With 25 films under its belt, it feels like there is little left that the MCU has not yet explored. Their 26th effort Eternals, from Oscar winning director Chloé Zhao, aims to subvert expectations again with an epic, history-spanning cosmic adventure that introduces audiences to a new team of space-travelling, god-like heroes. But what should be the most vibrant and distinct Marvel film ends up one of the most bland – a cold, strangely emotionless slog that descends into CGI madness. When the most satisfying piece of an almost three hour long film is the post-credits scene, you know something is wrong, and Eternals is one of Marvel’s weakest efforts to date.
While the rest of Earth’s heroes were off fighting Thanos and any number of other threats, a team of 10 immortal space warriors – the Eternals – existed on the planet, tasked by their Celestial (giant space god) creator Arishem (David Kaye) with protecting the species against otherworldly abominations, the Deviants, but otherwise leaving the human race to fend for itself. With the Deviants all but defeated, the team disbanded to live out separate existences until the creatures’ return forces Sersi (Gemma Chan) and Sprite (Lia McHugh) to rally their family of heroes – the Superman-like Ikaris (Richard Madden), mind-controlling Druig (Barry Keoghan), warrior god Athena (Angelina Jolie), leader Ajak (Salma Hayek), Bollywood star Kingo (Kumail Nanjiani), speedster Makkari (Lauren Ridloff), super-strong Gilgamesh (Don Lee) and genius Phastos (Bryan Tyree Henry) – to uncover the cause of the Deviant resurgence and save Earth from certain destruction.
Marvel Studios, 2021
That’s an absolutely barebones summary of the giant film that is Eternals; which immediately struggles under the weight of juggling ten main characters, a world-ending, history-spanning storyline and connecting it all the to the biggest shared cinematic universe of all time. That MCU link means the army of writers that contributed to the script go into overdrive from the get-go to explain where the Eternals came from, why they didn’t fight against Thanos and where they’ve been for all this time, regardless of how uninteresting that all is. It’s the first sign that something is wrong, with Zhao’s film taking on a cold, business-like tone; giving the sense that boxes are simply being ticked rather than a meaningful examination of character or the fascinating found family dynamic.
A large portion of the film is devoted to assembling that family – as Sersi and Sprite travel the globe reconnecting with everyone – and this is easily the most enjoyable aspect, with snappy banter and a light tone (apart from Richard Madden’s permanently dour Ikaris) keeping things fun as you come to understand the dynamics of the team. Barry Keoghan and Bryan Tyree Henry are particular standouts, both layered characters with their own demons; with Keoghan’s Druig frustrated at being kept from using his powers of mind control to simply cease conflict. Henry’s Phastos has a much more sobering burden to carry – tasked with drip-feeding technological advances to humanity, including those of a negative persuasion – that forces the guilt ridden god to do some serious soul searching. Never in short supply are the usual quick fire Marvel jokes of course, but they rarely hit as intended, a shame considering the comedic talent in Nanjiani alone. He tries his heart out – Kingo’s other life as a Bollywood superstar makes for some great one liners and a standout side character in his valet Karun (Harish Patel) – but Madden and Chan bring things down by never seeming to know how to respond to his levity.
Marvel Studios, 2021
Despite being the lead characters of the piece, Ikarus and Sersi are woefully underwritten, with Zhao choosing to show their relationship through the ages as well as telling us. It’s a heavy-handed approach made especially worse when the two come together and couldn’t have less chemistry; opposite thematic mouthpieces constantly discussing huge, world-ending stakes rather than estranged lovers that were together for 5,000 years. That’s a problem that is rife almost everywhere you look: over-explanation. Eternals is cosmic sci-fi on a grand scale and the characters are constantly discussing it; throwing in new facts and reviewing assumed knowledge at every turn. Yet you never fully feel that you understand what is going on until the third act devolves into the tried and tested “big CGI battle”. It seems as if Zhao is constantly shooting for thematic examinations of how different experiences shape different responses to life only to be pulled back into familiar territory to reset the pieces for the next Marvel instalment. Sadly ironic that the only scene that seems to fully see out its vision is the post-credits scene teasing a future film.
Audiences have endured Marvel’s bad villain syndrome over the years in more than a few films but Eternals’ might be the worst yet. The Deviants are a thoroughly uninteresting race of dinosaur-like creatures – all tendrils and snapping teeth – that serve as nothing more than glorified CGI punching bags to put our heroes powers on full display. Unlike the endless streams of enemies in an Avengers or Guardians of the Galaxy, there is no charismatic leader behind them all. Discovering the origin of the Deviants doesn’t make them one bit more interesting as villains; they continue to crop up only to be thoroughly knocked back to where they came from: rinse and repeat throughout. What should be a bone-shatteringly vicious showdown at the halfway point is undermined by the hazy way Zhao chooses to shoot the action; a combination of a shaky camera and terrible lighting making things almost as incomprehensible as that infamous Game of Thrones episode.
Marvel Studios, 2021
Perhaps it’s Chloé Zhao at the helm fresh off her Best Director Oscar win or the promise of the next great superhero team that makes Eternals feel like such a disappointment. What should be another slam dunk hit from a studio that has made billions out of well characterised heroes and their action-filled exploits feels strangely hollow and devoid of life; a largely humourless affair that feels both universe expanding and inessential at the same time. The fantastic cast is largely wasted, the villains are only that in the most base sense and the plot alternates between an incomprehensible mess and the worst parts of the worst Marvel films. The heroes might live on but Eternals feels destined to fade from the Marvel memory.
Marvel Studios, 2021
Eternals stars Gemma Chan, Richard Madden, Angelina Jolie, Salma Hayek, Kumail Nanjiani, Lia McHugh, Brian Tyree Henry, Lauren Ridloff, Barry Keoghan, Don Lee, Harish Patel, Bill Skarsgård & Kit Harington – In cinemas now.
The creature feature doesn’t get nearly as much love as it should these days, reduced to a paltry entries every year or so. In a horror landscape where deeply psychological terrors and gory slasher films take centre stage, there is something to be said for the simple (some would say morbid) joy of seeing some wild monster completely unleashed and terrorising its prey. Kudos goes then to director Scott Cooper for making the unconventional leap from heady dramas (Crazy Heart, Out of the Furnace) to Antlers, a creature feature wrapped up in an exploration of trauma and abuse. Whilst that ferocious creature makes for a wild and bloody third act, Antlers crumbles under the weight of its own set-up, an incredibly dark and depressing film about trauma that doesn’t seem to have anything at all to actually say about it.
Set in a remote Oregon town plagued by a methamphetamine problem, we follow Lucas (Jeremy T. Thomas), a headstrong young boy left on his own after his father Frank (Scott Haze) and younger brother Aiden (Sawyer Jones) are attacked in a meth lab deep within a local mine. The frightened Lucas exhibits strange behaviours at school – telling stories of monsters, walking home alone every day and looking increasingly malnourished – that eventually draw the attention of new teacher Julia (Keri Russell), who has returned to her hometown after the death of her father to spend more time with brother and local sheriff Paul (Jesse Plemons). When she begins to investigate Lucas’ home situation, Julia discovers that his father and brother are very much alive, locked in the attic and fed raw meat by Lucas as they warp and transform into hideous monsters that could turn the small town on its head if let loose.
Searchlight Pictures, 2021
Cooper is certainly no stranger to drama, but with Antlers he seems unsure of how best to link the thematic examination of abuse that so clearly drives the film with the more abstract monster movie elements. Keri Russell’s character Julia, for instance, has a deep history of trauma – having been abused as a child by her father – and Cooper draws on this to further the plot by explaining Julia’s attraction to and eventual obsession with helping Lucas, but falls short when attempting to infer that the two share the same experience. We know he has been abused, but by all the evidence shown on-screen we know that this was not an intentional act by his father, possessed with violence by his affliction.
The suggestion that these two characters should gel into this team of survivors bonded by their shared experiences ignores the fact that Lucas’ father is acting against his will and that his son never gives up on saving him. Cooper keeps dropping these hints at a deeper examination of trauma – like the inference that Paul was conveniently spared the abuse aimed towards Julia – but never touches on them again; statements that seem to say more than they actually do. The finale, while fun, offers little resolution at all, ignoring hanging plot threads in favour of a hasty resolution and clichéd cliffhanger.
Searchlight Pictures, 2021
If you can accept and move beyond Cooper’s haphazard commentary however, you’ll be treated to an absolutely gnarly monster. This is where Antlers truly shines; in all the gory body horror and no holds barred murder caused by the gruesomely changed Frank. The moody little mountain town offers the perfect backdrop for such carnage, as the monster stalks the rainy forests leaving little more than mutilated corpses in its wake. When that third act kicks into high gear it does so in spectacular fashion, with some incredibly tense sequences and scares that will have you jumping out of your seat. Cooper might focus too much on the commentary at times but when it comes down to it he can deliver some truly nasty horror set-pieces.
Scott Cooper’s entrance into the horror genre definitely bites off more than it can chew at times, getting hung up on a surface level examination of trauma and abuse that seems much deeper than it actually is. Underneath all that you will find a surprisingly tense, albeit short horror film that showcases brutally effective set-pieces, a strong performance from Keri Russell and one of the most fascinating creatures in recent movie memory. Don’t be surprised if Antlers ends up a cult favourite in a few years.
Searchlight Pictures, 2021
Antlers stars Keri Russell, Jesse Plemons, Jeremy T. Thomas, Scott Haze, Sawyer Jones, Amy Madigan & Graham Greene – In cinemas now.
For the latest instalment in Michael Myers’ parade of violence across Haddonfield, no one could accuse Halloween Kills of being a misleading title. Murder is the name of the game here, and there sure is a lot of it, in almost every conceivable form. But director David Gordon Green’s sequel loses focus when it comes to furthering its predecessor’s examination of trauma and how that has affected three generations of the Strode family, spending the bulk of its time on carnage instead of character. The few ways that the narrative does inch forward pushes the franchise in new directions, but there just isn’t enough here to justify not skipping this and heading straight to the end of the planned trilogy.
Things are kicked off with a flashback to the pivotal Halloween night of 1978, as a young Officer Hawkins (played as a young man by Thomas Mann and in the present day by Will Patton) confronts Michael at the end of his night of terror. Cut to present day and events resume immediately following the prior film, as Laurie (Jamie Lee Curtis), daughter Karen (Judy Greer) and granddaughter Allyson (Andi Matichak) flee Laurie’s burning home to seek shelter at the hospital, and first responder firemen race towards the blaze, unaware of the horror that awaits them.
Elsewhere in Haddonfield is original massacre survivor Tommy Doyle (Anthony Michael Hall), determined to remind the townspeople of their history and to ensure they remain vigilant. When he learns of Michael’s resurgence, Tommy gathers fellow survivors Lonnie (Robert Longstreet), his son Cameron (Dylan Arnold) and Lyndsey (Kyle Richards) and scours the streets, determined to capture the Boogeyman and riling the town into a murderous mob in the process.
Universal Studios, 2021
Gordon’s script is ambitious, shifting the focus from the Strode family to the entirety of Haddonfield and the effect Michael has had on the town’s collective past. Matichack and Greer find their roles largely scaled back here, as Anthony Michael Hall’s Tommy takes centre stage; a figurehead for the mob he has rallied to take down Myers. It’s an interesting character to fixate on, and one that does show Green’s interest in exploring the effects of trauma on different people – rather than just Laurie – and Hall is great as the enraged yet frightened Tommy. Where his character falls short is in the ill thought-out plan to incite a mob against Myers; emboldening the town with chants of “Evil dies tonight”. It’s a hokey phrase that is repeated so often that it quickly becomes irritating; a heavy handed metaphor for Michael that hints at a supernatural element (the physical embodiment of evil), and one which creates a jarring sense of campiness that clashes with the otherwise serious tone.
As a direct continuation of the last film, the threat of Michael still feels palpable, but as we track the killer on his path through victim after victim – unopposed as the rest of the town deals with red herrings and in-fighting – the novelty of these murders soon wears off. There are some great gore effects and a few stand-out scenes amongst them to be sure, but the film soon begins to feel like filler; an overly long bridging piece which serves as an epilogue to the last film and prologue to the next without ever really necessitating the need to exist as a standalone film. The plot is furthered in some major ways, but only in how things are set up to be paid off in the future, rather than individual character motivations.
Universal Studios, 2021
Speaking of characters, the most divisive decision Green and company have made in the sequel is to completely shelve Laurie, confining her to a hospital bed and never having her come face to face with her tormentor. It’s a colossal waste of Jamie Lee Curtis’ talent but she still manages to have some nice emotional interactions with Will Patton’s Officer Hawkins, whose significance to the franchise is greatly expanded here through flashbacks. These flashbacks are some of the best scenes the franchise has delivered in decades, faithfully replicating everything about the 1978 film right down to the slight graininess of the image and expanding on the story rather than changing it. Thomas Mann is terrific as the terrified, traumatised young Hawkins and Jim Cummings (indie superstar behind The Wolf of Snow Hollow, check it out) shines as a jaded mid-western police officer on the hunt for Myers: a fun nod to his other police-centric roles.
Halloween Kills biggest problem might just be how unfocused and unnecessary it feels; a stopgap on the way to a far more interesting conclusion that could have just as easily been a few scenes tacked onto the start of the next instalment. Shelving Laurie and shifting the focus to the rest of Haddonfield does allow for some interesting expansion of the lore but doesn’t greatly shift the board from where things ended in the 2018 film. If you can look past these problems, however, and focus on the quality filmmaking on display – with wonderfully macabre kills and another fantastic Carpenter score – then you will very likely walk away entertained. A stumble on the way to what will hopefully be a very bloody conclusion.
Universal Studios, 2021
Halloween Kills stars Jamie Lee Curtis, Judy Greer, Andi Matichak, Anthony Michael Hall, Will Patton, Thomas Mann, Dylan Arnold, Robert Longstreet, James Jude Courtney, Kyle Richards & Jim Cummings – In cinemas and streaming in the US on Peacock now.
You’d be forgiven for seeing the trailer for A24’s newest self-proclaimed “horror” film Lamb and thinking the uber-popular indie studio had another Icelandic Midsommar on their hands. It had everything: the breathtaking scenery, moody atmosphere and strange hook in the titular lamb-human hybrid. In actuality Lamb is a beast of a completely different nature; an extremely metaphorical slow burn that may leave you with more questions than answers. Not a horror film so much as an intense exercise in keeping the audience guessing, a pair of powerhouse performances from Noomi Rapace and Hilmir Snær Guðnason just aren’t enough to overcome the needlessly glacial pace on the way to an all too abrupt conclusion.
Living on a remote farmland in Iceland are married couple Maria (Rapace) and Ingvar (Guðnason), alone except for their dog, cat and barnful of sheep, whom they care for day in and day out with nary a word said between them. This is clearly a couple with a lot of history and more than their fair share of baggage and you get the sense that their relationship has seen better days. Their somber existence changes for the better with the shocking arrival of Ada – a lamb borne of a sheep but with a human body – who the couple instantly adopt as their own child, never questioning her strange arrival or making much of a fuss about the fact that their “daughter” would happily eat grass instead of the human meals they feed her to feed their own illusion. Things take a turn for the fledgling family with the arrival of Ingvar’s brother Pétur, whose arrival threatens to unearth long buried secrets, not to mention the constant presence of an unseen malevolent creature stalking the farmland.
A24, 2021
That premise on its own is tough enough for an audience to get behind, yet first-time director Valdimar Jóhannsson rarely steers his story into more palatable, mainstream territory. Take the opening 20 minutes for example. Largely wordless, they are a true test of an audience’s patience, as Maria and Ingvar simply go about their lives as usual before the arrival of Ada. It certainly shouldn’t take that long to set up the couple and their troubles but you can’t deny that the atmosphere Jóhansson sets isn’t effective, slowly building tension and doubt in your mind that something could go wrong at any moment. Once Ada does arrive we’re treated to another long stretch before she is shown in all her strange glory, a reveal perhaps not as effective as Jóhannson might like given the prominence of Ada in the film’s marketing.
From here the film’s structure becomes more evident, with Jóhansson treading water in between these pivotal moments that shift Maria and Ingvar’s relationship. You get the sense that each of these moment is moving the story towards something larger but to what you can never quite be sure, and the end result isn’t enough to justify the interminably long periods of nothing much at all happening between them. So much of the run-time is spent in these painfully self-indulgent sequences that by the time things begin to truly ramp up the film is over. It is one thing to subvert people’s expectations – and Jóhansson almost always takes a left when you expect a right – but to waste the audience’s time lingering on shots that don’t have any significance, simply to let them sit and stew in the confusion for a while longer doesn’t increase the profundity of the ending, it only makes people more exasperated by the journey.
A24, 2021
Where the true balancing act is in Lamb’s tone. While largely billed as a horror film, the true genre lies somewhere between that and a fairy tale. There’s an inherent humour to the very concept of Ada that will have you chuckling at all her cute little mannerisms, but the heavy tone underlying all of this makes it so you never feel like this is intentional. It almost seems as if the film wants to have its cake and eat it too, finding physical humour in Ada’s weirdness before pivoting into a serious scene and expecting you to not view that scene through the same humorous lens, even though Ada is still waddling around in a ridiculous little outfit.
At its core Lamb is the story of Maria and Ingvar’s relationship and how grief has affected them both together and on an individual level. Ada’s significance isn’t so much in the fact that she is part human, part lamb, but in how her arrival allows for the couple to heal and reform their marital bonds. Ingvar is more than happy to move beyond their tragedy and throw himself into this new life but there is a lingering sense that Maria is still tortured by their past. She become’s fiercely protective of her new “daughter” and Rapace is fiery in the role, able to shift gears in an instant and raise the intensity. Guðnason is more restrained in his role, happy to be moving and seemingly oblivious to any goings on between his wife and brother or the fact that his adopted daughter is a lamb. It’s a pair of performances that play well both in the literal sense of the story and the deeply metaphorical, existential plane that the story steers into; worthy of revisiting even if the film itself might require masterful patience to do so.
A24, 2021
Lamb is not an easily definable film, nor is it one that can be instantly understood. Valdimar Jóhannsson keeps the narrative small but goes thematically huge in his debut, crafting an intricately metaphorical modern fairy tale that is simply too slow to justify; the story ending just as it seems to really be kicking off. Rapace and Guðnason command the screen when the writing is there for them to do so but this is the slowest of slow burns, with a lot of the runtime filled with Jóhannsson meandering around the picturesque Icelandic farmland. It definitely won’t be to everyone’s tastes, but one thing is for sure: Lamb is no sheepish debut.
A24, 2021
Lamb stars Noomi Rapace, Hilmir Snær Guðnason & Björn Hlynur Haraldsson – In cinemas now.
It’s been 24 years since Matt Damon and Ben Affleck last wrote together, with their efforts resulting in an Oscar win for the classic that is Good Will Hunting. Since that time the pair have gone on to find individual success in everything from acting in big budget blockbusters to directing academy award winning films. Their return to writing (alongside Nicole Holofcener) then, comes with big expectations – a medieval #metoo story doesn’t sound like an easy premise to crack – and who better to call upon to direct than Ridley Scott. The Last Duel might not be as impactful as Good Will Hunting – bloated at times with some questionable accents and prosthetics – but it is still an incredibly enthralling tale of a woman who struggled against an oppressive system in order to tell her truth; a premise which sadly still resonates today.
Told in three parts, each representing one of the central trio’s “truths”, the main conflict revolves around French knights Jean de Carrouges (Damon) and Jacques Le Gris (Adam Driver), friends through military service who grow distant upon their return from war. Carrouges’ temper has long held him in bad esteem with his overlord Count Pierre d’Alençon (Affleck) – cousin of King Charles VI (Alex Lawther) – who finds his behaviour ill befitting of the courts, seizing land and preventing Carrouges from assuming an entitled captaincy to spite him. Le Gris, on the other hand, found favour with the Count through his financial skills and diplomacy, landing him a prized position of counsel as well as all the knightly benefits denied to Carrouges.
When Le Gris forces himself on Carrouges’ wife Marguerite (Jodie Comer), violently raping her, she appeals to her husband to substantiate her claim in the courts; an embarrassing and shameful ordeal that ultimately results in the two men duelling to the death to determine the truth; conveniently ignorant to the fact that Marguerite will suffer more than either man should her husband fail to defeat his foe.
20th Century Studios, 2021
As a film about perspective, The Last Duel is largely successful. The overlap between the three individual’s stories means that the film spends a lot of its runtime revisiting moments, usually in order to present a new insight or – in some cases – an entirely new interpretation of a conversation or event. Through this, Scott is able to dig deep into the lies men tell themselves in order to retain their honour; regardless of the people it may hurt. The objectification of Marguerite by Le Gris and Carrouges draws obvious parallels with the recent #metoo movement within Hollywood, with the road to telling her truth paved with hardship and embarrassment. It isn’t the most deep examination, particularly given the largely male creative team behind the production, but it is effective in drawing outraged gasps and knowing groans at the injustices Marguerite suffers.
Where that repetition becomes tiresome is in the scenes that are replayed entirely to remind audiences that they occurred, without adding any new dimensions to the event or characters within. It doesn’t happen so much that you feel like you are watching the film in triplicate but it is enough to make the already gargantuanly long film feel bloated. That problem is somewhat compounded when you consider the film’s intent to give voice to the woman at the centre of this male conflict, yet we spend the vast majority of proceedings focused on these two men and their proverbial pissing contest. A well made depiction of the injustices women suffered at the time, no doubt, but one that offers little commentary on the strides made since or the sad lack thereof.
20th Century Studios, 2021
Key to the film not succumbing to the repetition is the casting, with stellar performances across the board keeping you engaged, particularly Driver and Comer. Driver is equal parts gentleman and sleaze bag as the cocksure Le Gris, who has bought into the status associated with his position to the point where you start to question whether he genuinely believes the lies he spews out to defend himself from Marguerite’s accusations. It’s is a performance that can turn on a dime from disarmingly charming to scum of the earth at the drop of a hat, further proving Driver as one of the finest, most under-appreciated actors of his generation.
Comer continues her rise following a completely different role in this year’s Free Guy with a quiet, measured and emotionally devastating performance as Marguerite. Largely silent in the presence of her husband or other men, majority of the character building during these scenes comes from facial expressions and small glances. When the time comes for Marguerite’s truth to be told, Comer capitalises on all of that pent up emotion, with a fiery performance that should land her in this year’s Oscar race.
20th Century Studios, 2021
Speaking of awards, The Last Duel absolutely deserves to be in the conversation for sound editing and mixing, with the terrifyingly loud clangs of swords against armour and squelches of flesh rending under sword sticking with you long after the scene has ended. The film isn’t particularly action-heavy until the titular duel, but the flashes of battles that are shown are brutally effective in their brevity, full of frenetic flashes of gore and quick cuts that disorientate the viewer in the same way as the combatants. Costuming is another area that shines with elaborate dresses and armour showing meticulous care and craftsmanship, but the less said about Damon and Affleck’s hair pieces and prosthetics, the better.
The Last Duel might not have the lasting legacy of Good Will Hunting but it is nonetheless an impressive sophomore effort from Damon and Affleck that effectively captures the brutality of medieval France, both on and off the battlefield. Bloated at times but more often deeply enthralling thanks to the efforts of a star studded cast and immersive costuming and sound design, Ridley Scott’s latest might not hit the level of commentary it aims for, but it still manages to leave you thinking even if it doesn’t offer much in the way of solutions going forward. Marguerite’s struggle might have resulted in the last duel at the time, but the problems she brought to light are far from over.
20th Century Studios, 2021
The Last Duel stars Matt Damon, Adam Driver, Jodie Comer, Ben Affleck, Harriet Walter, Nathaniel Parker, Alex Lawther & Martin Csokas – In cinemas now.
After crafting old-school spy thrillers, cosmic space adventures and box-office crushing event films, the MCU has had to shift in recent outings to new territory. The time jumping Loki and the television spanning Wandavision have shown how the long-running series has attempted to adapt to new mediums, and with their latest effort Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings Marvel has shown how their films are attempting to differentiate going forward, in this instance with a visual feast of martial arts excellence. The hero himself might be slightly undercooked on debut, but thanks to a brilliant supporting cast, a villain to rival Thanos and Loki and a rich appreciation for Asian culture, Shang-Chi triumphs; introducing yet another game-changing layer to the juggernaut franchise going into its 13th year.
Simu Liu is Shang-Chi, going by the name Shaun as he ekes out a living as a valet with best friend Katy (Awkwafina). When their usual bus ride is besieged by assassins hell bent on stealing a necklace from Shaun’s neck, Katy discovers that the friend she thought she knew so well has a dark past, thanks in no small part to his father Wenwu’s (Tony Leung) position as the leader of terrorist syndicate The Ten Rings (a proxy of which appeared before in Iron Man 3).
Marvel Studios, 2021
After scrambling to protect sister Xialing (Meng’er Zhang) from the same group of assassins the trio find themselves face to face with Wenwu himself, a shell of his former self following the death of his wife; an event which sent him down a dark path of devotion to the ten rings: ancient artefacts that grant the wearer eternal life and superhuman abilities. Now hearing his wife’s voice and desperate to save her from a dark hellscape, Wenwu launches an all-out assault against the mythical realm of Ta Lo, putting himself at odds with his children who understand that what is really calling out to Wenwu will destroy the world if unleashed.
The best thing Shang-Chi has going for it is just how much director Destin Daniel Cretton is able to bend the Marvel formula to conform around the Asian talent and culture rather than the other way around. This feels like a wholly unique (for the MCU at least) modern martial arts epic, drawing inspiration primarily from Chinese culture, with expertly choreographed fight scenes that looked like they could be outtakes from classic Wuxia films like House of Flying Daggers and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. These scenes are truly special – the bus scene heavily featured in the trailers is a particular highlight along with a vertigo-inducing skirmish on a high-rise scaffolding – full of carefully considered camera placement that allows you to take in the fluidity of the action; almost dance-like in a way that MCU action has never been before – no super-powered slugfests here.
Marvel Studios, 2021
That cultural examination flows through to the story, one of the best the MCU has seen in a long time. At the core of all the martial arts and epic action is a family drama, a long-gestating conflict between a father and his children that Cretton expertly manipulates to ensure that the audience feels for Wenwu as well as the heroes. Tony Leung is exactly the type of imposing presence necessary to portray the conflicted Wenwu, who found love through his wife and family but has lost that light following her untimely death; steeling himself against the world that he believes is responsible for his loss.
Reaching out to his children in an attempt to reassemble the family unit before going to war to save their matriarch is the last glint of goodness in Wenwu’s life, and watching his children reject his offer to rejoin their family organisation is both empowering and necessary to build our heroes, but also devastating to the fragile state of Wenwu; the last straw before he devotes himself entirely to his mission. We feel Wenwu’s pain through Leung’s eyes alone, full of hurt, regret and ultimately acceptance of what he must do; a fantastic performance that adds immensely to the film’s huge emotional centre.
Marvel Studios, 2021
Unfortunately that level of depth doesn’t quite extend to the film’s titular hero. While Liu brings an impressive physicality to the role of Shang-Chi, the character seems strangely devoid of personality; his story being driven largely through the interesting cast of characters he intersects with rather than the man himself. Part of this blankness is understandable as Shang-Chi is our guide into this world of the mystical new but his time as part of the cutthroat world of assassins as a child does not seem to have shaped his personality in any way other than some killer fight moves and monumental daddy issues. Where his character goes from here is anyone’s guess, but after this film it is safe to say that Shang-Chi as a character hasn’t found his hook yet; nothing about him promises the kind of crossover fun with the Avengers that the franchise relies on to stoke excitement.
Fortunately the excellent supporting cast makes up for any misgivings with Shang-Chi himself, filled to the brim with screen-stealing talent at every turn. Awkwafina is comedy gold as the awkward friend Katy, but beyond that has a nice little side arc as her character struggles with finding her place in the world; a relatable and empowering storyline that shows you don’t have to have superpowers or be the chosen one to be special in your own way. The always brilliant Michelle Yeoh brings a level of gravitas to her mentor role as the guardian of Ta Lo, guiding Shang-Chi and his crew on their journey. The most surprising discovery however is Meng’er Zhang as Shang-Chi’s sister Xialing, delivering an exceptional performance in her first on-screen role; her hard, menacing exterior giving way to a big heart and some extremely poignant and heart-wrenching moments as the member of Wenwu’s family most often forgot about.
Marvel Studios, 2021
Brimming with culture and character – outside of its lead – Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings is a breath of fresh air to an MCU in desperate need of one, bringing an entire new style of filmmaking to the party without ever losing the superhero fun that Marvel does so well. The new supporting characters and world it introduces have a depth that will surely see them become a staple of the franchise going forward; steeped in culture without ever alienating audiences unfamiliar with their origins. Destin Daniel Cretton should be applauded for bringing his distinctive style to the series where other directors haven’t been as succeessful, crafting a film that is not only a successful Marvel film, but a successful celebration of Asian culture and the Asian experience throughout the world.
Marvel Studios, 2021
Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings stars Simu Liu, Awkwafina, Meng’er Zhang, Fala Chen, Michelle Yeoh, Florian Munteanu, Ben Kingsley & Tony Leung – In cinemas now.
Based on the Danish film of the same name, The Guilty follows Jake Gyllenhaal’s disgraced detective-turned-911 operator Joe Baylor on one slow night that evolves into a life-altering experience after receiving a terrifying call. Having previously worked with him on boxing drama Southpaw, Gyllenhaal enlists director Antoine Fuqua to helm what should be a completely edge-of-your-seat thriller; a film seemingly purpose built to showcase the incredible acting chops of its lead. While it absolutely delivers on that front, the story sags in the middle – the material not as engaging as the performance – on its way to a poignant and tragic finale that may not leave you as satisfied as you would like.
Following in the vein of films like Tom Hardy’s Locke, The Guilty takes place entirely within the confines of an emergency services operations centre – a device that works both to the film’s benefit and detriment – as Joe desperately struggles to locate distraught caller Emily (Riley Keough), who has seemingly been kidnapped by husband Henry (Peter Sarsgaard). All the action between Emily and Henry is played out entirely through phone conversations, as Joe attempts to extract as much information from the hostage as fast as he can under the guise of a call to her daughter (a thrilling sequence) amid furious denied requests to dispatch to have police sweep the area.
Netflix, 2021
From the moment this phone call comes through Joe’s line there is a profound atmosphere of tension; we feel Joe’s desperation increasing with each passing moment and failed attempt to reconnect with Emily. Adding an extra wrinkle to the affair is the recent breakdown of his marriage and an ongoing mystery surrounding an appointment the next day that is clearly causing Joe a lot of stress. This is a man on the edge and Gyllenhaal completely owns it, his prickly demeanour growing into full blown rage and temper tantrums as he struggles to obtain control of yet another aspect of his life that is slipping through his fingers. It’s a career highlight performance for the star/producer to be sure; it is only due to Gyllenhaal’s charisma and commitment to the role that we’re kept invested in Joe’s story to the bitter end.
Unfortunately that story loses steam not long after the fateful phone call, as proceedings slow to what feels like an endless stream of fruitless calls; to fellow detectives, to Joe’s wife, to other emergency services. It serves to compound Joe’s frustrations but unfortunately puts the audience in the same boat, growing ever weary of the monotony and close to checking out. Thankfully the plot kicks back into gear with a breakneck final thirty minutes, as Joe’s personal and professional problems combine in a beautifully tragic yet cathartic way, but it doesn’t do much to hide the fact that this already short 90 minute film only has about an hour of story truly worth telling.
Netflix, 2021
The Guilty without its star simply isn’t as compelling a film as it is with Gyllenhaal’s immense on-screen talents. Able to carry us through even the most tepid of telephone conversations, the journey through Joe Baylor’s psyche is wholly engrossing even if his immediate situation loses momentum at times. The supporting voice cast is stacked and Fuqua does what he can with interesting direction, but at the end of the day this is purely a performance piece for its star and in the question of “does Gyllenhaal nail it?” he can only be found guilty.
Netflix, 2021
The Guilty stars Jake Gyllenhaal, Ethan Hawke, Riley Keough, Peter Sarsgaard, Christina Vidal, Adrian Martinez, Eli Goree & Paul Dano – Streaming on Netflix now.
M. Night Shyamalan is not the filmmaker he once was. Visually the director that gave us The Sixth Sense and Signs is as sharp as ever, with an incredible eye for detail and inventive ways to utilise the camera. But as latest film Old demonstrates, Shyamalan’s writing still hasn’t managed to recapture that same visceral shock and emotion that his early work electrified with. Based around a graphic novel that feels tailor made for his twist heavy style – a group of families on a beach struggling to figure out why time is rapidly moving forward – Shyamalan drowns the concept in godawful dialogue, one-note characters and his usual (of late, at least) nonsensical twists.
When struggling couple Guy (Gael García Bernal) and Prisca (Vicky Krieps) arrive at a glamorous beach resort (an online bargain Prisca happened upon) with their children Maddox (Alexa Swinton) and Trent (Nolan River), they are thrilled to be offered a trip to a private beach for the day. Discovering they share the large stretch of beach with a few other families – including doctor Charles (Rufus Sewell) and his wife Chrystal (Abbey Lee) and daughter Kara (Kylie Begley), rapper Mid-Sized Sedan (Aaron Pierre) and the epileptic Patricia (Nikki Amuka-Bird) and her husband Jarin (Ken Leung) – the group make the most of their relaxation until fun is disrupted by the discovery of a body laying in a nearby cove.
Attempting to make their way back to the resort, the group realise they are trapped on the beach, an inconvenience further complicated by the fact that their cells are ageing rapidly, with the children becoming teens in mere minutes. Racing against the biological clock, the adults must carefully balance the complicated personalities on the beach in hopes of finding a way out before they expire, while the children struggle to come to terms with their changing bodies.
Universal Studios, 2021
There’s a lot of characters at play in Old – a film that relies solely on the interactions between them – and almost all of them are hollow caricatures of actual people; painful stereotypes that never seem to behave or communicate in a realistic way. Shyamalan’s script seems the prime suspect, reducing each character to a single defining trait. Take García Bernal’s Guy for example. We’re told early on that he works as an actuary, assessing risk and calculating the likelihood of accidents. Now that we know that, Shyamalan constantly feels the need to remind us by having Guy blurt out statistics at the most callous of moments – when everyone else is reacting to a death Guy is denying the accident that caused it. Nothing about the setup of Guy’s character suggests that this warm family man would suddenly behave like this, but Shyamalan needs to convey just how crazy the situation is and sacrifices any goodwill the audience might have for Guy by changing his character in order to further the mystery.
Universal Studios, 2021
The premise itself is intriguing on the surface. The potential for playing with the body horror aspect of rapid ageing alone could provide enough substance for an entire movie but Shyamalan never capitalises on the promise of the concept, simply hurrying from one shocking moment to the next. The body the group found turns to dust minutes later? No time for that, a 6 year-old has suddenly aged and become pregnant and… we’ve moved onto the next catastrophe.
M. Night seems so obsessed with cramming as many time-based ideas into the film as possible that nothing is given the time it needs to breathe and have an impact. That rapid pregnancy scene should be the highlight of the film: a tense build towards an ultimately tragic and painful outcome. Instead it lasts a total of four minutes in a two hour film. Time may be moving fast on the beach but there’s no reason that Shyamalan couldn’t have spent a little more to craft moments that feel earned.
Universal Studios, 2021
Then there’s the inevitable twist – no spoilers here – which really doesn’t alter the film at all other than allowing it to have some kind of half-baked conclusion. Shyamalan’s films have built this inherent audience expectation for twists over the years that the filmmaker now feels the need to have one, regardless of whether or not it works in the story. The information the twist provides here doesn’t enhance or detract from what we have already watched, instead putting it into a rather generic context that doesn’t clearly convey whatever half-baked message Shyamalan is shooting for, only raising more questions that are never answered.
Old is yet another misfire from M. Night Shyamalan that places concept above story, introducing an intriguing mystery that never lives up to its premise. Bad writing, bland characters and a lack of any truly inspired horror sequences overshadow any inventive camerawork that Shyamalan employs, wasting his cast of talented newcomers and veterans in search of the next rushed shock moment that fails to shock. You might go in thinking it can’t be that bad, but sooner or later you’ll be begging to join the poor souls trapped on the beach just to get through Old that little bit faster.
Universal Studios, 2021
Old stars Gael García Bernal, Vickey Krieps, Rufus Sewell, Alex Wolff, Thomasin McKenzie, Abbey Lee, Nikki Amuka-Bird, Ken Leung, Eliza Scanlen & Aaron Pierre – Coming to Digital, Blu-Ray and DVD soon.
Star Wars is in a strange place at the moment. One of the biggest film franchises of all time, the series has seen its movie endeavours come to a temporary halt after the disappointment of 2019’s sequel trilogy-capper The Rise of Skywalker, whilst its efforts in other mediums like The Mandalorian and video game Jedi: Fallen Order show that fans are desperate for more galactic adventures that feel different and take advantage of everything the wider world of Star Wars has to offer.
Disney+’s latest offering, Visions might just be the property’s most out-there Star Wars content to date, handing the treasured reigns over to seven Japanese animation studios and tasking them with crafting unique stories in the galaxy far, far away. The results are largely successful, with striking animation across the board drawing from all corners of classic to modern stylings, emotional, impactful stories and some of the best interpretations of those classic Star Wars elements since the original trilogy.
Rather than review the series as a whole, we’ve decided to tackle each episode individually, ultimately ranking them. Whilst you should definitely watch the entire show if you have the chance, if you are short on time or just looking to dip your toe into these anime interpretations of Star Wars then this is the way.
9. The Village Bride
Lucasfilm, 2021
While none of the Visions episodes are bad, The Village Bride is the least successful in coalescing its myriad of big ideas into something that works both as a story and an expansion of the Star Wars universe. Following rogue Jedi, F (Karen Fukuhara) who finds herself in the middle of a small village where tradition dictates a young girl must be handed over to separatist warlords as a protection payment, the episode simply tries to juggle too much; throwing cross-cultural commentary and an examination of nature on top of an otherwise unsurprising story.
Fukuhara tries her best to instill some life into proceedings through her voice work and there are attempts to flesh out F’s backstory but the character is too bland to win us over; the supporting characters too familiar and the story too safe to elicit much of a response from the audience.
8. T0-B1
Lucasfilm, 2021
On its face T0-B1 may appear eerily similar to Japanese cartoon icon Astro Boy, sporting a similarly stunning style of animation and a very child-friendly tone – almost like a Chibi version of Luke Skywalker. Couple this with a Pinnochio-esque story of a robotic boy who must fend for himself after his master his eliminated by a Sith lord and the short can feel a little throwaway. But as the story encroaches into darker territory on its way to delivering a fist-pumpingly heroic finale, its purpose becomes clearer. This is one of the most simple, purest forms of Star Wars storytelling and, for someone, it will potentially be their introduction to this world.
On that level, T0-B1 is successful in delivering that visceral Star Wars thrill of watching a character go from humble nobody to hero, all wrapped up in an incredibly stylish package. It might not be very dissimilar from Luke Skywalker’s story, but it is inspiring and enraptures you in the world of T0-B1, and to some young person out there, that might be enough to create a lifelong Star Wars fan.
7. Tatooine Rhapsody
Lucasfilm, 2021
Easily the most unique of all the stories told within Visions, Tatooine Rhapsody follows the exploits of Jay (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), an outcast Jedi following the fall of the Jedi Order who finds belonging within a band of miscreants, together forming a literal rock band. When their leader Geezer (Bobby Moynihan) is taken prisoner by Boba Fett (Temuera Morrison) and brought to Tatooine to fulfil a debt to iconic crime lord Jabba the Hutt, the band springs into action to rescue their bassist, endearing themselves to a whole new fanbase in the process.
The episode wins points on the strength of its premise alone, leaning into the weirdness that the galaxy has to offer and away from the conventional Jedi vs Sith storytelling that the rest of the series favours. It wears its anime influences on its sleeve; full of zany, over-the-top characters and larger-than-life musical moments, a lot of which will have you wincing from the cringe-inducing lyrics. If you can get past this however, you will be rewarded with a simple but touching story of friendship that offers a glimpse into the ground level stories of regular people within the galaxy.
6. Akakiri
Lucasfilm, 2021
An ode to a more old-school form of Japanese animation, Akakiri presents the stylish hand-drawn adventure of Jedi Tsubaki (Henry Golding), who returns to his childhood planet to aid long-lost love Misa (Jamie Chung) in recapturing the planet from Sith ruling. Traditional in its form as well as art-style, Akakiri is largely a road movie, following the pair and two goofy, overly superstitious guides (George Takei & Keone Young) as they travel across the planet and sneak into the Sith’s castle, narrowly avoiding capture at every turn.
The simple premise works thanks to terrific voice-acting, especially Takei and Young, who bring the most humour to the entire series with their oafish guides’ constant babbling about the events transpiring. Golding and Chung have excellent chemistry, their dialogue hinting at a complicated past, without the need to dig too deeply into it before a shocking ending twists the narrative on its head, unafraid to leave you without a happy resolution in favour of forcing you to think about the complex moral choices that are so often glossed over in Star Wars.
5. The Twins
Lucasfilm, 2021
The Twins could easily function as one of Marvel’s recent What If episodes, telling the story of a set of twins (not dissimilar from Luke and Leia) born through the Dark Side of the Force and tasked with subjecting the galaxy to their rule. One of these twins Karre (Neil Patrick Harris) defects from the pair’s evil plan, stealing a necessary component to a Death Star style weapon and sending sister Am (Alison Brie) into a blind rage, culminating with the siblings thrown into all-out war with each other.
On its face this is essentially “what if Leia went to the Dark Side” but what makes The Twins so fascinating to watch is the way it embraces the craziness of anime such as Dragon Ball Z and Gundam with a battle for the ages; full of explosions and over-the-top twists. A normal lightsaber fight? Try a robotic suit of six lightsaber whips against an entire X-Wing out in the vacuum of space. It is this total commitment to full-tilt insanity that makes the episode so enthralling, with each new development in the battle a showcase of the creativity and inventiveness that the franchise helped inspire in the first place.
4. Lop & Ochō
Lucasfilm, 2021
Another hand-drawn tale – this time from Japanese studio Geno – Lop & Ochō blends not only its in-episode worlds, with a small, heavily Japanese-influenced city overrun by an Imperial regime, but its story influences, drawing on the original trilogy’s fondness for found family storylines and the political overtures of the prequel trilogy to particularly potent effect. Alien slave Lop (Anna Cathcar voices the anthropomorphised rabbit) is rescued by Ochō (Hiromi Dames) and her village-leader father Yasaburo (Paul Nakauchi), and adopted into the family as a sister to Ochō, who is next in line to lead the clan. When an Imperial occupation divides the clan from within – with Ochō choosing to join the Empire in order to stave off her village’s destruction and Yasaburo opting to fight for their freedom – Lop is forced to step in to stop the Empire and reconcile her broken family.
The stakes are certainly epic in scope, but Lop & Ochō favours a more focused approach to the storytelling, detailing the ground level struggle of the village and the particularly tough situation it finds itself in: desperate to be free of Empire rule but unable to function without it thanks to years of resource mining. It’s a high concept wrapped up in the distinctly human struggle of Yasaburo’s clan and the emotional beats between the central trio hit home, despite the relatively short runtime. Lop, Ochō and Yasaburo are all given enough time to let their ideas breathe and you can understand each party’s viewpoints, making Lop’s ultimate decision that much more emotionally impactful, as only the the best Star Wars stories can be.
3. The Ninth Jedi
Lucasfilm, 2021
When young Jedi Ethan (Masi Oka) answers a mysterious beacon from the shadowy Juro (Andrew Kishino) offering him one of the ancient weapons of the Jedi – a lightsaber – he finds he is part of a large group of outcast Jedi who have answered the call. As the group debate over the true identity of their host, young Kara (Kimiko Glenn) is forced to go on the run after bounty hunters storm the house she shares with her father, murdering him in an attempt to steal the lightsabers he has created for Juro. Seeking shelter at the only other place she knows, Kara finds herself on a course to interrupting the Jedi’s gathering, with her arrival setting off an unpredictable chain of events.
The Ninth Jedi is one giant exercise in challenging iconic Star Wars preconceptions, steadily building tension towards a reveal that throws the audience for a loop but never feels like a cheap trick. Instead it invites us to look at how we view the franchise as a whole, at how we have been conditioned to think a certain way about how certain characters look or behave and how that behaviour pigeonholes them as a certain type of character. That might sound overly political or preachy but The Ninth Jedi never feels that way, with its slow burn of intrigue and action-packed side story intersecting in an explosive finale.
2. The Elder
Lucasfilm, 2021
A simple but extremely effective episode, The Elder focuses on a master Jedi and his Padawan as they investigate a disturbance on a nearby planet, plunging them into a deadly battle with an ancient Sith enemy. Immediately the animation grabs you; an intricately detailed and polished style that sets the scene for a more mature episode than what has come before. Once the duel swings into full effect it is stunning to behold: a dimly lit, rain-soaked affair brightened only by the vivid greens, reds and blues of the participants lightsabers, with fight choreography as impressive as many of the franchise’s best.
The relationship between Jedi’s Tajin (David Harbour) and his apprentice Dan (Jordan Fisher) will be instantly familiar to fans of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gonn’s bond in The Phantom Menace, creating an immediate connection to the characters that adds to the tension of the final showdown. It might not pack the heavy thematic notes of other episodes but The Elder is a fine example of how the fundamentals of Star Wars can create something engaging and investing without the need for complex worlds or backstory; how the choreography and movement of a fight alone can tell a compelling and gripping story.
1. The Duel
Lucasfilm, 2021
George Lucas has long spoken about the influences he drew on when creating Star Wars and like Lucas’ original films The Duel wears those influences of Japanese samurai culture and Westerns on its sleeves, combining them with a visually striking, black and white art style to create something wholly unique to the Star Wars canon. We follow our largely silent Ronin hero (Masaki Terasoma) as he wanders into a small village seeking shelter and sustenance. When a group of Stormtroopers, led by a mysterious Sith warrior, arrives to subjugate the village, a group of bounty hunters employed by the villagers bravely fight back unaware of the power of their Sith opponent. Overpowered and on the brink of the defeat, the village must place their faith in the shadowy Ronin to defend them.
As with the best Western stories, The Duel challenges the morality of its hero, not staying beholden to the dichotomy of Jedi and Sith as the episode presents the possibility of the Ronin being tuned to both the Dark and Light side of the Force. Visually he appears to be a Jedi, but as events unfold you understand that, unlike the art style, this world isn’t that black and white. Exploring the murkier underbelly of the Star Wars galaxy is something fans have long been clamouring for, and The Duel shows that Jedi and Sith exist without being wholly good or evil like heroes and villains of the past.
The visuals are, simply put, stunning; resembling a living painting with the way the line work of the hand-drawn style shifts as characters move. Vibrant blue laser bolts and vivid red beams of lightsabers pop against the muted background, creating scenes so visually stunning they could be hung as artwork. As the first episode in the anthology, The Duel is tasked with setting the tone for things to come and it succeeds the most in balancing all the elements at play, from the Anime craziness of the Sith’s umbrella lightsaber, the classically Japanese Ronin hero to an R2-D2-like droid that provides some much-needed humour. A perfect introduction to an exciting new chapter in Star Wars.
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Star Wars: Visionsstars Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Alison Brie, Neil Patrick Harris, Henry Golding, Jamie Chung, David Harbour, Jordan Fisher, Masi Oka, Kimiki Glenn, Anna Cathcar, Hiromi Dames, Paul Nakauchi, George Takei, Bobby Moynihan, Temuera Morrison & Karen Fukuhara – Streaming on Disney+ Now.
It may take saying his name five times to summon Candyman, but it only took his film franchise two mediocre sequels to seemingly spell his doom. That is until now, with Nia DaCosta’s sequel reviving the franchise in spectacularly bloody fashion. Retaining the original film’s moody, sullen tone, DaCosta has crafted a sequel that is sufficiently spine-tingling and gory whilst packing in enough biting indictment of the struggles of the African-American experience to really make an impact on the horror genre, rather than the hollow cash-grab it could have been. Favouring that social commentary instead of an all-out orgy of violence for its finale may leave some viewers wanting, but a star-making performance from Yahya Abdul-Mateen II ensures that Candyman’s revival is as glorious as it should be.
Taking a page from 2018’s Halloween reboot, Candyman acts as a direct follow-up to the first film, forgoing the mediocre sequels in favour of a story set 30 years after Helen Lyle’s tumultuous investigation into the urban legend of Candyman in the Chicago housing projects of Cabrini-Green. Here local artist Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) struggles to find inspiration for his next project, fixating on the local legend of Candyman and setting off on an investigation into his reign of terror that leads him to Burke (Colman Domingo), a local resident who considers himself an expert on the subject. As mysterious murders begin to mount around Anthony, he finds himself disconnecting from the world, experiencing strange visions of violence that drive a wedge between him and girlfriend Breanna (Teyonah Parris). As his obsession turns to fear, Anthony sets out on a desperate attempt to end the curse he feels he is under, but is it too late for his salvation?
Universal Pictures, 2021
Candyman has kills aplenty: throats slashed, innards spilled and limbs severed. The gore is sufficiently stomach churning for a modern horror film, but what sets it apart is the tone Nia DaCosta establishes – thanks in no small part to Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe’s chilling score – that ensures you are never truly comfortable as you watch. You might not be out of your mind terrified at all times but there is a constant dread lingering in the back of your mind that the Candyman may strike from anywhere. DaCosta wisely builds her big set-pieces around this, knowing when to hold back to build suspense and when to go balls-to-the-wall crazy.
In this same way she and co-writers Win Rosenfeld and Jordan Peele build the social commentary into the script: rarely loud and in your face, preferring that you make your own conclusions rather than holding your hand to find the social message at its centre. That message isn’t particularly subtle but it is powerful, the gentrification of the Chicago suburb of Cabrini-Green has always been at the heart of the Candyman story, and DaCosta presents a new perspective, questioning Anthony’s contribution to that very problem by purchasing a new apartment in the traditionally low-income suburb and his profiting off of the suffering of Candyman’s victims by way of his art. DaCosta digs a little deeper in her exploration of gentrification, with a discussion of art and the artist’s role in the social problem, but it is somewhat lost in the film’s larger commentary, with the powerful finale choosing to focus on the problem in a very literal way instead.
Universal Pictures, 2021
The star of the piece, however, is undoubtedly Yahya Abdul-Mateen II. He is simply impossible to turn away from, bringing a charisma and energy to Anthony that is fascinating to watch slowly chip away as Candyman’s influence spreads. Moments when he experiences these dream-like states of unawareness are incredibly unsettling to watch, as Abdul-Mateen II’s eyes slowly lose focus, with DaCosta often choosing to shoot him looking directly at camera, as if Candyman is lingering over your very shoulder. Whilst more time could have been spent developing the relationship between Anthony and Parris’ Breanna, particularly the complicated dynamic between partners and gallery owner/artist, this is a minor gripe and a testament to the strength of the performances that you want to spend more time with these characters. Parris’ character isn’t the focus for much of the film but still gets some standout moments, easily conveying the pure terror she experiences through widened eyes alone.
Nia DaCosta clearly has a lot of love for the 1992 original Candyman, linking Anthony’s story to Helen’s in genuinely surprising ways and maintaining a tone that feels consistent with that film but which still manages to be its own dread-filled beast, with social commentary that is smart and biting, but never enough to draw the attention away from Candyman himself, who is represented here in a truly spine chilling way. Yahya Abdul-Mateen II’s performance is a standout in a year full of horror standouts, a haunting examination of one man succumbing to obsession and the dark forces it brings with it. You might not be able to utter his name in front of the mirror more than once, but you’ll be dying to see Candyman again and again.
Universal Pictures, 2021
Candyman stars Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Teyonah Parris, Nathan Stewart-Jarrett & Colman Domingo – In cinemas now.
