Annihilation (2018): Slow, High-concept Sci-fi

Writer-director Alex Garland (Ex Machina) has carved out a niche for himself. With his newest film, he reconfirms his interest in smart science fiction. Making drastic changes to the best-selling novel by Jeff VanderMeer, the film follows Lena (Natalie Portman; Black Swan), a biologist and military veteran, who is taken to a government facility hiding a secret. A crashed meteorite has created a transformation known as Area X, or as the Shimmer for its glowing borders, and no one has ever returned from inside. She, along with four other women, are assigned to enter the uncharted zone and find its source before Area X expands to the rest of the country.

Garland strikes a unique balance between heady sci-fi and monster movie. Like a Tarkovsky film, the pacing is generally slow. In most cases, unnecessarily slow. There are repeated flashbacks that drag on without adding depth to Lena’s backstory, but there is also a blend of horror and action. The women of expedition team wield assault rifles and know how to use them with the script providing ample opportunities to do so. As they explore the wilderness, Garland follows the trappings of horror with near-death encounters and increasing paranoia that create sustained tension. Someone reports that there are two main theories why teams never return: something beyond the Shimmer kills them or they go crazy and kill themselves. Garland never provides an answer with each subsequent event seemingly flipping the odds in the other direction and thereby leaving the audience in suspense.

The action and horror elements help break up the slow pacing.

There is constant fear of the unknown within Area X, but also an unexpected beauty. Garland makes the environment lethal with dangerous, malformed creatures lurking around every corner. His methods are effective because the setting isn’t entirely alien. The flora and fauna are perversions of a natural setting and everything glows with a pallid, ethereal luminescence. Things feel close enough to normal that the differences become stark and disturbing. Animals resemble their traditional forms but are distorted in size, shape, or features. Flowers and fungi-like growths bloom throughout the landscape, but their initial beauty is complicated. The unnaturally colorful plants undulate as if they are feeding off the wildlife, almost carnivorously, and add to the mistrust surrounding every new encounter.

In VanderMeer’s original book, the title referred to a specific event, but Garland has a much higher concept in mind. In a revealing conversation, a character corrects Lena about the differences between self-destruction and suicide and exposes the heart of the film. Whether it’s the wildlife of Area X, cancer, or relationships, Garland is interested in the transformative, damaging, and regenerative consequences of self-destructive actions, but he isn’t explicit with his conclusions. The film’s ending is abstract and ambiguous to the point that it will frustrate viewers who tolerated the film’s slow rhythm in hopes of an explanation. The sequence itself is well executed and creates a genuine sense of wonder, but it will be divisive. Films don’t need clear or easy interpretations, they’re often better in ambiguity, but Annihilation leaves ideas open for discussion without providing enough resolution to make the long journey there worthwhile. Garland renders a deadly, corrupted environment with noble, high concept goals, but the needlessly slow pacing requires more from the narrative than it can provide.

3/5 stars.

The Party (2018): High-class Soap Opera

In honor of her newfound appointment as the Minister of Health, Janet (Kristin Scott Thomas; Only God Forgives), celebrates by hosting a party. She invites her closest friends including Patricia Clarkson, Bruno Ganz, and Cillian Murphy, along with her husband played by Timothy Spall. What starts off as an innocent night of dinner and drinks erupts into chaos as we learn more about the secrets beneath their posh appearance and the party becomes a night to remember.

The black and white cinematography is adequate, but nothing more. Too often movies without color are automatically praised for their visuals when in reality they are merely passable. Small-scale independent movies like The Party tend to be shot in black and white for practical reasons rather than artistic ones. The choice to remove color hides the flaws of cheap lighting and enables quicker setups which was likely a major factor in director Sally Potter’s decision. The look of the film doesn’t compare to great black and white cinematography seen in movies like The Third Man, but it may not need to. The aesthetic hides the film’s budget limitations and adds to its deliberately cultured appearance that will no doubt ingratiate it to its intended audience.

Ganz’s free spirit is a great contrast to the rest of the cast.

The dialogue and setup initially feel pretentious. The characters are professors, politicians, and other forms of self-professed intellectuals and the dialogue never lets you forget it. Potter’s script often feels overwritten with needlessly verbose language. The word choice and the pompous way lines are delivered can be highfalutin and grating when the characters are first introduced. Clarkson’s constant eyerolling and dismissive tone are particularly irritating as she judges others under her breath. This snobbish behavior creates a distancing effect that prevents the film from building traction early on. Eventually, the characters become relatable as the plot twists are introduced, but the pompous air makes the first half of this short 77-minute movie feel much longer than desired.

Potter’s film is essentially a chamber play. The story is confined to a few rooms in one setting and the action is dialogue-based which may have been better suited to the stage. The theatrics of the performances would have felt at home and the small scale would be more appropriate. Unlike last year’s Beatriz at Dinner, which had a similar setup, it doesn’t take advantage of its medium. On the big screen, the film struggles through its first half until the melodrama appears. As juicy details are revealed and the characters are forced out of their ivory towers, the film becomes immensely more interesting. Seeing the supposedly refined exteriors shatter when faced with decidedly low-class problems is a welcome, almost cathartic change. Each new piece of information increases the hysteria – and the humor – while Ganz’s new age healer interjects with his own unwanted hippy philosophies to the chagrin of the other partygoers trying to cope with their immediate issues. Potter shows a knack for creating social situations that quickly spiral out of control, it’s just a shame that it takes her so long to get there.

3/5 stars.

Early Man (2018): Timeless Humor

Directing his first film in over a decade, Nick Park (Wallace & Gromit) and the wonderful team at Aardman Animations (Chicken Run) have created another hilarious stop-motion romp. Set in the Stone Age, the story follows Dug (Eddie Redmayne; The Theory of Everything) and his fellow cavemen who are forced out of their valley by a Bronze Age nobleman named Lord Nooth (Tom Hiddleston; Thor). Desperate to get his homeland back, Dug bets Nooth that his tribe can beat Nooth’s all-star soccer team. If the cavemen win, they can return to their valley, but if they lose they will be forced to spend their lives working in Nooth’s bronze mines.

A cast of prominent British actors has the time of their lives doing the voicework. Redmayne as Dug is an eternal optimist whose springy voice implies he always has another idea up his sleeves if things don’t work out. His resilience is as charming as his naivete, but the real standout has to be Hiddleston. Lord Nooth gives him the chance to be the villain Loki (his character in the Marvel Cinematic Universe) never could be. He is deliciously evil, savoring every injustice he can create and every piece of bronze he can swindle. Yet, his ludicrous scheming is kept light by his blatant incompetence and his fear of how the Queen will react to his actions. He is the epitome of the likable, but bumbling villain, perfect for an audience to laugh at, but not with. Topping off the performances is a variety of vaguely European accents. Ricocheting between western European countries, the cast’s adopted speech only heightens the farcical plot and adds to the film’s absurd tone.

Lord Nooth is probably Hiddleston’s finest role yet.

Early Man is filled to the brim with inventive humor. Unlike most animated films, Park doesn’t rely on desperate fart jokes to get a laugh out of his audience. He uses the Stone Age setting to create ridiculous situations with the peak being a gargantuan, man-eating mallard duck and then mines the culture clash of the cavemen entering the Bronze age. There are setups with characters using ancient technology for modern communication, particularly a running gag involving a messenger bird, that are priceless. As the soccer match ramps up there is also a surprising amount of sports related humor. Subtle digs at prominent real-world teams and a caricature of sports commentators are welcome additions that even non-soccer fans will enjoy. Aardman’s humor goes beyond single jokes. Each scene is packed with unexpected sight gags that make the film worth a second viewing. It has the rare combination of both quality and quantity of jokes that will keep audiences of all ages laughing.

The simple plot may be a slight disappointment to some. While Park takes advantage of the humor that the Stone Age brings, the film quickly and unexpectedly turns into a sports movie with an unusual backdrop. The beats leading up to the soccer match follow the expected tropes including a training montage, a struggle to perform, and a new member that motivates the team. It’s impossible to not wonder what zany situations the cavemen could have faced if Park had leaned further into the prehistoric setting (more man-eating mallards would have been appreciated), but there is plenty to love about the story that is present. Despite its familiarity, it’s the unique spin Park adds that prevents it from becoming cliché. Under his direction, and with the work of his stellar animation team, Early Man is a consistently hilarious, beautifully crafted, and uniquely Aardman take on the sports movie.

4/5 stars.

Becks (2018): Great Music, Awkward Filmmaking

Filling the void left until John Carney makes another movie, directors Elizabeth Rohrbaugh and Daniel Powell have created an indie music filled film that leans heavily into its romantic elements. After a rough breakup with her girlfriend and musical partner, Becks (Lena Hall) returns home to St. Louis (referred to as “the Lou”) to live with her mom. She reunites with her best friend from high school and starts playing at his bar and giving guitar lessons to earn some cash on the side. Her first student Elyse (Mena Suvari; American Beauty) becomes a closer-than-expected companion as Lena deals with the fallout from her remaining feelings about her ex and the delicate relationship she has with her deeply religious mother.

The success of the film relies on two elements: its music and the lead actress. Fortunately, these tend to be its strongest aspects. The music consists of soft, acoustic tunes soulfully sung by Hall. Hall is Tony Award winner and seasoned performer. Her voice is beautiful and each performance makes the most of the introspective lyrics. The singing is heartfelt and tinged with pain, but still inviting.

Hall as the lead makes Becks an endearing character. She may fall into several tropes about indie musicians and lesbians, but her energy and abrasiveness are incredibly likable. She drinks heavily and curses frequently, even as her mother protests, but there is a refreshing honesty to her behavior. While others in her town are concerned with propriety and appearances, her brazen language cuts through any artifice.

Becks’ barside performances are the highlight of the film.

The directors have done a great job of handling her orientation. This isn’t a persecution narrative, but she still has to deal with the judgement of people around her, including her mom. Becks points out that she needs to get back to New York City and out of the small-town life, but she handles herself well when faced with anything from unwanted setups at a barbeque to comments like “You’re the first one we’ve really ever hung out with”. She takes these things in stride as the film exposes these subtle interactions without letting them sidetrack the focus of the story.

Despite its strengths, the film’s writing and direction can undercut its impact. The film is, like its lead character, is messy. The great music and performance from Hall and intertwined with awkward filmmaking. Several conversations with the supporting cast are often inelegant with inconsistent pacing in the dialogue. It’s as if the actors are speaking at the speed of separate metronomes and that prevents exchanges from having a natural flow. This is especially true of the film’s comedic moments. The humor is intended to come from socially awkward situations and, on paper, they may have worked, but the film has more misses than hits. Hall’s sly comments are delivered too soon or too late to be effective and the timing issues can make the overall film feel amateurish. These problems don’t overwhelm the film’s strengths, but they do prevent it from earning a strong recommendation. Becks, like a talented aspiring musician, has plenty to like, but lacks the polish needed to become a larger success.

3/5 stars.

Holiday (Sundance 2018): Vacation’s All I Ever Wanted

A young woman dating a rich gangster, what could go wrong? First time director Isabella Eklöf brings us to the Turkish Rivera where Sascha (Victoria Carmen Sonne), her older boyfriend Michael (Lai Yde), and some of his associates spend their vacation. While Michael is attending to the criminal business that has afforded them their luxurious accommodations, Sascha befriends Thomas (Thijs Römer), a man sailing the Mediterranean by himself. Michael is quickly shown to be violent, abusive, and controlling. He has an explicit code of trust and mercilessly punishes those that breach it. When Sascha needs a break from Michael, she calls Thomas and begins courting him without ever revealing her relationship. This causes major problems when Michael spots her going to visit Thomas.

Eklöf favors clear, bold staging. Most of the film is composed of wide shots in deep focus with each moving character, whether main, supporting, or background, shown in crisp detail. She presents these scenes as if witnessing one story within a larger world. Sascha may be the protagonist, but we are unable to forget that she is just one among the many moving parts of Michael’s gang. Eklöf’s cinematography pulls heavily from the works of similarly unflinching director Ulrich Seidl (Paradise Trilogy). Like Seidl, she refuses to turn away from any of the film’s explicit violence. Her camera remains fixed, forcing the audience to witness whatever may be on screen and realize that it is not happening in isolation, that the world is still going on around it even as these vile acts occur.

Eklöf’s wide framing and restrained editing create an immersive, inescapable world.

There is a famous line from a Jean-Luc Godard movie that goes “Every cut is a lie” and Eklöf operates from the same school of thinking. She shoots conversations with both characters in frame to remove the need for crosscutting and creates moments of uneasy voyeurism. Suddenly, the film is no longer a directed experience. It is up to the audience to decide where to focus their gaze and, willingly or not, partake in the story. To put the effect in context, when I left the theater I saw a TV screen with a news channel playing and asked myself “Why isn’t this in Danish?”. Eklöf’s style forces viewers to merge into the world of the characters and the deliberate editing prevents us from clashing with the artifice of cinema.

As explicit as the actions on screen may be, Holiday’s true controversy from will come from its murky morality. When there are acts of abuse in film, the characters are immediately divided into victims (good) and abusers (bad), but Eklöf doesn’t conform to this standard. While Sascha remains a victim, her abuse propagates through her in unexpected ways and there is more to her than the seemingly childish behavior she initially displays. She is not the cowering captive we would presume and her abrupt actions lead us to question, even retract, the sympathy she has earned, despite her suffering. This is the rarely explored and deeply uncomfortable area Eklöf is interested in. She has created Holiday to show the corrupting nature of violence and the unwanted complications it brings to our simple conceptions of morality.

4/5 stars.