OSCARS 2023: Navalny (2022)

Vladimir Putin's authoritarian regime in Russia has only grown more concerning as the years go on. I'm worried enough about right-wing bullshit pushing our government in all sorts of scary directions in America. I can't imagine what it must be like to actually live in Russia. Unsurprisingly, there's been quite a few documentaries made about the human rights violations and general ratfuckery going on over there, which the Academy likes to notice. “Navalny” concerns one of the few people trying to take Putin on directly and the fallout of that decision. It's from director Daniel Roher, who has mostly done films on the plight of indigenous people save for a random rock doc. 

For those who might know, Alexei Navalny is the opposition leader in Russia. Getting popular through a Youtube news show, he's managed to build up a serious following. Putin pretends he doesn't know who he is. While campaigning, Navalny is poisoned with infamous nerve agent Novichok. (The favorite assassination method of Putin's cronies.) Alexei barely survives and begins his recovery in Germany. There, he begins an investigation into his own poisoning, quickly digging up the responsible party in a surprisingly direct fashion. Roher's cameras document the entire process. 

“Navalny” makes the case for its titular figure very early on. There's a certain magnetism to Alexei Navalny. You can see why he got popular on the internet. He's savvy about new media, playing along with TikTok trends and inviting his wife along for cutesy trips around town that get turned into Youtube videos. More than any of that, he's very charming. He's got a charisma about him and knows how to play to an audience. This makes up for the fact that Roher's film doesn't actually get into Navalny's politics very much. He's obviously opposed to Putin's authoritarian policies, and the things he says at rallies about personal freedoms and anti-corruption are compelling... But he was also at a rally with Nazis in the past, something Alexei is quick to dismiss and distance himself from. So I don't know how I really feel about the guy.  

Whether Alexei Navalny is someone I would be willing to vote for or not, I am happy to say that the film built around him is a good watch. Once it gets into the investigation of his attempted murder, “Navalny” becomes especially interesting. Playing out like a tense murder mystery, where the victim gets to solve his own murder, Navalny and his team dig into the available clues, starting with the very specific place that the very specific nerve agent they tried to kill him with is made. This escalates to one of those schemes that feels like it falls into the “so dumb, it might just work” category. A list of potential suspect is made, Navalny calls all of them, and starts asking questions. Amazingly, some one eventually starts talking. If it wasn't caught on film, I wouldn't believe it. You would think that literal government assassins would operate with more caution than that!

Then again, in the lead-up to this spectacular scene, Navalny and his guys talked about an incident they call “moscow4.” That refers to a Putin official who had “moscow1” set as his personal password. When that was discovered, he simply changed it to “moscow2” and then so on and so forth. This paints an interesting picture of Putin's Russia. First off, incompetence among government staff is apparently a global phenomenon. Secondly, the investigator Navalny recruits first tries to determine whether Navalny is, himself, a double-agent for Putin's government. This kind of maleficence isn't uncommon in the modern world of espionage, where disinformation and false leads make or break cases. Once the film makes it clear that Navalny is genuine, and that he's close to uncovered the truth... Well, if you follow the news, you know that Putin had Navalny locked up. That's the reality of life in Putin's Russia. Everyone has a secret, spies are everywhere, and a practical tyrant is happy to murder or lock up his enemies.

Whether Alexei Navalny will ever see freedom again is hard to say. It feels like unlikely to me, personally. I think a would-be dictator like Putin is too smart to let someone who might actually pose a threat to him free. The first scene of “Navalny” admits the possibility that the central figure could be dead before the documentary finishes filming. Regardless of how things play out, “Navalny” is still a compelling watch. Just to see a real life assassination plot get unraveled in real time makes it worth seeing. [7/10]

OSCARS 2023: Babylon (2022)

I suppose some folks can't wait to see a golden boy fail. When Damien Chazelle broke through with “Whiplash,” he was an indie favorite and a beloved talent. By the time he became a Best Director winner for “La La Land,” a lot of people had decided they hated this guy. Whether you thought “La La Land” was simply overrated or some sort of hate crime, the movie had its detractors. I wasn't one of them. I've thought all of the Chazelle's films have been really good so far. Yet a lot of people were seemingly rooting for “Babylon,” his three-hour ode to/autopsy of Hollywood's golden age, to fail. They got their wish, as the film was one of 2022's biggest flops. While it managed to grab three Academy Award nominations, it still largely polarized critics. Now the time has come for me to declare whether my status as a Chazelle fanboy holds true or if I get to take up shelter with the haters.

In 1926, silent movie superstar Jack Conrad is throwing another one of his wild parties at his Los Angeles mansion. Day laborer Manuel Torres has been recruited to transport an elephant to the party. After the bacchanal is in full swing – powered by the hot jazz of Sidney Palmer and his band – Manuel meets Nellie LaRoy, a wannabe who sneaks into the party. An actress overdosing, and Nellie's wild dancing, gets her chosen for a small role on a film set the next day. Manuel, who Jack has taken a shine to, manages to grab a camera just in time to save a shot. Nellie, meanwhile, impresses with her ability to cry on command. Soon, Nellie LaRoy is the hottest new star in Hollywood and Manuel Torres is working his way up the studio ladder. Yet, as the silent era gives way to the advent of sound and the Roarin' Twenties birth the Production Code Thirties, careers nose-dive and stars fade.

When “Babylon” was in production, people kept referring to it as a love letter to the silent age of movie making. This is still somewhat true but don't think that means “Babylon” is a stately, nostalgic homage. Chazelle announces his intentions early on, when he has an elephant defecate on someone. The next scene features a fat, naked guy being urinated on. Before “Babylon” is over, it features prominent roles for just about all the major bodily fluids. The film paints a clear picture of the depravity of Hollywood's wild west era. Drug use is rampant. Sex happens at the drop of a hat. It's a time of freedom, as the crazy environment allows Sidney and his black band mates a place of employment and allows Lady Fa Zhu – a friend of Jack's – to be openly bisexual. It comes with a cost too. More than one person dies, and is then carted away without a care, during different productions. Gangsters are allowed free reign. Chazelle clearly isn't looking back at the twenties through rose-colored glasses.

As much as “Babylon” is an unvarnished look at this time and place in Hollywood history, Chazelle is still informed by a love of cinema. The sequence where Manuel races back to the film shot with a camera allows an unhinged director to get his perfect shot... And it's amazing, the chaos coming to a pause long enough for something totally pure to take shape. It's an almost orgasmic release, all the stress and pain and blood and insanity being worth it to make something that will live forever. This point is emphasized in the scene where Jack, his star on the wane, has a talk with a gossip columnist. She makes the point that his time is over but his movies will live on. “Babylon” concludes with a tear-strewn montage that celebrates the artform of filmmaking, showing that Chazelle is totally sincere. No matter how much puke and shit and blood “Babylon” throws around, it believes that movies are magic and being a part of the process is worth it all.

Whether you will find Chazelle's arguments for filmmaking's status as a beautiful, transcendent art form meaningful or trite depends on your taste, I suppose. I'm a sucker for stories about the magic of the movies, so “Babylon” worked for me. The second half of this three hour long epic follows a largely expected path. Despite being an early proponent for the innovation of sound, Jack's career can't survive the transition to talkies. Nellie LaRoy is the toast of the town for a while but her hard-partying lifestyle is impossible to sustain and the hits eventually run out. Sidney's friendship with Manuel is strained by the racial boundaries of the time. L.A. chews people up and spits them out. You're on top one day and down the next. The public is fickle and their taste varies wildly from week to week. None of these are new observations. 

“Babylon” may not earn points for creativity. Nor does it balance all its subplots especially well. Sidney and Lady Fa Zhu just slowly fade from the movie, while jack's story comes to an abrupt end. Yet Chazelle still knows how to engineer a show-stopping set piece. “Babylon” is full of impressive cinematography, with multiple long takes where the camera winds through crowds and corridors. The opening act at the party is a stunning display of sexual depravity, with the twitchy energy of a cocaine high. A battle scene being shot out in the desert escalates into a brilliant piece of physical comedy. A sequence that begins with Nellie riding a shirtless polo team into a party and ends with a rattlesnake fight is phenomenally entertaining. An attempt by a film crew to adapt to shooting with sound is a nervous, profane comedy of errors. 

Even in its last third, “Babylon” is still knocking it out of the park. A visit to a gangster, played by a puffy-faced and surprisingly frightening Tobey Maguire, becomes a descent into Hell at an otherwordly sex dungeon. Maguire is just the most unexpected member of a cast that truly gives it their all. Margot Robbie makes it clear why she's a movie star as Nellie, a voracious ball of energy that you can't take your eyes off of. Brad Pitt, clearly riffing on his own career some, brings an increasingly melancholy to Jack. Li Jun Li is magnetic as Fay Zhu, while Diego Calva makes a compelling hero as Manuel, a man trying desperately to hold onto his heart in a ruthless system. That just accounts for the main players, as there's notable small roles for performers as varied as an expertly deployed Eric Roberts, Samara Weaving, Olivia Wilde, and Flea. 

I can definitely see why “Babylon” rubbed some people the wrong way. It's mixture of bodily fluids, rise-and-fall/price-of-fame clichés, and celebration of movie making isn't going to appeal to everyone. I, however, am impressed simply by Chazelle and his team's display of skills. A pounding musical score and a frequently energetic shooting style makes the three-hour runtime sail by. The film is full of unforgettable images and sequences, with plenty of heart, strong performances, and a frequently surprising sick sense of humor. It's not as good as “Whiplash,” “La La Land,” or even “First Man.” But it is a worthy motion picture in its own right. If this one's box office failure gets Chazelle put in director's jail, that would be a shame. I think it's one that will be primed for rediscovery in a few years. [7/10]

OSCARS 2023: Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (2022)

When it came out in 2019, “Knives Out” was the most pleasant of surprises. A old -fashion whodunit with a twisty story structure, a nice edge of social commentary, and a phenomenal ensemble cast, it would prove to be a hit with audiences and critics. Including grabbing a Best Original Screenplay nominations at the Oscar. Shortly after the film's hit status was minted, talks began to move towards another Benoit Blanc adventure. In a shocking move, Netflix would buy the exclusive rights to two sequels to the hit film. Even if the streaming giant hoped to further line their coffers with the high profile follow-up, they did give “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery” a qualifying theatrical run. This brief commitment ended up being a surprising success, suggesting – and this could be a revolutionary idea – that people love to see movies in movie theaters. Whether Netflix plans to expand more into theatrical distribution remains to be seen, though “Glass Onion” did repeat its predecessor's luck in the writing categories at the Oscars.

Billionaire Miles Bron sends his oldest group of friends elaborate mystery boxes. Genius chemist Lionel, up-and-coming politician Claire, supermodel turned fashion designer Birdie, and men-rights live streamer Duke all work together to unlock the boxes. Inside our invitations to Miles' island paradise, known as the Glass Onion, and a weekend long murder-mystery adventure. Among the invited are Andi, Miles' former business partner turned enemy following a lawsuit, and Benoit Blanc. Yet Bron didn't invite Blanc. Soon, this pretend murder-mystery turns into a real one. Duke is killed but Miles was seemingly the real target. With plenty of resentments and millions to be made, Benoit Blanc has his work cut out for him.

“Knives Out” put a nice twist on the mystery genre but revealing the details of the murder half-way through the movie. This flashback changed everything that came before, the script working back on itself and becoming a different sort of mystery. “Glass Onion” does something similar. After a pair of dead bodies drop, the film returns to its beginning. We see events play out from a different point of view, learning more details that were kept from us previously. This adds a totally different angle. “Glass Onion” doesn't lay down all its card. In fact, the film just gets more twisting and surprising at it goes on. The script keeps you guessing while also playing with all the expected structures. 

While “Glass Onion” proves delightful on a structural level, I was uncertain about other aspects of its writing at first. The characters and settings seem a little too self-consciously quirky at first. Famously buff Dave Bautista playing a vlogger who lives with his mom and carries a handgun in his speedo is bit too much of a sight gag. Upon arriving on the island, the film really doubles-down on elements like this. Milo's is so fabulously rich, his dock is carved from ice by an artist whose name sounds like “piece of shit.” A running joke about the Mona Lisa, encased in a sound activated glass frame, and dinging notifications on a phone feels like a bit much. When paired with an ostentatious set designs and costumes, not to mention the already stylized dialogue, it starts to get a bit too cute for its own good. Did we need to see Benoit Blanc playing “Among Us” in his bathtub with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar? 

Yet Rian Johnson's script is smarter than it seems. Almost all of the goofy sight gags – except maybe the Phillip Glass composed bell tone that marks the hour or Noah Segan's cameo  – actually end up serving a purpose in the plot. Even the most winking of jokes, about Jared Leto's hard Kampuchea or Jeremy Renner's hot sauce, end up serving a purpose. The stylized set design, such as a prominent clown statue, come back in a big way too. And it doesn't hurt that, the more “Glass Onion” balances its mystery aspects and funny dialogue, the stronger both elements get. Such as in a hilarious sequence where Benoit totally dismantles Bron's engineered murder-mystery within minutes. 

“Knives Out's” social commentary might've been a bit heavy-handed and the sequel is no different in that regard. The suspects that fill up the island are mostly ridiculous caricatures of easily spoofed modern figures. Dave Bautista's Duke is a blustering, fame-obsessed dumb-ass whose macho ways clearly cover up some insecurities. Kate Hudson's Birdie is an absurdist take on washed-up celebs who can't stop putting their foot in their mouths, who are finally discovering that their privilege can't protect them from their own ignorance. Yet no figure is more ridiculous than Edward Norton's Bron. In this regard, “Glass Onion” was actually somewhat ahead of the curve. This supposedly wasn't intended but Bron plays like a pitch-perfect takedown of our current Twitter CEO: An inventor who fancies himself a genius but actually just repackages ideas made by other people and is, in fact, a bumbling idiot. Maybe it's overdone but you can't say that it isn't factually accurate.

I went into “Glass Onion” skeptical but, ultimately, it won me over. The intricacies of its mystery, and the delightful way they are revealed, proved far too entertaining. Many of the elements that seemed excessive in the early scenes prove to be vital ingredients later on. Craig is even more amusing than ever as Blanc, while having wonderful chemistry with Janelle Monae. I liked her character so much that I kind of hope she comes back for the already announced third entry in the Benoit Blanc trilogy. Maybe Rian Johnson spends too much time on Twitter. Maybe his sense of humor is a bit too cute at times. Yet “Glass Onion” is still a great time at the movies. [7/10]

OSCARS 2023: Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022)

It seems like “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse” is going to go down as one of the most influential films in animation history. Or at least in the current era of the art form. Just in the few years since its release, we've already seen multiple other films adopt its style of animation. Among the most unexpected projects to get the “Spider-Verse” makeover was “Puss in Boots: The Last Wish.” The previous “Puss in Boots” movie came out ten years ago, where it made little impact. That spin-off was seemingly the last desperate attempt to wring a few more dollars from the exhausted “Shrek” franchise. In other words, nobody had any expectations for a sequel. This is probably why “The Last Wish” has received shockingly enthusiastic reviews. The long in-the-works sequel has been so positively received that an Oscar nomination for Best Animated Feature wasn't a surprise but totally expected. 

While defending a village from a giant, fairy tale hero Puss in Boots is killed. He immediately revives but is horrified to learn that was his eighth life that just ended. He's on his last life. Now being stalked by a mysterious wolf, Puss feels fear for the first time ever. The feline swashbuckler decides to retire, ending up at a crazy cat lady's house. Yet his reputation proceeds him. A quartet of petty crooks – Goldilocks and the Three Bears – track him down, hoping he'll help them find a magical wishing star that can grant any wish. Upon hearing of the last star, Puss realizes this might be his chance to regain his lost lives. Teaming up with new and old friends, Puss soon enters into the magical forest around the star, pursued by Goldilocks and local crime boss “Big” Jack Horner. 

Dreamworks must've been determined to emulate the look of “Into the Spider-Verse” because they hired one of its directors – Joel Crawford – to lead “The Last Wish.” It's interesting to see how this influence manifests throughout the film. In some ways, “Puss in Boots 2” looks about what you'd expect from a far-flung sequel to the “Shrek” movies. The character designs match up with the older franchise, with Jack Horner being an especially unappealing visual. Yet it's clear that more effort was taken here. “The Last Wish” adopts a lush, painterly style, a soft but detailed quality added to many of the characters and environments. The action scenes are really were the difference is noticed. Dynamic camera angles, anime-like speed lines, and stylized movements add much more of a sense of impact and style. A scene of Puss running across rooftops, while avoiding the bell the giant is swinging, or any of the sequences involving the Wolf, are especially well done. 

If Crawford and his team sneaked some “Spider-Verse” flair into “Puss in Boot's” animation, you could also say they found a way to smuggle some deeper themes into the story as well. From the moment this mysterious wolf appears, it's not to hard to figure out his true identity. This is a spectre of death, finally coming to claim the kitty that has avoided him for so long. Puss suddenly developing a fear of death introduces far more stakes than we've come to expect from this universe. A sequence where Puss flees from a vision of this new enemy, having a panic attack afterwards, and is comforted by one of the friends he's made is surprisingly touching. “The Last Wish” doesn't get at anything particularly deep. Most of the themes it touches on – the power of friendship, found family, a cad redeeming himself – are about what you'd expect from a kids' movie. Yet the depiction of the cartoon cat suddenly tangoing with his own mortality is surprisingly well done.

While “The last Wish” makes some unexpected leaps and takes some surprising risks, it's still an entry in the “Shrek” franchise. The film is full of easy gags, built around contrasting these fairy tale characters with snarkier behavior. Thus, Goldilocks has become a bad-ass bounty hunter, the Three Bears acting as her partners-in-crimes. Jack Horner brings with him a bottomless bag – implied to be Mary Poppins' bag – full of objects from other fairy tales and fantasy stories. This allows for the kind of easily understood references and callbacks we've come to expect. Yet even some of these are mildly amusing, such as a reoccurring part for a character that's obviously Jiminy Cricket. I even found myself warming up to the slightly annoying little dog sidekick Puss acquires along the way. There's also some surprisingly dark gags about Horner's callousness concerning his henchmen.

As is also in-keeping with the Dreamworks' house style, “The Last Wish” is packed full of celebrity voices. Antonio Banderas is back as Puss, Salma Hayek returns from the previous “Puss in Boots” film, with John Mulaney, Florence Pugh, Olivia Coleman, and Ray Winstone as various antagonists. I have no doubt that “Puss in Boots: The Last Wish” benefited greatly from the surely low expectations everyone had for it. It's easy to impress people when nobody is expecting your movie to be good anyway. Yet the added visual flair and a script with a little more nuance than expected easily makes this one of the better entries in the “Shrek” franchise. Which, I imagine, Dreamworks is eager to revive in the wake of this one's success. I doubt the world needs a “Shrek 5” but we didn't need a “Puss in Boots 2” and it turned out pretty well, so who knows... [7/10]

OSCARS 2023: Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths (2022)

One of the most notorious moments in the history of the Dissolve – the film website that would foster a wonderful community, that survives to this day via Facebook groups – was Scott Tobias' review of “Birdman.” He opened it with the immortal line “Alejandro González Iñárritu is a pretentious fraud.” It was a burn so to-the-point that it would become the first major meme of the Dissolve community. As Iñárritu has become a perennial award season favorite, scooping up two Best Director Oscars in the time since Tobias wrote that sentence, I think of those words often. Would the man himself even deny his own pretentiousness at this point?  Iñárritu's latest bit of self-satisfied claptrap is “Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths,” another title so pompous it almost reads like a parody of pompousness. At least the Academy mostly resisted the bait this time, only giving “Bardo” a single nomination in the cinematography category.

Silverio Gama is a famous Mexican journalist and documentary filmmaker, who is about to be awarded an American honor for his journalistic integrity. This triggers an existential crisis in him, that plays out in a series of dream-like episodes as he visits Mexico in the days before the award show. Silverio and his wife are still haunted by the death of their child, who died a day after being born. This creates tension with his other kids, who are now teenagers. He struggles with the passing of his father and his mother being in her twilight years. He agonizes over his own status as a Mexican, his skin color, his own feelings about his home country. He also reflects on modern Mexican culture and its long, embattled history. He considers his own status as a filmmaker and the stories he reports on, whether he deserves these accolades and what purpose his work serves.

I think what irks me the most about Iñárritu's films is that he has no confidence in his own symbols. He has to tell you what everything means. “Bardo,” owing to its dream-like structure and magic-realism approach, is absolutely littered with symbols. A baby is born and is then pushed back into his mother. It's then explained this happens because the baby decided the world is "too fucked-up." Later, while Silverio goes down on his wife, the head of their dead baby peeks out of her vagina. Because little Mateo's death haunts them even in intimate moments. When imagining a meeting with his dad, Silverio suddenly has the proportions of a small child. Cause, you see, he'll always feel like a kid around his dad. That's the kind of movie “Bardo” is. It's packed, front-to-back, with loaded imagery and thinks the audience is too fucking stupid to understand any of it.

“Bardo” isn't satisfied to simply explain itself through blatantly obvious visual metaphors. This is a movie where characters don't speak so much as they lecture. Every dialogue exchange is a dissertation. When invited on a talk show hosted by an old friend, Silverio is unable to speak while the host rattles off every criticism of him he can think of. Later, the two meet up at a party and have a similar argument. There's a long scene set in the kitchen of Silverio's Mexican home, where Silverio and his son debate his feelings towards Mexican and the value of his films. While watching a farcical reenactment of a battle from the Mexican-American War, Silverio expounds on the specific meaning of everything that happens. Later, he meets Hernan Cortes atop a body of dead indigenous people, where they debate racial identity. Maybe the most insufferable moment in a movie with no shortage of them occurs when we actually see a clip of Silverio's documentary. It's an interview with a cartel drug lord, who delivers a long-winded speech about how the drug wars have changed the social structure in Mexico. On and on like this, “Bardo” absolutely sucks up all the oxygen in the room from its eagerness to explain itself.

It almost goes without saying that “Bardo” is also a hideously self-indulgent work. Silverio is clearly a stand-in for Iñárritu himself. Star Daniel Giménez Cacho even looks quite a lot like the filmmaker. One imagines that Silverio's doubt about whether he's a “real” Mexican after living in the U.S. for so long reflects a personal crisis for the filmmaker. This inner conflict, like all the others in “Bardo,” are made stiflingly literal during a scene where Silverio and his family argue with a border security agent at the airport. That's the second of about six endings this movie has, as it's bloated two-and-a-half-hour run time must stretch on. Part of why the movie is so damn long is because Iñárritu throws in every idea he has. “Bardo” isn't just a personal reflection on the director's own career and his culture, as it touches on a dozen other ideas too. Up to an including some Christ imagery, as if this wasn't pretentious enough. 

Considering how self-satisfied “Bardo” is in every way, it's unsurprising that Darius Khondji's cinematography is very show-off-y. There's lots of long takes, fancy angles, and wide-screen images. A few times these moments work for me. Such as a genuinely spooky scene where Silverio is left alone on a suddenly empty street. Or a dance scene set to a vocals-only version of “Let's Dance.” For the most part, “Bardo” is too unbearably smug to be enjoyed. I'm sure the negative reviews the film received will do nothing to dissuade Iñárritu and he'll be back with another project soon enough. Good for the folks who enjoy his work. I cannot count myself among you. [4/10]

OSCARS 2023: Tell It Like A Woman (2022)

It's not uncommon for one of the Oscar nominees to stick out as especially arbitrary. In the history of random-ass movies to get nominated for an Oscar, is there any more random-ass a title than "Tell It Like a Woman?" When this year's slate was announced, there was a collective exclamation of confusion around it. It seemed like the film was barely released, leading some to joke that it wasn't real. But we all know why "Tell It Like A Woman," a film nobody knew existed, managed to score an Oscar nomination. The Academy has, for whatever reason, made a running gag of nominating Diane Warren in the Best Song category every year. Warren contributing a song to this obscure feature led the Academy to bless their favorite perpetual runner-up with her fourteenth nomination. This is presumably how this movie nobody has heard of somehow earned a minor place in Hollywood history. 

So what is "Tell Like a Woman?” It is an omnibus feature composed of women telling stories about women. Taraji P. Henson's “Percy & Kim” follows an inmate struggling with drug addiction, as she goes through therapy. Catherine Hardwicke's “Elbow Deep” concerns a worker for a homeless outreach program during the pandemic, as she cleans an especially troubled girl. Lucía Puenzo's “Lagonegro” has Ava returning to her childhood home of Corsica to bury her sister and take in a niece she doesn't know. Mipo Oh's “A Week in My Life” is about a beleaguered Japanese mom as she raises two kids and work a full-time job. Maria Tognazzi's “Unspoken” tracks a veterinarian as she helps a desperate patient. Leena Yadav's “Sharing a Ride” sees a Bombay plastic surgeon unexpectedly help a transwoman. Meanwhile, the animated “Aria” tells a symbolic story about people being set free from the paths set out for them.

“Percy & Kim” is, unfortunately, mawkish in the extreme. Jennifer Hudson gives an utterly grotesque performance as “Kim.” Kim's struggles are awkwardly presented by having multiple versions of Hudson arguing with each other or monologuing directly to the camera. Hudson is a talented performer but her performance here is grotesque. She effects overdone body languages and haircuts to show  the different aspects of Kim's personality. Unfortunately, this results mostly in Hudson screaming profanity and speaking in goofy voices. This approach borders offensive during a sequence where Kim recounts her childhood sexual abuse, while wearing pigtails and talking in a high-pitched little girl voice. Henson's visual approach is borderline amateurish. The editing, utilizing slow fades to black, is distractingly blunt. The camera work is annoyingly shaky and the soundtrack intrusive. When combine with the shallow screenplay, it all gives the impression of bad community theater.

The film's less-than-sensitive approach to mental health and questionable creative choices continues with “Elbows Deep.” Cara Delevingne's performance as “Validation,” the homeless schizophrenic, is frankly embarrassing. She quivers, snorts, squeaks, grimaces, and mutters. The character leans into every stereotype about the homeless and mentally ill, being abjectly filthy and inhumanly eccentric. The unfortunate visual approach seen in the first segment continues here, as Hardwicke often frames the shots in bizarrely off-center ways. The soundtrack is similarly deafening and obvious. The worst part is there's just not much to this segment narratively. It's mostly composed of a doctor and her assistant getting a woman out of her dirty clothes. You're kind of left wondering what the point of this was.

“Lagonegro,” at the very least, isn't as roughly directed as the first two segments. The cinematography here is clear and the editing doesn't immediately pull you out. The script remains drippy though. Characters more-or-less directly explain their feelings while every dramatic moment is emphasized with blaring music. Once the conflict of Ana having to choose between her career and taking care of her niece appears, it's obvious where this story is going. As the episode flatly moves towards its climax, any suspense or investment totally deflates. “Unspoken” is similarly let-down by an obvious script, moving towards an improperly clean-cut conclusion that is set-up in a blatant way and ends abruptly. This undermines an approach that was decently understated, even if it never connects with the themes of animals and parenthood. 

If most of “Tell It Like a Woman” is stylistically inert, “Sharing a Ride” and “Aria” are self-consciously showy. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Leena Yadav has directed music videos before this. That's what the segment feels like at times, such as during a lengthy montage devoted to the protagonist stepping into a photoshoot. And especially in its climax, which is built around showcasing Warren's song. The rest of the short is burdened by loud comic relief, a protagonist that is somehow both underwritten and overacted, and a script that follows the tired trope of a cisgendered person helping out a trans individual. “Aria,” meanwhile, employs obvious symbolism of observation, people forced to predestined paths, and breaking free to express themselves. When combined with its animated status – which is uninspired, with generic character designs – it makes for a baffling note to end the film on. 

“A Week in My Life” is one of the few times “Tell It Like a Woman” approaches subtly. The sequence does a good job of depicting how constantly exhausted and overwhelmed its protagonist is without going into histrionics. Smartly, Towa, the dinosaur-obsessed young son, is depicted as hyperactive but never obnoxious. He's just a normal kid, overflowing with energy. The mom clearly has her plate full, sometimes being pushed towards cracking, but remains dedicated to her children. The attention to the banalities of everyday responsibilities, all the tasks she has to do every day, are well-done. The climax of the story is actually cutely touching, showing that these kids do love their mom and appreciate all the sacrifices she makes for them. 

You can tell the producers of “Tell It Like a Woman” were determined to get the most of Diane Warren's theme song. “Applause” is heard in its entirety three times, with both the standard version and a dance remix playing back-to-back over the end credits. As far as Warren's overwritten ballads go, it's mildly catchy and singer Sofia Carson has a nice voice. But the melodies are overproduced and it features the lyrics “You're a supernova superstar.” I don't think Warren is going to win an Oscar for this one. Nor should the accompanying movie, a hodgepodge of stylistically incompatible segments that largely vary from sappy to insensitive.  Only Oh's installment rises above mediocre. “Tell It Like a Woman,” when it is remembered at all, will surely be recalled as one of the most inexplicable Oscar nominees. [5/10]

OSCARS 2023: Elvis (2022)

There are probably more divisive filmmakers out there than Baz Luhrmann. Yet Baz does seem to bring out extreme reactions in people. If you like his films, you really like them. And if you hate the guy's maximalist style, you really fucking hate it. That a director with such a frantic, camp-conscious style would rub some folks the wrong way doesn’t surprise me. I’m mostly a Baz fan, if not a particularly passionate one. When I read that Luhrmann's next project was “Elvis,” it seemed like a good fit to me. Elvis Presley was the most ostentatious of America’s pop icons. If anybody could capture that level of ridiculous opulence, it would be Luhrmann. What I didn't expect was Luhrmann's film becoming a critical darling too. It was so well received that it managed to scoop up eight Academy Award nominations, including one for Best Picture.

The biography is mostly told from the perspective of Presley’s notoriously duplicitous manager, Colonel Tom Parker. While recovering from a heart attack in the early seventies, Parker recalls discovering Elvis while touring the south. Presley’s music, a mix of black rhythm-and-blues and white rockabilly, as well as his sexually charged performance style, is already becoming a phenomenon. Parker quickly picks up Elvis as a client and turns him into a global sensation, to massive success and controversy. Yet Parker’s tight control over Presley’s music and image soon brings them into conflict. After Parker talks him into performing at a Las Vegas hotel, Elvis’ growing dependence on pills and poor health takes its toll. 

Unsurprisingly, Luhrmann brings his typically hyperactive visual style to Presley’s story. The film begins with a swirling montage, cutting between spinning roulette tables, Parker in the hospital, and careening shots of the Vegas skyline. This is the first of many such spinning camera movements, through the signs and casinos of the city. Luhrmann often employs colorful and divergent visual techniques. When Elvis’ fondness for Captain Marvel Jr. is recounted, comic style animation is employed. Animated credits appear on-screen during a “Viva Las Vegas”-inspired sequence that introduces Presley’s “Memphis Mafia” entourage. His residence at the International Hotel and accompanying national tours result in many frantic, split screen montages. (My favorite of which has Elvis tossing a guitar between panels.) Black-and-white handheld footage interjects during another heated performance. Pretty much the entire movie is cut like a trailer, which extends to a soundtrack that frequently mashes Presley's music up with contemporary hip-hop artists. Whether you find this kaleidoscopic style intoxicating or irritating is strictly a matter of taste. The only time I think it got really silly was during a sequence devoted to Elvis' dwindling box office success in the late sixties. But, I mean, it's Elvis. Of course it's going to be a little silly, really over-the-top, and utterly gaudy. Luhrmann's hyped-up approach fits the subject. 

Considering the obviously stylized approach the film takes to the material, it's unsurprising that "Elvis" plays fast and loose with the facts. Most of Presley's life story has faded into American folklore anyway. If anyone would've appreciate a "print the legend" approach, it's him. Thus, Luhrmann's film mostly frames Elvis' story as one of a ridiculously talented artist seeking to express himself against his manager's tyrannical control. After Parker turns Presley into a movie star and the biggest celebrity in the world, Elvis begins to bristle against the limitations placed in him. The 1968 Comeback Special is depicted as an artistic breakthrough for Presley, that allowed him to sing the socially conscious music he wanted to make. His fading years in Las Vegas become a case of Parker pushing Presley further into isolation, drug abuse, and eccentricity, that the King desperately wants to escape. While Parker is the colorful supervillain in this comic-book-ified life story, "Elvis" hits most of the beats we expect from rock star biopics. Presley is still mostly depicted as a prisoner of his own success. 

Considering his almost god-like prominence in American pop culture, so many weird details about Presley's life have trickled out over the years. Everybody has their favorite, whether it be his fondness for decadent junk food or bizarre connection with Richard Nixon. Since Luhrmann's film elevates Elvis' story to a mythic status, it doesn't get into his sleepovers with teenage girls, his voyeurism, or his uncertain politics. His marriage to Priscilla is mostly depicted as a whirlwind romance that would've been perfect if the King could've just stayed away from the pills. Presley's creepy fixation on handguns is only shown in a few scenes, while his bizarre spiritual connection with his dead twin brother only crops up a few more times. The only aspect of Elvis' freakiness that the movie devotes extended time to is his troubling relationship with his mother. Their closeness and her clinginess is a frequent topic in the biopic's early half, adding yet another element of operatic melodrama to this Greek Myth take on the rock star's life. 

Probably the most interesting part of the film is its earlier scenes, devoted to the effect Elvis' music and performance style had on the United States. Befitting such an oversized film, Presley's wiggling hips are depicted as bringing young women practically to the point of orgasm. The effect his sashaying pants had on the country is played for over-the-top comedy, the attempts to stem Elvis' gyrations leading to the movie's most amusingly absurd moments. Presley's place in America's racial history is also given a lot of attention. The debt he owed to black artist is foreground, as is his desire to boost them. Once the movie gets to Presley being tears over Martin Luther King or Bobby Kennedy's deaths, it's maybe taken a need for relevance to far. Yet showing anti-Elvis hysteria as mostly fostered by racist old white men terrified of segregation, race-mixing, and young women sexually expressing themselves is astute. 

There's literally an entire industry of Elvis impersonators out there, which means cinematic Elvii are held to a higher standard. Admittedly, former Disney Channel star Austin Butler does an uncanny job of adapting the King's mannerisms and accent. Make-up pushes Butler into looking just practically identical to the real thing, while a savvy mixture of Butler's own singing and Presley's voice nicely captures the real singer's sound. Butler doesn't just do a tip-top impersonation but always gleams the inner soul of this larger-than-life figure. Despite all his fame and success, his Elvis is an insecure, neurotic fellow with countless hang-ups and a child-like naivety that never really went away. It is, I must say, a star-making performance. While Butler totally absorbs himself in the role, Tom Hanks plays Colonel Tom Parker as a cartoonish figure with a bizarre accent. His constant mention of "snow jobs" is amusing and Hanks - also aided by considerable make-up - adds as much sleazy, manipulative menace to the role as possible. Such a ridiculous approach absolutely fits the movie's flamboyant style. Hanks is the perfectly oversized villain for a story of such garish magnitude. 

Ultimately, Luhrmann's "Elvis" is a highly entertaining tribute to that most distinctly American of musical icons. The breakneck pacing makes the two and a half hour runtime sail on by. Like Luhrmann's best movies, it's an addictive sugar rush that leaves the viewer thoroughly buzzed. If the film can't quite capture the complexity of such a divisive real life person, it's not really a flaw. This isn't a warts-and-all biography. Instead, it's a lavish homage that drapes itself in the fashion and exuberance of its subject matter. (Those disappointed by the movie's treatment of Priscilla will get a second chance when she gets her own biopic later this year.) If you're willing to go along for the ride, with just the right amount of detachment from the material, you'll probably have a good time. I don't know if it's Best Picture material exactly but it is a highly entertaining slice of campy show biz glory. [7/10]

OSCARS 2023: A House Made of Splinters (2022)

I'll admit to not being horribly well read about the situation in Europe these days. Even before Russia invaded Ukraine, Vladamir Putin struck me as a power-hungry, would-be dictator. Just reading about the atrocities Russia has performed in Ukraine since the war started makes it clear to me how history will judge this conflict. I have no doubt that Putin's action will have global ramifications for years and be a topic of discussion for decades to come. In other words: There's going to be a lot of important, incredibly depressing movies made about this. Even before the invasion officially began, there was a notable, important, depressing documentary made in Ukraine. “A House Made of Splinters” is not directly about Russia and Ukraine's on-going fight. Yet the spectre of the war hangs over a movie that was already a huge downer to begin with. The inevitability of the violence, about to break loose, makes an emotional watch even more harrowing.

Set in the Ukraine city of Donbas, “A House Made of Splinters” follows the going-ons at a state-run orphanage. The program takes care of children who have been abandoned by their parents, many of whom are alcoholics. The teachers and caretakers there attempt to establish contact with the absentee parents, essentially giving them another chance to prove themselves, or set up foster homes for the children. The filmmakers focus on three cases in particular: Eva, a young girl who is hoping to be placed with her grandmother; Sasha, an even younger girl whose mother is totally absent; and Kolya, a troubled boy living there with his siblings.

Maybe the most heartbreaking moment in "A House Made of Splinters" – a film that is, overall, really sad – occurs during the one time Kolya's mother visits him and his siblings. They hug and the parent seems happy to see her son. Yet he immediately recognizes the smell of alcohol on her breath, asking her about it. She quickly admits that she had one beer that morning. It's a moment when you see child and parent switch roles, the kid being forced to stand-up and be the responsible one next to their dysfunctional parent. It's also the only time in the film we actually see a parent interact with their children. Throughout, there's phone calls between the kids and their guardians. Each desperate call features a drunk parent, a missing one, or a receiver that's simply never picked up. 

It is, to say the least, a deeply sad affair. "A House Made of Splinters" is an observational documentary, devoted to watching the children as they go about their days in the orphanage. Through these daily activities, we see how the kids cope with their situations. The girls crush on certain boys, leaving notes in their bunks. (Which are apathetically received.) They blow bubbles or stand under curtains, pretending to be ghosts. The boys crawl under blankets and tell each other horror stories... Which happen to be true stories, of the way their inebriated parents have abused them. Following a Christmas morning, we see Sasha getting frustrated with a voice-activated doll she was gifted. You can't help but wonder if this mirrors some of the interactions she's had with her own mother. 

That's the dispiriting question that floats over the whole movie: Are these kids doomed to become as broken as their parents? Kolya seems to be a juvenile delinquent in training, often getting in trouble with the teachers. He decorates himself with Sharpie tattoos, seemingly fantasizing about being a prison-bound gangster. At one point, after stealing some petty cash, he gets a stern lecture from a police officer. (Which later prompts him to write "ACAB" on his arm.) When interacting with his brothers, it's often by beating a punching bag. Which is probably typical kids stuff but you can't help but wonder if violence is a way for him to vent his frustration. In a later moment, we see Sasha wrestling with a friend as well. During the same scene, the little girls admit they've tasted alcohol before. It's hard to escape the feeling that each of these poor, lost children are resigned to their fate. They play fortune telling games during sleepovers, predicting similarly depressing futures for themselves. In another contender for "A House Made of Splinters'" saddest scene, a caretaker admits that this is a cycle she's seen play out before. Of abandoned children going onto become bad parents themselves, ultimately abandoning kids of their own. 

There are slivers of hope. Kolya is nurturing and loving with his little sister, suggesting that the boy has an emotional inner life that can still salvaged. The film tries to end these stories in as happy a place as possible, with smiling reunions and new beginnings... Yet the inevitability of the Russian invasion ensures life will only get harder for these kids. "A House Made of Splinters" really tore my heart out. If the greatest goal a movie can aspire to is being an empathy generating machine, then this film touched my heart deeply. Yet it's also such an emotionally wrenching watch that I can't say I'm eager to revisit it. It just makes me hope that these kids make it out of their current situation okay. And it makes me feel like caretakers are angels even more than I did already. [8/10]

OSCARS 2023: The 2023 Oscar-Nominated Animated Shorts

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse (2022)

The most high-profile of this year's animated shorts is “The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse.” A half-hour adaptation of a popular children's book that features celebrity voices like Idris Elba and Tom Hollander, it was given a heavily promoted debut on Apple TV last year. It concerns a young boy, lost in a snowy landscape and looking for his home. He soon meets a talking mole, whom he quickly befriends. They are joined by a fox – who tries to eat the mole but becomes more hospitable after he's rescued from a snare – and a horse. The quartet soon form a family of sorts as they search for a place they can call home.

Apparently, “The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse” started as a series of images with inspiration quotes attached to them that illustrator Charlie Mackesy posted to Instagram. This explains a lot about the film. The short involves a quartet of vague, archetypal characters who wander towards a thinly explained goal, all while speaking exclusively in banal aphorisms about love, kindness, forgiveness, bravery, asking for help, and being “enough.” This feels less like a traditional narrative and more like a self-help book. The Boy acts as if he's recovering from some sort of trauma but it's never expounded on. It's all very vague and touchy feely. Seeing such ponderous dialogue come out of the mouths of a cartoon mole or a Christopher Robin look-a-like quickly gets old.

It's very nice to look at, as the painterly quality of Mackesy's original artwork is extended to this adaptation. I especially like how the illustrator lines are frequently left in, giving the entire film a nicely sketchy and hand-made quality. Yet there's just not much here on a narrative level and the attempts to add pathos and meaning in such a heavy-handed manner makes something likelier to cause my eyes to roll than my heart to swell. [5/10]

The Flying Sailor (2022)

The required quirky Canadian short of this year’s batch of animation is “The Flying Sailor.” It is inspired by the Halifax Explosion, an incident in 1917, where a French ship hulling explosives collided in the Halifax, Nova Scotia harbor with a Norwegian vessel. The resulting blast – the biggest man-caused explosion up to that point – completely destroyed Halifax and the nearby town of Dartmouth. 1782 people were killed. Among the survivors was Charlie Mayers, a British sailor who was tossed four kilometers into the air by the explosion. He miraculously survived, left totally stripped by his flight into the sky save for his boots. 

“The Flying Sailor” doesn’t tell you any of these things, as it’s free of dialogue. It begins with jaunty music and a cartoonish zoom into the interior of the French boat. The image of the broad sailor walking along the dock made me think this was some sort of homage to thirties animation, before the explosion begins suddenly. The resulting montage of chaotic noise and motion is chaotic, before the film focuses on the strangely serene image of this naked, burly fellow with a mermaid tattooed on his chest launched into the air. His life flashes before his eyes as he sails up towards the edge of space before plummeting back down to the ground. 

The result is surprisingly touching. The short seemingly combines traditional animation with photography tricks and stop-motion, creating an interesting visual effect. The contrast between the rough-and-tumble sailor and the seeming peace he feels as he flies through the heavens is intriguing. The montage of images, from his childhood and early days as a sailor and bar room fights, is further contrasted with peaceful music. As a visual experience, “The Flying Sailor” is impressive. As a short rumination on life and near-death experiences, it’s quietly touching. [7/10]

Ice Merchants (2022)

A Portuguese short, “Ice Merchants” follows a father and son who live in a house precariously perched on the edge of a steep cliff. The duo parachute down to the village below every day, where they sell the ice made possible by the chilly temperatures of their home's high elevation. In the evening, they ride a motorcycle-powered pulley back up to their house, fill the ice box with water, and do it all over again the next day. That is until rising temperatures threaten not just their business but also their lives. 

If nothing else, “Ice Merchants” looks cool. The short, at least, partially seems to be an experiment in perspective. As the father and son sail down the mountain side, the point-of-view swirls around their bodies as they free-fall towards the ground. I also like how their hats fly off their head, loving caressing against each other as they float up through the air. There's other neat touches like that, in scenes like the boy on a swing set over the ledge of the porch. The entire short has a muted color palette too, heavy on the shading and soft colors, that provides a distinctive visual look.

I wish I responded to “Ice Merchants'” story as much as I did its appearance though. I had to think about the ending, especially a seemingly supernatural touch that is introduced without much overture, before I understood it. I suppose this is a short about climate change and grieving, the latter of which is conveyed a bit too subtly. I was much more interested in the particularities of how this ice merchant came to live in such a dangerous home and why he has to perform his job this way. It seems to me that there's an interesting world contained in this cartoon that is stubbornly kept from us, the viewer, in order to focus on vaguer, more dream-like ideas. An example of ambition perhaps getting in the way of execution. [6/10]

My Year of Dicks (2022)

The amusingly entitled “My Year of Dicks” follows Pam, a fifteen year old girl living in mid-nineties Houston and her attempts to loose her virginity over the course of a summer. Broken into five chapters, each episode recounts a different encounter with a different boy. “The Vampire” sees her trying to seduce a goth-y skateboarding bro at a party. “Un Gran Penis” has her battling her inner desires while trying to hook up with a hunky usher at an arthouse movie theater. “The Sweet One” covers a date at a carnival with a considerate guy and her male best friend, whom her date is more interested in. “The Horror Show” sees Pam meeting a pontificating straight-edge punk at a sketchy party. Finally, in “The Sex Talk,” her parents discover Pam's goal and attempt to educate her on the realities of intercourse. 

Because I remain an eternally awkward, perpetually horny teenager in my brain, I found a lot to relate to in “My Year of Dicks.” Pam wants to think of herself as a mature young woman. She watches “Henry and June” behind her parents' backs. She imagines elaborate dialogues with herself, thinking a lot about her feelings and the gravity of these events. Yet the truth of the matter is, she's a gawky teenager who is ruled by the whims of her hormones and the spontaneity of youth. Every attempt to establish herself as an edgy adult goes horribly wrong. The goth boy she wants to fuck is a making a childish bet to make-out with as many girls as possible. Her carnival date exposes her as a flighty girl. Her attempts to be mature at a grown-up party ends with her ride getting carried away by an overprotective mother. Pam wants to grow up but her life is ruled by the inequities of adolescence. This is most evident in the last chapter, where her dad's terrible sex advice causes Pam is just about crawl out of her own skin from discomfort. 

Of course, things have a way of working out how they're suppose to, no matter what our young minds hope for. The title has an obvious double meaning. What Pam hopes will be a year of dicks, referring to a variety of male members, turns out to be one failed date after another with different varieties of jerks. Each guy she attempts to mate with is either a manipulative douchebag just looking to get laid or lying about his intentions. There's lots of laughs and a little bit of pathos in seeing this come to pass, especially a monologue about the straight-edger she nearly bangs on a dirty carpet. As is all to often the case with our young minds, the best option to loose her virginity to is right in front of her the whole time, a conclusion that is obvious but watching it play out is satisfying. 

Tying “My Year of Dicks” together is an inventive visual style. The film combines retroscope animation over live-action actors with more elaborate flights of fancy. Each chapter is done in a different style. “The Vampire” features lots of flowery expressions over its characters. The second episode concerns figments of Pam's imagination talking to her. “The Sweet One” features anime-style bursts of enthusiasm. While “The Horror Show” has some nicely demonic style bursts to it. I found myself relating to and enjoying the observations “My Year of Dicks” makes, as well as the colorful animation used to bring it to life. Easily my favorite of this year's crop of animated shorts. [7/10]

An Ostrich Told Me the World is Fake and I Think I Believe It (2022)

This year's token stop-motion short takes an especially meta approach to the medium. The verbosely entitled “An Ostrich Told Me the World is Fake and I Think I Believe It” follows Neil, a lowly office employee, attempting to sell fancy toasters over the phone. (A job he's not very good at.) One night, he encounters an ostrich in the building's elevator, who informs that he's living in a giant lie. This wakes the man up, to the seemingly artificial nature of the reality he and everyone around him inhabits. He struggles to convince others of this. 

A stop-motion puppet realizing he's a cartoon character is a pretty good metaphor for someone waking up to the subjective nature of reality. “An Ostrich” depicts its meta conceit in a clever way. Most of the short is shown to us through the aperture of a stop-motion camera. We see the green screen behind the sets and the hands of the animator moving the figures in-between the shots. Essentially, “An Ostrich” plays out as an animated short as well as its own behind-the-scenes, making-of feature. It's only when Neil escapes the simulated nature of his own reality that the camera pulls back to a more traditional aspect ratio, visually conveying the idea of its character escaping the constraints of his life. 

Unfortunately, that's about the only really clever idea this one has. I'm surprised to see someone using a dull office job as a symbol of crushing, banal conformity in 2022, a storytelling cliché that hasn't been fresh since “The Matrix” was first in theaters. The eventual reveal of what kind of cartoon Neil is in also feels like a disappointing, not to mention abrupt, conclusion to the story, instead of a natural exploration of its ideas. I wish this short embraced the existential dread of its protagonist realizing he's living in a simulation – best represented by scenes of the interchangeable stop-motion faces falling off – instead of just making a tired point about how much office jobs suck. Lots of potential here that never amounts to anything fully satisfying. [6/10]

OSCARS 2023: Fire of Love (2022)

Walt Disney sought to educate as much as entertain when he create his iconic studio. This is why the company produced a number of nature documentaries in the fifties and sixties. (As dubious as they might have been at times.) This goal has been forgotten and re-emphasized a few times over the decades. Yet, I'll admit, I was surprised when a Disney+ exclusive documentary became an award season frontrunner. "Fire of Love" is technically a National Geographic release, which was absorbed into the Disney behemoth some time ago. No matter how much Disney has tried to push documentaries to the forefront, I'm still surprised to see the company associated with ostensibly cutting edge documentary filmmaking. It's hard to imagine "Fire of Love" getting the praise it has without a major company like Disney backing it.

"Fire of Love" follows the life story of Katia and Maurice Krafft, a married pair of French volcanologists. The two, who fell in love over their mutual fascinations with volcanos, soon developed into some of the leading names in their field. They would become media darlings because of their colorful personalities, frequently appearing on television. Maurice and Katia were also filmmakers, chronicling their studies of the world's volcanos through countless hours of film and photographs. Sara Dosa's movie digs into the mountain of material the two scientists left behind following their deaths in 1991, during the eruption of Mount Unzen in Japan. 

When looking at people who run towards dangerous natural calamities like volcanos, instead of away from them, you can't help but ask questions. Namely: Why? Being French, it's somewhat unsurprising that Maurice and Katia provided many long, philosophical musings on their shared fascination with volcanos. Maurice was open about being something of a thrill-seeker, relating his lifelong dream to row a canoe down a lava flow. Yet both of them discuss falling in love with volcanos while witnessing eruptions as children. Their need to study these fiery bursts from the Earth seem rooted in some child-like awe at the wonders and mysteries of the world. In her writings, Katia went on in romantic ways about what volcanos meant to her. It's frankly touching to hear these thoughts elaborated on so eloquently, to see someone glowing with joy in the face of an event regarded with fear by most. Maurice and Katia's obsession with volcanos were so all-consuming that we hear several anecdotes where one or both were put in danger because they were so fixated on their favorite topics. Such as when Maurice received bad burns on his legs from standing in boiling water. Or the two having to be pulled out of the path of an eruption they were both watching intently. 

Dosa's film also can't help but devote some time to the extraordinary coincidence of these two volcano lovers finding one another. The details of their first meeting and/or date is recalled in a dreamy way. The two have differences in the how and why they show their passions. Katia examined the minutia of volcanos, scrutinizing every rock and bit of lava she could. Maurice was more daring, pulling stunts like sailing a rubber dingy on a lake of sulfuric acid or picking up a lump of lava with his gloved hands. Yet, ultimately, it's hard to understate the value of finding someone who speaks the same language as you. When Katia – an adorably chipmunk like woman, who is seen with actual chipmunks several times – looks up at Maurice, you see the love in her eyes. These two were bonded together over their shared love of volcanos, spending their lives and marriage chasing the same dream. That's an incredible foundation for a relationship.

Through readings of their writing and recordings, we often hear the Kraffts speak of volcanos in fascinated, awe-stricken fashions. Yet neither had any illusions of the danger and devastation associated with their passion. When we see the aftermath of a volcano in Zaire, Katia can only describe the destruction in hushed, apocalyptic terms. Following a massive volcanic mudslide in Colombia, that wipes out over 20,000 people, the Kraffts' study shifted. They began focusing on what they call "grey volcanos," the type that spew poisonous clouds of smoke, heat, and rock. (As opposed to what they call "red volcanos," which create predictable rivers of lava.) Understanding when a volcano might erupt, and minimizing the damage to human life, becomes the focus of their studies. This leads the eccentric couple towards a brand of humanism, balancing their admiration of the natural phenomenon with an eye towards protecting people. It's a fascinating arc to watch unfold.

The Kraffts' personal archives clearly provided Dosa with a wealth of footage to build "Fire of Love." The film makes the most of the extensive library when mixing the Kraffts' own recordings with readings of their words. The couple caught some extraordinary sights on camera. Scenes of lava flowing like a river down a mountain, or tossed into the air like a spectacular fireworks show, are truly spellbinding. "Fire of Love" is well assembled. However, sometimes the narration – provided by a grave sounding Miranda July – puts a little too fine a point on things. The same could be said of the whimsical animation that is periodically inserted. The Kraffts were fascinating and their home movies are incredible. Dosa does admirable work here but didn't have to add quite so much of herself at times.

Nevertheless, "Fire of Love" is a stunning experience that tells a touching story, centered around two unforgettable characters. The couple are so interesting, and their footage so impressive, that this isn't the only movie that has been made about them. Werner Herzog released a documentary on this same subject just last year. One imagines that Herzog, with his less than sentimental view of the natural world, had a very different take on this story. Until I see that one, "Fire of Love" stands as a totally compelling film in its own right. It might teach you some things about geology too. [8/10]