Princess Cyd (2017) ****

Princess Cyd is another quiet surprise, a film with a very specific scope whose main concern is its characters and the relationships between these characters. Movie-wise, the stakes are small, but feel real, and the two leads play the often understated, quiet scenes perfectly. They are contrasting characters, and at first it might seem like they each fit two very different character “types,” but as the film goes on, we see their complexity and the ways they vary from the conventions of these types. The film attempts naturalism, and succeeds, I think, because it still feels like a film, which for me is an essential balance.

Jessie Pinnick plays Cyd, a sixteen-year old spending the summer in Chicago with her aunt, Miranda Ruth, a well-known novelist. The two haven’t seen each other in years, and the film doesn’t feel obligated to explain why that is, although it likely has something to do with the circumstances surrounding the death of Cyd’s mother (Miranda’s sister). The burgeoning relationship between aunt and niece feels authentic, and the film wouldn’t work if it didn’t. A lesser film might go for histrionics between the two characters, but the script here has the characters slowly, quietly get to know each other, as each brings out as yet unseen traits in the other. It’s almost as if we see both Cyd and Miranda tweak their own character in order to better appeal to, and eventually understand, one another. The other central relationship of the film is between Cyd and Katie, and the film handles this story of sexual awakening in the same quiet, gradual way it handles the familial relationship. For me, this also makes for a much more authentic portrayal; it feels closer to how these things exist in the real world than it does to how they might typically exist in the world of film or fiction. Princess Cyd was a moving experience for me: a delicate, beautiful film about the desire and ability to understand and appreciate one another. 

4/4

First Reformed (2017) ****

A film to haunt you, with a bleak we are already in hell motif that is reaffirmed in scene after scene. I came to the film with no real expectations or pre-conceived ideas of what it was all about, apart from the basic premise of a man of God struggling with his faith. As it turns out, First Reformed is that but it is also much more, and it is darker and more intelligent that I imagined it would be. It's about a man trying to keep the few slivers of hope he has left alive in the face of a community and a world that seem largely ambivalent about their future. Bergman's Winter Light is an influence, and although I've never seen it, I am familiar with some of Bergman's other films, and the sense of melancholia and hopelessness presented here feels so tonally similar. While a larger, present-day crisis is integral to the plot of this film, it's not in the end a film about that crisis but about how that crisis pushes a man already teetering further towards the edge.

It's unforgivable that Ethan Hawke was not nominated for an Academy Award for his performance as Reverend Toller. The Oscars get it wrong a lot, but this feels like an especially brazen oversight. There is a quiet intensity to Hawke's performance (a phrase I hear a lot, but in this case it's very accurate), and a lot of that has to do with the bleak expression he wears throughout most of the film. He looks miserable, with his constantly furrowed brow and deadened eyes. The quiet delivery of his lines, and the fact that his character is so often not saying what he wants to say is devastating because we know, from the narration of his diary, that he is a man in turmoil. I am failing at describing what exactly it is that Ethan Hawke does that makes his performance so good, but it is so understated and restrained and perfectly compliments Paul Schrader's script and direction.

4/4

The Favourite (2018) ****

What to write about The Favourite that has not already been written? I am late to the game on so many acclaimed films of the last few years, and so I do not necessarily have anything new to add to the conversation. The Favourite is like other films you may have seen, but it's also very different because it is very much its basic description: Yorgos Lanthimos directs a costume drama. But that very basic description should also convey just how complex the film is, and in many ways the material and the director are a perfect match. Lanthimos's previous films could easily be described as baroque in the sense that they are grotesque, excessive. But here we have a story that takes place just after the actual Baroque period, and has the opulence and over indulgence baked right into the setting of the film and the lifestyles of its characters.

The most enjoyable aspect of the film really is just the audacity of Lanthimos as a director, and the audacity of the characters in his film. The entirety of the film is a vicious competition between Lady Sarah (Rachel Weisz) and her cousin Abigail (Emma Stone) to be the favorite of Queen Anne (Olivia Colman), a position which comes with a lot of influence. At the start of the film Lady Sarah essentially is the queen, as Anne is incapable and uninterested in making even the most basic decisions on her own, never mind important matters of state. To say anymore about the competition that ensues would be to spoil the plot and the thrill of watching these characters behave badly.

The camerawork, the score, the writing are all excellent and entire essays could be written about each, but I think so much hinges on the three central performances here. All three characters illicit sympathy even though they probably don't deserve it. Emma Stone provides such nuance to a character who easily could have been a one-dimensional social climber. Rachel Weisz is warm, yet terribly intimidating at the same time, and brings this palpable tension to each scene. Olivia Colman plays a physical and emotional wreck, and I think the genius of her performance is that she pushes back against the notion of Queen Anne as the most sympathetic character. Also, Rachel Weisz has this beautiful, beautiful voice that I never fully appreciated before watching this film.

It's just the kick in the pants the period drama needed.

4/4

Under the Silver Lake (2018) ***1/2

Under the Silver Lake presents a surreal, at times horrifying world that is maybe not too far removed from the one we live in. Really it's not so much subverting the noir genre (which was my expectation going into the film), but magnifying it, and throwing in some surreal images and humor. I guess that makes me sound a bit pretentious... Really, it's a classic noir story: down on his luck guy finds himself caught up in a web of violence and deceit after the disappearance of his beautiful neighbor. Just as in a Raymond Chandler novel, the seedy underbelly of Los Angeles is on full display as our protagonist Sam (Andrew Garfield) looks for answers: first to the disappearance of Sarah (Riley Keough, real-life granddaughter of Elvis), and second to the conspiracy that emerges along the way.

The film doesn't shy away from the ickiness of it all. This includes Garfield's character, who really isn't an especially upstanding guy, although he's certainly not evil, and the film gradually reveals his moral compass. Part of what makes the film so good is the complexity the script and Garfield bring to Sam. What begins as a lustful infatuation evolves into genuine curiosity, then concern, and finally an obsessive pursuit for the truth. Sam's character at his core doesn't really change, but the mystery he happens upon shakes him out of both his physical and emotional lethargy. The added touch I really loved, that also subverts the genre a bit, is the fact that seemingly nearly everything everywhere is a clue.

My appreciation for this film is owed to my love of classic noir literature and films, as well as a fairly healthy appreciation for the popular surrealism of someone like David Lynch. This isn't Twin Peaks-level surreal, but if you hate surrealism, or have little interest in the noir genre, this might not be the film for you. As it is, it's enormously entertaining and just delightfully weird, as long as you are open to going where the film wants to take you.

3.5/4

Columbus (2017) ****

There's this wonderful scene in Columbus where the protagonists break into a high school at night. They begin to creep down the hallway, silent except for the sounds of their feet against the floor. And then we cut to...the next morning. It's an editing and story choice that a lot of directors wouldn't make. Why set the scene up; have the characters enter a new space, and then not show us what happens in this new space? Partly it has to do with a first time director flexing his creative muscle, and being confident in his vision for this film. It also feels natural for a film about quiet contemplation, a film that often reveals by withholding.

The film centers around Jin (John Cho), who is stranded in Columbus, Indiana, after his father, a scholar of architecture, has fallen into a coma. Casey (Halley Lu Richardson) is a young woman working at the local library, who has forgone college for reasons revealed later in the film. Jin's strained relationship with his father means that he knows a lot about architecture, but is at best ambivalent about the unique structures that populate Columbus. Casey, on the other hand, is fascinated by her hometown's architecture and its place in history. The two meet by chance while Casey is on a smoke break in the library parking lot. What develops from there is a relationship built on the two characters' mutual dissatisfaction, although their experiences in the world are different. 

From a technical standpoint, the film is more than proficient. Director Kogonada utilizes the town's architecture in each frame, letting the various buildings and structures inform his shots. The screenplay also has a lot to say about architecture, and the way it balances these more informative aspects of the script with the emotionally resonant moments is masterful, I think. It's a character study: of Columbus, as well as of Jin and Casey. 

John Cho is very good as a man whose initial coldness masks feelings of inadequacy and insecurity. Richardson is phenomenal as a young woman trying to balance what she is passionate about against her commitment to another person. Both are born from feelings of intensity, of love. I marveled at her expressiveness, she says so much while not speaking.

I really think the film is incredible in its quiet, contemplative way, just as other films can be incredible in louder, flashier, or more ambitious ways. I was moved not only by what I did see on screen, but also by what was withheld from me as a viewer by the script and the editing. It's a film about two fragile people that never becomes maudlin or melodramatic, it just maintains its balance from beginning to end, and I think that's amazing. 

4 stars (out of 4)