the start, Cristin Milioti and Andy Samberg sell their chemistry, her ambiguous angst bouncing off of his relaxed world-weariness. It's all very meet-cute until she wakes up to find that it's November 9th again. And again. And again. If you're reading this and getting flashes of Punxsutawney, then it's to the great credit of writers Andy Siara and Max Barbakow that Palm Springs is able to find new ground in the time loop genre, and become its own small landmark in the process. It runs at a lean 90 minutes, and breezy as its pacing is, it never stops the film from charging head-first at a Groundhog-style plot beat before ducking and rolling into uncharted territory. It's not that the story points themselves are new- the film is a respectable mix of rom-com tropes, sci-fi concepts and broader gags- but the way Palm Springs arranges them does feels distinct, and is massively exciting as a result

Part of this comes from the duality of it all. Sarah and Nyles provide two entirely different perspectives on the concept, and watching how their experiences of the loop overlap and contrast and deepen their relationship is what forms the backbone of the film's charm. It keeps its more intricate plot beats stewing under the gags for most of its run, tiding the audience over with sharp lines ("You're cheating on me, ya goof") before blindsiding them with smart storytelling and genuinely poignant character turns. Without spoiling anything, the way the film explores Nyles' deep-seated cynicism is the ace up Palm Springs' sleeve. The growing apathy under his cool demeanor is bound to resonate with anyone who has found this past year especially draining, and although the film was completed and premiered before the pandemic started, the timing of its release feels on-point for that very reason

Palm Springs is a salve. It frames love as a cure for gnawing indifference without ever sacrificing its hilarious gags, surprisingly intelligent plot twists and deep reservoirs of charm. It's another triumph for producers The Lonely Island and a massive calling card for the bafflingly underrated Cristin Milioti. It's a delight, smart and fun enough to serve different purposes for different audiences. It nails an incredibly tricky balancing act as the rare crowd-pleaser that swings for the fences and absolutely delivers. It makes a passionate argument that just because a film is fun doesn't mean it should skimp on the substance. And folks, that's something that everyone could use right now

 ★ ★ ★ ★ 

My Thoughts on Minari

Lee Isaac Chung's Minari has been attracting heavy praise since its premiere at Sundance last year, and somewhat unsurprisingly, it's become a massive hit on the awards circuit. Most contentiously, it won Best Foreign Language Film at this year's Golden Globes, which is slightly ridiculous, because this is explicitly a film about an immigrant family's pursuit of the American dream, and goes on to suggest that the essence of America is the multitude of cultural specificities that the country is composed of. It is absolutely an American film, and the notion that stories about POC don't belong in that category is frankly ludicrous. Minari tells the story of the Yi family as they travel to rural Arkansas in the early 80s in search of a new life. From there, the film eases into the poetry of the everyday, as father Jacob tends to his land, kids David and Anne adjust to their new life, and grandmother Soon-ja is flown in to lighten the load

Minari is a film about small routines, little gestures that build into larger payoffs. Farming, parenting and assimilation are all large commitments that take effort and patience to yield successful results, and Chung revels in these processes. The film is light enough to weave tones together in a way that never risks losing consistency; it flirts with natural comedy, deeper drama and the earnest rhythms of life that translate perfectly onscreen. It's a careful blend established early on, something that allows the film to ease closer and closer into the huge emotional insights it doles out in the third act. Like a great farmer, Chung knows that good things take time

The film has an organic, observational structure, almost like the audience has stumbled across this story by accident. This is bolstered by the cast, who present themselves in such an organic, natural way. It's like watching a real family onscreen, but standing back and looking beyond the illusion proves valuable as a way of seeing just how much effort each member of the cast has put into making it look so seamless. It's a perfect recreation of life, and it's on top of such a believable foundation that they're able to construct a portrait of the American dream that never feels anything less than true. Special mention to Alan Kim, whose performance conveys a level of depth and eloquence that marks the arrival of a hugely exciting screen presence that I can't wait to see more of

The film excels in moments of specificity, and the huge notes of truth and emotion in the third act just wouldn't be possible if Chung hadn't sowed the seeds early on. So much of Minari is rooted in his own upbringing, and he translates so many little nuggets of everyday magic that feel specifically his. The result of this is pure cinema, not diluted or compromised by an attempt to capture anything other than his own experience. It finds great universality in doing this, and the film ensures that the viewer is absolutely invested from the start. Stories like this matter, in society and in cinema. Especially after a year where so much of the conversation has been about blockbusters, about when No Time to Die is going to be released, or if Black Widow is going to drop on Disney+. Those films have their place but Minari strikes gold by skewing smaller, by delivering earnest, intelligent cinema at a time where it couldn't feel more needed. It's warm, lovingly crafted and massively valuable. It becomes a masterpiece through its quiet moments, and although its insights are delicate, they're no less impactful for it, and their effect is bound to be felt in the decades to come

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Rewrites, Cancellations and Least Favourite Genres (Q&A)

So a little while ago I asked for questions for a potential Q&A. I love the idea, and it's been something I had been tinkering with for a while, and thanks to some very lovely people on Twitter, I now have a slew of questions just waiting to be answered. So let's dive in!

Quick note before we get started: since I got these from Twitter, I'll be crediting people by their @s

@NoTea_NoShade asks two questions: If you could write an episode for one tv show, whether it's a TV show that's finished or one that's still on air, what one would you choose and why??

This is a really interesting question, and I think there's a lot of ways to take this. I did think about shows that would benefit from having a new episode come out in these weird post-pandemic times- which I'd probably answer Barry for if only to see Gene Cousineau teach a class over Zoom- but ultimately I tried to think of a show that I'm on a similar wavelength with creatively. Maybe Arrested Development, not just because it fits nicely into my sense of humour but also to numb the crushing disappointment of the last two seasons and give it at least one more episode that wasn't a total dud. I'd also like to take on The I.T. Crowd, especially with everything that's been happening with its creator. It's become a harder and harder show to enjoy and I wouldn't mind the chance to add an episode that could pinpoint what's great about the show that also wrestles it away from Graham Linehan's hateful hands

In terms of what that episode could be, I'd like to check in with Reynholm industries ten years later, where Jen has bluffed her way into some really successful life, Roy's still exactly where he is, and Moss has become some sort of all-powerful world leader, only to give it up to back to the I.T. department. Throw in some Richmond and Douglas cameos and I think we're good to go

Are there any shows that you think have been unjustly cancelled?? If so what?? And if they had of continued was there any particular characters or plot you would have been interested in seeing ??

So I'm actually working on a list kind of shows I love that were cancelled after one season, but I do love this question because we've all been there. We've all fallen in love for a show only for it to get take out way too soon. A year ago my answer would've been The Knick but that's set to make a comeback so I'm gonna have to go with the old favourite and say Hannibal. Obviously if it continued, we would have gotten a Silence of the Lambs storyline which would've been insane. To be fair I haven't seen Clarice yet, but it doesn't look half as interesting as Bryan Fuller's show

I guess slightly less obvious would be Glow, which understandably had a production shutdown due to Covid. I really would've loved to have seen where that show would have gone next, especially because there's still more of the actual story of the show left to tell. I also really like Love, maybe the most frustrating casualty of Netflix's cancellations, and even though the ending is really sweet, I'd still love to see more of Gus and Mickey's now married life together 

@elliott_salmon also asks two questions: If you could rewrite any ending to any television show... how would you do it?

This is a great, great question. I think it's more fun to talk about the endings that missed the mark rather than the ones that delivered, so ignoring the Felinas and the Meanwhiles and the Person to Persons of this world, there's an awful lot to choose from. I mean obviously I'd keep Bran off the Iron Throne but for a less obvious choice, I'd probably erase the interactive special and keep Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt's last episode as is

 In terms of a more in depth rewrite, I'd broaden out the last half of Gravity Falls' second season and take away the neat ending for Stan, using a timeskip to show how he's starting again and forging a new, slightly more honest life. It's funny because I loved Weirdmaggedon, but I thought the very last story beats felt a little too... clean. Which is especially strange in a show that was built not just on questions, but unexpected answers, too. Even five years later, it still doesn't really sit right with me. So yeah, I'd keep a lot of it the same, but I'd definitely put more emphasis on his sacrifice, and not have it glossed over as quickly as it is

If you could be in any sitcom, which would it be and why?

So one thing I love about sitcoms is the way they create interesting, dynamic worlds, full of distinct characters, but I don't think any show has done it better than Parks and Rec. Pawnee is more than a place, it's is own character. I know that sounds like a cliché but so much of why I love the show comes from how special the town feels. It's also the show with the most loveable cast, which is a big plus for being in that world. It's just such a real, well-constructed place, so full of details and brimming with life, and I think that's a huge factor in why the show is so great. Plus, the problems in that show are always pretty small-scale and zany, which definitely beats the moral hellscape of something like It's Always Sunny. It's a delight, and being in any town run by a ray of sunshine like Leslie Knope is bound to be an absolute joy

@kellyane_evans asks: What's your least favourite genre of film/tv and why?

This is a tough one. In terms of film, I'm generally pretty open, although I've had to learn to love documentaries, which I've really come around on. I guess certain kinds of blockbusters put me to sleep, in particular ones that I know were only made for money and lack any sort of creative presence, like the Jurassic World movies or your average Gerard Butler vehicle . Same goes for anything overly experimental (in particular Andrew Kötting's work), or anything where I can tell it's only being made to stroke the creators' ego, like pretty much anything from Charlie Kaufman. So I guess it's not so much the genre as it is the intention behind the film. Oh, and I also really hate films that only exist to shock and provoke and don't actually use that to say anything (we get it Gaspar Noé, you used real sex in your film, you're very clever)

It's slightly easier to do this for TV. As much as I love sitcoms, I really can't deal with a lot of cringe comedies or shows that derive humour from how awful their characters are. Same goes for anything overly cynical, or emotionally distant. Weirdly this doesn't massively bother me when it comes to movies, but I think if I'm investing a ton of time in this world, I want some sort of hook to keep me invested, and if a show feels weirdly insincere, it puts me right off. Rick and Morty is the prime example here, where the message of "everyone's awful and nothing means anything" just really annoys me. Not sure why, it just feels to easy of a conclusion to land on, and I'm definitely more drawn to shows that try harder to find some sort of positive resolution

Oh, I also really don't get 99% of teen dramas, although I'll concede that I'm probably not the target audience there

My Thoughts on Jumbo

Cinema is full of unlikely love stories, from Harold and Maude's sixty year age gap to Lars and the Real Girl's touching tale of one man's love for his life-size sex doll. Jumbo proudly joins this lineup as a real curio of the festival circuit, as the always amazing Noémie Merlant falls for a handsome stranger at a funfair. The stranger in question? A 20-foot tall pendulum ride called Jumbo. And yet, in the hands of director Zoé Wittrock, this proves to be the start of a beautiful relationship. Right off the bat, Jumbo is working with a bizarre premise, one that will turn a lot of people off but will also attract the kind of film fan who lives for the weird and the wonderful, who gleefully explores the annals of cult cinema in search of the wildest films they can find. If you fit that description, then read on, because Jumbo is very much the film for you. Just maybe not for the reasons you might think

Yes, Jumbo is an incredibly strange film with an attention grabbing premise, but that's not all it is. Actually, the whole point of the film is proving that just because something's weird, that doesn't mean it's not genuine. All the same, if you're coming to Jumbo solely out of curiosity, or even if you just want something different, you won't be disappointed. Wittrock's approach to the relationship is so admirable in how committed it is to taking this story seriously. There's a sex scene between Merlant's Jeanne and the titular ride, and without spoiling it, it's the thematic centerpiece of the film for all the right reasons. Jumbo is attention-grabbing and hypnotically weird, but it never makes a spectacle of its central relationship. The film actively rejects any sort of voyeurism or judgement. It's not an ironic film at all, instead relishing in the sincerity of an unorthodox romance that's no less genuine

It's a must-watch for fans of strange cinema, not because it's so surreal, but because it's explicitly about how it feels to love something even when nobody else can understand it. The film isn't a strange love story, but a story about strange love, and takes glee in sticking two fingers up at the powers that be and celebrating its heroine's passion for fairground rides. By the end, it marks itself as an unlikely feelgood hit, with real joy and love and heart. It's an oddity for sure but if you make it to the end, the film makes it very clear that it understands passion, even when it's targeted at something incredibly niche. Jumbo is a surprisingly wonderful film that takes its odd premise and spins it into something truly wonderful, and when it's done, you'll immediately want to rejoin the queue and get ready to ride all over again 

★ ★ ★ ★

My Problem With Wandavision

So the first of Marvel's TV outings has come and gone and it was... fine. It's funny, for as much as I've talked about the MCU on here, I've never really addressed how I feel about it as a whole entity. Honestly, I think it's okay. It's got some tremendous heights, and some pretty frustrating lows, and the longer it goes on, the more my issues with it are becoming magnified. At the same time, that's creating a greater level of investment in the MCU entries I do love- Guardians of the Galaxy 2 is an eternal comfort film of mine- and I think these two sentiments have collided with each other and evened out to create a total balance of adequacy. Post-Endgame, I've been waiting for something of a confirmation. After such a complete chapter of highs and lows that set records and hit unparalled levels of spectacle, I've found myself in need of a sign that Kevin Feige and his team are genuine storytellers and aren't just creating products in an assembly line so you'll hand over your hard earned green and keep the machine churning. So it's safe to say I had fairly high hopes for the lineup of shows that would start phase 4

So when Wandavision began, I was really, really happy with it. I should say up top that, despite the title of this post, I actually think Wandavision is a good show overall. The first six or so episodes are great, using the sitcom aesthetic to build a genuinely engaging mystery, and tease something larger with aplomb. I also really enjoyed the weekly release and the drip feed of information, and I'm especially happy to see that in this age of streaming and instant access. The show has some real surprises and uses them well, and I think it's only fair that I go ahead and say that what you're about to read is full of spoilers. If you haven't seen Wandavision, I'd definitely recommend it for an uneven but overall fairly enjoyable romp through a world of magic, mystery and laugh tracks. I give it 7/10 distraught witches

So what exactly is my problem? Well, bizarrely, my biggest issue with this installment of the MCU is exactly that: it's a standard installment of the franchise. And that wouldn't be an issue- I generally think their formula works really well- if the show hadn't put so much effort into convincing the audience that it was something different. Right from the start, the sitcom thing feels genuine. It's not just a gimmick that the show is using, it's an integral part of Wandavision's story. And the show does gradually indicate that it's only trying this style on for size and will outgrow it eventually but it also succeeds at making us invest in it, in using references and techniques unique to each of the sitcoms it's homaging. It's fun, charming and massively engaging

That's done so well that even as the show eases its way back into the real world and the scientists on the other side of the Hex, it doesn't feel jarring. It moves relatively naturally, until episode 7, where Agatha is revealed as the villain and the show really starts to sour. Suddenly, everything that made it interesting has a definite and concrete explanation, and most of the intrigue has gone out of the show before it's even reached its finale. The penultimate episode feels like an insult, a handheld tour through the selective backstory of Wanda Maximoff with some half-baked explanation of the sitcom gimmick thrown in for good measure. It's so jarring that what is made out to be such a key character trait is integrated this late into the characters' larger story, and it really lets the air out of Wandavision when it should be lining up its finishing blow

And just in case it seemed like the sitcom homages of the first episode were organic and effective, the show outwardly tells the audience that it was all just a cheap trick. Agatha's line about playing pretend feels like such an insult, a moment where the MCU imitated some big shift in how they tell their stories before delivering the big, neat climax they always do. And that wouldn't be a problem if Wanadavision was honest about what it was going to be but the show tries to have it both ways. I mean this is a show that people were celebrating for its surrealism and all-out approach to its subject matter, and while I can't say I ever thought it was some experimental masterpiece, it did sustain this intriguing remix of superhero stories long enough for me to think it was genuinely interested in trying something different

And speaking of superhero remixes, how about that fake brother? Look, I'm not sure I'm invested enough in either universe to say that the casting of Evan Peters had me champing at the bit for the X-Men to join the MCU, but at the very least I was expecting something better than this. Imagine wasting such a knowing bit of casting, one that deliberately, joyfully fuels a thousand fan theories before culminating in what is essentially a dick joke. I didn't need Wandavision to confirm any theories or even address the multiverse, but that kind of deliberately invoked disappointment really does sting. It's not the first time Marvel's done this kind of practical joke, but because of the nature of the medium and the knowing way they teased at a seemingly limitless array of answers, it doesn't work half as well as the Mandarin reveal in Iron Man 3. Instead, it feels a lot like the sudden shedding of the show's aesthetic, trying something new on for size before ditching it to serve the tried and true formula

Again, I didn't need Wandavision to be the show that changed the universe. It didn't have to confirm any theories or even connect to anything we'd seen before or would see in one of Marvel's 56 planned projects. It just had to assure me that Marvel was moving on from what they got so right in the Infinity saga, that everything post-Endgame would feel like the start of something new instead of a re-treading of old ground and a repeat of past frustrations. It doesn't hurt so much because they failed at the end, but because they succeeded immediately, getting it right before dropping the ball in a way that just feels so insulting. I know it sounds like I hated the show but I really loved those first six chapters, and they really hit the mark in terms of what I needed the show to be. But that home stretch just became a slog to watch, progressively running out of steam before slowing to a stop, finally reaching a neat and safe conclusion that tries so hard to be inoffensive and marketable that it ends up going the other way entirely. I'm going to watch the other shows for sure, but I can't say that Wandavision felt like the best start for the MCU's conquest of the small screen

My Thoughts on Ammonite

 

With his 2017 debut God's Own Country, Francis Lee established himself as a master of both delicate queer storytelling and an expert captor of the rugged British countryside. Ammonite does nothing to refute either of these descriptions, and doubles down on its predecessor's theory that intimacy is a cure for isolation, as well as Lee's enduring use of natural landscapes as a setting for stories about passionate yet routinely overlooked romances. God's Own Country was hailed as a milestone in British cinema and LGBTQ+  representation onscreen, so the question is this: is Ammonite a worthy follow-up?

The short answer? Yes, but just about. Ammonite tells the true story of Mary Anning, a collector of fossils in 19th century Dorset. The film speculates a romance between Anning and geologist Charlotte Murchison, and it's from here that Lee sows to seeds for an understated, largely unspoken romance. The performances, much like the handsome Lyme Regis landscape, initially appear cold and minimal, but over the course of the runtime, Lee is able to unearth the hidden wonders of both. Kate Winslet is outstanding as Anning, gradually warming up her defensive, understated shell to reveal a person who is passionate, insecure and hugely sympathetic. It's a performance that never gives too much at any given time, and Winslet is careful in how she emotes, the perfect way to play a character who has kept her guard up for so long that she's not even sure if it can come back down. Watching Winslet ease into moments of heightened emotion is a real thrill, even if the film's glacial stoicism means that those moments of release few and far between

Ammonite's main issue is its tone. Lee excels at telling a believable, engaging love story, and his visual storytelling is as strong as its ever been. The problem is that he's so good at alternating between guarded, mostly unspoken feeling and wonderfully conveyed romance that the film often gets stuck between the two and comes up emotionally uneven. And that's a shame, not just because of the already discussed tour-de-force from Winslet, but from how fantastically Saoirse Ronan is able to offset her. In another of a string of incredible turns in period pieces, Ronan works wonders in softening the tone and convincing the viewer that the film is worth investing in

And despite its issues, it is. Lee's film is choppy in places but still features fantastic performances and an engaging queer love story that feels a lot timelier than its setting would indicate. It's easy to forgive the missteps because the careful, minimal tone works more that it doesn't. The film struggles to change gears but when it's in motion there is something really compelling about it, and if Ammonite isn't quite as consistently breathtaking as God's Own Country, then it's nice to know that Lee's still got a few more tricks up his sleeve

★ ★ ★