film reviews, interviews, features | BRWC

Author: Matt Conway

  • Made In Italy: Review

    Made In Italy: Review

    Some projects can elicit a more cathartic experience for actors than others, with Liam Neeson’s latest endeavor Made in Italy being a prime example of a star gravitating towards material that resonates on a deeply intimate level (Neeson stars alongside his own son Micheal Richardson). Despite its stars’ connection to the film’s premise (they lost their respective wife and mother Natasha Richardson back in 2009), Made in Italy fails to register a notable impression.

    Made in Italy follows Jack (Richardson) an art exhibitor whose in the midst of a divorce that threatens to take away his gallery. To buy his gallery back, Jack and his accomplished, yet distant painter father Robert (Neeson) travel to Tuscany to sell the home they inherited from the family’s deceased matriarch. In the process of repairing their former home, the two are confronted by their lingering demons as they try to repair their disconnected relationship.

    Unsurprisingly, Neeson and Richardson make for a compelling pair onscreen. After playing an onslaught of straight-edged action heroes, its refreshing to watch Neeson tap into a damaged persona as a jaded artist. Bringing Robert to life with a gravely aloof charm, Neeson embraces the character’s wry presence while unearthing genuine pains seamlessly. Richardson also offers a strong effort as everyman Jack, infusing the character’s familiar framework with agency and emotional depth. Made in Italy is at its best when it allows its stars to explore the deeply-seated pains behind its premise, with the third act packing some moving instances of reflection and growth for our lead characters.

    Given the actor’s unique perspective on the film’s ruminations, it’s baffling to see how little James D’Arcy’s script engages with its dramatic ideals. Much of the first two acts ignores dramatic beats to fixate on cloying indie cliches, whether that be a thinly-written relationship dynamic or a plethora of forced comedic bits that fail to land (numerous jokes made about the house’s decaying state felt more appropriate for a family comedy.) It doesn’t help that D’Arcy’s directorial debut fails to interject a personable voice to enhance these trappings, relying on a preppy score and passable imagery to begrudgingly push the narrative forward.

    It’s a letdown that Made in Italy’s auspicious nucleus renders a paper-thin exploration of grief and familial detachment. The third act offers glimpses of painful truths, including a confrontational moment between Jack and Robert that sings with honesty and emotional heft. However, D’Arcy’s screenplay ends up feeling too inert to convey the character’s sizable open-wounds, wrapping up its plot threads in a clean fashion that largely betrays the film’s core ideals. It all reads as far too safe, going through the narrative motions rather than intimately digging deep into the character’s turmoil.

    While admittedly pleasant, Made in Italy’s milquetoast delivery severely undercuts its promising set-up.

  • Spree: The BRWC Review

    Spree: The BRWC Review

    Debuting at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, Spree is the latest dark comedy to set its sights on our social media-obsessed culture, zeroing in on the influencers who make a living displaying their “authentic” lives to rabid followers. While the film’s satirical spin may not offer intricate nuances to the subject matter, it delivers a breathless thrill ride with a deliciously sinister spin.

    Spree follows Kurt Kunkle (Joe Keery), a wannabe influencer who’s spent years of his life striving for fame. Dissatisfied with his progress, Kurt sets a plan to draw new viewers in from his job as a ride-share driver, with his obsession for attention leading down a deadly path.

    While many are likely to compare Spree to other psychotic thrillers (Nightcrawler, American Psycho, and Joker come to mind), this film thankfully develops its own voice from its familiar trappings. Indie craftsman Eugene Kotlyarenko pushes the envelope with a pulsating sense of tension and pace, embracing a handheld camerawork style that fittingly encapsulates its subject matter while being conveyed with aplomb technical ability (genuinely happy to see the long-awaited revival of the found footage subgenre, with the film featuring a succinct combination of phone, dashboard, and security cameras that never feels gimmicky). Spree’s relentless 93 minute running time rarely lets up, portraying Kurt’s dizzying mission by properly escalating the mania at hand.

    For as twisted Spree gets, Kotlyarenko’s script never forgets its finite sense of purpose. His searing portrait of the social media generation aptly criticizes the vapid behavior that drives people, observing how many promote themselves for clicks and followers over substantive dynamics. A well-incorporated satirical bend often mines laugh-out-loud moments from these portrayals, as Kotlyarenko flexes an astute understanding of how our culture operates (most the biggest laughs come from the minute details, whether it’s Kurt’s testing vapes in his try-hard vlogs or his bizarre EDM SoundCloud playlist).

    The comedic first half quickly turns dour as Kurt’s victims expand past cringe-worthy millennial types, with the writer/director thankfully taking to task the deplorable extremes many undertake to reach worldwide fame. I particularly enjoyed the film’s criticism of self-entitled loners who blame their failures on the world around them, serving as a prime reflection of the white privilege that motivated several recent mass murders. These tonalities could feel desperate in the wrong hands, yet Joe Keery’s energetic performance ties the material together seamlessly. As Kurt, Keery unearths a demented lust for attention that’s always grounded in a sense of humanity, never allowing the character to drift into caricature territory.

    Spree is always captivating to watch, yet I can’t help feeling some of its dramatic potential was left untapped. Kotlyarenko’s script can read as sanctimonious at times, spelling out its intended message with third act speeches that have the characters turn into ciphers for the screenwriter. I also wish the film did more to give Kurt’s character an arc, with a quick opening montage failing to display his transition from an earnest creator to a deranged killer (it’s clear the character is a byproduct of his conditions, but those elements come off as mere window dressing).

    Spree’s abrasive style offers a darkly alluring condemnation of influencer culture driven by a career-best performance from Joe Keery. 

  • Host: The BRWC Review

    Host: The BRWC Review

    Tapping into the limitless potential of cyber technology, several modern horror films have embraced our new tech wave with inventive results. Efforts like Unfriended and Searching have glued audiences into the normalized view of computer screens, utilizing our habitual web searches as a canvas for lurking scares to be unleashed. While those films showed promise in their experimental nature, Shudder’s latest horror film Host is the first offering to mine potent scares from its lo-fi premise.

    Set during the current COVID-19 pandemic, Host follows six friends who decide to bond by performing a seance over Zoom. What was supposed to be an adventurous journey turns sinister when one of the friends tells a fake story about a dead acquaintance, which births an unknown entity that wreaks havoc on the call.

    Director Rob Savage accomplishes an impressive feat with his minimalist, made in quarantine horror outing. The amount of preparation to make this production run smoothly was exhaustive (Savage had to coordinate the scares from afar while teaching his cast a variety of stunt techniques), yet none of those challenges appear in the final product. The naturalism Savage creates is an essential asset to the atmosphere built here, grounding his narrative in our current zeitgeist with a seamless effect. The dialogue flows naturally without feeling overwritten, while the unheralded cast offers convincing performances as an accustomed group of friends.

    Host succeeds most at delivering the unpretentious thrills that horror fans crave. A truncated 56 minute run time allows for the director to trim the fat and focus on developing a sense of unease from the jump, building a lingering sense of dread that bursts once the set pieces are released. Utilizing a refreshing amount of ingenious practical effects, the scares land with stellar results. Savage’s mixture of creative design work and pertinent timing allows these frames to hit with more impact than most mainstream horror outings, displaying the makeshift spirit that makes the genre so beloved.

    Host does a lot to impress, yet it’s clear there’s still some room for refinement. Gemma Hurley, Jed Shepard, and Savage’s screenplay sticks to horror conventions with their supernatural premise, never discovering a fresh direction to take the narrative in. What the film misses deeply is a substantive core, lacking a level of depth that would have made the uneasy horror moments resonate on a grander level (the current-day setting seems like a missed opportunity). Given the circumstances though, it’s an achievement to create a fully-formed film, let alone one with Host’s level of craftsmanship.

    Delivering a mixture of creativity and ingenuity to the horror genre, Host marks a promising debut from director Ron Savage.  

  • The Informer: Review

    The Informer: Review

    Crime thrillers are a dime a dozen, with audiences likely to find a handful of disposable entries stuffed at the bottom of a local bargain bin. That isn’t to say the genre lacks an innate charm, with its best entries offering a pulsating tension that throttles forward an unpredictable narrative (Good Time and Widows are some of my recent favorites). The latest in the genre’s lineage The Informer doesn’t amplify its tried and true framework, but the film compensates by offering a sturdily crafted experience.

    The Informer follows Pete Koslow (Joel Kinnaman), an ex-convict serving as an undisclosed informant for Agent Wilcox (Rosamund Pike). In his efforts to bust a Polish gang, a New York police officer is killed, leading to Detective Grens (Common) hotly following Pete’s trail. The gang’s leader decides to send Pete to back his old prison to push drugs, leaving him in a desperate situation for survival as he tries to figure out who he can trust.

    As the premise would leave you to believe, The Informer generates a web of revolving plot threads that could be convoluted in the wrong hands. Writer/director Andrea Di Stefano (who collaborated on the script with Matt Cook and Rowan Joffe) properly allows these interwoven arcs to develop and work in tandem, economically trimming the fat by thrusting audiences straight into its dog-eats-dog world. Where most low-budget efforts like this would try to sprinkle in constant action to excite audiences, Di Stefano trusts his material and allows its engaging twist and turns to be the central focus. The script is self-aware in its core pursuit of genre entertainment, with Di Stefano’s sure-handed direction pushing the pace forward in a fittingly relentless manor.

    It helps that The Informer is propped up by a strong veteran cast. Joel Kinnaman imbues enough humanity to make his straight-laced lead pop on the screen, carrying the weight of the character’s conflicted state on his sturdy shoulders. Few actors are able to infuse a cooler than cool presence into roles like Common, delivering some much-needed gravitas to what would be a thankless role in other hands. Whether its Rosamund Pike, Clive Owen, or Ana de Armas, each performer plays the material straight and enhances it through their sheer ability.

    The Informer rarely takes a major misstep, but it also fails to spice up its customary design. Di Stefano’s no-nonsense approach leads to a serious dearth of character development, with the script never quite maximizing the emotionality of Pete’s duplicitous lifestyle (the work of Michael Mann is a great example of how this can be done in an equally profound and subdued manor). The film also is lacking its own voice behind the camera, with a standard-issue shot selection rendering a product that’s more akin to a well-produced TV pilot.

    What The Informer lacks in innovation, the workmanlike thriller more than makes up for with its sound craftsmanship.

  • Yes, God, Yes: Review

    Yes, God, Yes: Review

    Many films adhere to the indie coming of age formula, making it exceedingly rare for even a pleasant project to transcend the genre’s normative qualities (I Used to Go Here being a prime example). A few delightful surprises do find their way to cinemas though, including the latest adolescent comedy Yes, God, Yes. Written and performed with a keen sensibility and emotional authenticity, the film ranks as one of the summer’s most rewarding achievements.

    Based on a short film set in the early 2000s (from the same writer/director and star), Yes, God, Yes follows Alice (Natalia Dyer), a precocious teenager whose sexual awakening contrasts with her family and school’s conservative, faith-based culture. To understand her urges, Alice goes on a weekend trip run by Father Murphy (Timothy Simmons), where she begins to discover the blurry truth about her situation.

    Yes, God, Yes mines some potent thematic depth from its finite focus. Karen Maine’s screenplay humorously observes the hypocrisy at the center of Catholicism, displaying religion’s suppressive nature and the superficial, overly-zealous way it’s preached to developing youths – especially women (the film is inspired by Maine’s experiences). Instead of approaching her satire with a bitting bleakness, Maine imbues a sense of warmth and catharsis that counterbalances her critique nicely while still finding a sharp voice when required (the final scene is a picturesque conclusion). Her script sings with sneakily searing comedic beats (whether its a counselor philosophizing Peter Gabriel “In Your Eyes” as a holy track or through its distinctly 2000s zeitgeist references), often being quite funny in its recreations of authentically awkward moments.

    Maine’s balanced delivery helps render an endearing coming of age journey through Alice’s self-discovery. Where many ventures have viewed teenager’s awkward interactions with sexuality through a simplistic gaze, Maine explores this time of growth and curiosity in an assuring light that doesn’t belittle its subjects. Even as the film goes through some familiar motions (a third act speech made by a sage older character), these frames are colored with enough honesty to exceed the common framework. Star Natalia Dyer deserves significant credit for elevating the material, portraying Alice with a charming innocence that steadily evolves as she uncovers her conformist setting.

    Perhaps the only aspect holding Yes, God, Yes back from reaching grander heights is its straightforward visual design. Maine has some fun jazzing up scenes with pop confectionary tracks, but cinematographer Todd Antonio Somodevilla’s style never rises to the level of its written craft. Perhaps enhancing some of the film’s personal frames with more visceral camerawork could have rendered an even more meaningful experience, similar to what Greta Gerwig accomplished with her debut film Lady Bird (though in the grand scheme of things, this is a fairly minute complaint).

    Finding a sincere voice in her debut film, Kelly Maine’s Yes, God, Yes shines as a coming of age delight that articulates a well-realized portrait of Conservative culture.