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The Straight Story-The BRWC Review by Josiah Teal

David Lynch‘s The Straight Story is one of the most overlooked films in the Lynch canon. Released directly in the middle of the foreboding Lost Highway, and perhaps his masterpiece, Mulholland Drive, The Straight Story is unique in its normalcy. A biographical road drama released by Walt Disney Pictures seems a far cry from the man renowned for mesmerizing audiences with unnerving surrealism. Yet, The Straight Story earned Lynch a Palme d’Or nomination and an Oscar nod for Richard Farnsworth. Soon to be available for the first time on 4K HD and Blu-ray in the United Kingdom, the physical release gives audiences a chance to glimpse an often unseen side of Lynch’s work.

Alvin Straight (Richard Farnsworth) is in his 70s, living in a small Midwestern town, and long estranged from his brother, Lyle (Harry Dean Stanton). After a fall, Alvin receives news that his health is deteriorating. Years of hard living, the passing of his wife, and grief from his days in WWII have started to catch up with the stubborn farmer. In an attempt to reconnect with his brother, Alvin sets out across America on a riding lawnmower to find the last bit of adventure in the twilight of his life. Lynch chronicles the real-life story of Alvin Straight, rich with Americana and the freedom of a swan song.

Richard Farnsworth carries the narrative of The Straight Story. Alvin’s 240-mile odyssey spans the open road, as he meets grounded characters and confronts his own past. Farnsworth conveys emotional nuance and intelligence throughout his performance, especially in his eyes. It’s not Alvin’s tears causing the narrative payoff, but rather his almost tears, the buildup before the break. Whether facing the lightning storm before his journey or reflecting on his war regrets, Farnsworth captures the spirit of a man who lived in hardship but hopes to make amends within himself. Performances outside Farnsworth are rich with kindness, leading to a wholesome nature throughout Lynch’s take on the road drama genre.

Lynch’s long-time collaborator, Mary Sweeney, co-wrote The Straight Story with John Roach. The film serves as John Roach’s lone screenplay, yet it becomes an unexpected tonal shift in Lynch’s work. Sweeney would continue to collaborate with Lynch, editing Mulholland Drive. While The Straight Story lacks the surrealism of Lynch and Sweeney’s other works, it retains some of their quirks and, of course, some Lynchian dialogue. Characters still overreact to simple hangups or underreact to catastrophes; shooting a lawnmower to the point of explosion or arguing about why Alvin fell are prime examples. Among the few classic Lynchisms, Sweeney and Roach pack the script with a sense of warmth and comfort. Uncharacteristic in David Lynch’s work, yet it allows him to showcase his range as a director.

Family-friendly and cozy are far from descriptions for the man who created Eraserhead. However, The Straight Story is far from Eraserhead. The film is still very David Lynch, with idiosyncratic characters, thoughtful compositions, and a score setting the tone. Lynch keeps the heartfelt core and the emotional stakes but resolves rather than rejects catharsis. Alvin’s trek is anchored by Farnsworth’s performance, but through David Lynch’s lens, it transcends the screen and culminates in an earned, deeply human finale.

The physical release of The Straight Story is essential for Lynch fans and cinephiles alike. In an age of streaming, it’s easy to herald Blue Velvet or The Elephant Man; they’re shocking, evocative, made for cinematic discussion. But, taking the time to dive into The Straight Story is no less rewarding. It’s an overlooked and strange time in Lynch’s filmography, but it’s no less David Lynch. Though gone is the dreamlike logic and wild surrealism, David Lynch is no less the master of dreams. Rather than nightmarish dreamscapes or avant-garde nightclubs, the dreams of The Straight Story are as simple as the open road. And through the open road, Lynch reveals a sweetness seldom seen in his canon.

The Straight Story is available on 4K HD and Blu-ray on February 9th

A Private Life: Review. By George & Josh Bate.

As practicing therapists and film critics with a particular love for murder mysteries, A Private Life appears to be the perfect intersection of our often discrepant interests. A concoction of promising ingredients that appeal to our dual careers, however, result in a movie that, while bolstering a compelling turn from Jodie Foster, crumbles under the weight of its abstract themes.

From director and co-writer Rebecca Zlotowski, A Private Life stars Jodie Foster as Lilian Steiner, an American psychoanalyst living and working in France. Upon learning of the apparent suicide of one of her patients, Paula (Virgine Efira), Lilian launches an investigation as she becomes convinced that her patient was murdered. 

Despite its modern day setting, there is a vintage, and even timeless, quality to A Private Life. Filming on-location in Paris, the film features architecture and backdrops centuries old. Despite the occasional appearance of an iPhone, Foster’s Lilian records all of her sessions with old cassette tapes. Even the very nature of Lilian’s practice as a Freud-inspired psychoanalyst, a far cry from the modal therapist in contemporary Western culture, harkens back to an era decades prior. In turn, the film often tricks the viewer, unintentionally or intentionally, into believing they are watching a film set in the past.

With opening titles accompanied by Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer,” Zlotowski’s film further fosters a unique, time-transcending viewing experience with its willingness to lean into Hitchcockian sensibilities and nods to Hollywood’s Golden Age. A Private Lifebegins much like a classic Hitchcock-helmed thriller, with a lead character who suspects something is awry when others do not and an intriguing mystery to unravel. Having seen Paula for nine years in therapy, Lilian’s instincts tell her that her patient did not commit suicide, an initial suspicion that evolves as she dives deeper into Paula’s life and faces pushback for her inquiries.

The set-up is succinct and brisk, quickly grabbing the audience’s attention and allowing us to accompany Foster’s psychoanalyst-turned-sleuth as she uncovers clues and undertakes an investigation. This blend of Hitchcockian psychological thriller and whodunnit, coupled with an unexpectedly charming and old-fashioned remarriage comedy, imbue A Private Life with the feel of a film from Hollywood’s Golden Age and create a cozy, throwback movie to immerse oneself in.

As the mystery intrigues and the reemerging romance between Foster’s Lilian and her ex-husband Gaby (Daniel Auteuil) blossoms,A Private Life derails with a steady rise in its abstract exploration of psychoanalysis and antisemitism. A dream (or perhaps better described as a vision sequence) involving Lilian and Paula as musicians in a concert hall during World War II reoccurs throughout the film. Zlotowski doesn’t try to mislead the audience into thinking this vision sequence is actually happening, but that doesn’t mean it is devoid of meaning. As a psychoanalyst, dreams and the contents of the subconscious are important and shed light on human beings’ inner-workings and deepest insecurities. For Lillian, this becomes clearer as a version of her son Julien (Vincent Lacoste) as a Nazi officer appears in this hypnotic concert hall.

Aligned with the teachings of Sigmund Freud and Jacques Lacan, Zlotowski leaves the true meaning of these recurring visions up to interpretation, but the filmmaker opts to leave things so abstract that it’s difficult to extract any purpose of these sequences. The Holocaust obviously is an integral part of French history, as it is the family history of Zlotowski, and a fleeting accusation of antisemitism directed at a hypnotist by Lillian plants the seed that the film will dabble in this subject matter. And the inclusion of Lillian’s son amidst these visions is put into context as we learn more of her ambivalent relationship with him and his newborn son. However, the visions are absent of the substance and emotion necessary to make all of these threads come together.

A Private Life doesn’t stop there with its attempts at dramatizing the process of psychoanalysis. Over the course of the film, Lillian increasingly projects herself onto her deceased patient and leads her to pursue a mystery that is ultimately more about self-discovery than it is uncovering the identity of a murderer. In this sense, Zlotowski’s film progressively loses sight of what made it so intriguing in the first place as it loses its once iron-glad grip on the balance between murder mystery and psychoanalytic allegory.

This loss of balance rears its ugly head the most in a remarkably underwhelming resolution. The strength of a performance from Jodie Foster that requires the actress to largely convey her intellectual activity and emotional turmoil without the use of dialogue only carries A Private Life so far and, eventually, even that can’t save Zlotowski’s film from ruin. Not only does the film overly embrace its more abstract sensibilities, but it provides a conclusion to the whodunit that is destined to disappoint anyone even moderately invested in identifying the killer. Admittedly, this reveal does effectively illustrate A Private Life’s central message and leaves the viewer with interesting points about guilt, responsibility, and projection to ponder, although this messaging comes at the expense of a powerful ending to its core narrative.

Rating: 5/10

A Private Life blends Hitchockian thriller, whodunnit, remarriage comedy, and an examination of psychoanalysis together for a film that, while initially intriguing and bolstering a compelling performance from Jodie Foster, steadily loses its way. Rebecca Zlotowski’s film possesses a fascinatingly timeless quality to it, with nods to Hollywood’s Golden Age and a focus on a form of psychotherapy that harkens back to an era decades prior unfolding amidst the backdrop of centuries-old Parisian architecture.

The result is a cozy and atmospheric film, made all the more interesting by a succinct set-up for a solid murder mystery. A Private Life derails from its study foundation, however, with an abstract exploration of psychoanalysis, antisemitism, and maternal ambivalence best showcased through recurring vision sequences that leave too much up for interpretation. The once deft balance between murder mystery and allegory of psychoanalysis slowly crumbles, culminating in a remarkably underwhelming resolution that prioritizes its central message over an effective conclusion to its core narrative. 

A Private Life appears to have the perfect concoction of ingredients to appeal to those who, like us, are practicing therapists and murder mystery-obsessed film critics. Regrettably, these ingredients don’t come together as seamlessly as one would hope and leave one feeling like they just observed a session of Freudian psychoanalysis rather than a full-fledged, well-developed film.

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple- The BRWC Review by Josiah Teal

Taking only six months for the sequel to hit theaters, 28 Years Later: Bone Temple picks up where Danny Boyle‘s return to the rage virus left off. The gang of tracksuit-wearing marauders from the previous film has adopted Spike. Meanwhile, Dr. Kelson maintains his work, preserving the skulls of those fallen to the zombie virus. Alex Garland returns to write Bone Temple, with original director Danny Boyle serving as a producer. Nia DaCosta, of Candyman (2021) fame, steps in as director, bringing a visceral touch of dread to the film alongside Boyle’s primal view of the apocalypse. With a third film awaiting a release date, Bone Temple expands on the world of the original while maintaining the intrigue for those awaiting part three.

Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell) is the terrifying leader of “The Fingers”, the Power Rangers-meets-Hooligan gang from the epilogue of 28 Years Later. Young Spike (Alfie Williams), thinking he found salvation, soon realizes the horrors of Crystal’s gang as they torture fellow survivors in the name of Satan. Bone Temple interweaves Spike’s plight among humans with Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), who befriends “Sampson” (Chi Lewis-Parry), an infected alpha. Just as Dr. Kelson begins to find hope for the infected, the two stories merge as Jimmy Crystal spreads his mortifying brand of “charity” across the English countryside. Spike and Kelson reunite in a swarm of fire, carnage, and just a little Satanism.

Bone Temple lets the characters breathe. 28 Years Later had the seemingly impossible task of recapturing the heights of the original in a post-Walking Dead world of zombie entertainment. Yet, with character introductions and establishment mostly out of the way, Bone Temple lets the audience learn. Writer Alex Garland takes his time showcasing the psyche of the unhinged Jimmy Crystal, juxtaposed with the resolve of Dr. Kelson. The film comments on grief, how the mind copes with the end of days, and most of all, how the soul deals with the sins of the world. Kelson’s relationship with Sampson captures his compulsion to heal, even when the person is long-infected. While Crystal’s gang killing the innocent conveys the enduring zombie truth: that humans are the real monsters.

Ralph Fiennes‘s Dr. Kelson is a clear highlight of Bone Temple. Fiennes plays Kelson with such balance, orchestrating the emotional nuance of a man living in a temple of skulls while keeping a warmth that draws audiences in. Fiennes has played romantic leads in cheesy rom-coms like Maid in Manhattan and earned Oscar nominations for Schindler’s List and Conclave. He brought Lord Voldemort to life in the Harry Potter franchise and played the ever-professional concierge in The Grand Budapest Hotel, a career defined by range. And Bone Temple is no exception. Ralph Fiennes captures Kelson’s earnest philosophy and expands on it with a bit of unexpected whimsy, elevating the character from the first installment.

Alfie Williams is less present in Bone Temple than in 28 Years Later. He is still fantastic as Spike. However, 28 Years Later was Spike’s journey towards self-discovery, growing up knowing only a world ravaged by the undead. Bone Temple is the continuation of that arc, but it examines Spike within the context of compounding trauma. Jack O’Connell is devilishly charismatic as the demented gang leader and further cements Spike’s traumatic present through his portrayal of Jimmy Crystal. Erin Kellyman rounds out the main cast as Jimmy Ink, giving Spike a lifeline within the gang and setting up the third installment.

Despite Danny Boyle’s absence in the director’s chair, Nia DaCosta captures the mood of 28 Years Later. Needle drops, ranging from Duran Duran to Iron Maiden, give the film a vibrant sonic palette, imprinting the humanity within the chaos and delivering a memorable climax. While the bombastic, anarchic zombie chases of Boyle are fewer, DaCosta keeps the scale of the Bone Temple and weaves the narrative with pulse-pounding suspense. The horrors remain, but DaCosta grounds Bone Temple in the anxieties of Spike and Kelson more than the fear of the living dead. These anxieties do more than expand on the foundations of the previous film; they bridge the first film to the world of Bone Temple.

Some sequels are Terminator 2 or Aliens, taking the premise of the original and raising the stakes to heights audiences never thought possible. Some are Empire Strikes Back, expanding on the universe, adding backstory for the characters. But some sequels are like Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, expanding on the original and, more importantly, preparing the characters for the journey ahead. Bone Temple serves as the steps and choices Spike needs to take from the kid in 28 Years Later to the person he will become in the next film. The film focuses on Kelson, gives hints about the future of the rage virus, and sets up the premise for the end of Spike’s story. Bone Temple stands as a sequel worthy of the original and cements 28 Years Later’s place in a post-Walking Dead, post-Train to Busan world, offering a cathartic examination of life, death, and memento mori.