All posts by BS

Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)

After years of begging for Sony to let go of their biggest franchise, we finally have a Marvel produced Spider-Man. This film stars Tom Holland as Peter Parker and picks up after the events of Captain America: Civil War. Peter spends his afternoons as Spider-Man doing small deeds around Queens instead of the high-stakes battles we are used to. He wants to have more responsibility and gets his wish with The Vulture (Michael Keaton; Birdman). The Vulture uses alien technology to create and sell deadly weapons of immense power that rival, and perhaps eclipse, Spider-Man’s own abilities.

The writers (there were six in total) make the smart decision to skip over Spider-Man’s origin. The Amazing Spider-Man movies suffered from their familiarity and Homecoming avoids that pitfall by (correctly) assuming the audience already knows his backstory. The script instead treats being a superhero like an extracurricular activity. It focuses on Peter attempting to balance his schoolwork, friendships, and trying to impress Tony Stark enough to become a full Avenger. This turns the film into equal parts superhero and coming-of-age story, one with an incredibly likeable supporting cast. As he deals with his best friend, his bully, and his potential love interest, Peter becomes the relatable character we know and love. At his heart, Peter Parker is a good, smart kid. He’s a nerd and isn’t the cocky, often creepy version played by Andrew Garfield. The writing and choice to cast actors actually passable as teenagers allows the characters to becoming endearing and believable.

The charming students make the high school scenes some of the best parts of the film.

The film does still suffer from some rapid editing and cliché plot points. The origin of the Vulture is cut together at blistering speed with a hastily added title card used to leap forward in time. This was clearly done to limit the potentially long runtime, but starts the movie on rocky footing. Then the movie resorts to an overused epiphany during the mandatory action set piece where Spidey hears a guiding voice during his moment of crisis that gives him the strength needed to overcome his current obstacle. These are both unfortunate realities created by the requirements of the genre, but don’t detract from the overall enjoyment.

This may be the first superhero film in years to produce any amount of sustained tension. Typically, fight scenes are major in scale but minor in impact. How can we worry about whether a character lives or dies when we know they are already slated for a sequel and know that they make their studio too much money to kill off? Spider-Man breaks this trend with one particular revelation that will come out of nowhere, but makes perfect sense in the context of the story. It plays on an already tense situation for teenagers but adds a physical threat. This is helped by Michael Keaton as one of Marvel’s only interesting villains. Note that he is an ordinary villain and intentionally not the super kind. He doesn’t desire global domination, but rather has the modest goal to take care of his family and his employees. The reason for his villainous turn is also convincing. His small salvage team loses their contract with the City of New York to Tony Stark’s company after the destruction from Age of Ultron. Essentially meaning that the man responsible for the damage is also profiting from it. One of the film’s most refreshing aspects is how it casts Tony Stark in an unflattering light. It points out that he is a member of the wealthy elite that seems exempt from responsibility which makes The Vulture’s blue-collar frustration more sympathetic. The strength of its villain and the genuine surprises make Homecoming one of the best superhero movies in recent memory.

4/5 stars.

Landline (2017)

Gillian Robespierre’s (Obvious Child) sophomore effort is an unfortunate disappointment. Her stellar debut mixed awkward humor, real dilemmas, and a gentle romance, but Landline features very little of what made that film great. The new movie again stars Jenny Slate as Dana, a 30ish engaged woman, and her dysfunctional family, each member on the verge of a supposed crisis. She has caring but divided parents played by John Turturro (Barton Fink) and Edie Falco (Nurse Jackie) and an obnoxious teenaged sister Ali (Abby Quinn) who acts out at every turn.

This may be one of the first films to feature 90s nostalgia. We’ve seen many movies with bell-bottomed characters in the 70s, the big hair of the 80s, but few have recreated the 1990s. The denim-heavy clothes, cassette tapes, and titular landlines all reference the decade but what is surprising is how little the time period matters. Beyond the absence of cell phones and social media, the characters talk and behave in such a modern way that it is easy to forget when the film actually takes place. This makes the choice of setting a confusing one. It doesn’t add any particular nuance to the story. It’s not something that could have only happened in the 90s, so the setting was likely chosen to match Robespierre’s own experiences growing up. It’s nice to see a different choice for a period piece, but the not-quite-retro setting is only worth a few pop culture references and nothing more.

The constant, and usually unfounded, whining of the daughters becomes irritating.

While her previous film was about one woman coping with the upheaval of her already scattered lifestyle, Landline centers on a family unit. The relationships and the mistakes one person makes are reflected through each family member. The parents, while physically together, are emotionally separated with the father having an affair with an unknown woman. The daughters are also distant and constantly argue with each other. Ali sneaks out at night, curses nonstop, and is completely opposed to anything her parents say. Dana, engaged to a loving fiancé, is having second thoughts about where her life is headed and takes out her frustration in arguments with her parents and Ali. The dialogue is realistic, but the sheer abrasiveness makes the characters unlikable. The way the family, particularly the daughters, cut into each other with their words is downright mean. The insults aren’t played for humor, so the film becomes an incessant display of verbal abuse to people that they supposedly care about. It’s an unwelcome look at the cruelty people can show to those closest to them.

Furthermore, the mistakes they make are unprovoked. Characters risk loving relationships for momentary pleasures and mistreat each other for no apparent reason. These are relatively affluent people with no physical, mental, or financial issues to speak of, but they still create problems for themselves as if they have been through some kind of trauma. In Moonlight, the main character had to deal with growing up with a poor, crack-addicted single mom in a crime-ridden neighborhood intolerant of his orientation, yet he complained less than these people do. Their pleasant, upper-middle class lifestyle is apparently too easy so they make unnecessary conflict. Ali screams at her mom for asking about her college applications and Dana gets upset with her fiancé for calling her after she abruptly moves back to her parent’s house. These aren’t relatable or even meaningful problems and without that, the film remains a showcase of unpleasant, self-destructive characters oblivious of their own privilege.

2/5 stars.

A Ghost Story (2017)

With very few words and an austere tone, A Ghost Story is going to immediately turn off some viewers. This isn’t a film with an explicit narrative, nor is it a fast one. Where others use special effects to create representations of the dead, the ghost here is almost comical in appearance. Like a lazy Halloween costume, it’s just a figure under a sheet with two eyeholes cut out. But this simplicity is intentional. Director David Lowery reteams with Casey Affleck (Manchester By the Sea) and Rooney Mara (Carol) to create a film that begins with a young couple, but focuses on a ghost left behind. Coming off Lowery’s last film, a larger-budgeted Disney-produced remake, this feels like a cleansing exercise and a return to his independent roots. Although it was well-received at this year’s Sundance Film festival, to some, it felt like an unnecessary student film experiment.

Even at a slim 90 minutes, the film may be too long. The slow, deliberate style is appropriate for the story and tone, but, despite the big ideas at play here, the film would have been improved at 60-75 minutes. The early scenes with Affleck and Mara and their gentle intimacy are compelling and the final time-spanning sequence is incredible, but, in between, the film lags. We spend too much time with the various new inhabitants of the house without progressing the story. The worst of these segments features a ham-fisted monologue from an inebriated hipster about the meaning of life in an infinite universe. This is clearly Lowery’s message to the audience, but the blunt delivery is at odds with the film’s subtle style and can be repulsive in its direct proselytizing.

Even with its simple appearance, the ghost becomes an expressive character.

Lowery is known for his lyrical style of storytelling. His first film, Ain’t Them Bodies Saints, was his version of an early Terrence Malick film. Heavy on voiceovers and light on narration, it used its natural light cinematography to create a sense of nostalgia which has proved to be Lowery’s primary interest.  While that film was soaked in sepia tones, A Ghost Story exists in the haze of fuzzy memory. The sets have a light fog that clouds each scene casting the entire film as something of the distant past. At one point, we meet another ghost in an unintentionally funny conversation. The other ghost is also waiting for someone, but can’t remember whom. As these ghosts wander through the lives of whomever moves into their houses, waiting for their special someone or someones to return, the film unveils itself as a look at our own emotional baggage and the legacy we leave behind. This recalls an intertitle from In the Mood for Love. “He remembers those vanished years as though looking through a dusty window pane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct.” The ghosts misguidedly search for a feeling that they may never have again and as Lowery delves deeper into this futile search, the film expands beyond its seemingly limited scope. It becomes a film not just about one couple, but about the passing of time, memory, and the inherent history that every location carries, but rarely shows.

4/5 stars.

Okja (2017)

[BS Note: This film is currently available for streaming on Netflix]

Returning to Korea after his first English language film, director Bong Joon-ho (Memories of Murder) has made his second creature feature. In 2006, he put his own spin on the monster movie with The Host and here he brings a unique narrative about a special pet. A multinational food corporation with a bad history, Murando, led by their strange CEO Lucy (Tilda Swinton; Doctor Strange), has created a new breed of superpig – larger, less environmentally demanding, and tasty. In a rebranding effort, Lucy announces that 26 pigs will be sent out to be raised locally by farmers around the world with a plan to hold a “Best Superpig” contest and launch their new food products 10 years later. Mija (Ahn Seo-Hyun) is the teenage girl who has raised her superpig, Okja, in South Korea until it is taken away by Murando. Unwilling to say goodbye to her pet, Mija travels to America to bring Okja back home.

The success of the film relies entirely on its depiction of Okja. The hippo-like animal is rendered with a startling amount of personality and intelligence. She cuddles with Mija as she sleeps and is able to problem solve when needed. She is less like Mija’s pet than her partner in crime as she helps her fish, climb, and even risks herself to make sure Mija is safe. Most computer-generated effects suffer from unrealistic physics. They feel weightless and removed from the physical world. Okja doesn’t have this problem. She trots and leaps with a heft fitting of a creature her size. This attention to detail in her animation makes her feel believable as she interactions with the objects and people around her.

Okja’s human emotions make her immediately endearing.

There are some unexpected additions to Bong’s direction. He shoots the film with a much more frenetic style than usual. The camera bounces and shakes as it chases its subjects, even employing snap zooms as needed. This progression towards a more mainstream style of shooting action started with his previous film, Snowpiercer, but is much more prevalent here. The end result is somewhat mixed. While it does add a sense of chaos to the story, especially when Okja is involved, it can be unnecessarily distracting. It makes the otherwise well-staged action harder to follow which detracts from its overall impact.

Few filmmakers working today can juggle multiple conflicting tones like Bong can. While the overall silliness of the film prevents it from ever becoming too heavy, he still has to balance animal cruelty, extremism, corporate machinations, and animal-human relationships, each with its own tone. Fortunately, he is able to quickly change the mood as needed. Thrilling chase scenes end in toilet humor and what could be a tense hostage situation with animal rights extremists is punctuated by their incompetence. The one constant in the changing moods is Mija’s relationship with Okja. Mija’s unbreakable will to save Okja and her refusal to give up are heartwarming. Their affection serves as the emotional core of the film. While situations can often stretch believability, their friendship is a pleasant anchoring point. There could be a greater theme read into about the morality of animal farming and meat consumption, but Bong keeps his emphasis on Mija and Okja. Their credible relationship and Bong’s skilled tonal maneuverings make Okja a sweet story of the bond between a girl and best friend. Slighter than his typical work, but enjoyable nonetheless.

3/5 stars.

I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore (2017)

[BS Note: This film is currently available for streaming on Netflix]

Winning the Grand Jury Prize in the Dramatic category at this year’s Sundance, I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore received significant buzz, despite having one of the most onerous titles since Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It is the directorial debut of Macon Blair, star of the intense thriller Blue Ruin. Like that film, this is also a revenge story. Ruth (Melanie Lynskey; Happy Christmas), a regular woman somewhere in suburban America, finds her house broken into with her furniture ransacked and her laptop and her grandmother’s silver missing. She calls the police, but, after their apparent disinterest, she decides to find the culprits herself, teaming up with her strange neighbor Tony (Elijah Wood; The Lord of the Rings).

Like 2015’s Wild Tales, this a story of normal people being pushed just beyond their limits until they finally break and act out. The film paints Ruth as the kind, unsung altruist in a world of selfishness. She spends he days caring for strangers as a nurse and treats others with respect. Yet, she doesn’t see that same kind of goodness in those around her. Other people litter, are rude, and cut in line. She feels lost and alone. The robbery and the ineffectual police response are what set her off on a path of assertiveness that eventually becomes aggression. This growth is empowering as she finally takes charge of her life and gets the things she wants and deserves.

Ruth and Tony are an unlikely, but strangely appropriate, pairing.

The film’s biggest surprise is Elijah Wood. His eccentric, religious loner is the perfect complement to Ruth. While she feels suffocated by the world, Wood’s Tony is barely even aware of it. He walks around listening to his metal and disconnected from anything or anyone around him. He decides to help Ruth because of his sense of justice, but is obviously unfamiliar with anything even remotely close to real crimes. Where others would bring a baseball bat as a weapon, he brings shuriken and a morning star, claiming to know how to use them. His strangeness is balanced by his innocence and he proves to be the perfect counter to Ruth’s increasing hostility. He is not only her companion, but is also her moral center, reminding her of what is right, what is wrong, and why she started her mission in the first place.

Blair’s choice of story and directing style are clearly influenced by his friend and frequent collaborator Jeremy Saulnier (Green Room). He uses the same stripped-down approach and also favors characters in the margins of society. The difference is that where Saulnier goes for the pure tension and gore of a genre film, Blair brings comedy. He is still able to create tense scenarios, but they are result of his characters’ own comical failures. Their fumblings are caused by their own inexperience and unintentionally raise the stakes as Ruth and Tony mess up even the simplest of tasks. They find themselves embroiled in increasingly dangerous schemes with little idea of how to remedy the situation. This comedic tone makes I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore a funny and liberating revenge thriller with agreeably offbeat leads.

4/5 stars.

The Little Hours (2017)

What could be funnier than nuns in a convent? That’s a phrase never spoken before. Jeff Baena (Life After Beth) directs a comedy about 14th century nuns. Sisters Alessandra (Alison Brie), Genevra (Kate Micucci) and Fernanda (Aubrey Plaza) live a routine life of prayer and chores until Massetto (Dave Franco), a young, handsome man, becomes their new gardener. Massetto poses as a deaf-mute to avoid contact with the sisters, but his presence creates impure thoughts in all of them. Having never been in this situation before, the women each approach Massetto, and their newfound urges, in their own ill-conceived ways.

The cast is stacked with talented comedians. Every role, even minor ones, is filled by an actor from a Seth Rogen or Judd Apatow film. Most of them stick to their typical roles with Plaza leading as an unhinged maniac. She repeatedly threatens people with violence and doesn’t appear capable of feeling any kind of sympathy. Her character is a stark contrast to Brie who plays an innocent woman that wants to get married and leave the convent but, due to her family’s financial situation, can’t afford her dowry. Brie’s initial sweetness doesn’t last long under Plaza’s influence and her progression into delinquency is an absurd and entertaining descent.

Plaza is borderline maniacal with her violent outbursts

Anachronism is the name of the game when it comes to the film’s humor. First and foremost, who can picture Aubrey Plaza as a nun? Nobody who has seen her in anything and Baena knows that. He makes his intentions clear from the opening scene where Plaza and Micucci attack and berate the church gardener for smiling at them and wishing them a good morning. They swear like sailors using modern curses and not even the slightest hint of an era-appropriate accent with Franco still maintaining his surfer-bro drawl. The only attempts at recreating the period are restricted to the on-location shooting and the attire. Other than that, the film plays like a raunchy sex comedy.

The Little Hours eclipses its peers by its use of the setting. Vulgarity and toilet humor can very quickly become irritating and, initially, it seems like the film will follow that same path, but things change as we learn more about the characters. These aren’t the typical filthy minded cast. These are nuns in the medieval age which means they haven’t actually had any real-life experiences. They have been raised in the convent since they were young so all of their behavior comes from a place of extreme sheltering. This makes even the alarmingly aggressive behavior somehow charming. As the characters throw themselves at Franco, their complete naivete is endearing. They are inexperienced to the point of stupidity so their attempts to win Franco’s attention, while hiding their transgressions, are exercises in hilarious ineptitude. These actions are their baby steps toward understanding themselves as adult women with adult feelings. The competition between the nuns creates misunderstandings that compound into a completely ridiculous climax that reveals how little they know about the world and how comically hypocritical they are. Expressed through a lens of complete and foolish naivete, Baena imbues an anachronistic sex comedy with a charming innocence.

4/5 stars.

Baby Driver (2017)

With earbuds and a pair of not-particularly-fashionable sunglasses, the juvenile Baby (Ansel Elgort; The Fault in Our Stars) is not who you’d picture as a getaway driver. Edgar Wright’s (Shaun of the Dead) newest film is about Baby doing one last job for a local crime boss named Doc (Kevin Spacey). Baby has a ringing in his ears so he listens to music to drown out the noise, setting each job to a particular tune. Baby is his best driver so, naturally, when he tries to quit after falling for a local waitress, Doc threatens him until he is forced to participate.

The supporting cast are amusing exaggerations of well-worn tropes. Spacey has played this type of role before and is completely comfortable as the crime boss. Jon Hamm (Mad Men) is charismatic as an overconfident criminal that shares Baby’s love of music and Jamie Foxx (Collateral) is menacing as the loose cannon. Unlike most portrayals of a similar role, Foxx’s unpredictability comes from a place of caution. Instead of stupidly taking risks, like many would, his extreme actions are preventative measures. His violence is a way to ensure his own survival. These three add some needed flavor to the otherwise familiar setup.

The other criminals provide a harsh contrast to Baby’s relative innocence.

Wright inserts his presence into every frame and brings a boisterous energy to the film. Even scenes of a character walking are given an extra boost. His camera circles around the cast, always moving and seemingly dancing along to the music. The action scenes also have this spirit. Baby’s drifting vehicles come dangerously close to the camera as it pulls away just before being run over. There is a controlled recklessness to the car chases. As Baby slams the emergency brake to gracefully weave through a set of obstacles, it becomes clear we are in the hands of some master stunt choreography. Wright separates these scenes from a typical car chase with his, and Baby’s, playfulness. Baby’s disconnect from the dangers of getaway driving in favor of ensuring he is listening to the right song make the crashes and gunshots feel like background noise to the fun he is having. Thanks to Wright’s deliberately light tone, the action brings more smiles than tension.

This may be the longest music video mashup ever made. If you thought Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 went overboard with its soundtrack, Baby Driver will make it seem tame in comparison. The narrative conceit of Baby having tinnitus and always listening to music allows Wright to cut every scene to the song of his choice. His taste spans genres and time periods to form an eclectic collection of hummable tunes. The songs become as much of a character as Baby himself which can at times be a double-edged sword. As entertaining as it is, Wright’s near-constant use of songs can shift the attention away from the characters, making the audience more involved with the music than the plot. In fact, it’s easy to lose track of the greater motivations or narrative progressions when you’re so preoccupied with enjoying the music. The events onscreen can at times become like filler visuals with only the action scenes grabbing back your attention. By favoring its tunes over its plot, Baby Driver is a light spectacle with a varied and energetic soundtrack.

3/5 stars.

The Big Sick (2017)

Earlier this year Get Out was described as a horror/thriller take on Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, but The Big Sick might be a more apt comparison. Written by Emily V. Gordon and Kumail Nanjiani (Silicon Valley) and based on their real courtship, The Big Sick is about an interracial relationship between Emily (Zoe Kazan; Ruby Sparks) and Kumail (playing himself). Their coupling starts off as a one night stand, but as it develops into a long-term relationship the differences in their backgrounds become apparent. Kumail is from a Pakistani Muslim family and Emily is a White American. His family believes in arranged marriages and is actively trying to set him up with potential brides. Because of their traditional beliefs, Kumail chooses to hide his relationship with Emily from them which leads to a falling out. Later when Emily is diagnosed with a serious infection, Kumail is forced to re-evaluate his feelings and meet Emily’s parents.

While many of the details about the potential difficulties of interracial relationships ring true, the social commentary aspect of the film is in conflict with its romantic comedy aspirations. The script lampoons the extended families, particularly Nanjiani’s, but doesn’t ever examine their perspective. That is not to say that their orthodox, often antiquated, ideas are correct or should be supported, but rather that they deserve to be understood. Instead, the film treats Nanjiani’s family like cartoonish villains that are played for comedy. They are painted in the broadest strokes. Perhaps that is to be expected of a Judd Apatow production, but my hope was its autobiographical nature would elevate the writing. The script never allows them to develop into multidimensional characters and in doing so is disrespectful to their culture and the themes the film claims to be interested in.

Kazan and Nanjiani have chemistry, but the majority of the film doesn’t actually feature them together.

Not all interracial relationships are the same. The couple depicted here isn’t facing the same difficulties that a Black American and a White American would face when dating. This is about problems caused by intercultural relationships. There are different expectations and different goals for each culture, but none of that nuance is ever featured in The Big Sick. Like mediocre standup comics, Nanjiani and Gordon are more interested in using cultural differences as punchlines than offering anything beyond surface-level observations.

Contrast this with the great documentary Meet the Patels. It also tackled the complex issues faced by the children of immigrants merging their family’s culture with the one they encounter every day. It was equally, and often more, funny but also sought to actually understand each viewpoint and the disconnect between generations. It showed that, while restrictive, these rules being imposed were done with good intentions and from a place of love. The difference was that their affection was being filtered through a completely different set of cultural norms and the film even explored what it can take to bridge the gap between disparate cultures.

The Big Sick lacks most of that depth. Nanjiani’s family is shown as backwards and while Gordon’s family has some growth as they come to accept Nanjiani, the script doesn’t effectively evaluate the beliefs or assumptions that created their initial stances. It is more interested in exaggerating awkward moments for fairly simple, obvious jokes. The humor is sometimes successful, but is typically limited to surface-level observations. By choosing to be a safe rom-com featuring an interracial relationship rather than a bold rom-com about interracial relationships, Nanjiani and Gordon’s film produces some laughs but fails at providing real insights into the situation at hand.

2/5 stars.

Moka (2017)

Following the tragic loss of her young son, Diane (Emmanuelle Devos; Coco before Chanel) is unable to lead a normal life. She still sees visions of him and doesn’t know how to move on. Her son died in a hit and run and no one has been convicted yet. There aren’t even any suspects. Unable to wait any longer, she decides to take matters into her own hands. Using a list of cars in the area that match an eyewitness description, she sets out to find the killer herself.

Diane’s detective work puts her own objectives at risk. As she tries to understand the character of her son’s potential killers, she accidentally embeds herself deep into their lives. She finds herself falling into accidental friendships with them and her inquisition reveals more than she expected. When they were nameless murderers, possibly going uncharged for their crimes, Diane had a clear plan. Her conviction was strong and she knew what her response would be, but learning about their lives shakes the foundation of her beliefs. The details she learns humanizes them. Are these people really capable of committing a hit and run? She sees them as regular, flawed human beings rather than the cold villains she pictured and is unsure what to do next. Director Frédéric Mermoud delicately balances the crime, the criminals, and Diane’s need for justice by calling the impact of her plan into question. Even if these are the right people, how could anything to undo her loss?

Diane’s demeanor isn’t unstable enough for there to be a true risk of violence.

This is intended to be the source of the film’s tension. What will Diane do? A grieving parent may not act rationally, but as Mermoud points out, is there a rational response? Diane’s behavior is contrasted with her recently estranged husband. He says the police are working on it and that they should let them handle things. But the crime occurred seven months earlier and they haven’t had any new developments. Her husband is law abiding, but can look complacent. However, the director prevents him from appearing detached by showing brief glimpses into the husband’s own pain. The difference between him and Diane isn’t how much they loved their son, it’s how they channel their suffering. He points it inward whereas Diane throws it outward.

While the moral issue is evenly evaluated, the story sticks too closely to its genre and Diane is too predictable as a character. This is a procedural about vigilante justice and follows those tropes. Diane tails her suspects like a shabby private investigator and there is even a scene where information is exchanged on a park bench straight out of a spy thriller. Even with the extreme measures taken to find her son’s killers, Diane would need to be perceived as dangerous for the film to create suspense. There needs to be a believable threat that she could do something drastic. Devos is sympathetic as the lead, but her performance doesn’t have the unhinged menace required. She loved her son and is visibly broken by his passing, but the restraint she shows around the suspects prevents her from ever seeming deadly. She doesn’t seethe with hatred, instead she broods in pain. Without a set of equally credible outcomes, Moka loses the suspense of its central moral dilemma.

3/5 stars.

The Beguiled (2017)

Re-adapting a book originally published in 1966, Sofia Coppola (Lost in Translation) makes full use of her female cast. During the American Civil War, Martha (Nicole Kidman; Eyes Wide Shut) and Edwina (Kirsten Dunst; Melancholia) run a school for girls in the south. They live by themselves until one of the girls finds a wounded Northern soldier and brings him back home. Instead of immediately turning him in, they decide to help him recover first because it is “the Christian thing to do”. The soldier’s co-habitation leads to some unexpected results.

The film is unexpectedly funny. Initially, the humor feels unintentional, like the filmmaker doesn’t know that her serious attempts at drama are awkward, but Coppola’s plans soon become clear. The film isn’t just a twisted tale of what happens to a soldier brought into a house full of women. It’s about how those women, deprived of any male presence in their lives, react to his arrival. Their scrambling for his slightest acknowledgement and the way each character flaunts it over the others is incredibly comical. They each have their own unique way of trying to connect with him. Elle Fanning (The Neon Demon) as the oldest girl is the standout as she quickly switches from distrust of a Northerner to being the boldest of the group, all while trying to maintain an air of propriety.

Watching the women compete for the soldier’s attention is always entertaining.

The soldier’s impact is to immediately disrupt their priorities and their social order. Coppola expertly dissects the delicate hierarchy between the women. She is acutely aware of how women can establish and maintain their own ranks with Kidman as their alpha-female. She commands the others and they obey, that is, until a new factor is added. Suddenly, their rankings are open for renegotiation. The contrast between the adults and the girls best exemplifies this natural order. The women know their standing with each other, but it always implicit. The girls on the other hand haven’t yet learned discretion. After the soldier enters their lives, they begin competing for his attention. The women do this subtly by wearing jewelry or nicer clothing, but the girls explicitly shout “I’m his favorite!” or “He doesn’t like you”. They know that his affection has become the new determining factor of power within their household. His presence rattles their standings and puts the house into temporary disarray when Martha can no longer wield the power she is used to.

The film then turns this power dynamic on its head again. Having examined the ways in which women can be divided, Coppola pushes into how they can unite. After more changes occur, the hierarchy is again reshuffled with the women no longer competing against each other. What they are capable of and, more importantly, the proper manner in which they handle it is hilarious. Coppola embeds the film’s narrative turns in the etiquette of the time making even heinous actions appear somehow polite and, for a lack of a better term, “lady-like”. The Beguiled is a smart, feminist take on intra-sex rivalry wrapped in the tropes of a twisted thriller.

4/5 stars.