1. Napoleon (2023, Ridley Scott)
2. The Zone of Interest (2023, Jonathan Glazer)
3. The Killer (2023, David Fincher)
4. Barbie (2023, Greta Gerwig)
5. Saltburn (2023, Emerald Fennell)
6. Coup de Chance (2023, Woody Allen)
7. Beau Is Afraid (2023, Ari Aster)
8. Priscilla (2023, Sofia Coppola)
9. Asteroid City (2023, Wes Anderson)
10. May December (2023, Todd Haynes)
I didn’t know anything about Emerald Fennell before Promising Young Woman (2020), and I still don’t really. But I went to see Promising Young Woman in the theater and I’m glad I did, because I’m still like fascinated by it. I’m impossible though. Like even though I’ve vehemently sworn off David O. Russell I’m now drawn back to Joy (2015) because I can’t help but be—it shouldn’t work but that makes me like it even more.
Saltburn (2023, Emerald Fennell, 1.33:1) is a toxic comedy of manners class conscious morality satire chamber piece that takes a familiar premise, then subsequently takes our notions of whom we might empathize with, what feelings we associate with doing so, what judgements we might form about them, and then mischievously plays a trick on us.
Most of the time I don’t think movies have messages. But Saltburn is excused. Whether I could articulate this message or not (I’m not gonna try because I don’t wanna spoiler), it stayed with me long after leaving the theater. My two favorite things about Saltburn are the decadence fantasy-wish fulfillment and the cast, but especially Rosamund Pike and Richard E. Grant.
The decadence exists both at Oxford and Saltburn manor. And it’s dark in both instances. At school we care about the kids. But at Saltburn it’s how eccentric the entire family and staff are that makes it so enjoyable. The progression of the narrative always had me uneasy wondering where exactly this whole thing was going, and that intrigue is crucial to its thriller aspect. And as far as its style, I could think of many comparisons that I could make, but why bother?
11/21/2023 AMC Phipps Plaza 14
Atlanta, GA
DCP
Ridley Scott is at his best with Gladiator (2000) and Kingdom of Heaven (2005). It’s like when some say how by the 60s the collapse of the studio system was due to the bloated, big budget historical spectacle period piece costume dramas that Scott found a way to revive them in something like the sexy ultraviolent almost like where Verhoeven seemed to be headed throughout the 80s-90s way, but Scott adds his own boyish sense of adventure and morality to them. Heaven is one of my favorite movies. It’s proof for me that a Hollywood historical war and romance epic can clock a nimble 3 hours and never drag. Unlike, say, Killers of the Flower Moon (2023, Martin Scorsese), which feels oppressively slow and neither the romance nor the violence are we meant to enjoy; it’s as if that movie is like a master forcing us to be held next to our own shit and suffer its stink because we made a mess on the rug.
Other than Heaven the only other Hollywood movie I can think of that’s so much fun is the Napoleonic wars set 3hr 28min War and Peace (1956, King Vidor). I can watch that movie, or even just jump in anywhere, and find that perfect blend of entertainment I'm always in the mood for. Vidor’s epic revels in its untethered freedom from adhering too closely to either Tolstoy or history. And like Gladiator and Heaven it’s fun, not to be taken too seriously, and has that boyish sense of heroism.
Napoleon (2023, Ridley Scott) has got a boyish sense of villainy. As a biopic, we get less of a sense of frivolity than either Gladiator or Heaven. But what we do get is an oil on canvas where light can be a thing of beauty.
And the battle scenes, especially the Battle of Austerlitz, command a formidable victory of epic spectacle. There’s something surgical about the staging of the battles, immaculate, precise, and horrifying. Napoleon reminds us that movies were supposed to have been made to be shown in a theater. Napoleon as a film is also less fodder for popcorn, plot and characters than it is one man’s bloody, unwieldy sense of ambition. We’re certainly in the era for those. This movie is cold, so cold—and I love it.
11/21/2023 AMC Madison Yards 8
Atlanta, GA
DCP
You would think May December (2023, Todd Haynes) is Sirkian melodrama, right? It has persecution from society, traditional feminine domestic roles/space, and the self-reflexive construct of artifice throughout. But it’s not entirely so, because it doesn’t seek to tear your heart out in that overly effusive attack on your emotions kind of way. And that’s why Todd Haynes is so good at doing his own thing—beautiful perfect make believe little dioramas where the character is just a little deranged enough to be fun but still hold up a mirror to show us ourselves.
And because I love Todd Haynes so much, I love Julianne Moore as GRACIE. It’s through Gracie the film is able to achieve its fundamental moral ambiguity. And if you’re open to trying hard enough to not merely discount her as crazy, you could begin to appreciate the strengths that contrast her weaknesses, and how the dreams of being happy contrast her nightmare reprehensible behaviors. Yeah sure, this is in fact a triangle protagonist thing and I should care about Natalie Portman as ELIZABETH and Charles Melton as JOE, but really I only care about Gracie.
Okay I know maybe I have a problem with decoding symbolism. But I can’t resist here the temptation to just sketch out: think about Joe gently nurturing butterflies from chrysalis to monarch; Elizabeth choosing a snake, a “kind that doesn’t bite,” to play her Gracie; against Gracie prowling the forest flanked by her 2 hunting dogs, with a shotgun, stalking an array of cute furry little woodland innocents.
The genre of May December should be called something like elevated melodrama. Or, I’d like even better something like arthouse melodrama, specifically because of the way it uses a Michel Legrand cue from The Go-Between (1971, Joseph Losey) much in the way Paranoid Park (2007, Gus Van Sant) uses the Nino Rota excerpt from Juliet of the Spirits (1965, Federico Fellini). The way that Legrand theme is used constantly shifts the tone of or our interpretation of shots. The biggest one maybe is right when the movie starts and there’s a slow zoom on Gracie lamenting they might not have enough hot dogs and the devastating music cue tells us maybe this is more tragic to her than we know? Or maybe this movie is disconnecting us from the melodrama code to get us to think about the art? Or maybe this movie is hilarious? Whatever it is, it’s fun too.
The setting is one of the factors contributing to another great strength in May December, which is how original this material feels and allows us to forget that real life story it vaguely resembles. (I know this is irrelevant but I love Savannah and when Elizabeth interviews Gracie’s ex at that coffee shop I freaked out because in real life it’s Gallery coffee shop and I always go there as much as I can I love it.) When they mention living on an island (more symbolism in the vein of Sirk) it’s gotta be Tybee, and, uh, how can I put this, mostly people with money live there and it’s kind of uh, quaint—perfect. Also yes, the downtown Savannah stuff is gorgeous. But that night exterior where there happens to be a tour conducted in the background where we overhear snippets of anecdotal history gruesome details of a hanging told almost like it’s a fun fact is bonkers.
May December is about each of its 3 main characters, and too nuanced and balanced for it to be worth me trying to outline. I see their flaws as much as I empathize with them. They’re all too human. And it’s as much a trashy tabloid premise as it is an elegantly executed prestige woman’s picture.
10/17/2023 Landmark Midtown Art Cinema
Atlanta, GA
DCP
The Virgin Suicides (1999) 1.66:1, Lost in Translation (2003) 1.85:1, Marie Antoinette (2006) 1.85:1, Somewhere (2010) 1.85:1, The Bling Ring (2013) 1.85:1, The Beguiled (2017) 1.66:1
In Priscilla (2023, Sofia Coppola) 1.85:1, the inserts are better than the movie. But it totally works to its strength. In this film setting is everything. And Graceland is Versailles. But the inserts; period authentic jars of Noxzema, Chanel no. 5, mascara in one assorted on a bathroom counter; in another, an airplane ticket on Pan-Am; porcelain miniature figurines in another; this is the film. We even get a montage where it all culminates in this connecting notably Sofia Coppola's longtime passion for Polaroids and it clicking this is probably the time they were first introduced into the market. Coppola curates the details of the setting as would be featured in a magazine, or adorning a bedroom wall, or a scrapbook. It’s who she is. It’s her artistic identity.
And as in most of her movies, her perspective is that of a young woman embarking on something like a fairytale exploration of a world of decadence, fame, and idealized romance that upon proving illusory allow her to become empowered and glimpse the kind of wisdom wrought through hard-earned life experience. In Priscilla it’s all so gorgeously quaint. Priscilla is an object. She’s Elvis’ idealization of a teenbride who only exists to be there for him to cuddle when he’s lonely, dress up, make-up, and do her hairstyles how he wants, and keep her in a dollhouse—she’s his Barbie. And here’s where it begins to become apparent that in this dream of make-believe the princess is just any ordinary girl, which is to say she could be any ordinary girl. And in her own way, Coppola tells the story she wants and has the immensely talented aptitude to understand that it’s not her burden to tell this as a documentary.
Sofia Coppola cinematically builds Priscilla through ephemeral, poignant moments of contemplative melancholy. There’s never anything melodramatic about the way she treats the material. The hues are soft and diffuse, as is the atmos—mist instead of shadows.
Priscilla is also a film where the 60s pop songs become this kind of alchemy collage. But the original score is also this percussion-based lullaby xylophones, celesta, or something like I don’t know: bells, glass, chimes, music box pretty, delicate, and soft like everything else in the movie.
This film isn’t detached from the heart of its protagonist. Yet there does seem to be something indicative of a distance between the life she wanted (and we want for her) and the one she gets (and the version of it Coppola has made into a movie). Coppola is so confident in her perspective that the artifice of it knowingly depicts the world used to ultimately define the characters she’s created. And through this it is then a matter of familiarizing ourselves with the cold inescapable maze of what’s left out as key to these truthful renditions. And it does help that Priscilla throws in just enough details you probably aren’t familiar with or don’t see coming to make it that much more fun.
11/03/2023 AMC Madison Yards 8
Atlanta, GA
DCP