Film Review: Vox Lux

"One For The Money, Two For The Show, Three To Get Ready, And Four We Go..."

Directed and written by actor-turned-director, Brady Corbet, Vox Lux sees the American return to the big screen after the critical success of 2015's, The Childhood of a Leader, for a bizarre, sometimes masterful, ideas-heavy drama which blends a whole catalogue of themes and satirical subtexts around a central narrative which focuses entirely upon the character of Celeste Montgomery, the survivor of a brutal mass shooting at her school at the turn of the twentieth century who soon finds worldwide fame and fortune in the musical industry after the song she writes for her fellow fallen students goes viral. Boldly coined by the marketing team as Black Swan meets A Star is Born, Corbet's movie does indeed have incidental flashes of familiarity from both, but with its' own individual identity and a strange and overly knowing holier-than-thou, art-house sensibility, Vox Lux is that type of auterish, pretentious work of boldness which tends to divide both audiences and critics alike, and whilst Corbet's movie does indeed suffer at times from choosing to rely more on it's very flashy and expertly designed surface over meaningful plot or characterisation, the American's second big screen venture is a highly original and memorable work of nonsense which grabbed my attention from the offset and never let go. 

Split into two very different narrative halves, the first act of Vox Lux begins with a Sunset Boulevard style voiceover, helmed of course by the dulcet and very familiar tones of Willem Dafoe (Spider-Man) as we are dropped into the early life of Celeste, as played in younger form by the excellent Raffey Cassidy (The Killing of a Sacred Deer) as we see her attempt to reason with her fellow student who goes through with his plan to carry out a mass school shooting, an opening set piece so expertly and horrifically orchestrated I sat jaw-dropped for a good five minutes through the opening credit roll. As we progress through Celeste's sudden rise to fame in the pop world, we are introduced to Jude Law's (Captain Marvel) passionate music manager and Celeste's close relationship with her older sister, Ellie, as played by Stacey Martin (High Rise) who both play a part in the doe-eyed victim slowly becoming less and less innocent as she opens her eyes to the wider and more glamorous side of the world in which she lives. Cue a significant time jump and the second act of the movie sees Natalie Portman (Black Swan) take on the role as the elder Celeste, a now world famous, significant figurehead in the music industry suffering from a steady blend of alcoholism, narcissism and broken relationships including that of her sister and young daughter, Albertine, also played in excellent fashion once again by the impressive Cassidy. Whilst I understand the commentary regarding the effects of fame and social pressures wholly evident in the film's second act, Portman's performance is so vile and infuriating (in a good sense) that come the final act, Corbet's movie becomes more and more agitating, and whilst I expect that this is undoubtedly the effect Vox Lux attempts to evoke upon the audience, it's jarring sensibility is both intriguing and detracting, resulting in a movie which is one of the more original works of the year so far, but boy, is it hard work. 

Overall Score: 7/10

Film Review: Piercing

"The First Step Is To Get Her Tied Up And Gagged. She'll Probably Try To Run..."

Presenting itself as one of the more difficult releases this month to try and seek out amidst flying, glowing superheroes and wide-eared elephants, Nicolas Pesce, director of both The Eyes of My Mother and the upcoming remake of The Grudge, returns for his second big screen feature in the form of Piercing, a scathingly dark adaptation of the 1994 novel of the same name from Ryū Murakami, the Japanese author most famous in the world of cinema for his 1997 novel, Audition, which formed the basis for the unforgettable Takashi Miike directed horror of the same name from 1999. Featuring a joint leading role between Christopher Abbott (First Man) and Mia Wasikowska (Crimson Peak), Piercing sees Abbott take on the role of Reed, a seemingly successful white collar family man with a newborn baby to boot, who after feeling a sudden urge to inflict pain on his ever-crying child with an ice pick, decides to take his murderous impulses elsewhere away from the family home. Cue the introduction of the blonde infused Wasikowska as Jackie, an anxiety ridden but sure footed prostitute who quickly takes up the opportunity for work and makes her way over to the stylish high rise in which Reed awaits for a night with messy consequences. 

Whilst any story stamped with the Murakami name upon it is guaranteed from the offset to get you ready for a narrative which won't exactly be for everyone, let alone mainstream audiences, Pesce's movie at least attempts to startle and amaze in all its' B-movie charm as it works its' way through a splendid eighty minute runtime in which a high proportion of the action is simply Reed and Jackie together in various hotel suites. With strange animated backdrops which look like outtakes from the Anime section in Tarantino's Kill Bill: Volume 1 and a wicked blend of jet black humour and stomach twisting violence, Piercing is indeed effectively flashy and features an abundance of art-deco inspired style but is also a movie which strangely suffers primarily from being hesitant in its' depiction of exploitation, resulting in a endpoint which doesn't seem to go far enough. Whilst there is no denying that the movie features an underlying and unnerving sensibility as you watch two people of similar strangeness come together, the final credits certainly left me gasping for more of a killer, no pun intended, instinct, but with two superb central performances which manage to effectively balance the gap between comedy and horror, Piercing is good enough but by no means on a par with previous adaptations of Murakami. 

Overall Score: 6/10

Film Review: First Man

"You're A Bunch Of Boys Making Models Out Of Balsa Wood! You Don't Have Anything Under Control..."

With a career so far which features two modern masterpieces and a well deserved Academy Award win, Whiplash and La La Land director, Damien Chazelle, returns to cinemas this week with First Man, a biographical drama based on the true story of renowned astronaut, Neil Armstrong, and his involvement within the troublesome quest throughout the 1960's to land on the surface of the Moon. Featuring a screenplay from Spotlight and The Post screenwriter, Josh Singer, the Academy Award winning American uses James R. Hansen's 2005 biographical novel, First Man: The Life of Neil A. Armstrong, as the primary basis for the depiction of events on screen, and whilst Chazelle does indeed focus heavily on the spectacle of space exploration with terrifying precision and accuracy, the real examination within the film is Armstrong himself as played by Ryan Gosling (Blade Runner 2049) who reunites with Chazelle after their successful partnership together on last year's La La Land. With contemplations on the effect of grief and discussions regarding whether particular sacrifices fail to be justified in the discovery of the secrets of the universe, Chazelle's latest is a thoroughly engaging and beautifully constructed work of cinema which although fails ever so slightly to maintain the American's flawless cinematic record, is a bold and brave addition to history's depiction of America's greatest contemporary achievement. 

With Singer's screenplay choosing to primarily focus on the 1960's Armstrong household which acts as the central cornerstone of the narrative throughout the film's run-time, the audience becomes immediately privy to a broken and grief-stricken central relationship between Claire Foy's (Unsane) Janet Shearon, and Gosling's take on an American hero whose silence and introverted nature makes it hard to break the character down, a purposeful decision by Chazelle who utilises the performance of Foy to share the frustration of the audience in the failed attempts to crack the surface of a person tangling with not only the pressures of the grounded life around him but the wider purpose handed to him. Whilst Gosling is renowned for sombre, brooding performances in the likes of Blade Runner 2049 and Drive, Chazelle utilises the stern stare of the Canadian to create an ice-like template of a person attempting to nullify the pain of loss by succeeding at what he knows how to do best, and with the freedom offered to him in the emptiness and vastness of outer space, First Man chooses to view the Moon landings as an excuse for Armstrong to trade the loneliness and harshness of planet Earth for the the loneliness and harshness of the unexplored blackness waiting for him outside the atmosphere containing him on ground level. 

With Chazelle once again utilising the now Academy Award winning skills of his movie-making team from both Whiplash and La La Land, composer Justin Hurwitz continues to impress upon the big screen with yet another impressive musical body of work, mixing classical strings with atmospheric snarls within a soundtrack which includes one particular track which clearly evoked Strauss' "The Blue Danube" from 2001: A Space Odyssey with a slight hint of La La Land-esque romantic sensibility, and with Linus Sandgren returning as Chazelle's cinematographer, the Swede chooses to shoot the grounded drama of the 1960's with a grainy, Battle of the Sexes-esque aesthetic, saving the power of the IMAX cameras for the concluding journey into outer space, where vast darkness and utter silence has never looked so utterly beautiful. Whilst the decision to focus more on the man rather than the expedition may indeed alienate some audiences heading into a screening of First Man eager to witness an abundance of space exploration, Chazelle's construction of the few shuttle set pieces when they do come are terrifying, evoking a maniacal sense of claustrophobia as the camera is literally shoved into a tin box alongside our daring heroes who come to realise that all that separates them from certain death is a couple of screws and some tightly woven, rather shaky metal. Choosing to focus on the emotional resonance of one man's story against the backdrop of the Apollo missions, Chazelle's latest is a lavish, visually stunning and perfectly acted character study which not only emphasises the young American's luscious talent for producing memorable cinematic experiences but also highlights the ease in which a difficult tale such as the one central to First Man can be handled with such maturity and effortlessness. See it in IMAX.

Overall Score: 9/10

Film Review: It Comes at Night

"You Can't Trust Anyone But Family..."

Learning his cinematic craft on the set of not one, nor two but three Terrence Malick productions including the staggeringly beautiful The Tree of Life, American filmmaker Trey Edward Shults follows on from his critically acclaimed debut, Krisha, this week with It Comes at Night, a psychological horror movie which features The Gift's Joel Edgerton in the leading role and a movie which seems to have somewhat drifted under the propaganda radar, resulting in the first time in a while in which I head into a movie having no idea or preconceptions about what I am about to witness on-screen. Whether this is an element which ultimately damages or aids a particular release, there is a sense of thrilling ambiguity being unaware of a film's direction, particularly in regards to a horror movie, and what we have with It Comes at Night is a staggeringly bleak, yet wholly effective white-knuckle thriller, one which uses its' minimalist surroundings to outstanding use and a movie which perfectly showcases the acting talents of one Joel Edgerton, an actor who seems to have found his perfect hunting ground in order to grind out the best he has to offer upon the big screen.

Set in the aftermath of an unknown, ambiguous, worldwide pandemic, It Comes at Night focuses primarily on Edgerton's Paul, the husband and father figure of a survivalist family destined to keep safe in the midst of the darkened wilderness who are suddenly forced to surrender their safety for the greater good when they come across another trio of survivors who too are desperate for survival. With a narrative edge as bleak and nihilistic as films such as The Road and even at times, The Mist, It Comes at Night is a effective mix of psychological and body horror, one which echoes a wide range of previous films from 28 Days Later to last year's The Girl With All the Gifts, particularly in regards to its' underlying notion of disease and contagion, and with cinematography which makes the likes of Seven look like a Disney movie, the jet black colour pallet adds to the ghostly air of uncertainty which embraces the viewer and leaves the audience with a sense of never really knowing where the tension is directly heading. Whilst the violence and dastardly dark plot turns result in the movie not exactly being for all audiences, for someone who loved the likes of The Witch and The Neon Demon recently, It Comes at Night is independent horror at it's most effective.

Overall Score: 8/10