Last of the Monster Kids

Last of the Monster Kids
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Friday, January 31, 2025

OSCARS 2025: Nickel Boys (2024)


The line between fiction and non-fiction has always been blurry. As long as human beings, with our subjective points of view, are relating a true story, we can never be entirely sure how true to reality their telling is. Even documentaries, filmed on the ground as they happen, are at the mercy of editorial choices and artistic decisions. All of this is to say that documentary filmmakers often cross the barrier into fictional narrative features. The two formats are not as different as they might seem. One is a narrative you composed from the imagination, the other is a narrative you compose from what you've collected. Ramell Ross' 2018 Oscar nominated film "Hale County, This Morning This Evening" already straddled the line between doc and arthouse movie, showing life in a small town via a stream-of-conscious flow of footage. That probably made Ross' leap to what we think of as "regular" movies easier. His non-documentary debut, "Nickel Boys," is an adaptation of a novel by Colson Whitehead but also blends fact, fiction, and off-beat camerawork. Riding a wave of critical acclaim, the movie scored a surprise nomination for Best Picture this year. 

Elwood Curtis is a bright young boy growing up in segregated, sixties Florida. As the civil rights movement heats up, Elwood quietly watches the resistance from white folks and considers warnings from his cautious grandmother – whose father and husband were victims of racial violence – not to get involved. Receiving acceptance into a tuition-free program at a black university, Elwood hitchhikes towards the school. He's picked up by a black man in a stolen car, the police quickly catching up with them. Assumed to be an accomplice, Elwood is arrested. Underage, he's taken to Nickel Academy, a private school for juvenile offenders. The school is heavily racially segregated, the black students often abused and even killed by the white staff. There, Elwood meets Turner, another introspective student/prisoner, and the two plot to escape the institute. Years later, an adult Elwood reflects on these events. 

The first thing you'll notice about "Nickel Boys" is the way it's photographed. The film is shot almost entirely in first person perspective, the audience seeing the world as Elwood – and later Turner – see it. Sometimes, we assume the boys' point of view directly, the camera acting as their eyes. Other times, we float just behind a character's head, as if we are secretly peeking into their mind for a minute. The technique is somewhat disorientating but it's clear what Ross and cinematographer Jomo May are trying to do. "Nickel Boys" wants to put audiences – and, one assumes, white audiences especially – directly into the heads of these black children. We are not perceiving the events as a third party outsider. The film is attempting to put us there, as if we were experiencing these things ourselves. It's a canny way for Ross to avoid awards bait clichés of films about "black suffering," presented as guilt generating spectacle for largely white critical bodies. Instead, "Nickel Boys" functions much more like a memory of a historical event, endeavoring to make scenarios that might be thought of only as textbook passages instead as something far more personal. 

Or maybe that's my white boy privilege getting in the way, my own born-in inability to see pass the racial boundaries I've always grown up around getting in the way of the artistic techniques Ross implements. I'm an idiot sometimes, so it's possible. What I can see is the way "Nickel Boys" captures the pacing of a memory. The film is narrative is often fragmented. It leaps between the two boys' viewpoints without warning. About an hour in, the film jumps ahead into the future when Elwood is an adult, signaled by a shot of a computer mouse. It took me a minute to catch up sometimes, especially amid the other artistic touches employed like flashing images or blurry camera work. However, this is how the human mind works. We don't remember events in a straight line. Little things will invoke a feeling from our past, otherwise unrelated events blossoming in our head. "Nickel Boys" does a good job of capturing that mental flow, giving us snapshots of what happens to these characters, some times out of order, to put us more thoroughly in this feeling. 

Ross strikes me as a filmmaker driven more by emotion than technique or narrative. Whitehead's novel and the subsequent film are inspired by the Dozier School for Boys, a reform school in Florida that operated from 1900 to 2011. Hideous abuse went on all throughout that staggering lifetime, divided sharply along racial lines. The discovery of mass graves on the school grounds is not an invention of this fictionalization. Ross approaches the topic as sensitively as possible. The physical torture is only glimpsed, boys forced to spend time in a "sweat box" being the only brutality actually depicted on-screen. The sexual abuse is more than implied but is kept to suggestion. It's clear that the director was not looking to make a lurid melodrama out of these real life horrors. The historical is the personal for these characters and the real people that inspired them. "Nickel Boys" seeks to capture the emotional experience of that time and place, as recalled long after the obvious scars have healed by the worst questions linger on. 

To that effect, smaller scenes become as devastating as any visceral depiction would be. Turner's mom visits the school, unable to see her son at the time, and gives Elwood a hug in his place. As an adult, he runs into a fellow survivor at a bar, the two having a conservation that slowly reveals how shattered the other man has been left by these scars. As in real life, small gestures and simple conversation often reveal the most upsetting truths, "Nickel Boys" getting tears out of the audience through understated scenes means more so than the melodrama we are more accompanied to in fiction. The performances and music all follow this direction, "Nickel Boys" operating as a story that keeps its heart close to its chest. Much the same way, one imagines, that the men who lived through similar events must do all throughout their lives. 

This technique does not make "Nickel Boys" the most accessible of films. It took me about a half-hour to truly get on its dreamy wavelength and understand what it's doing. However, I think Ross and his team were ultimately successful in their goals. "Nickel Boys" is an attempt to approach historical atrocity in a way that dispels exploitation as much as possible, conveying to the viewer the experience of having lived through these events and be stuck with the memories, not defined by them but irrevocably changed by them. I'll admit, it's the type of motion picture I might be too dumb to understand. That the usually extremely middlebrow Academy embraced – in so much as two nominations can be described as "embraced" – something bolder and a little more experimental than your standard biopic is surprising, I'll admit. I'm not sure I totally caught everything "Nickel Boys" is trying to do but I'm impressed by its approach and left very interested to see what Ross might do next. [8/10]

Thursday, January 30, 2025

OSCARS 2025: Wicked (2024)


In 1900, L. Frank Baum published his children's novel, “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.” The book was an immediate success, selling over 10,000 copies in a month. The story would be adapted into a stage musical two years later, which also a hit. This prompted Baum to write thirteen sequels, other writers keeping the cash cow going after Baum's death in 1919. Hollywood was taking a crack at “Oz” as early as 1910 but, obviously, the 1939 version became one of the most famous movies in history. After the first book entered the public domain in 1953, only some extremely specific copyright stipulations kept anyone from trying to cash-in on the popularity of Baum's creation. Given the nature of these things, many of these derivative works are parodies, deconstructions, subversions, or reinventions. Gregory Maguire's 1995 novel “Wicked” was one such example, elaborating on the backstory of the Wicked Witch of the West. 

Maguire's book was also successful, spawning several sequels of its own, but would really break through when adapted into an enormously popular Broadway musical in 2003. Before “Wicked: The Musical” became a certified smash, a film adaptation was already being floated but demand enflamed afterwards. The gears started seriously turning towards a “Wicked” movie in 2012  It took until last year for the movie of the musical of the book, based on a separate movie and book, to arrive in theaters. Predictably, this “Wicked” has also been a box office hit. That success has been further validated with ten Academy Awards nominations. Some, however, have dared to suggest that the director of “Justin Bieber: Never Say Never,” “G.I. Joe: Retaliation,” and “Jem and the Holograms” might have made a subpar film. “Wicked” is far from the most contested nominee of 2025 but, amid an exhaustingly massive advertising push, the merits of the adaptation remain hotly debated. 

“Wicked” begins after the end of the story as we know it, with the Land of Oz celebrating the death of the Wicked Witch of the West. When pressed about the rumor that she once knew her, Glinda the Good Witch recalls the story of the Wicked Witch and their history together. Turned green from her mother drinking a potion while pregnant, Elphaba was ostracized by her family. She developed strange powers and an interest in magic as she aged. Eventually, she set off to attend the Shiz University with her wheelchair bound sister, Nessarose. Elphaba's dream is to meet the Wizard of Oz and have him cure her greenness. Her roommate, the popular Galinda, resents Elphaba at first but pretends to befriend, in hopes of leeching off her academic success. The friendship slowly becomes genuine, the two eventually earning an invitation to meet the Wizard in the Emerald City... That's when things start to go horribly wrong.

The idea of retelling a popular story, especially a fairy tale, from the perspective of the villain was hardly a fresh idea in 1995 when Maguire published his book. I guess John Gardner's “Grendel” is the modern codifier of a concept that stretches back to at least “Paradise Lost.” The popularity of “Wicked” on-stage is probably responsible for the concept proliferating so much over the last two decades. “Wicked's” influence is such that Disney has already stolen its valor at least twice, meaning the belated film version can't help but feel a bit old hat. That's honestly not the biggest problem I have with “Wicked” and other switch-a-roos. Mostly, these kind of villain origin stories bug me because they inevitably approach the idea in the least interesting fashion possible. Instead of showing how someone with possibly good intentions fell towards the path of evil, or how they justify their own actions, these films usually lazily flip the script and do little else. The bad guys are now good. The good guys are now bad. No deeper introspection is required.

I guess “Wicked” isn't as bad about that as, say, “Maleficent” was. However, it still has a childishly simple moral outlook. Elphaba has a rigorously detailed back story that makes her sympathetic, cast out of her home and ostracized because of circumstances beyond her control. To dumb down the idea further, “Wicked” adopts a high school-like mentality. Elphaba is a bullied outsider while Galinda is shallow, self-centered, manipulative, and very pink. It's the kind of “goths vs. preps” viewpoint that you would have hoped we, as a culture, had outgrown by now. In order to re-enforce the idea that Elphaba is ultimately justified in everything she does, she is born with unexplained magical powers, a type of telekinesis that flares up when ever she's emotional. There's never any doubt about her righteousness. She's “special” and persecuted and, the people we've been told are the heroes of this tale will inevitably be revealed to be cruel and sanctimonious. 

Listen, I can understand why this dynamic is compelling. I was a relentlessly bullied nerd in high school too, growing up to see the obvious evil of authority. But such a simplified expression of this idea leaves no room for nuance. In “Wicked,” this inevitably bends towards an in-no-way subtle moral about prejudice. Elphaba is, after all, ostracized mostly for the color of her skin. The film invents a story of injustice in the land of Oz, of the talking animals becoming a persecuted underclass. Elphaba's path towards villainy is ultimately motivated by wanting to protect the talking animals of Oz, further emphasized by the Wizard being revealed to be a con man. I feel that comparing any societal minority to animals is not the best look. Either way, any lesson “Wicked” has is strictly of the heavy-handed variety. The script identifies that the ruling class of Oz are using the talking animals as a scapegoat for their own failings. Yes, that's how it works but maybe don't literally have the characters state that. Maybe don't make one of the innocent bystanders a literal goat. 

Perhaps going into “Wicked” and expecting any degree of subtly is my failing. That's not the point of a production such as this. Much like the Broadway musical it's based on, this is a production of crushing excess. The costumes are extravagant, growing more outrageous as the film goes on. Every production number is full of elaborate dancing. The sets are detailed and massive, further outfitted with flashy CGI effects. The camera swoops in and around these locations. Several moments in “Wicked” are indicative of its maximalist approach. The introductory song for Elphaba's love interest involves a library full of spinning ladders through a tunnel-like collection of books. When singing “Popular,” Galinda's collection of shoes and gowns pop out like a huge clockwork device. By the time we arrive in the Emerald City, “Wicked” is a full-blown spectacle of singing, dancing, special effects, and wild costumes. And it goes on and on, the film running for nearly three hours.

That boated runtime somehow doesn't enable “Wicked” to tell a complete story. This is a part one, as the title screen reminds us. The ending is less a conclusion and more of an act break. Weirdly, despite such an extensive run time, “Wicked” feels punishingly lopsided. Elphaba and Galinda get more character development in the last thirty minutes than they do in the proceeding 130 minutes. The closest thing this narrative has to a bead of emotional truth is the future Wicked and Good Witches developing from enemies to close friends. Unfortunately, Galinda is characterized so thinly that her switch from hating to loving Elphaba does not feel naturally. And I mean “loving,” as the film waste no time in teasing the shoujo-ai fans in the audience. Arianna Grande, adopting a Miss Piggy-like demeanor, can't make the character anything but an unconvincing caricature. Moreover, any real emotional resonance to this story is lost as the film has to interrupt any quiet moment with another action set piece, another blast of CGI effects, or another lung-busting high-note in the umpteenth show stopping song. 

I suppose it could not be more obvious that, simply put, I am extremely not in the target audience for “Wicked.” I've never seen the stage show and have no familiarity, or built-in affection, for this production. The film is clearly catering to fans of the stage show, including an extended cameo for the original stars that the already lumbering pace grinds to a halt to showcase. Generally speaking, I find the Broadway style of musical theater, that focuses on constant splendor and reaching-to-the-rafters singing, to be overwhelming. I guess the songs aren't bad. “Popular” is the catchiest number. A lot of the songs blend instantly together in my memory. Each one occurs at the exact calculated moment in the stories where they will be most powerful. “Defying Gravity” is the closing number, ostensibly Elphaba self-realizing, but the film rushes into it so heavily, laying a lot of groundwork within only a few scenes, that it made me feel nothing. 

Cynthia Erivo is fine in the lead, I suppose. Jeff Goldblum is well cast as the Wizard of Oz, doing what you expect of him. Michelle Yeoh is lost among the flashy costumes, deafening music, and unending CGI. The sets, especially the elaborate Emerald City props, are impressive. The cinematography, so drab looking in the trailers, admittedly is not so brown and grey in execution. I guess this kind of ever-escalating type of filmmaking hits hard for people who enjoy this kind of thing. People who hate slasher movies or martial arts flicks probably wouldn't get anything out of “Freddy Vs. Jason” or “The Raid: Redemption,” while I'd argue for those films giving me exactly what I want. I have no doubt that “Wicked: Part 1” gave people who love the stage show and Broadway musicals already exactly what they want too. Good for you guys but I cannot count myself among you. “Wicked” was a numbing experience for me. [5/10]

Wednesday, January 29, 2025

OSCARS 2025: The 2025 Oscar-Nominated Animated Shorts



The first of two stop-motion shorts from the Netherlands this year, “Beautiful Men” follows three brothers: The pudgy and shy Koen, the more athletic and outgoing Bart, and the neurotic Steven. They are linked by all of them being bald. The trio is in Istanbul, currently awaiting hair transplant operations. That's when Steven realizes he screwed up the booking and only one surgery will be performed. While milling around the hotel the day before the operation, a choice must be made over which of the three of them most “deserves” to have a full head of hair.

“Beautiful Men” is clearly about masculine insecurities. Koen struggles to do a single push-up and is concerned he has a growth on his testicles, which he asks Steven to take a closer look at. Bart is shown repeatedly attempting to coordinate a sexy video date with a woman, that always gets interrupted. Instead of really commenting on this idea in any concrete way, Nicolas Keppens' film mostly snickers at them by repeatedly putting the trio into homoerotic scenarios. Steven examing Koen's testicle happens in a public bathroom stall, the entire moment looking a lot like some oral sex is about to be performed. Bart spends nearly the entire short with no pants on and his stop-motion penis hanging out. A hug between the two guys is a key moment. The narrative thrust is evident: These three men need the support of each other to truly feel accepted, not long flowing locks.

Unfortunately, “Beautiful Men” barely does anything with this set-up. A dramatic event happens in the last third, setting up an ironic ending that... Goes absolutely nowhere, the final scene ending the story on an absolute shrug. While the situations are certainly awkward, I can't say I found this one all that funny or insightful. Perhaps the Academy voters are more impressed by the sight of cartoon male frontal nudity than I am. The stop motion animation is very well done, the characters looking disturbingly life-like at times while remaining exaggerated. There's some very cinematic camera angles and nice use of fog. But this one truly left me scratching my head. [5/10] 



In a minimalistic, seemingly Middle Eastern landscape, a bearded man and his daughter live in a simple house on the beach. After he has a violent outburst, the daughter decides to leave the next morning. That is when she finds a whale beached outside. The two try to drag the whale back into the ocean but have no success. The man begins to live on a boat nearby, his daughter still frightened of him. He is haunted by memories of a violent past while the woman attempts to care for the beach the best she can. Soon, their rescue attempts of the massive animal and their tense relationship come to a head. 

"In the Shadow of the Cypress" is one of those animated shorts full of visual symbolism that clearly means something. The setting is dream-like, a single house on a flat stretch of sand that isn't clearly a beach until we see the ocean and the whale. The characters' physical forms shift with their emotional state. When the girl leaves, the man turns into flower petals and embraces her. Later, his skin changes to grey when he starts to feel sad or upset. The woman melts like ice cream on the sidewalk during a later scene. These surreal touches pair with a vague storyline, told without any spoken dialogue. I wasn't sure, at first, if the woman was the man's wife or daughter. Their exact relationship and history is only hinted at. Whether he's abusive or mentally ill is up to the viewer until the film is all but over. Moreover, the beached whale clearly means something as well, some sort of emotional baggage between the two. When the flashback arrives, it features the man shooting at a jet fighter. The plane is more realistically rendered than the rest of the short – which looks like that corporate art style you saw everywhere a few years back – and that brings a political undercurrent to these symbols. Directors Hossein Molayemi and Shinrin Sohani are Iranian, the film presumably reflects the strife of the war torn parts of that country. 

What we are supposed to take from all this is a lot harder to determine. The plot synopsis describes "In the Shadow of the Cypress" as a film about PTSD, which is not immediately apparent. The surreal setting and allegoric writing makes it hard to tell if the story is set in the modern day, making any political reading difficult. The strife between the man and woman is clearly because of his deteriorating health but we have no attachment to any of these characters, who operate more as unclear symbols than people. This doesn't give me a lot to hold onto in "In the Shadow of the Cypress." The scene where the girl sticks a funnel in the whale's mouth and pours water in made me chuckle. The increasingly abstract animation, most apparent during what I presume is a PTSD flashback, is certainly impressive. However, this one mostly felt like a peek into a bigger, incomplete story that is intentionally obscured with interpretable artistic choices. It's interesting, I suppose, but I didn't get a lot out of it. [6/10]



The Animated Feature branch of the Academy overlooked a number of fine films from Japan this year but at least one sneaked into the Animated Shorts category. Not that “Magic Candies” looks much like most people's conception of “anime.” It follows Dong-Dong, a young boy who is often alone but swears it doesn't bother him. He picks up a pack of strangely colored marbles at the store before being informed that they are actually magical candies. Each one has a unique pattern and, when Dong-Dong pops them into his mouth, he can suddenly communicate with whatever matches the pattern on the candy. First, it's the sofa, which asks him to remove the remote from his side. Next, the aging family dog gets a chance to explain to Dong-Dong why they can't play the way they used to before reflecting on their time together. The third gumball enables him to hear the affectionate thoughts of his otherwise strict father. Slowly, the magical properties of each gumball brings Dong-Dong out of his shell.

“Magic Candies” comes from Toei Animation and Daisuke Nishio, who has spent most of his career directing episodes of various “Dragon Ball” and “Pretty Cure” series. Despite that, “Magic Candies” is brought to life through a clever combination of stop-motion animation and CGI. The characters and environments all have a tactile quality to them, the fabric of the couch looking properly shaggy, the pours in the people's skin visible. The character have an oddball appearance that smartly borders the line between cute and ugly. The creativity extends to how the film communicates some of its ideas. When Dong-Dong chews on the candy, he often sees the kanji of what is trying to talk to him float through the air. In the penultimate sequence, in which falling autumn leaves each say good-bye to the boy, “Magic Candies” reaches a level of genuine beauty too.

Story wise, it's a short and sweet endeavor. The emotion is never heavy-handed, the film staying quiet and subtle when Dong-Dong is talking to the spirit of his deceased grandmother or reminiscing about the good days with the elderly family pet. This makes the emotion that does appear – such as the connection the boy finds with his dad – feel all the more earned. It leads towards a predictable but equally sweet ending, making this into a nice little fable about how the world opens up to you if you're willing to listen. When combined with the lovely visuals, “Magic Candies” stands out as probably my favorite of this year's crop of animated shorts. [8/10]



The second stop motion Dutch short of the night featuring a surprisingly amount of on-screen male nudity is “Wander to Wonder.” It concerns the stars of an eighties children show with the same title, in which a live action host has conversations and shares life lessons with a trio of fuzzy little creatures named Fumbleton, Mary, and Billybud. Unfortunately, “Uncle Gilly” seems to have dropped dead in the middle of recording and nobody has checked on his friends in all the time since. They continue to wander around the empty, abandoned studio. Mary continues to video tape lessons for an out-of-reach audience, while Billybud has developed a fixation with Shakespeare. As their limited food resources run dry, Mary begins to wonder how the three of them will survive for much longer. 

The central joke of “Wander to Wonder” is one we've seen countless times before: What if we contrasted the sugary, cutesy world of children's programming with depravity or other types of darkness? At least there seems to be an actual point here beyond that. There is definitely something melancholy about these three miniature homunculi attempting to carry on as usual, despite literally being surrounded by death and decay. A scene in which Mary reads what must be a decades-old fan letter is my favorite in the film. The puppets and environments have a likably grungy quality to them. The idea that, say, the Neighborhood of Make Believe puppets or the muppets on “Sesame Street” were played by tiny actors who are now forced to fend for themselves is one with potential, for both humor and pathos.

Sadly, like a lot of the shorts this year, “Wander to Wonder” never seems to arrive at any sort of point. Yes, there's a tiny sculpted dick flopping around in this one too, as the short moves towards something like a conclusion to its story. Albeit one that doesn't resolve anything nor tell us much about where these three will wind up. Mary and the clumsy Fumbleton retain the personalities they had on the show, which is a fun idea. That Billy has developed into a seemingly insane actor, however, spoils that premise. Considering how open-ended both the beginning and end of “Wander to Wonder” is, it feels more like a pitch for a feature film than a self-contained story in its own right. Another one I have to assume was nominated more so for the quality of its animation than for its narrative merits, though I came away liking it more than “Beautiful Men.” [6/10]



At least the night ends on a suitably adorable note. “Yuck!” is a French, hand-drawn short set at a vacation camp. The little kids, dragged their with their parents and older siblings, all love to point and tease whenever they catch the grown-ups kissing. In this world, people's lips glow pink and sparkle whenever the desire to kiss arises. And the little kids think it's just the grossest, ickiest thing in the whole wide world, never letting a chance to declare this feeling go by. Among the girl of kids is Leo and Lucy. As much as they react with disgust to the sight of kissing, both of them are actually curious about it. At night, when left alone, they finally get a chance to see what the big deal is all about.

“Yuck!” does a nice job of capturing an memorable time in many people's lives, when the vaguest inklings of romance – sex being totally beyond the mind's frame of reference at that point – is an object of both curiosity and caution. The kids are obviously fascinated by kissing but can't find any other way to express that other than exaggerated disgust. It's an easily understood behavior that this short captures quite nicely. Despite expressing how gross they find kissing, these kids sure do think about it constantly! Within the opening minutes, you figure out that Leo and Lucy aren't actually so repulsed by kissing. It's a natural part of childhood, developing a slow and totally innocent interest in romance or whatever passes for it in your still-growing kid brain. 

The animation in “Yuck!” is bright and colorful, the character designs having a slight Ghibli influence in how expressive their mouths and eyes are. The surreal touch, of lips glowing when a desire to kiss emerges, leads to several delightful moments. Such as when Leo spies two soccer bros looking at game footage together and their own lips glowing. I like the idea that attraction and desire can be obvious on someone's face, no matter how hard they may work to disguise them. It leads to a cute, rather lyrical conclusion. “Yuck!” doesn't break any new ground but it's charming and cute, a well observed snapshot of a less cynical time in life. [7/10]

Tuesday, January 28, 2025

OSCARS 2025: Anora (2024)


The depiction of sex workers on-screen is almost as embattled as the topic itself. Questions of if it can be empowering or is inherently degrading or whatever are magnified when filtered through an artistic lens. Clichés like the hooker with a heart of gold, the sex worker as disposable victim, and a broken bird that must be saved by a good man have proven hard to kill. Questions such as "Can you depict sex work in film without exploiting the actress involved?" and whether it's right for a man to write such a story have been enraged again by "Anora," Sean Baker's latest gritty drama. After winning the Palme d'Or at Cannes, it's been collecting accolades throughout awards season on its way to six Academy Award nominations. While many love the film, some dismiss it as another innately wrong-headed story of life as a sex worker created by a clueless man. Speaking as a clueless man myself, I'm sure I'll have nothing meaningful to add to this conversation but I might as well take a crack at it. 

Ani works as a stripper in a Brighton Beach club, where under-the-table transactions between the dancers and the customers are common. As the only girl in the club who speaks Russian, she's invited to entertain Ivan "Vanya" Zakharov, a Russian young man ostensibly studying in the States. The two hit it off and Ani agrees to see Ivan in his home, which turns out to be a mansion. Shortly afterwards, he offers her ten thousand dollars to act as his girlfriend for a week and travel to Las Vegas with him. While there, Ivan reveals that he soon has to return to Russia to work for his father... But if he marries an American, he'll get a green card and can stay. Impulsively, Ani and Ivan wed in a Vegas chapel. What is supposed to be her ticket to a better life quickly falls apart. Ivan is the son of a Russian oligarch and, upon learning that their son has married a stripper, they send several henchmen to investigate. Ivan flees, leaving Ani with the men. The group go on a journey to find the young man, under orders to get the marriage annulled. Ani doesn't intend to go along with this easily, discovering much more about her new husband, and bonding with the most sensitive of Zakharov body guards. 

Sean Baker has come a long way from his "Greg the Bunny" days, having since established a cinematic brand for himself. A Sean Baker movie is a slice-of-life story about the poor and struggling, often sex workers, trying to navigate the seemingly impossible barriers to a better life. In the past, I've found his movies straddle the line of so-called poverty porn a bit too much for my taste. However, "Anora" is less about the dismal facts of its title character's life than the specific issues of class disparity she faces. As the son of a billionaire, Ivan can devote his life to partying, playing video games, and call girls. The mere suggestion of actual responsibility is enough to make him flee into the streets. Ani, meanwhile, has to hustle, literally, to make ends' meet. Some have questioned whether her declarations of live for Ivan are meant to be genuine or not, if she's another patronizing depiction of a sex worker swept away by an obvious rich asshole. To me, it goes without saying that Ani doesn't love Ivan, that she has her doubts about him from the beginning. However, he's still her best shot at entering a world of money and glamor. Whether she's deluding herself knowingly or not, "Anora" is clearly a movie about a woman trying to escape the life she's trapped in, a clear depiction of the lines separating the rich and the poor. 

Baker's film does focus a lot on what I guess you'd call the "local color" of his setting. The strip club Ani works at is full of women and men who communicate in colorful language, a palooka boss and nonbinary bouncer that she has playful banter with. This extends to a trashy rivalry with a jealous co-worker. Through its intimate and gritty cinematography, the film features plenty of casual drug use, sex and nudity, and antics among poverty-level eccentrics. It's debatable whether you find such depictions affectionate or exploitative, if we can take Baker's interest in these characters and their lives as empathetic or laced with a degree of "look at this crazy shit" glibness. That feeling peaks during a lengthy scene where Ivan – and the film and the audience – watch Ani perform a striptease. "Anora" is certainly a very funny movie, functioning as a comedy of errors in its second half as we watch the Russian tough guys haplessly navigate the Brighton Beach neighborhood they find themselves in. To my eyes, the enforcers of the rich seem to be the butt of the joke more often, while Baker is more sympathetic to the working class and what they must do to survive. Another brief example of that are the maids who clean Ivan's dad's mansion, who take a little extra cash as a tip in one scene. 

Maybe that suggests an attitude of "the rich are rich, the poor are poor, and the latter can only do whatever they can to survive." That's not the most progressive of viewpoints, though given the state of the world, not a necessarily incorrect one. However, simply as a character piece, I ultimately found "Anora" charming and touching. This is largely thanks to Mikey Madison – cast after Baker saw her in "Scream 5," suggesting he's a horror fan and forcing me to like him more – as the title character. Adopting a perpetually amusing Harley Quinn accent, Madison makes Ani a fighter. When the oligarch's errands boy enter the mansion, Ani quickly goes on the offensive. This escalates into a sequence of delightful slapstick, with her tossing a Menorah and kicking a guy through a glass coffee table. Ani is the kind of girl that my mom would call "a pistol." She's loud-mouthed. She speaks her mind. She's not ashamed of the life she lives. She stands up for herself, smacking the most deadpan of the henchmen. 

Madison doesn't give a superficial, caricatured performance though. Through her soulful eyes, Madison expresses Anora's hopes and fears. What if Ivan truly can give her a life of riches and relaxation? Her joy at having achieved this dream is impossible not to be swept up in. She demands to be treated better, asking for a big ol' ring from her rich husband or instructing him on how to be better in bed. Similarly, as the second half goes on, we watch the hope drain out of her face as she inevitably faces the realization that she's been cheated. Ani doesn't stop fighting then either – standing up and declaring herself an impossible to ignore force of nature when faced with Ivan's parents – and I can't help but admire that. I've known women like this and Madison's hilarious, intuitive performance is a tribute to them. Ani is a fully realized character, that is ultimately impossible not to like. 

That we are following her on this journey, through some very high highs and some dispiriting lows, allows "Anora" to pull off a fine tonal balancing act. The extended sequence of her continually overwhelming a pair of Russian tough guys grows funnier as it goes on. Similarly, watching these guys struggle to explore her world and repeatedly make fools of themselves, is the source of some good laughs. Karren Karagulian, as the Armenian Toros, especially emerges as a straight man repeatedly humiliated by being thrust into this situation he has so little control over. As Ani stands up to Ivan and his parents, we are allowed to cheer for her in her own way. Ani is defiant and that brings smiles of its own. 

On the other hand, "Anora" slowly moving towards tragedy unexpectedly touched me. Yura Borisov plays Igor, the soft-spoken member of the men sent after Ivan. The Moscow born Borisov has the kind of appearance that has unsurprisingly led to a career of playing criminals, soldiers, and bad guys. As Igor, that appearance covers an observant, soft-spoken, and eventually kind nature. Watching him and Ani unexpectedly bond, especially during the extended last act of the film, was one of the biggest surprises of "Anora." The script avoids uncomfortable subtext by never suggesting Igor is the "good man" that will "save" Ani, the sole decent guy in a film full of jerks. He tears Ani with respect though and accepts her a person, not for her lot in life. The final scene has her trying to thank him for that kindness in the way she's most accustomed to and him refusing to treat her as a product to be exploited. It's quietly devastating and touching in its own way, 

I'll have to get back to you on whether or not Sean Baker is a pretentious fraud or not. How many more movies about sex workers does he get to make before it starts to feel weird? And I'm certainly in no position to declare whether "Anora" is sufficiently sensitive enough or feminist in the exact right way. However, it strikes me as a well realized portrait of an unforgettable character, brilliantly brought to life by Madison in a star-making performance. The film is equal parts funny and sad, a detailed depiction of life at two ends of the economical spectrum. Ani is charming and so is the movie about her and charm sure goes a long way. [8/10]

Monday, January 27, 2025

OSCARS 2025: Emilia Pérez (2024)


In the history of the Academy Awards, three films are currently tied for the most number of nominations. That would be "All About Eve," "Titanic," and "La La Land," all of which were nominated 14 times. Nearly joining that exclusive club this year was "Emilia Pérez," which just missed the record with thirteen nods. That would imply a film that is universally loved. Which "Emilia Pérez" is... Among industry insiders, the people who make up the Academy's voting body. Reception among professional critics has been more divided, the film currently sitting at 75% on Rotten Tomatoes after getting a standing ovation at Cannes, for whatever that is worth. Within the wider cinephile community, Jacques Audiard's musical has quickly become aggressively despised. Members of the LGBT+ community have decried it as insensitive. People in Mexico have roundly mocked and booed it. Film Twitter has unleashed a tidal wave of venom against the movie, the likes of which we only see, oh, every two weeks or so. Nevertheless, the question of whether "Emilia Pérez" is a masterpiece or offensive schlock remains in the air. Obviously only I – some random dork on the internet – can answer this. 

Rita is a lawyer working in Mexico City, quickly becoming disillusioned with her job. This is when she accepts a mysterious offer that results in her getting kidnapped and shoved into the back of a van. She arrives at the compound of cartel kingpin Juan "Manitas" Del Monte. Manitas confesses to Rita that he wishes to transition genders and start a new life over in another part of the world, while his wife Jessi and their children remain safe. Rita organizes the procedure and legal affairs, telling Jessi that her husband has been murdered. Four years later, Rita encounters Emilia Pérez, the drug lord's new identity. Desiring to see her children, Emilia poses as Manitas' sister and moves in with Jessi and the kids. Upon seeing the lives destroyed by the drug business she used to run, Emilia and Rita create an organization designed to find the missing bodies of the cartel's victims. However, tensions soon flair, especially once Jenni begins seeing an old boyfriend. Rita and Emilia are soon drawn into a violent confrontation. 

The most damning negative press surrounding "Emelia Pérez" has come from actual trans and queer people. Hollywood has often fumbled the treatment of trans individuals, usually centering a cis person in the story or turning them into psychos or punchlines. As a cis dude, I certainly can't reflect on "Emilia Pérez" through a trans perspective. That doesn't mean I can't see how obviously tasteless the movie is. The first thing Emilia Pérez does after transitioning is look at her groin with a mirror. This follows a campy musical number, in which trans people on gurneys dance around a clinic while the details of the procedure are sung. In general, the film seems distressingly fixated on people's genitalia, with Selena Gomez dramatically describing her lover's penis and, during a different musical number, Zoë Saldana caresses her groin with a lock of woman's hair. The film seems to think identity extends only to physical appearance and what's between a person's legs, treating trans individuals as grotesque points of spectacle. It's the kind of baffling miscalculation that leaves your jaw dropped in disbelief. 

Not that "Emilia Pérez" is actually about being trans. The title character gets one tearful song describing their life and gender dysphoria in vague terms. Otherwise, we only ever see Pérez through the perspective of cis people. After the belabored first act and Pérez reinvents herself, the character's transness becomes nothing but a plot contrivance. The film has nothing to say about what a trans woman's life is actually like. All of the movie is like that, bringing up weighty real world topics without addressing them in any meaningful way. 

"Emilia Pérez" is as much a movie about cartel violence in Mexico as it is about being trans, which is to say that it never discusses the social conditions and international pressures that bring this horribly violent business to life. The grieving families being brought some closure takes up one song and that's it. The political corruption of Mexico's government is the subject of a single song but never discussed among the characters themselves nor brought up again. Does this mean "Emilia Pérez" is a movie about redemption and transformation, the title character seeking to right what wrongs were committed in the past? Not really, as Emilia is treated as a saintly figure who only wants to help the world after transitioning. There's a startling disconnect between how the film portrays cartel violence as a sickening evil but never persecutes the person behind so much of it. Similarly, in the first scene, Rita is writing a speech to get an obviously guilty murderer off, the moral implications of that never being considered again. So much of "Emilia Pérez" is like that, never considering the deeper meaning of any of the weighty topics it weaves into the story. 

For another example: In the latter half of the film, Emilia begins a romantic affair with the wife of one of the cartel's victims. This subplot is shockingly inessential, contributing to the story in no way. Meanwhile, Jenni's old boyfriend is never properly introduced nor fleshed out, despite indirectly pushing the movie towards its violent climax. That story thread also involves Pérez becoming possessive of her former wife and children, the sole time the movie acknowledges the blood-filled past. If "Emilia Pérez" was a movie about how one person can be many different things – ruthless crime boss, loving father, saintly woman, obsessive spouse, activist – than maybe these contradictions would have a deeper implication. However, the script is far too shallow for any of that to be possible. Throughout the entire runtime, we never learn much about Emilia's interior life or background. We learn less about Rita, who is pushed about by the plot's whims without being defined much. Jessi is another thinly sketched idea, to propel the soap opera-like narrative towards as lurid a conclusion as possible. That the movie has nothing meaningful to say about being trans or crime in Mexico should come as no surprise, as it has nothing much to say about anything that happens in it. 

With such little substance to its story and so little interest in exploring the serious topics it brings up, one is forced to consider "Emilia Pérez" as a stylistic exercise alone. Director Jacques Audiard previously made critically acclaimed motion pictures like "A Prophet" and "Rust and Bone." That certainly implies that he knows what he's doing. One can assume that cinematographer Paul Guilhaume does too. This must mean that "Emilia Pérez" looks this fucking ugly on purpose. So much of the film is shot through a murky lens, bathing half of the frame in dim shadows nearly every second. Many scenes are comprised of half-lit close-ups on faces as people have conversations in cramped rooms. Interiors are lit in sickly greens or washed-out reds. The blurry visuals of the movie pair poorly with extravagant stylish choices. One music number has Selena Gomez stimping into a darkened area under a spotlight, with other dancers. Another sequence has the faces of everyone Pérez has harmed and helped appearing on scene, which goes on and on to the point of becoming comical. The flashiest song has the camera crash-zooming on Saldana as she's does jagged dances moves. The result is a visually assaulting motion picture that connects extremely glum earthiness with obnoxiously showy creative choices, insuring that the audience is never getting any aesthetic value out of anything they are looking at. 

The film is based on an opera libretto Audiard previously wrote, based on the novel "Écoute" by Boris Razon. An operatic approach would certainly explain why the film is full of so many tawdry and unlikely plot developments and self-consciously outrageous events. One would also assume this means Audiard has an interest in the musical format. Once again, begging the question of why most of the songs in "Emilia Pérez" are so instantly forgettable, when they aren't outright laughable. The "sex change" operation number has been widely mocked online but is a good example of how tin-earred much of the singing is. A lot of the lyrics are composed of talked dialogue, constantly feeling awkward in the actors' mouths. The mishmash of musical genres further make the film a baffling experience. Most of Selena Gomez' songs are electronic influenced pop numbers while Saldana's big nominated number, "El mal," is performed in a partly shouted rap cadence. And these are actually two of the better numbers, as they at least have memorable melodies or some pretty singing. 

In the musical genre, the characters burst into song and dance as expressions of feelings they can't say in regular words. A movie wherein none of the characters have interior lives mean the songs feel like an exercise in of themselves. This is, it seems, "Emilia Perez's" entire modus operandi. It demands attention, with its flashy camera movements, a script that tosses in controversial topics, a melodramatic plot structure, and a suffocating sense of self-importance. The performances, Saldana – who is clearly the lead, despite being nominated in the supporting category – and Gomez especially, mug in hammy manners. Karla Sofía Gascón at least has some serenity in the title role but there's simply nothing actually there for a performer to latch onto. "Emilia Pérez" is a movie that insists on its own seriousness despite having so little to actually say, existing simply as a self-aggrandizing exercise in what can – and not what should – be done cinematically. It is an ugly film, visually and figuratively, that gawks at the topics it pretends to care about in service of showing off its own declared importance. [4/10]

Sunday, January 26, 2025

OSCARS 2025: Conclave (2024)


One of the few upsides to following awards season every year is, sometimes, you get to see someone slowly ascend up the A-list. Ten years ago, how many people knew who Edward Berger was? That's when the German-born director put out "Jack," which got enough attention for Berger to make a name for himself. Six years after that, he had enough esteem to mount a new adaptation of a seminal novel, which got picked up by Netflix, and subsequently won a bunch of awards. Now, Berger's follow-up to "All Quiet on the Western Front" has received eight Academy Awards nominations and has a good shot at Best Picture. That would be "Conclave," a compelling ecclesiastic mystery that might be the face of what a middlebrow Hollywood drama for grown-ups looks like in the Year of Our Lord 2025. 

The Pope has died. With the highest seat in the holiest house on Earth vacated, the College of Cardinals begins the rigorous process of selecting the next man who will become the Catholic Church's Eminence. Dean Lawrence leads the papal conclave to find that man. Candidates include the liberal Cardinal Bellini, the strict Cardinal Adeyemi, the unassuming Cardinal Trembley, and the outspoken traditionalist Cardinal Tedesco. Lawrence himself is considered an option too, despite being in the midst of a crisis of faith and publicly rebuffing the offer. Intrigue increases as more unexpected events surface: The arrival of an unknown archbishop from Kabul who was personally selected by the late Pope, violent protests in the streets, and more secrets from the past coming to light. Lawrence investigates each claim, navigating the thorny politics and controversies to find a man worthy to be the public face of the Church. 

Despite its stately, refined subject matter, "Conclave" essentially functions like a detective story. We have an honorable but conflicted hero presented with a series of subjects, each one with their own complications and virtues, that he most thoroughly verifies. At the end, all the red herrings are discarded and a verdict is selected but, instead of going to jail for murder, the man becomes the Pope. It's honestly a funny contrast, sticking a pulpy premise within a context that couldn't possibly take itself more seriously. Only occasionally does "Conclave" stop to pause at the gulf between the prestige of its presentation and the familiar way its narrative functions. Such as when Dean Lawrence sneaks into the deceased Pope's bedroom and finds an important clue stuck inside a secret compartment in the wall, like he's Nancy Drew or something. There's a reason why the detective story is perhaps the most universally popular format on Earth though. It's a compelling hook, that quickly draws the audience in as we try and navigate the entanglements ourselves. There's a wide cast of characters, lots of clues and false leads to look into, but only one answer to the central question. Watching our protagonist put the pieces together and finding that solution is a fun game between the viewer and the author, whether it results in a perp being caught or white smoke billowing out of the Sistine Chapel. 

Several precautions are taken to make sure that "Conclave" plays as a drama worthy of the Church's pretensions and not the paperback mystery it not-so-secretly is. Berger, cinematographer Stéphane Fontaine, and some of the best production designers and costumers in the entertainment industry work together to ensure "Conclave" looks gorgeous and striking. The film is clearly composed like a religious painting, with rays of godly light breaking through narrow windows into shadowed, muted chambers of contemplation. This is one of those movies were numerous frames could be paused and presented as stand alone pieces of art, with multiple shots of thoughtful men in ornate gowns thinking about important stuff while kneeling in ancient temples. The team took great pains to replicate the look and feel of the papal settings, to the point where you could be tricked into thinking the filmmakers actually got to shoot inside the real Sistine Chapel and Domus Sanctae Marthae

Having a quiet, serious movie so invested in physical sets, elaborate costumes, and lovingly replicated props is its own treat in our era of Netflix slop and rampant green screen. The compelling conflict within "Conclave," the pull between higher aspiration and earthly thrills, is evident in its cast too. Ralph Fiennes is our besmocked Sherlock Holmes, furrowing his brow as he weighs his own faith and the holiness of each candidate. Fiennes never blinks, an endlessly watchable dramatic lead who clearly approached all of this with due thoughtfulness. This keeps the film grounded in its own grandness while, funnily enough, allowing the supporting cast to camp it up. "Conclave" assembles a fine collection of character actors and gives each of them juicy moments. Stanley Tucci debates the push-and-pull between tradition and modernity the church must navigate as Bellini. Sergio Castellitto roars and grandstands as the furiously conservative Tedesco. John Lithgow is quietly hilarious as the perpetually aghast Trembley. Isabella Rossellini shows up for a few scenes, never actually contributing much to the story while letting her smoky eyes and trademark enchantment do all the legwork. 

It's a grand old time at the theatre, in other words. Social media gadflies have repeatedly pointed out that "Conclave" resembles the tawdry melodrama of a reality show as much as it does a detective novel or a grand orchestrations of an ancient religious order. We are essentially watching messy queens, as outrageously cloaked as any drag star, try to undermine each other's campaigns. Drawing parallels between heavenly business and the mean girl-like tactics of its participants is very intentional on "Conclave's" behalf. Dean Lawrence's investigation unearths buried affairs, covered-up crimes, and shocking secrets. It's a reminder that, though Men of God declare themselves on more spiritually sturdy ground than the plebian masses, they are as susceptible to earthly temptations as any of us. The petty bickering and grandstanding debates are clearly meant to invoke our embattled political moment, as some characters argue for a worldview empathetic to changing times and others insist on clinging to the old ways in the face of fear and violence. It's all performance, all camp, designed to blind people and sway our opinions so that one guy can grab the power he desires more than the other candidates around him. 

How valuable you think pointing that out is a matter of personal preference. "Conclave" invokes quite a few serious, real world topics. The molestation scandals of the Church are mentioned, bringing to mind the unavoidable fact that every institute of power is filled with abuse and manipulation. The most disposable subplot, of the Holy See being under attack by literally unseen extremists, blatantly recalls all the fears of outsiders and foreigners that right-wing agitators are obsessed with. This comes to a head in the film's final minutes, with a dramatic reveal of questionable taste that invokes another spectral boogeyman the MAGA crowd is psychotically fixated on. "Conclave" doesn't actually have anything to say about matters of faith, power, responsibility, open borders and open hearts. It's a big, covertly campy page-turner, gesturing at big ideas while simply delivering on a compellingly woven narrative formula. 

Maybe that's part of the subtext too, that divide between what the film claims it's about and what it actually does. That would certainly tie into its story of holy men backbiting one another on their way to becoming the Supreme Pontiff. Truly, it's only that last that strikes me as too insensitive, ending the film on a note that makes you wonder what the hell we're supposed to take away from that. Otherwise, "Conclave" is good ol' fashion filmmaking at its best. Come to the cinema, look at the beautiful work of craftsmen operating at the height of their abilities, and get drawn into an exciting story for a little while. "Conclave" is an entertaining synthesis of the high and low arts and whether it's actually profound or only as profound as the Catholic Church claims to be is up to the viewer to decide. [7/10]

Saturday, January 25, 2025

OSCARS 2025: The Substance (2024)


(Part of why Oscar season interests me so much is because my personal taste and the Academy's do not cross over very often. I like weirdo cult shit and trashy horror movies, not middle-brow prestige dramas and celebrity biopics. However, this year represents one of the rare cases where a movie specifically on my wavelength has become an award season front-runner. Despite featuring enough spurting blood, gross-out special effects, and warped latex to please any Fangoria reader, "The Substance" is nominated for several big Oscars. Since I watched and reviewed the film recently, I'm unlikely to have any new thoughts on it but, in the name of completion, here's my review of the film from last October once again. Excuse me for recycling.)

If you are willing to dig deep enough, every year is a good year for horror. Thinking more specifically, if you stay in touch with the indie scene and don't judge merely based on what is playing at the multiplexes, you're likely to find lots of fantastic offerings in any given year. However, 2024 has been an especially good year for indie horror at the box office. As I type this, an unrated gore-fest made entirely outside the studio system is hacking up the top ten. NEON and A24 continue to make break-through hits with smart marketing. Most recently, arthouse digital distributor MUBI has proven the power of buzz-worthy genre films at the box office with “The Substance,” which has become a word-of-mouth hit and stuck around in theaters far longer than niche pictures like this usually do. “The Substance” has already been hotly debated but the simple fact remains: People are seeing it and talking about it. I'm a little behind, as usual, but it's my turn to weigh in.

Elizabeth Sparkle was once the toast of Hollywood, with awards and fame to her name. That was a long time ago. Now, she hosts a morning exercise show that is slipping in the ratings. On account of producers desiring a younger star, her show is canceled. Feeling despondent, she receives a tip about a new product called the Substance. She must go to a secluded locker to retrieve the order, a dispassionate voice on the phone informing her of the product's rules. She injects herself and a younger, sexier version emerges from Elizabeth's back. Her original self rendered catatonic, the new and improved model – who takes the name Sue – immediately finds fame and success in Sparkle's old timeslot. The conditions of the Substance dictate that “Sue” must trade places with Elizabeth every other week. Hungry to be loved and adored more, Sue begins to bend the rules... Which immediately has gruesome, horrifying side effects.

“The Substance” comes to us from Coralie Fargeat, previously of “Revenge.” That film aggressively shook up the formula of the rape/revenge premise. Fargeat's latest attacks the systemic issues of youth, vanity, and women being disregarded by the entertainment industry with similar ferocity. The point it makes are not subtle. Shortly after Sparkle's introduction, the grotesque face of a shrieking male exec is shoved into the camera. In a later scene, he's scarfing down on shrimp in the most disgusting manner possible. Later, Fargeat cuts from a close-up of a woman's perfectly shaped buttocks to a less appealing male buttocks. In other words: Women are subjected to beauty standards that men simply don't have to deal with. This ties into other commonly observed points, about how women are judged much more harshly when aging, how women's values are attuned to their appearance, and how Hollywood is obsessed with beauty and abhors ugliness. These points are thrown at us via over-the-top satirical exaggeration. 

No, “The Substance” isn't subtle. However, Fargeat's film isn't merely taking potshots at the obvious inequalities we are all very aware of in Hollywood. Instead, this is a far more personal story about self-hatred. Sparkles – played by a fearless Demi Moore – obsesses over her own image as much as the industry does. She stares at her own body in the mirror. After getting a date with an old high school body, she smears her face with make-up over and over again before staying inside. After Sue – Margauret Qualey, a vision – emerges, Elizabeth begins to judge herself harsher than before. She sinks into self-destruction, resenting her better looking half. This is despite the mysterious voice on the phone assuring her that Sparkles and Sue are one. They are same person. However, Sparkles inability to love herself – an internalizing of Hollywood' brutal beauty standards – is ultimately what pushes her to more extreme actions. “The Substance” is an indictment of Hollywood's treatment of women but it explores that theme through the the more personal lens of self-hatred. 

Whatever criticism you can leverage at “The Substance's” lack of subtly, you can't deny that the film embraces it. Benajamin Kracun's cinematography is highly stylized. It switches between extreme close-ups and the characters standing in the distance amid the highly stylized sets. Gliding camerawork carries one scene into another, often paired with Raffertie's aggressive electronic dance score. That lends a propulsive effect to many of the sequences, often centering around Qualley's expertly sculpted gluteus maximus as she writhes and bounces about many scenes. As “The Substance” grows more grotesque, this directorial style begins to feel like a hammer to the head. Every gross-out hits with maximum strength between the carefully constructed editing and often unrelenting visuals. By the blood and pus filled finale, “The Substance” makes you feel properly assaulted, feeling like one hell of an experience. 

The fact that “The Substance” has crossed over to some degree of mainstream success is what surprises me the most. This movie is, ya know, pretty fucked-up. It attacks the body horror element with the same over-the-top vigor that is approaches its satire with. This results in one shockingly gross sequence after another. Notably images like multiple eyeballs swishing around inside one socket or a tumor appearing on an ass cheek is the movie only getting started. The emergence of a turkey leg seemed to be the nastiest scene... Until “The Substance” kicks further into gear in its second half, throwing one misshapen body part after another at us. By the finale, the film is reaching levels of spurting fluids and malformed flesh that would put a Troma movie to shame. It's over-the-top, vile, disgusting, and holy shit did I love it. That a movie can still make me wince is a sign that I appreciate it. 

Since the Discourse moves so quickly these days, a certain contingency has already decided that “The Substance” is overrated. Or that it's secretly sexist or that it's not feminist in the right ways. All the tiring ways the discussion of cinema has been reduced down to tweets and buzz words these days. That the movie might end up being an awards season contender – improbable as that seems to me, stranger things have happened – means we are only in the beginning of the great debate around “The Substance.” Whatever the consensus ends up being, it's safe to say I loved this one. Gross, endlessly stylized, very European, and a ride from beginning to end, “The Substance” certainly won't be a film I forget any time soon. [9/10]