Bobbi Johnson (Hannah Arterton) is a writer, her debut novel lit a fire under the youth of the country and she’s become a beacon of hope, change and revolution in an increasingly disillusioned world.
Her publisher, Jordan (Belinda Stewart-Wilson) is eager for Bobbi to get her started on her next novel, but Bobbi isn’t sure what to write next. She only knows that she wants her next book to be written with her voice and for it to say something that will be as influential as her first novel.
Bobbi still writes on an old typewriter, she’s the kind of writer that believes that to find an authentic voice then she has to write in the same way that many have written before her. However, Jordan disagrees and after Bobbi realises that she has to do something to pay the bills, she reluctantly agrees to let Jordan send her the latest hi-tech editing software that will help her compose her next masterpiece.
The trouble is that not only does Bobbi have to contend with a computer that’s intent on rewriting her work, but her junkie ex-boyfriend, Dylan (Elliot James Langridge) comes back into her life and she’s concerned that she may have a stalker.
Peripheral is a surreal horror film directed by Paul Hyett and written by Dan Schaffer. Taking presumably a lot of influence from David Cronenberg, Peripheral is a horror that not only boasts bizarre imagery, but also has some not so subtle subtext running throughout and has moments of body horror that are impressively executed. Schaffer’s script not only talks about many of the aspects that consume a writer’s mind, but also deals with Bobbi’s own drug addiction and the things she does to keep her clean.
As Bobbi starts to use the software to help her write, she finds herself getting lost, not only in the words she writes, but also in quite literal ways as she finds her body changing in ways that she wasn’t expecting. It’s up to the audience to decide whether the changes are all in her mind, a manifestation of her state of mind or perhaps something altogether more sinister and real.
Peripheral is a multi-faceted story that will satisfy fans of the body horror subgenre, but also many writers may find themselves identifying with the existential crisis that Bobbi finds herself in that may be driving her mad.
While never recognized at the box office, writer/director Kelly Reichardt has developed into a beloved auteur through her unique transcendentalism lens. Assured offerings like Wendy and Lucy and Meek’s Cutoff display a refreshingly restrained approach, rendering thoughtful character dynamics while entrenching audiences in a unique environmental setting. Her latest big-screen feature First Cow steeps audiences into Oregon frontier life with winning results, crafting a masterful portrait that ranks as the year’s first noteworthy achievement.
First Cow follows Cookie (John Margo), a soft-spoken loner who travels out west to achieve his dream of operating a bed and breakfast hotel. One day, he stumbles upon King-Lu (Orion Lee), an immigrant trying to make his way in America. The two form a bond that transforms them into business partners, stealing milk from a wealthy landowner’s cow to bake delectable goods for the locals.
Few craftsmen are able to envelop their audience into a setting like Reichardt, wisely opting for a 4:3 aspect ratio to portray her grounded narrative. After an opening tracking shot that portrays the enormity of modern technology, Reichardt cleverly contrasts these frames with her low-key period setting, with intimate camerawork steeping itself in the finite details of the natural world. Every shot is immaculate in its delivery (big props to Christopher Blauvelt’s cinematography), conveying the lingering wonderment and danger present in frontier life while intimately portraying the character’s perspective. Whether it’s through William Tyler’s quaint score or first-rate production design, Reichardt establishes an immersive landscape that breathes with life in a way most period pieces can’t equal.
At the center of First Cow’s uniquely-fitted setting is two of the year’s most accomplished performances. John Magaro has established himself as a beloved character actor (his work in Overlord, Liberal Arts, and Not Fade Away are some of my favorites), but here he elevates to impressive new heights. As Cookie, Magaro unearths a quiet sensitivity that renders the character’s persona with profound depth, displaying a loner with an earnest yearning for connection in a dog-eat-dog world. His introspective dynamic is well-matched by King-Lu’s charming delivery, with Orion Lee bringing the character’s idealistic spirit to life with cunning intelligence and emotional vulnerability. Cookie and King-Lu’s bond is never painted with overly-broad strokes, allowing the kindred spirits to grow naturally onscreen through restrained conversation. It’s poignant to watch these two gradually develop into the sole supportive staple in each other’s lives, with the actor conveying a dynamic that feels uniquely lived-in.
First Cow seems deceptively simple at first glance, but its distinctly Americana approach unearths the respective allures and dangers of the “American Dream”. It’s a joyous experience to watch Cookie and King-Lu find success in their barren landscape, with Cookie finally being granted the opportunity to convert his aspirations into reality (those oily cakes looked scrumptious). Reichardt’s well-established optimism quickly fades as the narrative enters its third act, with the duo’s business enterprise becoming a hopeless endeavor once rich elites begin to foil their plan. Reichardt’s deft narrative offers a timeless commentary on America’s capitalist system, which restricts those at the bottom of the food chain from escaping their doomed reality while the rich profit off their failures.
Kelly Reichardt’s First Cow is a masterful achievement, with the writer/director unearthing an enriching experience from Cookie and King-Lu’s complex journey for prosperity.
Following an embarrassing public performance, actress and playwright Sabrina Stone is led into the world of her own writing by Elodie, one of her fictional characters. With fiction now a reality, Sabrina must navigate the dark and moody landscape she created, save her characters from the problems she gave them, and come to terms with the person she wants to be.
This is an interesting idea to explore. The tortured artist enamored with creating their best work but internally fixated by how the audience would perceive it, leading to a psychological spiral of self-doubt. Unfortunately, Elodie fails to develop its themes any deeper than a 12th grader who publicly got rejected by their crush when asking them out to prom during the annual high school talent show.
This was written, edited and directed by Daniel Ziegler, who was inspired to make this story based on his personal experience with his first feature film, making Elodie a meta piece of his work. He has a clear vision and is very talented for a young filmmaker, which is why it brings me ambivalence to say that this film disappointed me on several aspects that a bigger budget couldn’t have rectified.
First and foremost, Elodie suffers from feeling too much like a student film. There is a caveat when it comes to criticizing student films because I know that they are not up to the standards of a typical Hollywood movie. Usually the production crew is way smaller, the video shots look way cheaper and everyone involved simply doesn’t have enough professional experience. These are crucial elements that deflate the entire film. There are technical choices made in this film that would never be experimented in a more professional film. There is usually a common trope in student films where students would try to make strange and unconventional techniques in a film and claim that they were intentional because it was “experimental” and “avant garde”, when in reality they just wanted to show off the style without serving a purpose. Ziegler would sometimes choose to break the 180-degree rule, record a chunk of the film in ADR, or have jarring quick whips that just takes me out of experience.
It does not help that most of the actors have the emotional range of a wet cardboard. Nearly all of the characters sound like they’re reading their lines on auto-pilot. It’s clear that some of these actors are more inexperienced as they could not deliver any sense of feeling to their characters, rendering them hollow and listless. As a result, it becomes difficult to find any attachment. Faith Decker has the best performance as Sabrina, who does an acceptable job of capturing her character’s vulnerability, but even then she has room for improvement.
Most of the film takes place in this world that Sabrina created, which can be exciting to examine especially from a surrealist perspective. However, Sabrina’s play in this film is so insipid and dull that it doesn’t achieve the adventure it’s going for. The entire point is that the play was not supposed to be good but there could have been more creative ways to incorporate the visual embodiment of the play that connects to the growth of our main playwright. I felt that Ziegler could have achieved much more exploration in his themes of failure and when he does try to tackle those ideas, it gets too on-the-nose. The entire plot of Sabrina’s play revolves around this MacGuffin that feels tonally off with the noir setting, and when reality intertwines with fantasy, characters take implausible risks that elicits cheap shock value.
What the film does successfully is create a sense of style. There were a few scenes that utilized neon lighting to create a very atmospheric aesthetic as if it was straight out of a neo-noir. Then as we enter the world that Sabrina created, it turns into a classic noir thriller with a black and white filter. Logan Fetters serves as the director of photography and his ability to craft these gorgeous shots of each character was a huge highlight in the film. Fetters understands how to work the camera and create many artistic visuals. Though the world of the play isn’t as special as I imagined, there were many scenes that striked a certain mood.
The main problem with Elodie is the writing. The conversations between characters felt very awkward and I never cared for any of them. Even though a lot of attention is given to the character of Elodie, she was nothing more than a photogenic figure. Ziegler had a lot of potential to build on the relationship between Sabrina and the rest of the characters in the film. Instead, he only touches the surface and settles for cheesy melodrama only accentuated by an overbearing piano score. Once again, I like the idea that Elodie tries to present; internalizing one’s insecurities of failing to appease audiences with their creative work. This film doesn’t successfully handle this idea with much gravitas and by the time we get to the end, it never feels earned because there was too little development. Ziegler has an interesting premise to work with, it just needed a few more drafts to really fledge out the story and characters. Nevertheless, he still has great potential as a filmmaker.
Elodie showcases some impressive aesthetical compositions but is ultimately bogged down by an underwritten story whose themes fail to come into fruition, along with weak performances that lack the energy to galvanize the narrative.
Bring Down the Walls asks one question: How can we deconstruct the prison industrial complex? With prisoners numbering in their millions, the US has created a lucrative business model and a monster. Changes in police tactics and laws over the past 40 years have propped up a system that is heavily stacked against Black people.
Directed by artist and filmmaker Phil Collins, Bring Down the Walls is a multi-level project. He uses a former firehouse in Lower Manhattan as a community hub (school by day, dance club by night). Collins documents the stories that people share about prison, and the performances of formerly incarcerated DJs and singers. Collins’s previous projects share themes of music and overlooked people. This video, relating to his documentary Tomorrow Is Always Too Long (2014) gives you a sense of his motivation and interests.
Bring Down the Walls was filmed in two locations. The Firehouse, Engine Company 31, New York, in 2018, and Sing Sing Correctional Facility, New York in 2015. Correctional Facility. They don’t even call it a prison any more, and the power of language is one of the discussions you can hear at talks in the community. Collins’s decision to house the project in a firehouse is notable too–a public service dedicated to protecting people as the police are supposed to. (No one ever made a song called fuck the fire department)
There is no better time to talk about abolition, and Bring Down the Walls shows how these conversations can come about. It introduces concepts through the voices of people who have lived their lives in the shadow of the American penal system. With so many of them sharing stories of vulnerability, fear, and shame. This is a space where gay and trans People of Colour are able to speak openly about their trauma and find common ground.
The stories told in Bring Down the Walls are arresting, and necessary. They require reflection. In the context of the film they serve as an in-breath. The out-breath manifests in sequences filmed in the club, a pattern that repeats throughout the film.
Collins asserts that house music and politics are inextricably linked, originating in the late 70s, when this particular form of police brutality was on the rise. House music is at the core of the film, and it is a vital form of communication. They have produced a record, also called Bring Down the Walls. It is a double album of classic house tracks, covered by former inmates, and is available on Bandcamp. Bring Down the Walls is dedicated ‘In solidarity with the millions of human beings held in cages in US prisons and jails, and their communities and loved ones’
Two couples, Michelle (Alison Brie) and Charlie (Dan Stevens) and Josh (Jeremy Allen White) and Mina (Sheila Vand) are spending the weekend away together in a rental by the sea. However, when they meet the owner of the rental, Taylor (Toby Huss) they start to get a sense that he may not be as welcoming as he could have been.
Charlie and Mina are business partners, working closely together, they are not only great friends, but they have a great working relationship and rely on each other heavily to get through their work. Once settled, they start to enjoy the evening, but as the influences of their good time takes effect, things happen that cannot be taken back so easily.
The Rental is a slow burn horror and directorial debut from Dave Franco who also co-wrote the screenplay. The setting for the film may not be all that original (four friends going to an isolated house has been done to death) but the performances of the cast keep it compelling as their fleshed-out relationships keep the audience wondering where the story will go next.
It just may take a little longer to get there than some audiences may prefer. Thankfully though, the director and cast (including Franco’s wife, Alison Brie) don’t indulge too much in their performances so much as to distract from the plot.
As the film does finally get to the point and for some the direction may not be all that surprising, there’s still enough to go on as far as what’s going to happen between the couples, whether the owner’s as corrupt as he appears and who exactly may be watching them.
Unfortunately, as the film goes into its final act it does veer into very familiar horror territory, which may delight some, but may also put others off as they may have been expecting something more unexpected. Also, the person who is really watching them is as generic as they come.
Whereas with some villains the little the audiences know about them the better, in this case it just feels like the villain’s motivations weren’t all that well thought out.
