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Social media’s superficial embrace of confectionery realities often dominates millennial’s attention, as well as garnering the interest of some well-tuned filmmakers. Indie efforts like Ingrid Goes West, Assassination Nation, and Disconnect have aptly encapsulated the shallow thrills of these platforms, developing thoughtfully-constructed critiques that are equally timely and impactful. The latest venture to utilize the fame-obsessed culture of social media is Infamous, a twist on the Bonnie and Clyde formula that proves to be just as vapid as the generation it condemns.

Infamous follows Arielle (Bella Thorne), a wistful teen who spends her days glued to her phone hoping to become a famous fixture. When she meets ex-convict Dean (Jake Manley), the two find themselves on the run after an accidental crime, robbing their way across America while posting their exploits on social media.

Star Bella Thorne has displayed glimmers of acting ability, but Infamous is the first feature where she grabs the reins. Playing Arielle as a vivacious teen discontented with her simplistic life, Thorne imbues the role with a rebellious spirit and sharp edge that grabs the screen, energetically chewing the scenery while keeping audiences on their toes. Her abrasive persona is well-matched by director Joshua Caldwell’s stylistic bend, with the inclusion of frenzied camerawork and wistful pop tracks capturing Arielle and Dean’s sporadic rise to fame.

Infamous has style and energy to spare, but it lacks the wherewithal to execute its conceptually promising nucleus. Unlike 2019’s emotionally moving Queen and Slim, Caldwell’s screenplay does little to reinvent its narrative origins, following the “lovers on the run” plotline with no interesting deviations. It doesn’t help that the dialogue feels excruciatingly obvious, with the characters awkwardly spelling out their every whim and desire.

This over-simplification also impacts our controversial central figures. While I give Thorne credit for making Arielle entertaining to follow, the character is derived from any complexion or emotionality, with her psychotic pursuit of fame and attention making her read as a cartoonishly bitter edge lord. Jake Manley holds his own as Dean, but his role as Arielle’s wet blanket voice of reason gives the actor very little to work with. I am fine with central characters being wholly unlikable, but Caldwell misses the opportunity to densely analyze the conditions that form their personas.

It’s clear to see where Infamous attempts to indict social media culture, but Caldwell seems over his head in creating a thematically enriched message. Any attempt to poke fun at media’s penchant for titillating actions fails to connect, with his established world being too far-fetched from the world we live in. To act as if brutally violent crimes against innocent people would become a celebrated phenome rather than a condemned reality feels diluted, with Caldwell’s script viewing the platform from the most jaded light rather than having a nuanced take.

Infamous has the bones to be the next searing portrait of our social media-obsessed culture, but its stylistic presentation fails to hide the film’s meager substantive value.

Renowned horror writer Shirley Jackson (Elisabeth Moss) is on the precipice of writing her masterpiece when the arrival of newlyweds upends her meticulous routine and heightens tensions in her already tempestuous relationship with her philandering husband. The middle-aged couple, prone to ruthless barbs and copious afternoon cocktails, begins to toy mercilessly with the naïve young couple at their door.

To say that the filmography of Josephine Decker is weird and imaginative would be a massive understatement. With films such as Madeline’s Madeline and Thou Wast Mild and Lovely under her belt, she has made quite the name for herself in the film community throughout the years.

For some, her style and vision may be a bit too wild and outlandish to be considered enjoyable, but there’s no doubt that she has a clear voice, and that is heavily clear with her newest feature film Shirley, a quiet, oftentimes cold and somber thriller that does feel too pretentious but is nevertheless a mystery worth unraveling.

It sadly starts off quite slow with a first act that exists to set up the plot and introduce our lead characters. The film’s style is a bit jarring at first and it did take me quite a while to get settled into what the movie was going for, as there are numerous scenes at the beginning that came across as over-the-top and pretentious. Really, the whole film could be described that way. Style over substance would be a good term to describe some portions of the film, but after a while, the tension started to rise and the story became more intriguing and the style began to grow on me.

The highlight of the entire film however was the lead performance from Elisabeth Moss as the titular character. Moss is, in my opinion, one of the most incredible actresses working today. Having seen a large portion of her films, I am delighted to say that this is yet another win in her already impressive list of performances. With her role as Cecilia Kass in this year’s excellent horror feature The Invisible Man and now Shirley Jackson, this is Moss’ year.

But in addition to her, Odessa Young also delivers a strong and nuanced performance as Rose Nemser, who feels quite intimidating at certain times. The duality between Shirley and Rose was remarkably weird and fascinating. One scene in particular towards the second act involving mushrooms was so bizarre yet so well crafted that I just have to applaud it.

All of these elements combined make Shirley a little bit of a bumpy ride, although one that was admittedly worth it in the long run. It’s quite slow in the first act and it feels like a case of style over substance at times, but I’d be lying if I said that Josephine Decker’s latest didn’t leave me guessing.

Shirley may be a classic case of style over substance, but its incredible lead performance from Elisabeth Moss and bold vision from director Josephine Decker are too intriguing to ignore.

By Alex Purnell. A genuinely disturbing feast of a film, Hungry Joe sticks with you well after you have stopped watching with its ghastly visuals and consistent, torturous sounds.

Inspired by Tarrare, a 17th-century man who ate anything and everything he could get his hands on, Hungry Joe follows the mother of a monstrous eater, who’s insatiable appetite grows so uncontrollable that it starts seriously affecting those around him.

The short, running in at 20 minutes, is grotesquely engaging, whilst also being unforgivably vile with its obscene, albeit sometimes obnoxious, sound effects that are so invasive that one might think you have somehow ended up in someone’s mouth whilst they squelch and chomp down on some unidentifiable food.

To complement this main course is a side of grizzly practical effects and gruesome props that are sparsely scattered to create a haunting visual element that worms its way into the viewers head. 

Andrew Greaves, who plays the lead of Joe, is sinfully brilliant at doing his job of putting me off my breakfast. I found myself grimacing whilst viewing Greaves shovel mouthful upon mouthful of compressed, mushy food into his face with no expense for cleanliness.

This particular scene of Joe and his mother at the dinner table is executed beautifully, causing the audience to feel sympathetic towards Joe and his obvious eating problem. His mother watches on at her abomination of a child with such disgust, as he devours the slush in front of him like a junkie finally getting his fix.

Hungry Joe is an obscenely clever film, skillfully paced with just enough gore and grossness to make it chilling, though not too much to push it over the top.

If you have a strong stomach, I would recommend giving Hungry Joe a watch. The short has strong, disturbing visuals, nightmarish in a verminous way that can make it somewhat of a challenge to get through depending on your tolerance.