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Movie Reviews

Judas and the Black Messiah

Warner Bros, 2021

With the current state of world politics, there may have never been a better time to release director Shaka King’s incendiary account of Black Panther leader Fred Hampton’s rise to power and the loss of that power at the hand of FBI informant William O’Neil. King’s film is as much a fascinating look into one pivotal moment in the history of the African-American movement for liberation as it is a powerful statement about the current plight of the Black community, highlighting some horrifying similarities between the 1960’s and 2021. Anchored by monumental performances from Daniel Kaluuya and LaKeith Stanfield, Judas and the Black Messiah is an intense and harrowing look at a man whose importance to the Black struggle in America cannot be understated; one that will leave you furious and hungry for reform.

When small-time criminal O’Neil (Stanfield) is caught by police attempting to steal a car while posing as a federal officer, he finds himself face-to-face with FBI agent Roy Mitchell (Jesse Plemons), who offers a choice between prison or working as an informant within the civil-rights activism group ‘The Black Panthers’. O’Neil takes the obvious option and soon finds himself indoctrinated by the Panthers in their revolutionary beliefs; inserting himself within the inner circle of the group’s young leader Fred Hampton (Kaluuya). As time goes on and O’Neil becomes an integral part of the Chicago chapter of the group – all the while feeding the FBI intel – he discovers that Hampton may just be the best man to lead his people to equality; the previously undecided bystander forced to pick a side in the war for representation. The screws begin to tighten when this newfound radicalism begins to threaten the FBI’s plans, and Bill is forced to make a difficult choice between the larger movement and his own self-preservation.

Warner Bros, 2021

That inner conflict in O’Neil also offers a question to viewers that is as relevant in today’s politically contentious climate as it was in the 1960’s: are you content to sit back and watch oppression occur or will you get involved and be a force for good to solve it? It’s a big picture kind of question to ask and Shaka King and co. spend the two hour runtime making a very compelling case for liberation, showcasing the vile and underhanded inner-workings of the FBI at the time. The film itself may be beautifully shot but make no mistake this is a film that deals with ugly topics; namely one of the darkest, depraved chapters of American law enforcement history. The calculated stifling of the Black voice was and remains a horrible tragedy in American history, and King makes the eventual climax of that tragedy hit all the harder with the characterisation he gives O’Neil and Hampton.

Bill is far removed from the civil rights movement of his people when he is first apprehended by the police, content to make a living for himself doing whatever he needs to do to survive; a sad reality that was and is an all too common part of the Black story. Indeed Bill actually enjoys the duping of the Black Panthers for a time, viewing the entire ordeal as some sort of light-hearted game with Stanfield flashing sly smiles behind the backs of his Panther comrades when he bluffs through a sticky situation or escapes a shootout with police. Seeing the unjust arrest of Hampton and the FBI’s violent response changes something in O’Neil, forcing him to commit one way or the other, a prospect made all the more precarious with the FBI breathing down his neck. Stanfield is truly brilliant in these scenes, all nervous tics and sweaty, paranoid glances as he fears apprehension from both sides. A truly gripping scene involving O’Neill at the height of his paranoia is impossible to turn away from, with his terrified facial expression and jittering body making the outcome of a pivotal choice terrifying and unknowable, as King milks every last drop of tension out of the scene.

Warner Bros, 2021

If Stanfield is our guide into the world of the Black Panther then Daniel Kaluuya’s Fred Hampton is the shadow that looms over every scene, at once as charismatic and arresting a performance as Denzel in Malcolm X. From the way he carries himself to the noticeable drop in the cadence of his voice before a tense discussion or speech Kaluuya is simply phenomenal, imbuing Hampton with a confidence and assuredness that bely his young age. The speeches in particular are the highlight of the film, with the iconic “I am a revolutionary” message striking a particular contemporary nerve given the recent bouts of white supremacy across the United States. The focus and energy Kaluuya carries in his eyes alone in these scenes – throwing it all out on the line as he makes his impassioned argument for peace – is incredibly representative of the fury and desperation seen today in Black Lives Matter protests across the country. A sobering realisation for audiences that not much has changed in the intervening years.

That’s not to say King’s film wallows in pessimism – it doesn’t. There is a flair to his direction; a stylisation to the informant storyline of O’Neill reminiscent of Spike Lee’s recent Blackkklansman but no less arresting. The camera swirls through the streets as we follow Bill bluffing his way to the top of the Black Panthers, capturing the side of him that no one else does through careful editing and musical cues. When things begin to go awry for Bill the menacing staccato Jazz notes that shriek against the stillness of the scene chill your blood; putting you on edge as you anticipate his next, potentially fatal move. Authentic costuming puts the viewer right into that late 60’s/early 70’s time period without being overly flashy and taking attention away from the performances of its stars, a rare skill that many period pieces could take a lesson from.

Warner Bros, 2021

Judas and the Black Messiah is a triumph of filmmaking that explores one of the most influential figures in the African American civil rights movement in a way that ensures his message lives on in these troubling times. With Shaka King’s sure hand at the helm and career best performances from Kaluuya and Stanfield, this is a film that seeks to educate and entertain, achieving both through an intense story of betrayal, subterfuge and the moral divide between two people in the same marginalised group with wildly different outlooks on the world. There couldn’t be a more pertinent time for a film like this to be released, striking that raw nerve of society in a way that makes everyone look at themselves that little bit harder.

Warner Bros, 2021

Judas and the Black Messiah stars Daniel Kaluuya, LaKeith Stanfield, Jesse Plemons, Dominique Fishback, Ashton Sanders, Algee Smith, Dominique Thorne, Lil Rel Howery & Martin Sheen – In Australian cinemas March 11th and streaming on HBO Max and in US cinemas now.

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Movie Reviews

News of the World

Universal Pictures, 2020

Of his numerous on-screen credits there is one that America’s dad Tom Hanks has yet to venture into, and with his latest film News of the World, he takes the leap into the most dad-ish of genres: the Western. Re-teaming with Captain Phillips director Paul Greengrass, the duo manage to create a classically structured Western that feels perfectly placed within the genre, whilst also packing in the action and an emotionally aware lead that eluded many Western’s of old. As with all Greengrass films, the social commentary is ever-present and hits hard when it needs to, with real-life parallels almost too easy to draw after a certain President’s recently (and thankfully) ended term. The odd-couple dynamic between Hanks and newcomer Helena Zengel anchors the well paced story and brings an optimistic outlook to an otherwise desolate, divided America, with a surprising amount of emotion and tension drawn from Hanks’ commitment to his journey and the dangers of the wild west.

In what is a role fitting of his über nice guy reputation, Hanks plays Captain Jefferson Kyle Kidd, a reformed member of the Confederate army who travels the country delivering news to the local townspeople from newspapers spanning the local area to international crises. Think a kind of old-school personal Twitter, complete with outrageous reactions from the crowds albeit with less racist tirades from a certain leader of the country. When he happens upon a destroyed wagon on the way to his next stop, Kidd discovers Johanna (Zengel), a young German girl raised by the Native Americans of the Kiowa tribe after a terrible tragedy befell her parents. After his attempts to offload the girl to local authorities prove futile, Kidd takes it upon himself to transport Johanna to her last remaining relatives – an aunt and uncle living hundreds of miles away. As he and Johanna travel the country, spreading the news and bonding as he attempts to teach her English, they are confronted by multiple dangers; from giant sandstorms to radicalised towns of soldiers that wish the pair ill fortune.

Universal Pictures, 2020

What differentiates News of the World from other films of its ilk is just how fleshed out and multi-layered Hanks’ Captain Kidd is. This is not your typical lone gunman journeying across the wild west on a quest for revenge, but rather a deeply damaged man whose vocation and journey are borne from personal tragedy and the sins of his past. Unlike a John Wayne character, Kidd feels remorse for his actions, using violence as a last resort in his mission to transport Johanna to her family and mulling over his decisions for days after the encounters. It isn’t a particular stretch for Hanks to hit these high emotional notes. We’ve seen it before in the devastating finales of Captain Phillips and Philadelphia, but that doesn’t make it any less impressive to watch one of the greatest actor’s of all time do his thing. A more subdued role this go around maybe – in a time where men shared their feelings privately and not often – but Hanks manages to maintain that gruff, weathered exterior while still breaking the audience’s heart and forcing the tissues to come out.

His performance wouldn’t be as effective if it weren’t for the other half of this odd couple pairing: Helena Zengel. As the Kiowa-raised, non-English speaking Johanna, she is forced to communicate mainly through facial expressions and exasperated tantrums, a character trait that might start out as mildly annoying but becomes increasingly understandable as you learn more about the young girl’s tragic past. For any actor to hold their own with such a formidable talent as Hanks is impressive in its own right, but for a child with the experience that Zengel possesses is revelatory, a true talent whose star shines bright; comparable to Hailee Steinfeld’s breakout role in the Coen Brothers’ True Grit. While News of the World doesn’t attempt to follow the violent storyline of that particular remake, it does pack its fair (and admittedly surprising) share of action. Audiences who don’t consider themselves fans of the sometimes slow pacing of classic Westerns will likely be surprised here by the tumultuous journey Kidd and Johanna endure; barrelling between battles with bandits in tense shootouts to the aforementioned sandstorm as well as some lighter moments. The effects might fall short of the standards audiences have become used to in 202, but the heart of the film remains: Kidd lives his life spreading the news to others, but in committing himself to Johanna’s fate learns more about the world and himself than he ever could from newspapers.

Universal Pictures, 2020

News of the World is a departure from the norm for both Tom Hanks and Paul Greengrass and the journey into the different proves fruitful for everyone involved, especially the audience. Full of heart with a genuinely enthralling relationship between Hanks’ Captain Kidd and Helena Zengel’s fierce Johanna this is a Western that bucks the trends of the genre to deliver action, social commentary and emotion in spades, all the way to its heartstring-pulling conclusion. If you need a break from the constant barrage of terrible news in the real world at the moment, why not invest in News of the World?

Universal Pictures, 2020

News of the World stars Tom Hanks, Helena Zengel, Ray McKinnon & Bill Camp – Streaming on Netflix now.

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Movie Reviews

Minari

Plan B Entertainment, 2020

You probably know him as Glen from the undead juggernaut The Walking Dead but Steven Yeun has been on a mission to show his talent and range since his grisly exit from the apocalyptic wasteland (not that today’s landscape is much better), with brilliant turns in Chang-dong Lee’s Burning and now director Lee Isaac Chung’s semi-autobiographical Minari. Chung surrounds Yeun with a bevy of Korean-American talent who bring his intensely personal story of a young family moving to Arkansas to start a farm to the screen with empathy and honesty, as each family member struggles with the changes in their own ways. While it may not hit the dizzying heights of last year’s smash South Korean hit Parasite, Minari is still an incredibly powerful and intimate portrayal of perseverance and one family’s struggle to achieve the American Dream.

Yeun plays Jacob, patriarch of the Yi family, who have recently relocated to rural Arkansas, committing their life savings to the dream of working for themselves as a Korean vegetable farm and setting an example for children Anne (Noel Cho) and David (Alan Kim) of what hard work can achieve. Optimism and hope for what lies ahead soon fades as tensions rise between Jacob and wife Monica (Yeri Han), prompting the arrival of Monica’s mother Soonja (Yuh-jung Youn) from Korea to assist in raising the children while Monica works long hours in town and Jacob toils in the farm, determined to prove himself a success to his children. As their parents struggle, David and Anne are distracted by Soonja’s wild, un-grandmotherly antics – gambling, watching pro wrestling and drinking unhealthy amounts of Mountain Dew – forcing them to question her behaviour and uncover their Korean heritage and its place alongside their American upbringing.

Plan B Entertainment, 2020

Chung’s script doesn’t fall into the typical tropes of stories of immigrants acclimatising to life in America; encountering systemic racism and eventually good fortune at the end of their long struggle. Instead he draws from his own experiences, creating a world that feels much more lived in and real than most films of its ilk. There is no clear-cut antagonist; the children of the local church group are not inherently mean-spirited and racist towards the Yi children, they simply lack understanding of the Korean culture. Chung does not seek to place blame but to educate in these scenes, demonstrating the impact that just a little patience and tolerance can have on a person’s growth. One scene in particular involving Anne and a local girl initially shocks with its casual, flippant racism but shocks even further with its even-handed approach to Anne’s response to this racism. In her childlike innocence she does not see the girl’s queries about her language as offensive, nor does the girl asking see the issue with her query, but through this innocence and a desire to both learn and be taught the pair part ways richer for the experience, having both benefitted through education and burgeoning friendship.

Where Minari may divide viewers is in this lack of convention. The film moves at a measured pace – some might say meandering – through the daily life of the Yi’s and their struggles. Jacob’s inability to get the farm into profitable shape weighs heavily on the young father and his marriage to Monica. David struggles with a heart murmur that inhibits his ability to do what most children would take for granted. Soonja helps as much with the children as she can but feels that her presence is contributing to the tensions in Jacob and Monica’s marriage. There are certain defining moments that pivot the story into new directions but largely this is a life-like portrayal of a family coming to terms with their new life. Small hurdles are overcome, mistakes are made but at the end of the day love will prevail. The heart and charm of the somewhat uneventful story comes from Chung’s obviously personal touches, like the affectionate labelling of Mountain Dew as “Mountain Water” or the delightfully childish pranks David plays on his grandmother. Young Alan Kim is a star here, carrying the audience through large chunks of the film with equal parts comedic talent and by being ridiculously cute. When the story returns to the heavier struggle of Jacob, Yeun shifts to a higher gear than ever before, with an emotional performance that will have you crying at the lows and pumping your fists in the air at the highs.

Plan B Entertainment, 2020

To compare Minari to last year’s award winning Parasite just because of its Korean dialogue and similar critical praise is to do the film and yourself a disservice. Significantly smaller in its scope, Lee Issac Chung’s is an emotional, heartfelt portrayal of one family’s struggle to strive for more and achieve the elusive American Dream, rather than the ruthless upheaval of classism by Bong Joon-Ho. With excellent performances from the whole cast -particularly a phenomenal Steven Yeun and David Kim – gorgeous cinematography and a stellar score, Minari is a beautifully told journey that will leave you cheerful and inspired and hopefully, like Parasite, open to the idea of exploring a whole new world of Korean cinema.

Plan B Entertainment, 2020

Minari stars Steven Yeun, Yeri Han, Alan Kim, Noel Cho & Yuh-jung Youn – In cinemas now.

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Movie Reviews

The Little Things

Warner Bros, 2021

Three academy award winning actors in a prestige crime drama directed by the man behind The Blind Side and Saving Mr Banks should be one of the best films of the year. Especially when one of those actors is the great Denzel Washington, one of the finest working in Hollywood today. Yet John Lee Hancock’s meandering serial killer investigation The Little Things never hits the potential afforded to it by its cast (Rami Malek and Jared Leto round out the key trio), stumbling through the glacially-paced case without any sense of urgency; its intriguing central mystery constantly overshadowed by the uninteresting, boring inter-personal problems of the police uncovering it. The calibre of talent keep you on-board even throughout the most sleep-inducing stretches, but not even Washington can redeem the unfulfilling ending, which relies on shock value to mask unfinished story threads.

The film immediately evokes comparisons to David Fincher’s Se7en – perhaps the greatest serial killer film of all time – through its central relationship between grizzled veteran cop Joe Deacon (Washington) and rising star detective Jim Baxter (Malek), who has taken over Joe’s position in his old LA precinct. Assigned by his commanding officer to retrieve key evidence from his old digs, Deacon is swept up in Baxter’s investigation into a recent string of murders of young women, all of whom have had been mutilated in ways similar to a case from Deacon’s past, the result of which remains a mystery. Unlike Se7en however – where the relationship was built on an uneasy alliance of respect, self-preservation and a morbid obsession with the case – Deacon and Baxter’s relationship is much less fleshed out, based on pure happenstance and luck. The initial hostility between the pair paints an interesting picture of a tenuous partnership; an alliance borne out of necessity, before quickly dissolving into a friendship that stems from nothing other than a vague, unearned sense of respect for the man Baxter replaced, enforced by the older cops around the station. The pair never really bond in a meaningful way other than brief conversations about the case and snide, macho jabs at one another, and when later events threaten to shake that bond, you are forced to question just how strong it can be when the pair have only been working together for a single day.

Warner Bros, 2021

That leads to The Little Things’ biggest problem: the characterisation of its leads in a film that truly believes its characters are more interesting than the plot. Denzel does what he can, with a lot of long stares and pained looks giving you insight into the demons that haunt him; the lingering psychological effects of the case that seemingly cost him his former life. It seems at times that he is on autopilot, rolling out the same old mannerisms and line deliveries that made him a star. Obviously that is still amazing when you’re a man of Washington’s talent but it would have been nice to see him bring more vulnerability and genuine fear to the role, rather than a clichéd world-weariness and somewhat dubious lust for revenge that doesn’t gel with his otherwise laidback demeanour. Rami Malek’s performance, on the other hand, is excruciatingly stiff and unemotional, to the point where you are unsure whether it is a red herring to insinuate that he could in fact be the killer or if his acting is just bad (Spoiler Alert: it’s the latter). When the script calls for big flashy emotional moments from him they don’t land at all, feeling hollow and contrived rather than from a genuine understanding of the role. That poor performance is compounded when the weight of the film’s emotional impact shifts onto Baxter, highlighting an already boring performance as a glaring problem that robs the film of much of its impact.

Thankfully Jared Leto’s brilliantly creepy Albert Sparma provides some intrigue. Leto is phenomenal as the wannabe crime buff who seems by all accounts to be the prime suspect if for nothing else than his bizarre willingness to be held responsible for the crimes, with nothing firmly tying him to any of the murders. Channelling that manic energy from Suicide Squad – more weird on-set shenanigans than his turn as the Joker – Sparma is a cold and unwelcoming presence, acutely aware that he is being pursued by Deacon and Baxter and relishing every second of it, playing mind-games on the two detectives and frustrating the living hell out of them. The interactions between Sparma, Deacon and Baxter are the most compelling moments of the film, finally supplying some progress to the case that never feels like it is ever going anywhere with rising tensions and emotions threatening to bubble over as the long nights begin to take their toll on the detectives. However for a film with such an interesting killer at its centre, The Little Things never truly seems concerned with exploring the crime itself. Sure Deacon and Baxter are investigating it and Sparma inserts himself in the process but there is always a sense that Baxter is more concerned with his career and that Joe is only concerned with revenge. These two thinly drawn individuals just aren’t compelling enough together to justify the inconclusiveness the finale leaves you with. The audience simply doesn’t care enough about them for Hancock to forego a conclusion to the case in favour of making a moral stand. For majority of the film, Baxter and Deacon’s dialogue consists of clichéd drivel – back and forth about who owes who breakfast – instead of meaningful development that makes them feel like anything other than cookie cutter cop stereotypes.

Warner Bros, 2021

Unlike its name, The Little Things is a big disappointment, with a talented director and his team of terrific actors unable to make the most of a concept that could have been a riveting companion piece to Se7en. Instead what we’re given is a stale, tiresome investigation into a genuinely compelling case that places next to no focus on the actual murders, choosing to waste its time on conventional characters who just aren’t interesting. For his part, Leto adds a genuinely creepy presence that lifts you out of the doldrums but it is too little too late to save Washington and Malek’s stereotypical detectives from their bland fate. A lazy Sunday afternoon watch perhaps or just a skip altogether – you won’t miss much if you don’t sweat the little things.

Warner Bros, 2021

The Little Things stars Denzel Washington, Rami Malek, Chris Bauer, Natalie Morales & Jared Leto – In Australian cinemas February 18th and in US cinemas and streaming for a limited time on HBO Max now.

Categories
Movie Reviews

Wrong Turn (2021)

Constantin Film, 2021

The latest in the time-honoured tradition of horror remakes is the backwoods, mutant cannibal-infested Wrong Turn franchise, given new life and a brand new outlook by director Mike P. Nelson and series writer Alan McElroy. Fair warning for fans of the six-film strong franchise: the seventh instalment is a sharp turn (the first of many puns, sorry) into something different. Gone are the infamous hillbilly cannibals, as is the almost comically excessive gore, replaced by a hodgepodge of modern horror themes and tropes done better elsewhere, in a bizarre attempt to reboot the series. An excruciatingly long set-up featuring a host of unlikeable characters gives way to several lacklustre kills – seeming tamer than they actually are given the franchise’s past efforts – before the baffling reveal of the film’s antagonists raises more questions than it answers, leaving audiences scratching their heads right up until the predictable conclusion.

The latest batch of unsuspecting young victims to take an unfortunate trip into the woods are led by Jen (Charlotte Vega), at a vague, unspecified crossroads in her life and travelling the American south with boyfriend Darius (Adain Bradley) and their friends Milla (Emma Dumont), Adam (Dylan McTee), Luis (Adrian Favela) and Gary (Vardaan Arora). Their itinerary finds them poised to tackle the unforgiving wilderness of the Appalachian Mountains, warned by the locals to keep to the track lest they risk unspeakable horrors. Naturally, being a movie, they veer off said track in search of a Civil War-era monument, inadvertently entering the territory of a fierce and protective cult living deep in the mountains; a decades-old sect of early American settlers who believed the Civil War would destroy the country and elected to wait it out in the woods. As their numbers begin to dwindle, Jen, aided by her father Scott (Matthew Modine), stages a daring escape from the cult, battling both villagers and the mountain itself in a desperate bid to return to civilisation.

Constantin Film, 2021

It’s apparent within the first twenty or so minutes that McElroy’s script is scatterbrained to say the least, with the franchise’s veteran scribe unsure of where to go thematically with his updated take on the original concept. His biggest mistake may just be in how little respect he shows towards the series as a whole, intent on mocking the admittedly over-the-top entries that came before. It’s all well and good to take a little jab here and there and have fun with your commentary on earlier work, but the sneer with which his script does so – as if anyone who enjoyed those films are of a lower class – comes across as hypocritical considering this is the seventh instalment in the franchise and the only people that are watching are likely to be fans of what they’ve seen before. Audiences have seen horror franchises be completely revitalised in recent years, with Halloween and Doctor Sleep two shining examples that showed their source material the right amount of respect whilst building on that legacy. Sure Wrong Turn wasn’t as highly recognisable or iconic a horror property but the films were their own brand of big dumb fun with a devoted fan base.

Instead we’re left with McElroy’s interpretation of a modernised, atmospheric “high-brow” take on the original concept, which essentially equates to a poor quality rip-off of modern horror classic Midsommar. From the bear suits worn by the clan’s hunters to the visual aesthetic of the cult’s village to the inexplicable Nordic accents of its inhabitants, it’s all pulled directly from Ari Aster’s film without any of the nuance or subtlety. The atmosphere of that film allowed for Aster to unleash quick bursts of violence that seemed worse than they actually were because of the anticipation he had built towards these moments. In the seventh Wrong Turn film there really are very few ways to shock the audience beyond the depraved sights of people being flayed and eaten on a table or decapitated while buried alive. Nelson and McElroy deserve some credit for trying to take the franchise in an unexpected and bold direction, but to do so without any evidence of a desire other than to slap together other film’s strengths and hope for the best is simply lazy. Hell even some of the kills are basically shot for shot recreations ripped from Midsommar.

Constantin Film, 2021

Where McElroy’s intent is clear is that he wants Wrong Turn to stand for something, to deliver a meaning and subtext that goes beyond the schlocky murder-fest it had become. The problem is he can’t decide just what theme to explore or message to send. Early on we sense the tensions rise and a prickliness between the easy-going yet quick to anger locals and the privileged, arrogant young visitors, which is later compounded in what looks to be an interesting twist on the protagonist/antagonist roles of the film. It never gets to a point where it truly subverts expectations however, and at a certain point the script abandons the idea altogether, focusing on cheap jump scares and rote twists that undermine that spark of intrigue that came before. There is also an attempt to draw the obligatory Trump comparisons (let’s hope Biden’s election means the end of this particular story element in films) in the divide between the cult who have formed their “true” vision of America and the larger country, with clunky comparisons drawn between the Civil War and recent turmoil in America grating with their obviousness. Add to that small but noticeably inept commentary on environmentalism, racism and white privilege and you have yourself one very confused film, which could have easily benefited from a narrowing of focus, or dare I say, a commitment to fun over substance in a franchise about hillbilly cannibals. Kudos to McElroy for trying something new but this is a pretty open and shut case of not catering to your audience.

Wrong Turn should have been a reinvention for the franchise. A chance to celebrate and honour the legacy of torture that had come before while building something new that furthered the franchise in new and exciting ways. McElroy and Nelson seem to be throwing everything at the wall to make this happen, with a smattering of social commentary from several camps which never succeeds in coming together in anything coherent. The gory kills and carnage-causing cannibal hillbillies are nowhere to be found, replaced by a blatant and bad imitation of Midsommar which baffles with its absurdity as much as it bores. Proving that the seventh time is not the charm, this might be one wrong turn too far for a franchise that had seemingly found its niche as gore-filled pulp. McElroy might want to take his script’s own advice and get back on the path.

Constantin Film, 2021

Wrong Turn stars Charlotte Vega, Emma Dumont, Adain Bradley, Dylan McTee, Adrian Favela, Bill Sage, Daisy Head, Rhyan Elizabeth Hanavan, Vardaan Arora & Matthew Modine – In cinemas now.

Categories
Movie Reviews

Malcolm & Marie

Little Lamb, 2021

Forget Godzilla vs. Kong, the biggest cinematic showdown of the year may also be the most unexpected, in the form of Sam Levinson’s fiercely compelling relationship drama: Malcolm & Marie. Don’t be fooled by the unsuspecting title however, these two could not be further from the same side, engaged in a fierce mental and emotional war of words after a (some might say) seemingly inconsequential mistake opens the doors for a couple’s skeletons to come crashing out of the closet in spectacular fashion. With only two actors to rely for the entire film – the brilliant pairing of Zendaya and John David Washington – Levinson wrings every last drop of tension and emotional devastation out of the affair in a beautifully shot, wonderfully written and masterfully acted piece of cinema.

On the self-proclaimed “biggest night of his life” writer/director Malcolm (Washington) returns home with his girlfriend Marie (Zendaya) to the palatial house rented for them by the studio after the premiere of his latest film, a sweeping opus centred around a young girl cleaning up her drug-riddled life. While Malcolm celebrates in one of several incredible tracking shots that follow him throughout the house – easily the nicest since Parasite and practically a third character in the film by the end – we are aware of a palpable tension in the air, a feeling that something unsaid is lingering between the couple. As Marie silently prepares dinner Malcolm too becomes aware of this energy, earnestly enquiring about Marie’s mood before demanding she tell him why she is upset, the first of many instances where he thoroughly puts his foot in it. What follows is 90 minutes of two people completely let off the chain, each intent on “winning” the argument and going to increasingly underhanded and personal levels to get their point across and come out the victor – if either is left standing that is.

Little Lamb, 2021

While the thought of watching two people fight may sound like something of a drag, Levinson infuses his script with enough moments of levity to pull you out of the depths of anger and heartbreak before they swallow you. Washington, in particular, shows some serious comedic chops here with scathing yet perfectly timed jabs in the middle of a heated fight and one seriously impressive rant about the very concept of film criticism and reviews (to even write this is a terrifying prospect after hearing Malcolm’s eviscerating speech). A hilarious recurring joke between the pair about a writer for the LA times and her views on Malcolm’s movie is undoubtedly the highlight, making you momentarily forget that these two were at each others throats not moments ago, and are now united in their hilarious derision of this outsider. This B-story of Malcolm’s wild responses to the surge of releasing reviews also serves to give the audience a moment to pause and breathe before the ware resumes, and whilst it is written spectacularly and delivered flawlessly by Washington, the dialogue is just a little too deep cut at times, feeling more like Levinson showing off his knowledge of film history rather than making a concise point about the craft.

Where Levinson’s message is at its most potent is in the arguments that make up the bulk of the runtime. This is far from your traditional rom-com where love wins out in the end after a few spots of trouble, but instead the unravelling of a five year relationship where everything bubbling under the surface finally spills over in spectacular fashion. Metaphorical knives are wedged in backs and verbal slaps in the face are frequent as Malcolm and Marie go to increasingly low levels, referencing ex-lovers and completely shattering one another’s self-confidence. It’s not all destructive though, in their own especially dark ways the couple are trying to be constructive with each other, pointing out flaws that you can tell have shattered illusions and altered the other person’s perception of themselves forever. It’s fascinating to watch these two people evolve and change over the course of the night – a series of conversations is rarely this captivating (save for The Social Network) – and you will be as emotionally exhausted as Zendaya and Washington appear at the end of it all.

Little Lamb, 2021

Anyone who doubted the comparisons to his famous father after Blackkklansman will be silenced here by John David Washington’s fierce performance, channelling an aggression and physicality that is impossible to tear your eyes away from, filling the screen with his presence as he parades around the room spouting monologues to thrilling effect. In those quieter moments, he is no less engaging, often conveying the entire emotional spectrums in scenes through facial expressions alone. Not to be outdone, Zendaya continues her winning streak following her Emmy win for Euphoria, sharing a few similarities with her character Rue and delivering that same brand of subdued yet somehow manic energy, with a heart-breaking performance that will shatter audiences and likely prime her for a run at an Oscar. During one of Malcolm’s more callous attacks, the camera holds on Marie sitting in a bathtub clutching her knees, holding on her face for an almost uncomfortable amount of time, as you slowly watch her poker face of indifference fracture after each barb, revealing the vulnerable, hurt woman underneath. It marks a shift in the film as well as the couple’s relationship, prompting a kamikaze onslaught from Zendaya in the second half of the film that sucks the oxygen out of the room with tension as she unleashes all of her gripes from the relationship, risking everything now in an attempt to get Malcolm to simply understand her.

Making the whole film more impressive is the fact that it was conceived, written and filmed entirely during the COVID pandemic with a minimal crew, a feat that I’d wager puts most pandemic-prompted hobbies to shame. A rich black and white colour palette goes beyond the gimmick, adding another level of beauty and classiness to Malcom & Marie’s surroundings while also acting as a physical metaphor for the nature of their arguments: seen by the two of them as needing to define a clear winner and loser when in actuality the whole affair is a mix of different shades of grey. Smooth camera work all around and a killer score from Euphoria collaborator Labrinth combine with the monotone colouring to give the film a timeless and classy presence – a story told through a modern relationship, but which carries universal themes of trust and commitment that would be as hard-hitting and relevant in the 20th century as they are now.

Little Lamb, 2021

Malcolm & Marie is the first truly great film of 2021. The fact that Sam Levinson is able to stretch such tension and genuine intrigue out of such a simple premise is nothing short of incredible. Drawing you in with a familiar scenario and twisting the situation on its head completely, he creates an edge of your seat thrill ride of domestic chaos; fast and furious word slinging at its most potent and acerbic. John David Washington and Zendaya add another notch to their already impressive belts with two pitch-perfect performances, bouncing off each other with a rhythm and chemistry that hopefully paves the way for many more collaborations between the pair. With Valentine’s Day fast approaching this probably shouldn’t be your go-to film to get sparks flying – but that’s ok, you still have another 27 days in the month to treat yourself to this fiery anti-romance.

Little Lamb, 2021

Malcolm & Marie stars Zendaya & John David Washington – Streaming on Netflix from February 5th.

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Movie Reviews

Synchronic

Patriot Pictures, 2020

Directing duo Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson have been slowly changing the sci-fi landscape with their unique brand of low-budget, mind-bending horror that alters reality and creates chaos out of the otherwise ordinary. Synchronic – their fourth feature – marks their most bold, assured work to date, a shift into the mainstream that will likely act as their calling card to wider audiences, thanks to the star power of leads Anthony Mackie and Jamie Dornan. Built around a heady premise that is far more accessible than their earlier work, Synchronic is no less mind-boggling due to an abundance of clever camera work, visual effects that make the most of the minuscule budget and an eerie synth-heavy score that drips atmosphere over the whole affair. Rather than act themselves (as Benson and Moorhead have done before), the film is bolstered by the presence of Dornan and especially Mackie, whose performance gives the film a secondary dramatic layer that only serves to up the stakes of the sci-fi story at the centre.

Mackie and Dornan play paramedics Steve and Dennis, lifelong best friends and colleagues who arrive as first responders to a host of strange, unexplainable incidents. A stabbing with an ancient antique pirate sword. A bite from a snake not found anywhere near New Orleans. A brutally dismembered body found at the base of an elevator shaft. The only link between any of these episodes seems to be a new over-the-counter designer drug known as Synchronic. When Steve receives a damning cancer diagnosis and Dennis’ daughter Brianna (Ally Ioannides) mysteriously disappears, the duo’s respective worlds are rocked and the ensuing stress of their situations creates a rift between the previously inseparable friends. Ingesting Synchronic after a chance encounter with its unhinged creator, Steve discovers a wholly transformative experience; one that will test the limits of what his mind perceives as real and which unexpectedly offers a chance at finding Brianna.

Patriot Pictures, 2020

To discuss the effects of Synchronic would be to delve into spoiler territory, as Steve’s use of the drug shifts the story into a completely different, more sci-fi leaning direction. It’s a sharp turn from what has come before but one that offers a satisfying conclusion to those earlier events whilst opening up the story to a whole new mystery. The concept explored is well and truly a staple of the genre, but it takes on a more focused, narrow approach in Benson and Moorhead’s hands. The in-world experiments of Steve, who records each use of the drug for us to see, ensures the audience understands all the rules as they are learned by Steve himself, avoiding any overly complex and paradox creating exposition dumps. This narrowing of focus and shedding of complexity allows for Benson and Moorhead to have more fun with the adventures of Steve, rather than having to over-explain his exploits, although this fun is short-lived at times. Steve’s adventures take on a new light in the oeuvre of these type of genre films, given his African-American ethnicity, with an extremely timely yet horrifying reflection of our society in the response from the things he meets; think Get Out but without the passive aggressive subtlety of that film’s villains.

Moorhead continues his streak as cinematographer of the duo’s work here, but with more confidence and flair than ever. His camera work is simply beautiful to behold, with perspectives smoothly shifting from over-the-shoulder to first-person POV shots without skipping a beat, often through long unbroken takes that come to rest on some kind of unspeakable carnage or revelation. Similarly, the frequent use of handheld camera shots keep you locked in for the more stressful, action-heavy scenes, shaking and jittering as you run behind Mackie from danger. It can get a bit jarring and off-putting at times, but Moorhead achieves his objective in making you feel as disoriented as Steve is in these moments. When the film leans into the strange, other-worldly depths of its narrative, accompanied by a terrific score from Jimmy LaValle – all eerie, distorted synths and staccato strings – Moorhead’s camera follows suit, spinning around locations and coming to rest on vast galaxies and dimly lit landmarks of the rich New Orleans cityscape.

Patriot Pictures, 2020

By far the biggest step-up from their previous work is the calibre of acting on display. Benson and Moorhead have long been darlings of the indie world, giving up-and-coming talent a start and often acting in their own project to surprisingly good results, but Mackie and Dornan are in a league of their own; fantastic as the tight-knit friends whose relationship threatens to crumble under the weight of their personal issues. Dornan is in fine form as the family man of the duo, who seemingly has it all with a loving wife, newborn daughter and his eldest on the way to college. There are hints that his marriage may be in trouble but it is not until Brianna’s disappearance do the cracks really begin to show and Dennis must come to terms with the fact that by focusing on his daughters he and his wife (Katie Aselton) have avoided addressing their own issues. Watching this otherwise stoic man crumble is heartbreaking, made even worse once he learns of Steve’s predicament and the prospect of losing another person in his life. In what may be his best performance to date, Mackie reveals a depth and nuance that other roles have only hinted at; unnaturally calm and muted compared to his typical energy and bravado as he receives his cancer diagnosis, with the sad realisation that his life is coming to an end giving his quest to find Brianna new meaning and desperation. The loss of his life, in Steve’s mind, will be worth not living his to the fullest if he can give his friend’s daughter another chance at hers.

While not their most complex or mind-bending story, Synchronic may just be Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead’s most complete package to date. Combining their indie sensibilities and small scale scope with a typically epic genre and the star power of Anthony Mackie and Jamie Dornan makes for an arresting, visually stunning sci-fi adventure with rich, fleshed out characters that you instantly connect with and feel for in the surprisingly emotional journey. Fans of this specific type of genre (again, we’ve avoided specifics for spoilers) may find that it doesn’t delve as deep as some others in the category, but the lack of complexity allows for the focus to be about these two deeply flawed characters and their struggle to right their own worlds, rather than to unravel decades of frankly confusing sci-fi silliness. With their move into the mainstream Marvel universe already assured with a recent hiring for the upcoming Moon Knight series, here’s hoping we don’t have to wait too long for Benson and Moorhead’s return to the realm of trippy sci-fi horror madness.

Patriot Pictures, 2020

Synchronic stars Anthony Mackie, Jamie Dornan, Katie Aselton & Ally Ioannides – In Australian cinemas February 11 and available on digital in the US now.

Categories
Movie Reviews

Pieces of a Woman

BRON Studios, 2020

Few things are as heartbreaking as the loss of a child, and Hungarian director Kornel Mundruczo’s new film Pieces of a Woman aims to show audiences exactly how devastating that experience can be. Led by an award-worthy performance from Vanessa Kirby, this is a harrowing, brutally honest look at the grief and sadness left behind by such a traumatic event. An unforgettable opening scene that will have you glued to your seat soon gives way to a slow burn examination of a husband and wife’s very different responses to the inciting event and while this component may not be to everyone’s taste, it never fails to keep you locked in on this very real, lived-in couple.

We meet Martha (Kirby) and Sean (Shia LaBeouf) on the eve of their daughter’s birth. Some initial prickliness between Sean and his mother-in-law Elizabeth (Ellen Burstyn) is the only narrative thread we are given before Mundruczo thrusts us into one of the most enrapturing one-shot takes since 1917. Over 24 minutes we follow the ins and outs of Martha’s difficult birth, from the initial pangs of pain to the arrival of substitute midwife Eva (Molly Parker) and the extreme highs and lows of holding her child for the first time before tragedy strikes. This scene alone puts Kirby into awards contention, moving between calm awareness to incapacitated from pain into delirium before sharing those intensely emotional few moments with her child. The physicality of the performance is phenomenal as Kirby contorts her body in pain and moves about the room in a haze from it, begging her husband for the pain to be over and doubting herself in the process. Once her daughter is in her arms you immediately feel that connection between the pair that will inform the rest of the film, a momentary respite before the unthinkable happens. Mundruczo wisely cuts the scene to avoid showing anything too morbid but the glimpse of Martha’s reaction is enough to tell you all you need to know.

BRON Studios, 2020

From here, Pieces of a Woman becomes a more traditional drama as Sean and Martha come to terms with their ordeal in the ensuing months in different ways. Sean, helpless to assist Martha in any meaningful way, finds himself inadvertently at odds with her when he agrees to help Martha’s mother in taking legal action against Eva. Despite the contentious relationship with his mother-in-law, Sean sees no other alternative to end to the pain he and Martha feel, grasping onto it as his only means of achieving closure. Given LaBeouf’s recent legal struggles it may be hard to connect with his character, especially given a few scenes that unfortunately seem to mirror some of the real-life accusations against him. Separating the artist from the performance however, this is easily his best work, raw and emotional as he wrestles with the powerlessness he feels over his own life and relationship, resulting in a relapse into alcoholism that further fractures his marriage. LaBeouf leaves it all out on the screen, as Sean digs himself deeper and deeper into depression, ultimately detaching from his life completely, unable to cope with not being able to help his wife get through this intensely personal struggle.

Martha’s attempts to get back to some sense of normalcy in her life are challenged constantly, as the film challenges the notions and conventions of how a woman should feel and react to losing a child. What seems to the outside, especially her mother, as detaching from life, to Martha, is an attempt to move forward. There is no bringing back her daughter but she also sees no value in attempting to demonise and criminalise the woman who helped her bring her into the world. Veteran actress Ellen Burstyn brings so much to this second half of the film, ageing years in the space of one as her relationship with Martha crumbles. Ellen vehemently believes that Eva should be held responsible for the loss of Martha’s child but, in taking this course of action, risks losing her own completely as Martha distances herself amidst the constant berating. The broken, drained shell of a woman we see at the end of the film feels like a completely different character, a testament to the toll that the entire ordeal has had on characters outside of Martha and Sean’s marriage.

BRON Studios, 2020

Pieces of a Woman is about as close to this subject matter as anyone would ever want to get. A true-to-life portrayal of one woman’s traumatic experience and the ripple effect it has on those closest to her, the film is a battering ram of emotional devastation, starting with an unforgettable home-birth sequence. Vanessa Kirby shines as the broken Martha, emotionally battered and barely holding her head above water, in a role that very well may win the young actress her first Oscar. The second half does lose steam after that powerful opening but the emotional exploration of grief is rich and multi-layered, worth sticking with until the cathartic end.

BRON Studios, 2020

Pieces of a Woman stars Vanessa Kirby, Shia LaBeouf, Sarah Snook, Molly Parker, Benny Safdie, Iliza Shlesinger & Elizabeth Burstyn – Streaming on Netflix now.

Categories
Movie Reviews

Monster Hunter

Toho Company, 2020

If you’ve seen any of Paul W.S. Anderson’s Resident Evil films then you know exactly what to expect from Monster Hunter. The man responsible for bastardising one of the most popular video game franchises of all time into an almost incomprehensible mess is at it again with another huge Capcom property, albeit one with considerably less narrative structure to draw from. Aside from the excellent monster design, bringing wife Milla Jovovich along for the ride again is one of the very few good decisions Anderson has made here, with a charisma and penchant for kicking ass (whether it be zombies or 50-foot tall monsters) that just never quits. You don’t go into these movies looking for a 5-star story and Monster Hunter never attempts to give you one, with a sliver of narrative thread holding the entire sloppily edited ordeal together until its abrupt, sequel-teasing end.

The set-up is pure D-grade action movie pulp. Jovovich is Lieutenant Artemis, a rough and tumble army ranger who leads a crew of soldier stereotypes who say things like “this is officially above my pay-grade”. There’s sharpshooter Link (T.I.), rookie Dash (Meagan Good) and about four others that get so little development or screen-time that I don’t even remember their names. When the squad – investigating the disappearance of Bravo team – finds themselves pulled through a mysterious, lightning-infused portal, they wind up in a vast desert; quickly surmising that they are in a different world due to the presence of enormous skeletons and the sudden appearance of a Diabolos, a giant, pissed-off horned creature that burrows under the sand dunes. As the last survivor of the attack, Artemis finds herself stranded on a large rocky outcropping in the desert, safe from the Diabolos but unguarded from the other monsters that stalk the area. Joined by Tony Jaa’s unnamed Hunter, who himself was stranded after his sand-sailing pirate ship was attacked, the pair fight for survival as they travel towards a mysterious dark tower on the horizon, inexplicably convinced it is Artemis’ route back to Earth.

Toho Company, 2020

No surprises here, the performances are slightly less than Oscar-worthy, with enough cheesy dialogue to fill one of those ridiculous pirate-ships. Jovovich embraces the strong and silent archetype that she perfected in the Resident Evil franchise, commanding the screen at all times with a calm, ready-for-action demeanour even when facing off against a fire-breathing dragon. There are attempts to soften her character and provide some sort of a back-story – she bonds over a love of chocolate with Jaa’s hunter and carries a wedding ring around – but these largely fall flat, inconsequential when all the audience really wants is to see giant monster fights. Tony Jaa’s character is the more interesting of the two; a native of the monster-filled world, he is our insight into the strange things we are seeing. His background is genuinely compelling, having had his family decimated by the aforementioned dragon and setting out on a personal quest for revenge, but it is the martial artistry Jaa displays that is really the standout. Known by Western audiences primarily for his work in Fast & Furious 7 but internationally drawing comparisons to Jackie Chan for his starring role in the Thai Ong-Bak films, Jaa shows incredible athleticism in multiple fight scenes with Jovovich. Flipping, twisting and jumping around the confined spaces in which he clashes with her, the man is a marvel to watch, it’s just a shame the editing doesn’t allow the audience to see that fluidity, hiding the fact that Jovovich is slightly out of her league in these encounters.

The ridiculousness and the cheesiness are par for the course in a Paul W.S. Anderson film but Monster Hunter’s most egregious sin is its editing. All the audience wants to see is these fearsome creatures in their element; chomping, stinging and charging their way through hordes of enemies, or in this case a measly squad of soldiers and their almost superpowered captain. The creature design is immaculate – even if there are only a handful in the entire film – looking as close to their video game counterparts as you could want, but Anderson never settles his camera long enough to give you a look that lasts longer than a few seconds. The initial confrontation with the Diabolos should be a highlight, our introduction to the danger of this newly discovered world. In actuality it boils down to seemingly random, disparate shots of the enraged beast roaring and charging, interspersed with shots of flipping trucks and flying bodies. It’s impossible to tell what is going at times to the point where I thought one person was crushed under a car only to see them speared with a horn a few minutes later. This choppiness extends to all the action scenes in the film, which make up majority of the run-time, leaving you scratching your head as to why Anderson seems unwilling to showcase his big-budget behemoths in a way that will make the ride enjoyable and give them the terrifying screen presence they deserve.

Toho Company, 2020

The editing is further exposed as the prime culprit by the – and I hesitate to use the word – story, which correctly places all the focus on the towering creatures. Unfortunately, there is literally no explanation of anything else. How did Artemis and her team get to this new world? What is the mystical force that controls the dark tower and its lightning storm accoutrement? The film attempts to answer none of these, preserving the mystery for what will assumedly be an overly complex explanation in future instalments. Not answering those questions would be fine if the characters we did spend time with were reasonably developed so that the focus could then be shifted to those mysteries in future films and we are invested in the characters. All we get here follows a very bland pattern of an overly long, frustrating fight followed by interactions between Jaa and Jovovich that essentially boil into hand-to-hand combat or bonding over chocolate – that is as deep as it gets. When other inhabitants of the world are introduced later in the piece, it raises more questions than it answers, with Ron Perlman’s unnamed Admiral expounding on the mystery of the tower only to say that no one really understands it. I guess that includes the writers? The ending of it all is hilariously bad, introducing a random additional monster with absolutely no commentary or backstory as to what it is or how it got there. Sure it looks good but honestly why do I care at this point?

Monster Hunter had one job to do: give fans of the games a compelling excuse to see these monsters they’ve spent countless hours fighting rampaging across the big screen in all their glory. What should have been a fun, thrilling ride is ruined by poor editing and the lack of compelling characters or a comprehensible story. Jovovich continues to do what she does best as a badass action hero bravely squaring off against the behemoths and Tony Jaa injects some much needed energy but it is all for nought in a thoroughly uninteresting big-budget adventure. If the wacky, nonsensical twists and turns of Anderson’s Resident Evil franchise are what you’ve come for then look elsewhere, you will be disappointed here. If, however, you feel like inducing a headache, then this might just be the film for you.

Toho Company, 2020

Monster Hunter stars Milla Jovovich, Tony Jaa, Tip “T.I.” Harris, Meagan Good, Josh Helman & Ron Perlman – In cinemas now.

Categories
Movie Reviews

The Wolf of Snow Hollow

New Form, 2020

There’s not a whole lot of genuinely great werewolf films out there, think about it. The Howling, An American Werewolf in London, and maybe a handful of others at best. Which makes it such a big deal when a film like The Wolf of Snow Hollow comes along and vaults itself into the top of the genre with a wholly original spin on the cult favourite monster; a unique blend of horror, police procedural and black comedy from the mind of writer, director and star Jim Cummings. While its distinctive tone, which fluctuates between the serious case of a wolf preying on the people of Snow Hollow and the jarring yet hilarious meltdown of Cummings’ police deputy John, may not be for everyone, if you lean into the madness you will be rewarded with a hilarious, creepy and touching film that launches itself to the top of 2020’s considerable horror offerings and is primed for future cult classic status.

When a young woman is brutally murdered at an idyllic rental property in Utah’s Snow Hollow, the town’s deputy, John (Cummings), arrives late to the crime scene, having been notified midway through an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. That addiction proves to be one of the least of John’s problems as he inspects the gruesomely disfigured body, while also juggling the care of his father Sheriff Hadley (Robert Forster) who stubbornly refuses to retire as he battles health scare after health scare, leaving John barely able to hold it together to manage his staff. Promising his ailing father that he will catch the killer, who he refuses to accept may in fact not be human, John’s mental state descends into madness as he struggles to juggle being a single father to teenage daughter Jenna (Chloe East), managing an increasingly restless police force who don’t respect his authority, severe anger management issues and a potential relapse into alcoholism due to the stress of it all. Sounds like a lot right? That’s without including the violent beast which continues its streak of killings on the increasingly frightened townspeople, who begin to doubt the effectiveness of the officials devoted to protecting them; a theme that hits especially hard given the events of 2020.

New Form, 2020

At first it is difficult to pin The Wolf of Snow Hollow’s tone down. What begins as a chillingly effective horror sequence that slowly builds the sense that someone or something is lurking in the shadows then takes a sharp left turn with the introduction of John. Jim Cummings’ performance is something of an oddity within the film, a tonal mismatch that can at first feel like it does not belong within this grounded and violent horror film. His character moves at a mile a minute, constantly murmuring about the problems in his life as he investigates the case, eventually boiling over into frequent, often hilarious, full-blown breakdowns as he erupts at his staff or ex-wife, ripping them a new one before his attention is suddenly diverted by an errant thought in his overcrowded head. Cummings does an excellent job of portraying the extreme stress John is under and the multiple parts of his life vying for attention through a constant stream of subconscious dialogue which, at times, moves almost too quickly for the audience to keep up. Most of the time this just means the odd joke or two goes unappreciated – which is fine given this is such a fun movie that it will likely become a Halloween staple – but on a rare occasion or two it does result in an important piece of the case being overlooked, especially as clues are seemingly pulled out of nowhere towards the end of the film if you haven’t been laser-focused.

Cummings also manages to instil a whole lot of heart into the proceedings, as we come to understand the frustrated yet loving bond between father and son. Robert Forster is fantastic in one of his final roles as the over-stressed police chief who refuses to quit and always manages to distract his son in one way or another from discussing his health in order to stay on as sheriff for a little bit longer. In his stressed out, confused state, John often overlooks this bond with his father, instead seeing him as a cause of stress to be retired and pushed aside so he can focus on the bevy of other tasks demanding his attention. The rare tender moments between the two feel especially earned and pack a genuine impact, given the complete tonal change from previous conversations, as John and the audience both come to realise the damage caused by sacrificing such an important personal connection. This theme extends to John’s relationship with his daughter Jenna, who is constantly pulled from John by her mother but who refuses to give up on him, choosing to live with him even though she will be left alone in the house as he investigates the killings. It is a cry for help that John again refuses to acknowledge, seeing Jenna only as someone to protect but not actively engage with. Chloe East is brilliant here, acting stand-offish to her father as an attempt to mirror his attitude but breaking completely when his alcoholism resurfaces and the future of their family looks uncertain. It’s heartbreaking stuff that lands even if Cummings does immediately switch the tone up again with a joke or descent back into horror.

New Form, 2020

With these horror sequences, Cummings chooses to adopt a less-is-more approach, focusing on creating an atmosphere of tension and dread rather than gory, over-the-top mauling scenes. A simple shot of the beast towering over a car pre-kill is just short enough to keep the mystique of the animal (and reduce the focus on the low budget wolf costume), while still conveying the very real threat to its victim. It’s a refreshing take on horror that doesn’t rely on jump scares to create fear, instead utilising glimpses of the carnage left behind at crime scenes and infrequent shots of the attack in action. An almost slapstick sound design to these attacks also contribute to the mythicising of the threat of the wolf, with plenty of 80’s B-movie squelches and frantic screams as limbs are torn apart and littered all over the place. When Cummings wraps things up he does so in thrilling fashion, with a bare knuckle chase sequence that still manages to pack in the odd low-key joke whilst keeping you glued to the screen.

While the rest of the world was going to hell in 2020, the horror genre continued to, well, do just that in a good way and The Wolf of Snow Hollow rightly earns its place as one of the best horror films of the year. Unlike his character, Cummings proves incredibly adept at juggling multiple balls at once; from the constantly shifting tone and multiple genres the film draws from to a perfectly manic lead performance at the centre of it all. You’ll come for the promise of werewolf shenanigans, but you’ll stay for Cummings’ unique blend of acerbic wit and an intriguing police investigation that will keep you guessing right up to the very end. A must-watch.

New Form, 2020

The Wolf of Snow Hollow stars Jim Cummings, Riki Lindhome, Chloe East, Will Madden, Jimmy Tatro, Annie Hamilton & Robert Forster – Available to buy or rent on iTunes now.