Director Report Card: Edgar Wright (2021) - Part Two

8. Last Night in Soho

It's fair to say that, with those first four features, Edgar Wright became one of my favorite filmmakers. He became a lot of people's favorite filmmaker. Through his DVD special features and interview and commentaries, it became obvious that Wright is overflowing with a love and knowledge for film. Especially horror, which is probably why "Shaun of the Dead" and parts of "Hot Fuzz" were such loving homages to the genre. When it was announced that he would be returning to the horror genre, but leaving the jokes behind, it was a pretty exciting proposition. I was so excited for "Last Night in Soho" that it made my yearly list of most anticipated titles twice. Well, now I have seen what seems to be the most divisive film of Wright's career so far. 

When Eloise is accepted to the London College of Fashion, it is a dream come true for her. After the suicide of her mother when she was young, Ellie was raised by her grandmother, who regaled her with stories of London in the Swinging Sixties. This has left the girl with a fascination for the long-gone decade. After Ellie — who has latent psychic powers — moves into an apartment in Soho, she begins to dream of the sixties. Of a girl named Sandie who moved to the city in hopes of becoming a singer. And as Ellie's visions bleed into her waking hours, she realizes that Sandie was real... And that her dreams quickly became a nightmare too. 

"Last Night in Soho" is, basically, the horror vision of "Midnight in Paris." Many of the director's previous films dealt with emotionally stunted man-boys while paying homage to time periods they actually lived through, via genres like 80s buddy cop movies or retro-gaming culture. This film, on the other hand, concerns someone who is nostalgic for a decade they never experienced. Ellie has an idealized vision of London in the sixties, only knowing it though the pop songs and movies of the time. Through her dreams of Sandie, she quickly learns a hard truth: That the past wasn't all it was cracked up to be and that 1960s London had a real dark side. And so "Last Night in Soho" gets at the rotten heart of nostalgia, that it's longing for a time that never really existed and is, just as often, a tool to cover up the ugly realities people would rather forget. 

From the minute it was announced, "Last Night in Soho" was said to be influenced by Polanski's Apartment Trilogy. Considering the movie is set in a sketchy apartment and concerns a young woman possibly losing her mind, this is still evident in the final film. The climax even features male hands bursting though floorboards and walls, a likely nod at "Repulsion." Yet the movie seems to be influenced a little more by another type of horror movie with its roots in the sixties. The vibrant colors immediately bring the Gialli of Dario Argento and Mario Bava to mind. The premise of a psychic young woman trying to resolve a murder mystery brings with it hints of Fulci's "The Psychic" and a dozen other movies. The film's twisting story and dream-like touches also were obviously inspired by those Italian murder mysteries. There's no black gloves or straight razors but the connection is still readily apparent. Considering horror nerd directors talk all the time about the influence the giallo genre has on them, it's nice that someone finally just made a new one.

And like a lot of classic giallo, "Last Night in Soho" can't successfully catch all the balls it throws up in the air. The movie is quite compelling for its first hour or so. You're sucked into the mystery, as Ellie's visions take on increasingly disturbing qualities and she becomes determined to uncover what happened to Sandie. Like any good sleuthing story, you wonder yourself how things played out. And then one of the film's creepiest suspects, a predatory old man at the bar Ellie works at, is bluntly removed from the story. From there, "Last Night in Soho" unfurls a series of increasingly underwhelming reveals. This is one of those mysteries we're thinking about the possibilities of what happened are a lot more fun than the actual answers the filmmaker cooked up. 

Despite continuing to expand the limits of his narrative style, “Last Night in Soho” is still undeniably an Edgar Wright joint. “Baby Driver” definitely seems to have set a precedence for the director. This film is also full of elaborately choreographed sequence set to specially selected needle drops, some of which are literally dance numbers. Such as an on-stage burlesque number set to Sandie Shaw's “Puppet on a String” or a Halloween party dance synched with Siouxie and the Banshee's “Happy House.” (The sole song on the soundtrack that isn't from the sixties.) While there's nothing as complex as the various chase scenes from "Baby Driver," this one does feature some impressive tracking shots. Such as a nightmarish tracking shot where Sandie – and, by extension, Ellie – is exposed to all the sketchy shit that goes on back-stage at this dance club.

There's no doubt that “Last Night in Soho” looks gorgeous in general. The production design is phenomenal, making every location in the film feel like a character onto itself. The glitzy club Sandie first approaches, and the incredibly sleazy one she eventually ends up in, have two very distinct moods. Even Ellie's apartment, the central location, is able to feel like two different things – either an inviting, cozy new home or a foreboding, isolated place – depending on where in the film you are. The gorgeous use of color frequently helps this along. Befitting a story set in a fashion school, the costumes are beautiful. There's a lot in “Last Night in Soho's” favor.

Yet there's a big problem with the movie. And it's an especially disappointing one, considering the obvious enthusiasm Edgar Wright has for the horror genre: “Last Night in Soho” is never scary. In fact, it's attempts to be frightening are pretty lukewarm. Ellie's increasingly disturbing nighttime visions begin to leak into her daylight hours. This eventually manifests as male figures with melted, blurry faces appearing to her. The CGI used to create this effect is underwhelming and it's not the only example of unimpressive digital effects here. More than once, the film even utilizes these ghostly figures in service of big, loud jump scares. There's not much in the way of the shock or atmosphere that Wright's obvious inspiration utilized. “Last Night in Soho” is shockingly limp as a horror movie.

This is not the only thing about the movie that is really disappointing. The climax of the story features a big twist, a reveal that turns what the audience was expecting – and even what the movie previously showed us – on its head. The trouble with this is that it muddles the movie's thematic waters. The depictions of physical and sexual violence against women here are intense. The new information we're given in the last third sheds a new light on these past events, one that casts victimizers as victims and vice versa. Yet the movie wants to have its cake and eat it too, with a half-assed line that amounts to nothing but convictionless finger-pointing dropped into the middle of its fiery climax. A woman, Krysty Wilson-Cairns, co-write the script. Yet, when combined with the thin-as-cardboard love interest in “Baby Driver” and Ramona Flowers as an idealized fantasy in “Scott Pilgrim,” I'm really beginning to wonder if Edgar Wright knows how to write female characters at all. 

It's not just the narrative that takes a hopelessly awkward approach to the story's women. Ellie isn't a bad protagonist. Thomasin Makenzie is certainly more than capable of projecting an aura of wide-eyed naivety. When that inevitably gets chipped away, Makenzie does an admirable job of showing Ellie's sanity cracking up too. Yet the writing lets her down.  Early on, the film presents the idea of Ellie's mom having died when she was young. How she's literally haunted by this, as she sees her mom's ghost sometimes. This plot point never really comes up much outside the first half-hour. “Last Night in Soho” hardly seems to be committing on trauma or grief. It leaves us with a protagonist whose character arc feels incomplete.

In fact, both of the film's stars are not given nearly enough to work on a writing level. Sandie is, in many ways, the central figure of the movie. In the early scenes, where Anya Taylor-Joy gets to play the character as a vivacious, beautiful young woman with talent and confidence, ready to become a star, she makes an impression. As Sandie's situation grows more grave, Taylor-Joy blends into the scenario more and more. The truth is, Sandie never really comes to life as a character. She's more an idea than a fully fleshed-out person. She's trapped in the past and the film keeps her distant from us too. 

As a further homage to its London in the Swinging Sixties setting, the film's supporting cast is filled with stars from that era. Terence Stamp plays the aforementioned creepy guy in the bar, doing a little with a lot and managing to summon a fair bit of malevolent energy in his few scenes. Diane Riggs, in her last role before her death, gets a couple of key moments to herself, as the woman Ellie rents a room from. Riggs proves she was just as dynamic a screen presence at the end of her life as she was in her prime. As for the younger cast, Matt Smith is well utilized as the man who seduces Sandie before making her life a living life, being effectively charming in early scenes and equally brutish in later ones. 

By the way, the title is taken from a Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich song. This was suggested by, naturally, super-fan of the group Quentin Tarantino. It plays over the end credits, over a montage of photos of London streets from the sixties and from the modern day, when they were abandoned during the initial COVID-19 lockdown. This is only the most direct influence the pandemic had on “Last Night in Soho.” Like a lot of high-profile titles that got long delays due to the closure of theaters, this film probably would've played better without an additional year of hype behind it. I would put myself in the “liked it, didn't love it” column for this one. Wonderfully assembled in some regards, it's also incredibly flawed in other ways. The result is a sometimes enchanting movie that can't nail the landing. [Grade: B-]

Director Report Card: Edgar Wright (2021) - Part One

7. The Sparks Brothers

Music, obviously, plays a huge role in the films of Edgar Wright. “Baby Driver” was so built around its soundtrack that it was practically a musical. He's also a director clearly overflowing with knowledge and interests. His movies are dense with callbacks and references, suggesting the kind of enthusiasm Wright has for his favorite subjects. It was probably only a matter of time before these two elements combined and the director made a rock documentary. This is why I was not surprised, in 2018, when it was announced that Wright was going to make a doc about Sparks. For three years, the untitled project lingered on Wright's IMDb page, in production but seemingly unmoving. Finally, last year, it was announced that the movie, now called “The Sparks Brothers,” was done and awaiting release. It would get a surprisingly wide release last June.

Sparks is a band that has been recommended to me probably fifty times over the years. Considering I love seventies glam rock, eighties synth-pop and New Wave, and lots of music that can generally be described as "quirky," they definitely seem like a band I'd probably like. Yet, until a few months ago, I had never heard more than one or two Sparks songs in my entire life. I think their small role in "Rollercoaster" was probably my biggest previous exposure to them. Knowing I'd be reviewing this documentary soon, a few months back I endeavored to make myself a Sparks appreciator. I tried to do a deep dive through their discography. However, I only got a few albums in because I realized something: I don't think I like Sparks that much. To be brutally honest, I find Russell Mael's falsetto vocals kind of annoying. The songs, at least the ones on those first few albums, felt theatrical at the expense of rock energy and catchiness. 

And so I went into Wright's documentary as a Sparks skeptic. The film is an exhaustive tour through the band's fifty year history. It tracks Russel and Ron Mael's origins, as brothers raised by a widowed mother in California. It shows us the formation of their first band, Halfnelson, which would soon be discovered by Harry Nilsson. After their first record flopped, the band would be renamed Sparks. Slowly, but surely, they began to develop a cult following, with the brothers even managing to become teen idols in 1970s England. They have continued to make music ever since, experimenting with different styles, attracting critical acclaim, and influencing countless other artists. 

Speaking as someone who has yet to be blown away by any of Sparks' music, I'll say that Wright's film at least makes me understand the band's appeal. The Mael brothers certainly have a memorable stage presence, with Russell's golden retriever energy contrasting against Ron's totally deadpan stiffness. (Best exemplified by his surreal, ironic choice of a Charlie Chaplin/Hitler mustache.) The film emphasizes over and over again that each Sparks songs tells a story, their lyrics exuding a playful sense of humor. Yes, there is a musical theater style excess to much of their music, which I understand appeals to many listeners. I still don't know if their music for me but I can say I at least get it now.

The opening minutes of "The Sparks Brothers" emphasizes how mysterious the central duo is. Russell and Ron answer a series of basic questions, revealing that they are Americans and brothers and all that stuff. As the movie goes on, we certainly learn plenty of things about their relationship and lives. How both men stick to a daily routine and how easy and natural it is for them to work together. Yet I left "The Sparks Brothers" wishing it gave us a little more insight into their creative process. We only get a glimpse of how they write and compose songs. What the music and lyrics mean is mostly left up to the various fans of the band — which includes members of Depeche Mode, New Order, Erasure, Visage, Weird Al, Patton Oswald, and Wright himself — to define. 

Instead of exploring their creative dynamic, Wright mostly devotes the film to walking us through the band's history. There's certainly lots of amusing or interesting stories from the road here. Such as an early show where Russell accidentally cracked his head open with a hammer on-state. Or a notable TV appearance when a gaggle of shrieking teenage girls stormed the stage, which includes an interview with the lady who planted a big hug on Ron. Yet you'd think a band that had been around for so long would have more stories of strife and intensity. The film certainly makes it seem like the Mael brothers mostly avoided your typical rock star excess. The only peek into their romantic lives we get is a mention of a brief relationship Russell had with the Go-Go's' Jane Wiedlin. 

Not that I demand every rock documentary get into the tawdry aspects of the musicians' life. But it might've spiced things up here a bit. "The Sparks Brothers" paints the main conflict of the band's existence as their lack of mainstream success in America, always floating between being cult favorites and major rock stars. There's only so many times you can hear the statement "fans and critics love them but they've never quite broke through with the public" reframed before it ceases to be interesting. Wright sometimes even glosses over very dramatic situations in favor of a chronological deep dive that covers the typical ups and downs of a long-running act. A lot more tension and conflict could've been mined from a series of concerns Sparks did a few years back, where they performed all of their albums live on a series of subsequent nights. 

Something that is interesting is the clear cinematic quality of Sparks' music. It's easy to see why the band would be such a favorite among directors like Wright. Their music is clearly driven by narrative and a movie-like sense of editing and genre shifting. They also made a whole album inspired by Ingmar Bergman. It's unsurprising to learn that, multiple times over their careers, the brothers have attempted to collaborate with different filmmakers. In the seventies, they kicked around a mysterious project with Jacques Tati. They spent five years developing a musical adaptation of the manga "Mai the Psychic Girl," with Tim Burton, that was ultimately doomed. Showing how up-to-date this doc is, the movie mentions in its last third that Sparks finally got to make a musical, "Annette" with director Leo's Carax, which would actually be released just a few weeks after this documentary. But I would've liked a little more insight into all of these projects, which are largely only mentioned in passing. 

Many retrospective documentaries have to struggle with the fact that they are largely made up of interviews. People talking directly into the camera isn't very cinematic, unless you're Errol Morris. Like many documentarians before him, Wright tries a number of different techniques to make sure this isn't just a series of talking heads. There's a number of quirky animated interludes, made through a number of different mediums. Cut-out paper animation, claymation, and traditional animation are used throughout to bring various anecdotes to life. While the archive footage is usually in color, the interview segments are usually in black-and-white. This partners well with a silent movie style interlude early on. Wright also resorts to putting song titles and lyrics on-screen whenever a particularly notable number is brought up. 

Try as he might to keep "The Sparks Brothers" from simply being a series of interviews, that's mostly what it is. The film lines up a number of high-profile interviewees to gush about how much they love the band and their music. This grows tiresome pretty quickly, especially since the non-stop praise is spread across a two hour and twenty minute run time. "The Sparks Brothers" also generates that extensive length by running through every single one of the group's twenty-five records. While some of these releases are detailed more than others, not a single one is left undiscussed. This approach eventually becomes exhausting and makes "The Sparks Brothers" feel more like a Wikipedia entry than a documentary at times.

It should be apparent that "The Sparks Brothers" will be most enjoyed by die-hard fans of the band. If you love them, you'll probably love this. And if you're a Sparks agnostic, like myself, you'll probably walk away still wondering what the big deal is. Out of all the songs highlighted, I only heard three or four I'd be interested in listening to again, like the undeniably catchy "Beat the Clock" and "When Do I Get to Sing My Way?" Either I'm too pretentious or not pretentious enough to be a Sparks fan. If a similar film is ever made about a weirdo musical act I adore, like Devo or Barnes & Barnes, I would probably love it. Wright certainly does his best to make the documentary as broadly appealing and interesting as possible. There were definitely moments when I enjoyed it. Yet his insistence on covering every turn of their career, as well as filling the movie with too many interviews with adoring fans, left me thinking "The Sparks Brothers" is less an introduction to the duo and more of a celebration. [Grade: C+]

Director Report Card: Edgar Wright (2017)

6. Baby Driver

Adversity can, sometimes, be a boon for creativity. Edgar Wright had worked on an adaptation of the superhero “Ant-Man” for over a decade, just to walk away from the film at the last minute due to creative disagreements with Marvel Studios. Out of this disappointment rose an opportunity. Wright has described “Baby Driver” as a dream film, that he's been kicking around for a very long time. If he had ended up directing “Ant-Man,” he probably wouldn't have gotten to make this film. Who knows how these things balance out but, considering “Baby Driver” has already become Wright's highest grossing film, it seems to have been a fair trade.

The same car accident that orphaned Baby as a child also gave him tinnitus. In order to drown out the constant ringing in his ears, Baby is always listening to music. As a little kid, Baby attempted to jack the car of Doc, a mysterious local crime boss. Seeing the kid's obvious talent, Doc has employed Baby as a getaway driver. And he's really good at that. After presumably paying off his debt to Doc, Baby begins to plan for the future, which includes a romance with pretty dinner waitress, Debora. However, Doc makes sure Baby keeps working for him. After a standard heist goes wrong, thanks to a psychotic enforcer named Bats, Baby finds himself in a world of trouble.

All of Edgar Wright's previous films have been comedies. They've had action and serious moments but generating laughs have always been their primary goal. “Baby Driver” is funny too, full of humorous dialogue and colorful characters. However, it might be Wright's first film that isn't most concerned with humor. The film, instead, draws upon the swagger and style of seventies mob flicks like “The Italian Job” or “The French Connection.” Like those films, “Baby Driver” is also built around a series of elaborate car chases. Yet the movie's focus on songs also makes it a musical of sorts. Car chases and shoot-outs, instead of dance numbers, are built around the music. Combining these divergent influence makes “Baby Driver” an unusual creation: Maybe the first carsploitation/crime/musical in cinematic history.

“Baby Driver” is pretty different from Wright's other films in some way. In other ways, the director's interests remain as consistent as ever. The Cornetto Trilogy and “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” featured arrested man-children growing up. Baby is younger than Shaun, Scott, or Danny Butterman. However, he still has a lot of maturing to do. The scars of his childhood still hang over his head, influencing his decisions. He is running from this pain, bringing extra-meaning to the film's multiple car chases. By the end, he's confronted this head-on, emerging as a stronger, wiser adult. Just in case you missed this, “Baby Driver” also peppers itself with other symbols about growing up. Such as a significant tape, Baby's tinnitus, and even his juvenile-sounding name.

Baby is the latest in a line of cinematic getaway drivers that are characterized by their silence. I've already seen some people assume Baby's monosyllabic nature is a reference to Nicholas Winding Refn's “Drive.” The truth is both movies were inspired by Walter Hill's “The Driver.” In some ways, “Baby Driver” is almost a deconstruction of the silent driver character type. While Hill's and Refn's drivers were mysterious characters, who silence remained unexplored, we learn quite a bit about Baby's inner life. His silence is literally a symptom of the pain that still haunts him. Ansel Elgort matches his fittingly baby-faced appearance with a youthful energy and a tough, resourceful exterior.

Just like its speedy protagonist, “Baby Driver” moves quickly. Edgar Wright's sense of motion is present and accounted for. There are multiple shots of Baby walking from location to location, powered by his own soundtrack. Sometimes, it's while walking over to get the traditional post-heist coffees. More often, it's when he's celebrating in his apartment with his foster father. Wright's trademark scene transitions put in appearance, spinning clothes at a laundromat shifting to a spinning record. Or a swooping vehicle moving the scene along. “Baby Driver's” propulsive soundtrack keeps its energy up throughout, making the movie alive with movement.

The movie's blending of snappy soundtrack choices and breakneck action meets in a spellbinding foot chase. The scene is scored to the driving proto-metal of Focus' “Hocus Pocus.” Wright shoots long stretches of the chase in a continuous take, further lending a sense of movement to the scene. Baby leaps over chairs, runs through a parking garbage, barrels through a mall, slides down an escalator, and eventually hides behind vehicles are as shoot-out begins. Wright's ability to perfectly sync his action with his music is especially on display here. The yodeling, scatting, or polka intervals between the rock guitars is when Baby pauses to catch his breath. Bullets tear through characters in tune with the song. Just before Focus wraps up their song, Baby's iPod is destroyed. Perfect.

Of course, most of the film's chases aren't on foot. “Baby Driver” is a car chase movie, building itself around a series of increasingly elaborate vehicular pursuits. The first such sequence has Baby driving a red muscle car, spinning dangerously around corners, tires squealing on the asphalt. The scene ends brilliantly, Baby outsmarting the cops. Another big chase has our hero in a sturdier vehicle, crashing through guard rails and driving down slopping hills. When a pursuer won't leave them alone, the scene escalates towards some very clever vehicle-on-vehicle combat. The big finale takes place in the tight confines of a parking garage. An especially impressive stunt has Baby and his pursuer driving backwards, up the spiral paths of the garage.

“Baby Driver” has a loaded supporting cast. Kevin Spacey is hilarious as Doc. Spacey really has a way with Wright's motormouth dialogue. The character takes some surprising turns, which Spacey makes believable. The actors playing the film's villains are especially memorable. Jaime Foxx is appropriately frightening as Bats. Bats is a totally unpredictable psychopath, who always seems to be seconds away from killing someone. Foxx brings an interior logic to the character. Bats' actions may seem unreasonable and insane to everyone else but it makes sense to him. Jon Hamm sheds his usually classy appearance to play a hardened criminal with perpetual five o'clock shadow. Hamm's character seems amicable at first, even joking around with Baby. As the story progresses, he becomes more dangerous, a transformation Hamm makes believable. One of my favorite additions to the cast I won't describe, other than to say it's a cameo from a seventies singer/songwriter and star of a cult classic I know Wright loves.

Love stories have been components in Edgar Wright's films in the past. Romance moves the stories in “Shaun of the Dead” and “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” forward. (And “Hot Fuzz” too, depending on how you look at it.) Despite that, the love stories tend to be a weaker aspect of those films. That precedence, disappointingly, continues in “Baby Driver.” Lily James plays Debora, the girl that captures Baby's heart. James is charming and looks adorable in her retro-style waitress uniform. She has solid chemistry with Elgort. However, the two only have a few scenes together, making the dedication they show to one another a little difficult to believe. Furthermore, Debora doesn't really exist outside the context of her romance with Baby. Everything we learn about her is due to her boyfriend. Which isn't a big deal but is a little disappointing.

If a love story that is a little thinly developed is “Baby Driver's” greatest flaw, another problem the film has is a slightly weak ending. The climax ramps up towards bigger and bigger action, tugging the audience along with crazy theatrics, getting your adrenaline up. After a heart-pumping climax like that, “Baby Driver” adds an overly long resolution. Every thread of the plot is concluded a little too neatly. Stuff that perhaps would've been better left unsaid is resolved. Baby's arc rounds out with him reaching maximum maturity. The film rewards him for this a little too gratuitously. It takes the film out on a slightly sour note.

“Baby Driver's” soundtrack is massive, the release version stretching on for thirty tracks. There's so many great songs in the movie that it's hard to pick just a few. The riotous rock n' roll of Jon Spencer Blues Explosions' “Bellbottoms” begins the film, establishing its particular energy from the get-go. Bob & Earl's “Harlem Shuffle” adds a fantastic sense of fun, further establishing Baby's personality. The chaotic punk rock of “Neat, Neat, Neat” by the Damned propels another car chase, the song's gritty aesthetic add an extra edge to the scene. Queen's “Brighton Rock” is used spectacularly in the final act, a move certain to bring that song to a new generation of listeners. There's many more but those are some highlights.

I really liked “Baby Driver.” Where it falls in Edgar Wright's overall career is hard to say. My appreciation for Wright's films tend to rise with multiple rewatches, as you catch the foreshadowing and little in-jokes he sneaks in. Still, my initial opinion on “Baby Driver” is very positive. The action scenes are amazing. The use of music is fantastic. The cast and characters are really memorable. Wright's sense of style and movement are stronger than ever. That the film is already shaping up to be a sleeper hit is refreshing, considering Wright's films have never quite connected with mainstream audiences before. I'm sure “Baby Driver” is a motion picture film fans will be talking about all throughout this year and probably beyond that too. [Grade: A-]

Director Report Card: Edgar Wright (2013)

5. The World’s End

After the break-out success of “Shaun of the Dead” and “Hot Fuzz,” Edgar Wright was a hot talent. Suddenly, his name was attached to several projects. There was “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World,” which he would make next. Another comic based property Wright was supposed to direct was “Ant-Man,” a movie he would eventually exit among much fanboy outcry. Briefly, his name floated around “Them,” a comedy based on a book about conspiracy theories that would’ve starred Jack Black. During this time, hidden at the margins of his IMDb page, was a third movie. “The World’s End” would be the conclusion to the Cornetto Trilogy. For a long time, that was all we knew. What would this fabled film be about, we wondered? Would “The World’s End” be a throwback to eighties post-apocalyptic action flicks, the way “Shaun of the Dead” and “Hot Fuzz” homaged zombies and buddy cops? An image that entered my mind was of Simon and Nick walking down a bombed-out road, carrying crossbows. “The World’s End” wasn’t this, not quite. The final film may be the weakest of the Cornetto Trilogy. Which means it’s still an amazingly funny and incredibly well made film.

Back in their high school days, Gary King and his gang of friends were really close. A day he still remembers is when the five of them attempted to complete the Golden Mile, a pub crawl of 12 bars. The group didn’t complete the crawl then. Now, as an adult, Gary wants to reunite with his bros and reach the World’s End, the final pub. Unlike Gary, who still holds onto his youthful partying ways, his friends have all moved on. Yet he manages to talk everyone into returning to Newton Haven and taking on the bars. Upon returning to their childhood home, they start to notice something mysterious. An alien conspiracy is rooted in their home town. Despite this, Gary insist they complete the pub crawl, becoming increasingly more sloshed the further their adventure goes on.

“The World’s End” is the darkest of the Cornetto trilogy, a trio of films that began with the zombie apocalypse and continues with a cult committing murders. Beyond featuring the end of the world, the film addresses death, suicide, irrelevance, depression, divorce, and drug and alcohol dependence. A reoccurring theme throughout the Cornetto Trilogy has been arrested development: Men who still think and act like boys. Coming long after the man-child has entered the comedic lexicon, “The World’s End” shows the souring of the archetype. Gary King is funny and fun to be around. He’s also a screw-up, a drug addict, a thief, entirely irresponsible, suicidally depressed we discover, and hopelessly stuck in the past. Recovering his friends is a rough road because he burned all those bridges years ago. We laugh at Gary’s antics but, odds are, we wouldn’t want to actually be his friend.

Each film in the Cornetto Trilogy fits snugly within a pre-existing genre. I was so ready for “The World’s End” to be a throwback to post-apocalyptic flicks, that I was slightly disappointed when it wasn’t. Instead, “The World’s End” homages British sci-fi of the fifties and sixties. John Wyndham and “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” have been pointed out as influences. The nature of the alien conspiracy recall the Quatermass films. The title may even been taken from an early Doctor Who episode. Mostly, the idea of alien robots replacing people, in a bid to take over the world, is inspired by the creeping paranoia of these films. For the record, Wright still throws in a little bit of post-apocalyptic action at the very end.

“The World’s End” benefits greatly from Wright’s typically layered script. The events of the present pub crawl mirror the one Gary and his friends went on in the eighties. Both feature an important “bump” in a bathroom. Another character exits the crawl during the same times. Moreover, the accurately British names of the pubs reflect the events that happen in them. The Famous Cock is where Gary is banned, for his cockish behavior. While at the Mermaid, the men are seduced by villainous females. A scrambling, chaotic fight happens inside the Beehive. A vehicle drives through the walls of The Hole in the Wall. One guess what happens at the World’s End. A reoccurring joke about the Three (Or is it Five?) Musketeers pays off nicely. Once again, Wright’s clever love of foreshadowing only becomes visible on a second viewing. The recurrences, callbacks, and call-forwards make the film a delightfully rich viewing experience.

Discussion of the man-child trope isn’t the only thing that has escalated as the trilogy went on. The action has gotten bigger too. It’s evident that Wright has applied the lessons he learned from “Scot Pilgrim vs. the World” to his British films. “The World’s End” is an explosively energetic action flick. From the first scuffle on, the movie is full of balletic fight scenes. The action begins when Simon dive-bombs a robot into a urinal, taking its head off. This explodes into a frantic battle, which features bisection via sink, machines being pile-drived onto knees and receiving atomic elbows to the head. A fight with two twins gets weird when the one blank replaces its arms with a pair of legs. The fight inside the Beehive is the action highlight of the film. Nick Frost grabs two stools, using them as tonfas, bashing Blanks’ heads in and tossing them around the room. Drunk middle-age men diving, kicking, and grappling like expert martial artist would probably push disbelief in a lesser film. The humor and kinetic energy of “The World’s End” allows the viewer to overlook this.

The zombies in “Shaun of the Dead” and the Sanford Neighborhood Watch in “Hot Fuzz” didn’t allow for much personality. The shambling hordes of undead and hooded assassins naturally wouldn’t. In “The World’s End,” Edgar Wright gets to create a more personable collection of baddies. The Blanks are an interesting variation on the killer robot idea. When wanting to intimidate their enemies, their eyes and mouth emit a blue light. After being knocked to the ground, they slither upward at odd angles. Their movements aren’t quite human, creating a disquieting affect. Their blue, ink-like blood splatters fantastically during the action sequences. Their heads tends to shatter like porcelain, when they aren’t popping off like bottle caps. They seem designed to make an impression on viewers while also coming apart spectacularly during fight scenes. For shits and giggles, Wright throws in a traditional robot too, in the form of an angular piece of modern art that comes to life.

In “Shaun of the Dead” and “Hot Fuzz,” Simon Pegg played the more responsible man while Nick Frost played his slovenly, child-like best friend. “The World’s End” switches this around. Frost’s Andy holds down a nice job and has a seemingly steady marriage. Alcohol hasn’t touched his lips in two decades. Pegg’s Gary, meanwhile, never let go of his partying lifestyle. His tendency to imbibed frequently has made his life a mess. Moreover, “The World’s End” breaks up the unshakable Pegg/Frost friendship. The two characters are not on good terms at the beginning. Andy is unwilling to forgive Gary for a life-threatening mistake years ago. He only goes along on the pub crawl out of pity. Casting both actors against type is a nice move. As Gary’s carefree and confident personality start to crack apart, Pegg plums pathetic depths fantastically. Frost, meanwhile, is excellently employed as the comedic straight man who becomes more free-willing the drunker he gets.

Gary and Andy are only the two most important members of the gang. The rest of the squad are filled out with impressive talent. Martin Freeman, graduating from the cameos he had in the previous two films, makes the most noticeable contribution as Oliver “O-Man” Chamberlain. Oliver is the member of the group who seems the least willing to put up with Gary’s bullshit. Freeman’s exquisitely dry wit and skill at insincere glad-handing really come in handy. Paddy Considine has some of the most fun as Steven Price. Likewise, Steven is frosty towards Gary. However, he gets in the fun mood awfully quickly. Once intoxicated, he’s one of the most entertaining members of the group. As a kid, Peter Page was the awkward, bullied member of the group. As an adult, he’s still at the whims of his rich dad and has a fidgety, uncomfortable appearance. Eddie Marsan captures this very well and watching him cut loose as the night goes on is especially entertaining.

A supply of talented names round out the supporting cast. Rosamund Pike plays the lone woman along for at least part of the trip. Pike’s Sam is positioned as a love interest between Gary and Steven, not really being that interested in either of them. How this plays out, and Pike’s interaction with Pegg, are amusing. Pike’s delivery of a series of lines about the boy she crushed on in high school are nicely delivered. The film makes good use of David Bradley – the guy from “Harry Potter,” not the B-list action hero – as Basil, the town eccentric. Bradley’s odd looks and great crazy eyes make him an ideal choice for the part. Pierce Brosnan shows up as the voice of reason for the Blank invasion, formerly the boy’s “cool” teacher. Brosnan’s coldly logical voice is used well. (It’s a shame there wasn’t a former James Bond in “Shaun of the Dead.” Edgar Wright could have had a theme going.) Speaking of voices, one of the best small parts in the film is only a voice. Bill Nighy voices the leader of the Blanks, represented as only a fluttering set of lines. Nighy’s voice has the regal, superior quality you’d expect from an alien leader. His increasing bafflement with the human heroes provides some great comedy.

“The World’s End” is really funny. Wright’s dialogue is as quick and humorous as ever. Early discussions about houses, drug slang words, and who wrote the Bible stick in my mind. Like the rest of the Cornetto Trilogy, the film is not only a riotous comedy and an energetic action flick. In its last act, the movie reaches a surprisingly affecting level of emotion. The rest of the group seemingly whittled away, Gary and Andy have a confrontation in the last bar. The details of Gary’s life are shown, as well as the current status of Andy’s marriage. The emotion in both actor’s performances is stunning. This moment is the key to the film’s big sloppy heart. Gary holds onto his teenage years because his life hasn’t gotten any better since then. There’s a desperation to his nostalgia. The entire story is a panicked attempt to hold onto his childhood. The confrontation between the two characters reveals the film as a very sad, very human story.

Another theme in “The World’s End” is about the strangeness of returning to your home town after being away for years. Seeing chain restaurants and businesses leaking into a formally isolated small town must be startling for anyone who has been away a while. The script refers to this as “Starbucking,” which is evident when the characters notice that all the pubs look the same. This may be the result of an alien plot but it’s a very human emotion. The Network’s desire to reduce everything to something same-y and boring seems to represent the world’s crushing desire for conformity and mediocrity. Even though he’s a screw-up, Gary King becomes an unlikely symbol of human individuality. He refuses to conform, to accept the Network’s ideal society. It’s notable that the hero doesn’t bring down the evil extraterrestrial plot with kung-fu or explosions. Instead, a bracing monologue about people’s right to chose, even if they choose to fuck up, defeats the Network’s inhuman utopia. It’s an impressive blending of the film’s plot and its’ themes, pulled off in an eccentric and funny manner.

Which entry in the Cornetto Trilogy you like best depends entirely on taste. My favorite will always be “Shaun of the Dead.” One friend of mine loves “Hot Fuzz” the most while another most prefers “The World’s End.” They are all excellent, hilarious and fantastically constructed. Each strive for greater things beyond making their audience chuckle. Each are smart subversions of established genres. “The World’s End” may be the most mature of the three, darker and more introspective then the proceeding chapters. Yet it doesn’t sacrifice the fun or the laughs either. Don’t be shocked if, in time, this trilogy is held in similarly high regards to other beloved three part stories. [Grade: A]

It didn't take long for Edgar Wright to recover from the "Ant-Man" fall-out. Not long afterwards, he announced his next film, "Baby Driver." A crime film starring the kid from "The Fault in Our Stars," that one is set for 2017. Wright is also attached to "Grasshopper Jungle," an off-beat sounding YA adaptation, and "Collider," a mysterious sci-fi project. (I haven't heard any news about that Johnny Depp-starring reboot of "Kolchak: The Night Stalker" in a while though. That probably shouldn't be made anyway.) Whatever he does in the future, it's apparent Wright is someone I'm a big fan of. If any of his future projects are even a quarter as good as his last four films, they'll still be great.

Director Report Card: Edgar Wright (2010)

4. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

In 2010, I had “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” fever. When the movie hit theaters, I saw it at least twice. I immediately went out and bought all the comics, tearing through them within a few evenings. I played the addictive video game, though even somebody who loves old school arcade brawlers as much as me had trouble getting pass the third boss. I even bought the soundtracks. Both of them. When the movie failed to connect with mainstream audiences, it just strengthen our cult devotion to the film. Five years later – which seems both far too long ago and not nearly long enough – the film takes me back to a very specific place. At the time, I was still reeling from the love of my life breaking my heart. That’s probably the reason the movie resonated with me so strongly. Revisiting the film, it’s still an astonishing piece of work, very emotional, full of energy, and packing a powerful punch.

22-year old Scott Pilgrim, a Torontan that plays bass in a band on the verge of being discovered, is dating a high school student. The sheltered girl, named Knives, is immediately enamored of Scott and his band. Unfortunately, Scott is still recovering from the brutal dumping he received at the hands of his ex-girlfriend, now the lead singer of a successful band. When Scott meets Ramona Flowers, literally the woman of his dreams, all that changes. Scott and Ramona sail into a passionate romance. Yet Scott is unprepared for what happens next. Ramona’s seven evil exes have formed a league and, in order to win her love, Scott must defeat them all in combat. It puts a strain on the relationship.

In his British films, Edgar Wright combined pop culture references to create a fuller world. In “Spaced,” the series’ pop culture-obsessed world reflected its pop culture-obsessed characters. “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” was the director’s American debut and another example of an indie filmmaker being scooped up to direct a big budget comic book movie. That this comic book movie would financially underperform shouldn’t surprise. “Scott Pilgrim” combines a number of very specific pop culture obsessions. The world of comics is right there on the screen, with swooshing letters, subtitles, and chapter names. The story is set in the world of indie rock, with an equally hip soundtrack. Mostly, “Scott Pilgrim” is influenced by classic video games. 8-bit MIDI music blurps on the soundtrack. Explicit references are made to “Final Fantasy,” “Clash at Demonhead,” and “Mario” with subtler call-backs to “Legend of Zelda,” “Sonic the Hedgehog,” “House of the Dead” and who knows what else. The movie even tosses in an extended homage to “Seinfield,” in a hilarious if inexplicable sitcom-style sequence. It’s an eccentric clash of interests that probably wouldn’t apply much to anyone outside of those fan bases.

Yet “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” is more then a collection of references to other works. As in Bryan Lee O’Malley’s original comic, the story is a day-glo metaphor for the baggage a person brings into a relationship. When Scott starts dating Knives, he’s not truly over the heartbreak Envy dealt him. When he meets Ramona, he’s smitten for the first time in a year. The rush of a new love gives him the energy to get on with life. Yet Ramona carries her own baggage, in the form of the evil exes. The reason her exes are so bitter is because she dumped them all. As the film goes on, Scott and Ramona both experience the fallout from previous relationships. The film even literalizes Ramona being unable to get an ex-boyfriend out of her head. All the characters are set in their early twenties, when people are first learning that their love lives carry a weight that can't easily be let go off.

These heavy themes of maturity, self respect, accepting responsibility for your actions, and the cost of love are all carried over from the original comics. Mostly though, “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” is an infectiously fun head-rush of a movie. The movie is consistently hilarious. The way the film illustrates Scott’s mind, especially the way he considers excuses, is a clever touch. The movie masters the art of the cut-away, like a slow and eerie zoom on Kim’s face when Scott says she’s fine. Or how about Knives at the window of the apartment, glaring instead? Or Young Neil’s shouted insistence that the high-lights were punched out of her hair? Maybe the biggest laugh in the movie, the one that gets me every time, is Scott’s sudden escape when Knives appears at the door, unexpected. This is in addition to hundreds of hugely quotable lines of dialogue. “Scott Pilgrim” is so much damn fun, it leaves the audience a little exhausted yet wanting more.

The film is an amazingly clever adaptation of its source material. It more-or-less maintains the exact structure of the first volume, “Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life,” before smartly condensing the rest of the story. Though it presents a sweeping world full of details, O’Malley’s comic is a big work. The movie changes a lot, simplifying many things into a more satisfying story. Most importantly, there’s the character of Scott. In the book, Scott is kind of an idiot. He’s a man-child who doesn’t even realizes when he’s hurt people. He has a history as a bully. His story arc not only has him becoming more mature, it has him literally wrestling with his dark side. The movie turns Scott into a Michael Cera character. He’s more a nerd, awkward, fumbling, and full of anxieties. Cera’s dorky interpretation makes Scott’s puppy dog infatuation with Ramona more believable. Usually, an adaptation softening a character or story’s rough edges isn’t a good thing. Yet Movie Scott is far more likable and lovable then his overly doofus-y mean source character. Cera mines a lot of humor out of simply stretching words out.

A genuine criticism of the film is Ramona’s personality. In the book, Ramona is a fleshed out character, full of insecurities herself, projecting a harsh exterior to hide a hurt heart. In the movie, a lot of those developing scenes had to be cut for time. So Ramona comes off as overly cold at times. One has to wonder why Scott is so in love with her. Yet Scott’s feelings for Ramona aren’t much more then a childish infatuation. She is the woman of his dreams, after all. Since the story is told through his eyes, it’s not entirely unreasonable that Ramona should be treated this way. Yet the slight thinness of Ramona isn’t the fault of Mary Elizabeth Winstead. Winstead inhabits the character’s dry wit and sardonic attitude. She’s a geek goddess too, with her round face, parade of changing hair colors, and preference for wearing short skirts. She’s good with a giant hammer as well.

Aside from its able cast, Edgar Wright and team put together a dream team of supporting actors. It’s impressive how many future stars they wrangled for smaller parts. Anna Kendrick plays Scott’s more mature younger sister. Brie Larson plays Envy, being all smoky whispers and mean girl nastiness. Audrey Plaza deploys her acidic wit as know-it-all Julie, assisted by some well-timed swear boxes and a pair of nerdy glasses. Alison Pill is perfectly snarky as Kim, the gravelly voiced drummer who can always be counted on for a cold comment or freezing aside. Ellen Wong is all adorable energy as Knives, easily the most innocent character in the film. Watching her evolve from shut-in to cool ninja girl is one of the joys of the film. Mark Webber’s freak-outs as Stephen Stills are hilarious. As Young Neil, Johnny Simmons’ ability to scream non-sense phrases are hugely valuable. Yet the undeniable VIP of “Scott Pilgrim” is Kieran Culkin as Wallace Wells, Scott’s very gay roommate. I’ve been a fan of Culkin since his “Igby Goes Down” days and he’s hysterical as Wallace. He easily navigates the speedy dialogue and delivers each one-liner with aplomb. Wallace’s frank announcement that he needs the apartment, “for sex,” is just one of Culkin’s many hilarious moments.

Another portion of the fantastic cast is devoted to the evil exes. The incredibly named Satya Bhabha plays Matthew Patel, the first ex. Wearing eye-liner, singing and dancing, Bhabha goes for it fully as the demented evil hipster. It helps that Patel is easily the most pathetic of the villains. Chris Evans, who has probably appeared in more comic book movies then even Stan Lee, perfectly utilizes his confident attitude and way with a one-liner as Lucas Lee. Evans' ability to growl goofy lines of dialogue while keeping an absolute straight-face is a huge asset in the film’s favor. Brandon Routh, the Superman everyone forgets about, is fantastic at playing a cocksure doofus. Mae Whitman may be the breakout actor of the movie, at least for me. Whitman is hilarious, once again playing a ridiculous character with absolute seriousness, imbuing silly liens with even more comedic potential. Jason Schwartzman may seem like an unlikely choice to play the super cool, super-evil king of the hipsters, Gideon Graves. Yet he oozes slimy, smug superiority. He is simultaneously sleazy and condescending to everyone. The movie simplifies Graves’ character. In the books, he is a dark mirror of what Scott could become. In the movie, he’s the most hatable person in the room, an utterly despicable asshole. Only Keita Saito and Shota Saito, as the silent Katayanagi twins, aren’t given much to do.

Edgar Wright’s direction is always innovative. “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” allows the director to really show off. The film is all too happy to draw attention to its comic book roots. As Scott tosses a package away, a printed out onomatopoeia sails through the air with it. As Scott plays on his guitar, the letter “B” bounces from his bass in tune with the music. The movie’s debt to video games is on displayed repeatedly. A character gets an 1-up, while continues or K.O.s appear on-screens. My favorite use of the video game troupes is probably the emptying “Pee Meter” that appears at one point. Mostly, Wright just has fun with things, via the on-screen subtitles assisting the jokes or flashing graphics adding to the tone. Part of what makes “Scott Pilgrim” so great is how inventive it is. The film’s visual presentation is part of what makes it so fantastically entertaining.

Like “Hot Fuzz,” the film is an incredibly unlikely action flick. Utilizing its video game and comic book influences, the action sequences frequently feel like fighting games or anime. The scuffle with Matthew Patel has the movie suddenly shifting into a Bollywood musical, with characters singing and dancing while leaping through the air. The fight with Lucas Lee has some great close-quarter combat and concludes with a big explosion. The duel with Todd makes full use of the exe’s psychic vegan powers. The glowing eyes, bass battle, and telekinetic projections that follow are fantastic. That sequence’s wrap-up is the movie at its quirkiest and funniest. The fight with the Katayangis manifests as a brawl between an energy yeti and two spirit dragons, whose awesomeness speak for itself. My favorite fight is probably the battle between Ramona and Roxie, which uses two hugely dynamic weapons, a chain-whip and a huge mallet. The dramatic and dynamic diving, leaping, and kung-fu fighting provides the action scenes with an infectious energy. This is best displayed during the finale, where Scott cleaves through fifty henchmen in quick succession with his flaming sword of love. As an action flick, “Scott Pilgrim” shows Wright developing into a fantastically capable action director.

Even odder, “Scott Pilgrim” is also a musical of sorts. The film’s propulsive rock soundtrack powers it through many sequences. The chaotic, energetic sounds of Sex Bob-omb, Scott and co’s band, greet the opening credits, giving the audience a good idea of what they’re in for. This is displayed even better during the Battle of the Bands, when the band’s power actually takes out the other guys. Music is a weapon in “Scott Pilgrim,” as displayed during Scott and Todd’s bass duel, another stand-out moment. The film even resembles a great music video at times, like during the Clash at Demonhead’s incredibly dynamic performance of “Black Sheep.” Setting atop this are some unparalleled soundtrack choices. When Scott and Ramona first kiss, the dreamy “By Your Side” by Beachwood Sparks plays. When Scott is navigating the party, searching for his dream girl, the character’s nervous mood is represented by Frank Black’s “I Heard Ramona Sing.” Knives’ sorrow over loosing Scott, and Scott’s indifference towards her pain, is nicely summed by the clever use of T. Rex’s “Teenage Dream.” Adding the extra layer of awesome is Neil Goldrich’s impressive electronic score, which powers the movie when the rock music doesn’t.

I guess it’s clear that I love “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.” It’s not for everyone. The film’s mixture of quirks, genres, styles, and homages is probably insufferable to many people. Many others are likely indifferent to the things it does. Yet to the select crowd that are on the film’s wavelength, it was an instant cult classic. Edgar Wright’s career seemingly wasn’t affected by the film’s commercial failure, even if Michael Cera and Mary Elizabeth Winstead’s careers were. Ultimately, “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” was likely too esoteric to ever be a breakthrough success. The movie was always destined to be a cult favorite, embraced by fans who will keep the movie’s legacy alive long after the box office reports have faded from memory. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Edgar Wright (2007)

3. Hot Fuzz

“Shaun of the Dead” probably seemed like a hard act to follow. As soon as a few years after its’ released, it already had the reputation of a classic. The film turned a whole generation onto British comedy. It cemented the careers of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, as the defining comedic duo of their day. The film appointed Edgar Wright as the logical, albeit comedic, heir to Quentin Tarantino's film nerd god status. More impressive then all of that is Wright and his team doing it again. “Hot Fuzz,” the second chapter of the so-called Cornetto Trilogy and Wright’s second proper film, is as good as the first.

Constable Nicolas Angel is the best cop in London. He’s an expert in multiple fields and has an arrest record beyond reproach. He’s so good that he makes the rest of the department look bad. Thus his bosses promote him to Sergent before shipping him off to Sandford, a delightful little town in the country. The serious Angel bristles against the light-hearted local cops while finding the town devoid of anything to do. Even his budding friendship with Danny Butterman, the police chief’s jolly son, doesn't do much to sate his boredom. That is until he notices the large number of fatal “accidents” in Sandford and begins to suspect they may not be so accidental.

“Shaun of the Dead” earned the good will of horror nerds via its multiple references to older films. Yet the movie wasn’t build around those references, instead using them to build a universe. “Hot Fuzz” does something similar with action cinema. Danny is a devout fan of action movies. He repeatedly references “Point Break” and “Bad Boys 2.” While standing in the supermarket, he thumbs over DVDs of “Silent Rage” and “Supercop.” The movie doesn’t just throw these references out there. Danny’s love of action cinema informs his entire world. At first, Nick is dismissive of this, even annoyed by it. Before the end, another cheap wrack of action flicks inspires him to save the day. He’s a full convert to the church of action movie violence. Just as “Shaun of the Dead” made a movie about growing up while making a case for immaturity, “Hot Fuzz” both deconstructs and embraces the rules of the cop movie genre.

And how does it deconstruct the rules of the genre? At film’s beginning, Nick Angel is as by-the-book as any movie cop has ever been. He frequently quotes the revised police rule book. He drags a crowd of underage drinkers out of a bar. He observes everything he sees through the lens of a police officer. He’s the exact opposite of a renegade cop. He defuses every one of Danny’s enthusiastic shouts of silliness. The movie subverts expectations in other ways. “Hot Fuzz” features maybe the shortest car chase in film history, shot in an extravagant fashion but lasting seconds. Lastly, the movie puts more attention on the mountains of paper work other action films gloss over. Repeatedly, the characters are seen filing out forms and writing up incident reports.

One of my favorite things to point out about buddy cop movies is how fucking gay they are. After all, the entire genre is built around two guys falling in love with each other. This is in addition to all the sweaty machismo that usually characterizes eighties action flicks. “Hot Fuzz” joyfully acknowledges this. Like Murtaugh and Riggs before him, Nick Angel and Danny Butterman don’t care for each other much at first. Danny finds Nick stiff. Nick finds Danny childish. Soon though, they are bonding. They visit the pub together, drinking up, discussing their lives. They watch movies together, probing one another’s minds more. Soon, Nick is buying Danny a plant. In the earliest drafts, Angel had a female love interest. In revised scripts, Danny was given most of this woman’s lines. By the end, the two are full-blooded brothers, if not something more. The goofball acceptance of the subtext even extends to Simon Pegg and Nick Frost’s video blogs.

With “Shaun of the Dead,” Edgar Wright certainly proved that he was a horror movie fan. “Hot Fuzz” tackles a different genre, the action flick. And while there’s a broad cross-over between fans of both forms – such as myself – they’re quite different. Intentionally or not, some horror elements wound up sneaking into “Hot Fuzz” anyway. The machinations of the conspiracy manifest in some surprisingly gory murder sequences. Decapitation by axe is carried out by a hooded figure. Soon, the victim’s heads are proudly displayed. The same hooded assailant stabs a pair of garden shears into a woman’s throat, blood spraying on a window. The goriest bit in “Hot Fuzz” involves a rooftop spire pushed onto a man’s head, his brains splattering spectacularly. By the end, the conspiracy is revealed to be cult-like in its intensity, the hooded people meeting in a spooky church lot. The movie peppers a few references to British horror flicks throughout, mostly by casting “The Wicker Man’s” Edward Woodward in a prominent role. Weirdly, these elements mash up nicely with the action bits too.

Edgar Wright’s quick-cuts, crash-zooms, and hyper-active style enlivened “Shaun of the Dead” as much as its razor-sharp screenplay did. Wright’s direction has only become more kinetic since then. “Hot Fuzz” is, in a half-joking manner, influenced by the films of Michael Bay. Wright takes Bay’s overheated theatrics and makes art out of them. The washed-out colors appear in visual digressions, like when perps have their mug-shots taken. The loop-da-loop shot appears in one key moment. The shaky action scenes are isolated to small scenes and more centered then they ever are in Bay’s flicks. Beyond these shout-outs, Wright’s comedic direction is stronger then ever. Quick-cuts and hilarious zooms are employed, like when a man drunkenly stumbles home or when Angel goes about his business.

One of the reasons “Shaun of the Dead” has developed such a passionate following, so quickly, is because the film prospers so much from re-watches. A second, or third or twentieth, viewing reveals cute call-backs, repeated jokes, and clever foreshadowing. “Hot Fuzz’” screenplay is equally layered. Events that are referenced in passing become important later, such as a swan, a packet of ketchup, or a miniature village. Small exchanges of dialogue, like “Shit just got real” or “Hag!,” are revisited. Jokes are set up hours in advance, such as a joyful references to “Straw Dogs” or an old man’s coat. The movie even foreshadows its own ending, when a carnival barker reveals the entire last act with a small line of dialogue. Ridiculous detailing is what makes “Hot Fuzz” such an infectiously entertaining flick.

“Hot Fuzz” builds on Simon Pegg and Nick Frost’s chemistry even more fantastically then “Shaun of the Dead” did. Hard-ass Nick Angel is very different then Shaun. He’s in his head a lot, starring intensely. He gestures wildly multiple. Pegg even gets to affect an Eastwood-esque growl at times. Amazingly, the goofy, affable actor easily resembles bad ass several times throughout the film. Nick Frost is even more cuddly as Danny Butterman than he was as Ed. In truth, Danny has none of Ed’s rough edges. Instead, Butterman is a lovable nerd, goofy and child-like. The natural chemistry the real life friends have carries large portions of the film.

“Hot Fuzz” also packs its supporting cast full of notable names. Just for one, it casts three of the biggest names in British comedies – Bill Nighy, Martin Freeman, and Steve Coogan – in tiny supporting roles. Jim Broadbent probably has the best supporting part as Danny’s outwardly jovial father. Broadbent appears to be all smiles and happiness throughout most of the movie. Yet Broadbent roots his performances in some real pain, as the character reveals the reasons for his actions. Broadbent has the best arc but Timothy Dalton has the most fun. Dalton mugs fantastically throughout, making small lines drip with villainous intent. There’s no doubt the former Bond is amazingly entertaining. The movie even slips in smaller roles for the likes of Billie Whitelaw and Paul Freeman.

“Hot Fuzz” successfully has its cake and eats it too. The movie is both a hilarious parody of over-the-top action flicks and a pretty damn good over-the-top action flick. For the finale, Nick Angel rides into town on horse-back, tons of guns on his back. Shoot-outs emerge spontaneously. Guns are revealed in baskets and up sleeves. Bikes flip through the air, shotguns go off suddenly, and toes are severed. Hilariously, two guns are fire whilst jumping through the air. A bear trap comes into play nicely. Sparks fly in slow motion while a chandelier is shot down. Even a scuffle in a shopping market is packed full of huge action. The bigger-than-life theatrics become literal with the final fist fight in a miniature town. Throughout all the chaos, “Hot Fuzz” keeps it's sense of humor. My favorite tiny joke involves Danny shouting “Bang! Bang!” while actually firing a gun. When a final act begins with a machine gun wielding old lady receiving a flying kick to the face, you know things are going to get good.

“Hot Fuzz” is so well put together, even it’s sound design is funny. A notable moment has a character releasing an inexplicable lion roar in a moment of fury. The dramatic swipes, cuts, and lunges are emphasizes with exaggerated noises. The soundtrack is aces too. “Village Green” by the Kinks is used perfectly while setting up Sandford and so is Arthur Brown’s iconic “Fire” in a smaller moment. “Here Comes the Fuzz,” an original piece composed by Jon Spencer, roars any time someone is booked. All in all, it’s awesome stuff.

It’s hard to say which entry in the Cornetto Trilogy is my favorite. It’s tempting to say their all equally good. When I first saw “Hot Fuzz,” I was mildly disappointed in it, feeling “Shaun of the Dead” is better. Multiple rewatches have proven to me that the cop movie riff is just as brilliant as the zombie movie riff. The humor is cutting-edge and perfectly balanced. The leading men are fantastic. The action is amazingly amusing. There’s just so much to love here. “Hot Fuzz” is pure entertainment from beginning to end. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Edgar Wright (2004)

2. Shaun of the Dead

“Shaun of the Dead” is a film that seemingly came out of nowhere. Over here in the states, Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg, and Nick Frost weren’t names that meant much. When the film was released, it immediately garnered a following. Fans loved its quick-witted humor, lovable cast, and fast but focused pacing. A decade after the fact, it’s impressive to realize how much of an influence “Shaun of the Dead” had. Aside from really launching the careers of many involved, it contributed to the ever-rising popularity of the zombie movie while launching something like a genre of its own: The zom-rom-com. Even more impressive, the film is just as funny and fresh now as it was when first released.

Shaun is something of a non-starter. He still lives with his college roommates, the slacker Ed and the more professional Pete. He has a go-nowhere job in an electronics store. He spends most of his nights at the local pub, the Winchester. His girlfriend, Liz, is beginning to grow restless. She doesn’t see the relationship going much anywhere either. The personal sturm-und-drang of Shaun’s life is interrupted by the sudden outbreak of a zombie virus. The living dead tear through the city, forcing Shaun to get his shit together if he wants to survive.

“Shaun of the Dead” immediately won over hardcore horror fans by peppering references to the genre’s history throughout its run time. The place Shaun works at is called “Foree’s,” which also employs someone named Ash. There’s a restaurant named “Fulci’s.” The movie verbally quotes “Night of the Living Dead,” “Evil Dead,” and “Reservoir Dogs” while visually quoting “Day of the Dead” and “An American Werewolf in London.” The movie even takes a brief pot-shot at “28 Days Later,” the film responsible for revitalizing interest in zombies. Yet Wright’s pop culture callbacks are never in service of themselves. They populate the film’s universe, adding layers and personality. People with interest, ideas, and hobbies live in this world.

Aside from helping re-popularize zombie movies, “Shaun of the Dead” also came out around the same time as another significant film movement. The next year, “The 40 Year Old Virgin” was released, beginning a wave of films about arrested man-children, struggling to discover a late maturity. “Shaun of the Dead” fits into this mold as well. Shaun is a slacker, still acting like a college student despite nearly being thirty. His job isn’t worth much, his goals are unclear, his friends are childish, and he can’t hold a plan together. The zombie apocalypse gives him a chance to realize his potential. However, Wright approaches the material from a different perspective. Shaun’s immaturity helps save the day a few times. His ideas occasionally work and his relationships are shown to be meaningful. Holding onto that immaturity, a bit of it anyway, isn’t shown to be a bad thing.

“Shaun of the Dead” is also a fantastic buddy movie. Shaun and Ed share a deep bond. They’re as much like brothers as they are best friends. Ed is slovenly, no doubt. He’s introduced swearing, loudly hunched over a Pachinko machine. He’s usually seen drinking beer or smoking pot. He’s generally dismissive of other people and doesn’t hesitate to tell them. He’s not above fart jokes or stealing a car in the name of a good time. His shenanigans get the group in trouble a few times. Whipping out a cell phone while surrounded by zombies, or turning on said Pachinko machine while trying to avoid attention, are bad ideas. Yet Shaun and Ed depend on each other. When Shaun is down in the dumps, Ed can immediately cheer him up. After a night in the bar, they spill into the streets, singing songs and goofing around. The friends come to blows, Shaun frustrated with Ed’s behavior. Yet as Queen sings over the end credits, they’re best friends. Their bond informs the entire movie. As they bid tearful farewells at the end, it’s obvious that they do love each other.

Though you could spot slivers of it in “A Fistful of Fingers,” “Shaun of the Dead” is where Edgar Wright’s directorial style truly came into focus. Wright’s method of shooting can best be described as razor-sharp. For example, how about the scene where Shaun quickly prepares for work? The camera cuts between the toilet flushing, him clipping his name tag on, brushing his teeth, and grabbing his keys. The quick cuts are humorous and also established a breezy, energetic tone. Wright’s style throughout the film is invigorating. During an action scene, the camera follows the barrel of a rifle, putting the audience right in the moment. The camera frequently approaches the action from a dynamic angle. Much of the film’s humor and excitement come from how it's shot.

Something that makes “Shaun of the Dead” so endlessly re-watchable is its beautifully constructed screenplay. The film constantly circles back on its own ideas, building upon them with each new viewing. After Liz breaks Shaun’s heart, Ed lays out the next day’s play. Cleverly, these mirror the later events of the film. Ed’s references to beginning the day by drinking a Bloody Mary is mirrored by the zombie woman, named Mary, appearing in their backyard. The commands given for a video game are later echoed in the Winchester, when Ed is helping Shaun aim the rifle. A seemingly normal walk to a shop is repeated the next day, after the zombies are unleashed. Many of the same things happen but in an entirely different context. The eventual fates of many characters are foreshadowed by their names and small lines of dialogue. All of this shows how Wright, Pegg, and their team beautifully, perfectly planned out the script and story.

The film is frequently hilarious too. Right from the beginning, Wright shows a strength for quick-witted dialogue. The barbs traded between Shaun and Ed are usually funny. The characters’ have such a natural rapport, full of in-jokes and half understood references. In other words, they talk like long time friends do. Yet the film piles on memorable sight gags too. An angry Pete’s onslaught of profanity is humorous. Ed and Shaun utilizing a collection of vinyl records, deciding on the fly which to keep and which to literally toss, is a winning gag that was heavily featured in the trailer. The gang has to impersonate undead behavior in order to cross a street full of zombies. Before that, we get a hilarious run-down of their acting abilities. Some of the biggest laughs in the film come during a showdown in the Winchester with an errant flesh-eater. Featuring the best use of a Queen song since “Wayne’s World,” the scene is energetic and full of laughs. The same could be said of the whole movie.

So much of the appeal of the zombie genre is tied to its traditionally outrageous gore. After all, we are talking about rotting ghouls that tear people apart and eat them. While “Shaun of the Dead” is never quite scary, the film understands this connection. A zombie stumbles backwards onto a pipe, tearing a hole in her chest. Afterwards, one has his head bashed in with a glass ash tray. Later, another zombie is impaled against a fence with a metal pole. After being run over, another zombie twitches on the road, slowly pulling himself back to life. In the last half, the gore is ramped way up. Brains are blown out. Someone is torn limp from limp, before his intestines are wrenched from his body. Even when throwing blood and gore around, the film maintains its sense of humor. Such as the dramatic cut between Shaun and Ed beating on a pair of zombies… To Ed on the couch, peacefully enjoying an ice cream cone.

The film isn’t afraid to explore different tones. “Shaun of the Dead” can be surprisingly sad at times. The antagonistic relationship Shaun has with his stepdad is mostly played for laughs. Such as the repeated references to being chased with "a bit of wood,” Shaun’s clumsy attempts to frame Phil for child molestation, or Phil maintaining his sense of humor even while zombiefied. Yet Philip’s death scene undeniably generates pathos, as he admits to Shaun that he tried his best to be a father. Later, the film reaches an even more devastating point. Shaun’s mother, who is easily the kindest character in the film, receives a heartbreaking death scene. Suddenly zombified, the cast has to quickly decide whether or not they can kill her, to protect themselves. Lastly, the parting between Shaun and Ed is likely to generate tears as well. The movie reprises a fart joke, of all things, from earlier and gifts it with a surprising amount of pathos. The point is “Shaun of the Dead” doesn’t just go for laughs. It’s a richly emotional film, making the audience feel many different things.

“Shaun of the Dead” would only be a quarter lovable as it is without the spectacular cast. Simon Pegg maintains a smart ass wit while making Shaun an easily related too every man. His rapid fire comic skills help deliver the movie’s impressively amusing dialogue. Nick Frost doesn’t back away from Ed’s slobbish behavior while still making him a funny, likable presence. Kate Ashfield is maybe the unappreciated ace up the movie’s sleeve. She keeps up with the boys while also spinning equally funny lines. The supporting cast is full of strong names. David is the practical member of the group, which frequently makes him obnoxious, yet Dylan maintains his humanity. Penelope Wilton is adorable, sweet, but willing to mine her plight for pathos as Barbara. Bill Nighy is incredibly dry as Phil. Only Lucy Davis as Diane seems underdeveloped, being the peppy slice of upbeat energy in the group.

Ultimately, “Shaun of the Dead” subverts the zombie epic as much as it embraces it. In the early half of the movie, the film willingly contrasts the behavior of the living with the behavior of the dead. Many of the people Shaun encounters seem much like zombies even before they’re bitten. The zombies are never devalued as threats. Yet the film recognizes that the blank, hungry face of a zombie can be an ideal straight man. Amusingly, in its final minutes, the movie beautifully defuses the entire idea of the zombie apocalypse. The military marches in, contains the disease, and blasts away any remaining undead. The outbreak doesn’t last more then a day. In the aftermath, the zombies become an every day part of life, operating shopping carts and being the fixture of tabloid television. It’s a brilliantly funny subversion of what we’ve come to expect from the genre.

The film’s status as a modern day classic can be seen in how many other “zom-rom-coms” followed in its path. “Warm Bodies” and “Zombieland” are only the most well-known examples, with scrappier indies like “Dance of the Dead” or “Life After Beth” also appearing. (Not to mention films that blatantly references "Shaun," like "Juan of the Dead.") While some of these movies aren’t bad, none of them have captured the magic of “Shaun of the Dead.” The wonderful cast, hilarious screenplay, playful direction, and genuine sense of emotion combine to make the movie a true masterpiece and an all time favorite among fans. [Grade: A]