film reviews, interviews, features | BRWC

Author: Matt Conway

  • The Courier: The BRWC Review

    The Courier: The BRWC Review

    The Courier Synopsis: The true story of British businessman Greville Wynne (Benedict Cumberbatch), who was unwittingly recruited into one of the greatest international conflicts in history. Forming an unlikely partnership with Soviet officer Oleg Penkovsky(Merab Ninidze), the two men work together to provide the crucial intelligence used to defuse the Cuban Missile Crisis.

    Arriving into theaters long after its 2020 Sundance debut (originally titled Ironbark, the film was one of many affected by COVID-19), Dominic Cooke’s latest The Courier displays a shameless adoration for old-school, cloak-and-dagger espionage features. While somewhat mannered in its final form, Cooke’s nonpartisan exploration of a historical footnote delivers within its subdued frequency.

    Cooke and screenwriter Tom O’Conner parse through stuffy historical conventions to find a genuine camaraderie at the film’s center. Rather than forcing a truncated recap down audiences’ throats, the two wisely zero their focus towards the shared sacrifices partaken by Greville and Oleg. The kinship between the two radiates throughout the runtime, with both wrestling with their world-saving duties while somehow trying to keep their enigmatic lives afloat (their duplicitous existence forces them to lie to their loved ones). O’Conner’s screenplay thoughtfully distributes dimensions to both figures, ignoring overly-politicized trappings to convey the humanity behind their sacrifices.

    The material’s poignant center allows both stars to show off their capabilities. Benedict Cumberbatch has certainly had more publicized performances, but the British stalwart offers some of his finest work to date as the reluctant Greville. Cumberbatch unleashes Greville’s sharp comedic tongue with bubbly charm while still keeping the figure’s internal strifes as the central focus. His partner-in-crime Merab Ninidze is easily the film’s breakout story as Oleg. After a career as an overlooked background player, Ninidze’s subdued disclosures of Oleg’s mounting circumstances strike a powerful chord. Both actors also share palpable chemistry within their mirrored roles, often relaying the character’s caring sentiments without much in terms of dialogue.

    As the characters are trapped in a state of constant paranoia, Dominic Cooke’s exuberant direction finds visceral pulses to magnify their subconscious unease. Cooke packs a bevy of formal techniques (the score plays like a low-rent version of John Williams’ soaringly Spielbergian efforts), but he and cinematographer Sean Bobbitt subvert the traditionalist format with their own visual edge. The duo skillfully range between swift camera movements and intimately-framed reveals, baking a sense of distrust within every shadowy figure lurking around the corners.

    The Courier works as a refreshing revival of the espionage genre, but I can’t ignore the deeper potentially left untapped. Cooke and O’Conner occasionally lose their narrative amidst their fixation on spinning an engaging yarn, leaving aside interesting thematic wrinkles in favor of straight-forward entertainment. I wish the duo were able to ruminate deeper with the character’s internal strifes, particularly within the ways patriotic obligations go deeper than a country’s care for an individual.

    For what it attempts, The Courier delivers on its promises of refined crowd-pleasing fare. I am glad this title is getting a spotlight after spending a year on the shelf, and I hope it finds an agreeable audience during its theatrical run.

    The Courier debuts in theaters on March 19th.

  • Nicholas Jarecki: Crisis Interview

    Nicholas Jarecki: Crisis Interview

    I was lucky to have a sit-down with writer/director Nicholas Jarecki. Jarecki broke out into the mainstream with his 2012 film Arbitrage, which became one of the few titles to enjoy a mutually-successful theatrical/VOD release. After a lengthy break, Jarecki is back on the big-screen with Crisis, a film that takes a deep-dive into the ongoing opioid epidemic.

    Jarecki and I discussed his latest film, the evolving changes occurring in the industry today, and even the current state of film criticism. Check out the interview, along with a few excerpts from my review of Crisis earlier last month.

    “In the vein of ambitious social dramas like Disconnected and Crash, Crisis orchestrates three distinct arcs to ruminate on the cynical beasts behind the evolving drug epidemic. This Hollywood-ized depiction boasts a few limitations, but Jarecki exhibits prowess operating in the confines of your standard-issue dramatic thriller.

    As a craftsman, Jarecki continues to operate with self-assured poise behind the camera. He presses all the right buttons to elicit tense discomfort, skillfully blending Raphael Reed’s pulsating score with Nicolas Bolduc’s thoughtful visual pallet (the usage of neon lighting in dimly-lit areas sets a fittingly grimy aesthetic). Jarecki also displays a tactful touch when it comes to heavier dramatic frames. His reserved presentation allows the actor’s emotive portrayals to take center stage without utilizing tacky gimmicks. In a climate where grounded adult thrillers rarely receive the time of day, it’s nice to see the writer/director repurposing familiar genre devices within his contemporary subject matter.

    Crisis doesn’t break new ground with its timely subject matter, but credit to Jarecki for still spinning an engaging yarn for audiences to invest in. I hope we see him back on the screen sooner than last time, as he’s a promising voice with a confident hold on potentially-combustible issues.”

  • Zack Snyder’s Justice League: The BRWC Review

    Zack Snyder’s Justice League: The BRWC Review

    Zack Snyder’s Justice League Synopsis: Determined to ensure Superman’s ultimate sacrifice was not in vain, Bruce Wayne aligns forces with Diana Prince with plans to recruit a team of metahumans to protect the world from an approaching threat of catastrophic proportions. The film is a recontextualization of the 2017 original, serving as a director’s cut of Zack Snyder’s planned version.

    Zack Snyder’s time in the DC Universe has starkly reflected the strengths and blemishes surrounding his trademark style. Considering the superhero genre’s largely homogenized approach towards blockbuster thrills, many have been divided by Snyder’s dour, character-driven lens towards DC’s roster of fan-favorites. Personally, I am a fan of what the lighting-rod director constructed with Man of Steel and Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice. Both films are too bloated for their own good, but they thoughtfully explore their super-powered protagonists with more vulnerability and nuance than their genre peers.

    After the Frankenstein-esque outing that was 2017’s Justice League (few studio releases have felt as disconnected and dull), Snyder has been gifted the opportunity to finish what he started. His completed work, a 4-hour behemoth entitled Zack Snyder’s Justice League, lumbers towards release with several imperfections still intact from its disastrous predecessor. Through all the production headaches, Snyder’s infectiously sincere redux comes together in a satisfying team-up movie.

    Let’s start with the noticeable improvements from the 2017 film. Where that film was a structural nightmare (the first hour was a series of exposition dumps), Snyder composes a sense of flow and coherency that was sorely missing. The elongated length allows patient introductions for new characters like Flash and Cyborg while still tying up narrative loose ends from previous DC films. Warner Brother’s decision to rush into a Justice League film still leaves some character-building undefined (Batman’s arc from jaded anti-hero to optimist seemingly happens offscreen), but Snyder cobbles together enough flashes to give these personas some life.

    Ray Fisher’s Cyborg is rewarded the most noticeable upgrade of the bunch. A few sequences of spell-binding backstory (including a slow-mo football scene that left me dreaming for Snyder to direct a sports movie) unearth thoughtful textures from the character’s solemn persona. Fisher’s subdued performance carries the character’s baggage with emotional impact while the rest of the star-studded cast benefit from having additional rapport-building scenes (Jason Momoa’s Aquaman and Ezra Miller’s Flash share some cheeky interplay).

    Snyder’s vision isn’t only more cohesive from a narrative perspective. His tonal approach remains consistent with BVS and Man of Steel’s gravely deliveries, a fact that will likely not convince his detractors to change their tunes. As a fan of his previous work, I admire the continuation of Snyder’s brooding edge. His superhero films have been some of the more humanistic the genre has seen, with his characters ultimately toiling with deeply-seated pains under the guise of bombastic violence (Wonder Woman, Cyborg, and Batman grip with grief while Aquaman and Flash search for a sense of self-identity). The attention to development shows Snyder’s adoration for his subjects, seeing his caped-fighting heroes as more than blank action figures.

    That’s not to say Snyder’s film is bereft of the genre’s blockbuster allures. Aside from a few spotty moments of CGI overload (the addition of CGI blood isn’t particularly warranted), the film’s setpieces often dazzle with creativity and excitement. Snyder and cinematographer Fabian Wagner have a knack for eliciting powerful hero moments from a wave of fight sequences. The duo cleverly implements Snyder’s mythologization of American superhero lore throughout the runtime, often capturing his heroic subjects’ sacrifices with poeticism and thoughtful allusions.

    Even with noticeable improvements, Zack Snyder’s Justice League still operates under a faulty foundation. Snyder’s vision reads like a logjam of ideas at times, bloating itself with a melody of teases and narrative devices that ultimately go nowhere. The central plot mechanics here are as tired as you can get (why do all of these superhero films revolve around random boxes), while some of Snyder’s attempts at poignancy still ring with an overworked hollowness. It all concludes with an awkward sizzle reel finale where Snyder empty’s his bucket of fandom homages without much coherence (Leto is fine in his famed return, but the scene goes nowhere).

    Zack Snyder’s Justice League is a wholly imperfect beast, but one that soars with its share of open-hearted merits. While Snyder endures countless critiques, his daring,swing-to-the-fences dreams will always have a passionate audience.

    Zack Snyder’s Justice League will premier on HBO Max on March 18th.

  • City Of Lies: The BRWC Review

    City Of Lies: The BRWC Review

    City of Lies Synopsis: Los Angeles Police Department detective Russell Poole (Johnny Depp) has spent years trying to solve his biggest case – the murders of The Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac Shakur – but after two decades, the investigation remains open. Jack Jackson (Forest Whitaker), a reporter desperate to save his reputation and career, is determined to find out why. In search of the truth, the two team up and unravel a growing web of institutional corruption and lies.

    Lost amidst a wave of controversy and delays (the background may be crazier than the movie itself), the long-awaited detective drama City of Lies is finally seeing the light of day after spending nearly three years on the shelf. Director Brad Furman constructs a capable procedural piece around his resonate story, but his feature lacks the dynamism and brains to convey the case’s deeper connotations.

    City of Lies’ general competence does make it a marketed improvement over other delayed titles (looking at you Chaos Walking). Furman continues to excel as a sturdy craftsman of procedural narratives (Lincoln Lawyer and The Infiltrator), establishing a grimey visual aesthetic to match his hard-hitting setting. His film has a distinct sense of place, creating a sense of tense unease with dangers and distrust lurking around every dimly-lit street corner.

    The film’s central stars also live up to their pedigree. Johnny Depp’s subdued take is a welcomed change-up from his typically theatric work, while Forrest Whitaker adds some much-needed gravitas to his boilerplate journalist role. When the two characters are actually allowed to connect onscreen, their easy-going rapport displays sparks of humanity under the duo’s obsessive tendencies (both are kindred spirits in a way, dedicating their livelihoods to accomplish goals few others believe in).

    Furman’s film boasts a promising nucleus. It’s just a shame that much of the film’s delivery settles for the bare minimum. Christian Contreras’s adaptation of Randall Sullivan’s factual novel loses itself amidst a myriad of detective jargon. Instead of analyzing any of the integral throughlines surrounding this case (take your pick between the racial divide sprouted from the Rodney King riots to the police corruption permeating throughout the department), Contreras’s script operates more like a tired CSI episode. The narrative also lacks a perspective on the case itself, tiredly traversing through the true story’s motions without personifying the events within a finite thesis (Tupac and Biggie have no presence, only being shown to be killed off).

    City of Lies ultimately offers little to latch onto. Depp and Whittaker raise the material’s floor, but their thinly-written characters are too thankless to keep the narrative afloat. Attempts to shift towards character building only offer a series of melodramatic devices, as neither Poole nor Jackson evolve into fully-developed people outside of their shared responsibilities. After the film reveals its hand an hour in, the rest of the bloated runtime sleepwalks through melodrama before reaching its flat conclusion.

    Fans of procedural dramas may find some appeals within the film’s straight-forward approach, but City of Lies’ lack of identity will leave most with a stilted and blandly-flavored effort.

  • Kid 90: Review

    Kid 90: Review

    Kid 90 Synopsis: As a teenager in the ’90s, Punky Brewster star Soleil Moon Frye carried a video camera everywhere she went. She documented hundreds of hours of footage and then locked it away for over 20 years…until now.

    Intimately exploring the coming-of-age experience for famed child stars, Soleil Moon Frye’s new documentary Kid 90 takes an in-depth look at the group’s growing pains through the lens of restored archive footage. While Frye’s film doesn’t develop the most substantive thesis, her relics from a bygone era effectively speak towards the media’s maligned magnification of personal struggles.

    Splicing recovered footage with reflections from a few former stars (David Arquette, Stephen Dorff, Mark-Paul Gosselaar, and Frye among others), Kid 90 presents a potent form for thoughtful discourse. Frye’s imperfect recordings are a spell-binding inclusion, providing an inside-baseball perspective from the grainy viewpoint of personal cameras. These revealing frames speak volumes about the child-star experience, often capturing the meteoric highs and deflating lows during the formative adolescent years (there’s an infectious allure to the footage’s makeshift visuals, transporting viewers through its prism of ’90s culture).

    Frye deserves praise for her ability to engage with the topic’s deeper connotations. The actress-turned-filmmaker analyzes her personal journey from an enlightened perspective, deconstructing the ways her adolescent mind couldn’t construed fame’s lurking dangers. Formative years are challenging enough, but under the eye of media frenzy, the intensified growing pains become reflexive of grander dynamics.

    Kid 90 delves into the media’s troubling over-sexualization of Frye’s developing years, using her struggles to articulate the neglected mental tolls facing her and other stars of her era. It’s often heartbreaking to witness the byproduct of the stars’ commodified personas. Frye’s film works as an able depiction of these dynamics while providing an empathetic tribute to the forgotten souls lost along the way (the number of deaths is heartbreaking and truly eye-opening to witness).

    I support Frye for her well-intended efforts, but her filmmaking approach leaves some room for refinement. The meshing of footage with perspective interviews isn’t as effective as it could be, with several of the interviews spelling out points that the archives relay with more tact and impact. I also don’t think Frye builds her intriguing conceits enough. The truncated 72-minute runtime ultimately proves too slight to create a full-fledged look at her subjects.

    Kid 90 shines where it counts though, with Soleil Moon Frye crafting an impassioned look in an overlooked cultural facet.

    Kid 90 is available now on Hulu