OSCARS 2018: I, Tonya (2017)

A while ago, for reasons now I can't exactly recall, I looked up Tonya Harding on Wikipedia. I was six years old in 1994 when the entire scandal went down and only had vague memories of it, filtered through years of late night jokes and Weird Al songs. Upon hearing the ice skater's life story, I was struck by how compellingly unusual it was, thinking it would make a good film. Only a few days later, I read that a movie about Harding's life was in development. It was a rather cosmic bit of timing. From the moment images and trailers came out, it was apparent that “I, Tonya” wasn't going to be quite your typical Oscar-friendly biopic.

The film is framed by interviews with Harding, her mother, her former coach and her ex-husbands. Raised by an abusive mother and a father who taught her to hunt and work on cars, she was a bit of a tomboy. However, Tonya had one love above all: Ice skating. She began classes at four, pushed by her harsh mother. By the time she was a teenager, she could perform a triple axel, one of the most difficult maneuvers in skating. Her skill and raw talents won her medals but judges found her attitude off-putting. A volatile relationship with an asshole boyfriend and technical failures prevent her from grabbing the Gold at the Olympics. Eventually, a plot is cooked to sabotage a rival.

“I, Tonya” gives Harding the fair treatment she's been denied for far too long. She had a very hard life, casually abused by a harsh, emotionally distant mother and then hit and attacked by an emotionally unstable boyfriend/husband. “I, Tonya,” for a while, makes it look like LaVona Harding's shitty behavior and constant mistreatment somehow made Tonya stronger or harder... Before dismissing this, in a hilarious and blunt way. Attention is draw to how cruel and imbecilic the people around Tonya were. This does not excuse her of whatever wrong doing she played in what happened but a great deal of context is provided. More than anything else, “I, Tonya” makes you really like Harding. She's portrayed as scrappy, independent, and insightful in her own way, refusing to back down from those that treated her unfairly.

Craig Gillespie's film is also really funny. Some of the characters and events in the film are so outrageous, fact truly being stranger than fiction, that a natural humor emerges. Such as Jeff Gillooly's idiotic best friend, Shawn, a compulsive liar who still lives with his mom. Or the frequently outrageous behavior of Harding's own mother. The interview framing device allows the movie to frequently break the fourth wall. Harding and other characters will directly address the audiences, either dismissing or confirming the events portrayed on-screen. Gillespie's direction matches this pitch. The camera often races through the ice rink with Harding, matching the speed and grace of her movements, further impacting on the audience the amount of skill involved in her routine.

Unlike many Academy-approved biopics, “I, Tonya” is not just a delivery system for some showy performances. Which isn't to say the performances aren't showy. Despite appearing in quite a few high-profile movies, this is the first time I've really been sold on Margot Robbie. Robbie is hilarious and powerful, biting into Harding's dialogue, spitting wild statements like venom. As LaVona Harding, Allison Janney is essentially playing an evil version of Bonnie, her character on the sitcom “Mom.” She almost never smiles, using every opportunity to undermine her daughter's success. Janney makes LaVona's outrageous behavior funny without underselling what a monster she was, painting a picture of a heartless woman. Sebastian Stan, the buff Winter Solider, is unrecognizable in the scrawny Jeff Gillooly. Stan sacrifices any actorly dignity as the nervous, pathetic shrimp of a toxic man. (Though the film actually underplays how terrible of a person Gillooly was in real life.) It's a fantastic cast.

Honestly, my biggest disappointment about “I, Tonya” is that it focuses primarily on Harding's ice skating career and the following scandal. I was really hoping the movie would make more room for the boxing, the sex tape, the rock band, that time she saved an old lady's life. She's had a truly bizarre, unique life. Some of the needle drops on the soundtrack are a little too on-the-nose too. (And I wish they could've used that lovely Sufjan Stevens song somewhere.) For the most part, “I, Tonya” is a funny, sad, energetic, and beautifully performed motion picture. I don't know which notorious nineties woman will get the biopic treatment next – Lorena Bobbitt? Mary Kay Letourneau? – but I'd welcome that wave of revisionism, that recognizes these women as people, not punchlines. [7/10]

OSCARS 2018: Call Me by Your Name (2017)

Last year, “Moonlight” pulled off a surprise – in a really very literal sense  - win for Best Picture. It was a major win for progressiveness, for such a graceful film about LGBT romance to claim the year's top film prize. From early on, “Call Me By Your Name” was pegged as this year's “Moonlight,” in that it's also about a romance between two men. Directed by “I Am Love's” Luca Guadagnino, and adapted from a novel by Andre Aciman, the film is unlikely to grab Best Picture the way “Moonlight” did. However, it's an excellent movie that probably rounds out the best slate of Best Picture nominees I've seen since I started caring about the Oscars.

Every summer, Elio's family takes a trip to the Italian countryside. It's 1983 and he just turned 17. The son of an archaeologist, Elio often feels like an outcast. Jewish, intellectual, and naturally prickly, he finds the annual trips to mostly be a bore. (Even though there's a pretty girl in town interested in him.) Things change when Oliver, a graduate student, is invited to stay with the family over the summer. The two are intrigued by each other. Soon, Oliver and Elio enter into a passionate love affair. Both keep their meetings a secret. Elio soon begins to feel strong emotions for Oliver, suspecting this is more than just a casual summer fling.

“Call Me By Your Name” is an aching, passionate film about adolescent desire and secrets. Elio and Oliver's relationship begin with fleeting looks and light touches. When left alone, their passion overflows and the two lock into passionate kissing. The scenes of the two together, alone, are sensual without being exploitative, peaking with a sweaty and bare chested love scene. Elio's libido is in overdrive, as he's sleeping with a girl in town and also a fresh peach. However, what he shares with Oliver is special. Their romance is intuitive, based on things they both feel. Both feel like they have to keep their affection secret, making their moments together even more special. This is an intimate journey meant only for the two of them. This is best represented in the titular line. By calling each other by their own names, Elio and Oliver acknowledge their secret pact.

It's also a passionate that is meant to be short lived. Elio and Oliver have their secret time together, sharing their bodies and feelings when no one else is around. Eventually, both have to go back to the real world. In a meaningful moment, Elio watches Oliver get on a train and ride away. He then breaks down in tears on the phone, asking his mom to come pick him up. “Call Me by Your Name” then makes a spotlight for probably the best movie dad of the year. Elio's father – who has been aware of the affair the whole time – explains to him to feel his heartbreak, not to lock himself off from these emotions. “Call Me By Your Name” could have ended on that note but instead includes an epilogue, set around Hanukkah. This is when “Call Me By your Name” completely opens its wounded heart up to the audience, letting loose a powerful and intensely melancholic side. The dalliances of youth are short-lived but cause ripples that last a lifetime.

Pinning the film together are two impressive lead performances. Timothee Chalamet realizes Elio as the teenage boy he is. He's moody, prickly, somewhat off-putting, and way too horny. Yet there's also a grace and beauty in his adolescent fumbling. Elio is, in some ways, more intelligent and perceptive then the people around him. He also feels more, which Chalamet beautifully captures. Armie Hammer, whose matinee idol good looks have led to him wasting his talents in far too many mediocre would-be blockbusters, reminds us why we like him in the first place. As Oliver, he's sensitive, funny, charming, but sweet too. His romantic passion brings out a boyish side but he's more reserved with his feelings then Elio is.

“Call Me By Your Name” is not just a beautiful movie, emotionally, but also visually. Luca Guardagnino shoots the Italian cities and countryside in a loving manner. The streets of Italy are alive with people. The country areas, the fruit trees and flowing waterfalls, bring a natural beauty to the film that no production budget could buy. Adding to this beauty is an amazing soundtrack. Sufjan Stevens contributes several fantastic original songs. “Mystery of Love” is as gorgeous and full of longing as the film that accompanies it. “Visions of Gideon” rolls over the end credits, making sure their isn't a single dry eye left in the house by the time the film ends. Guardagnino also throws in some period accurate Italio disco and New Wave numbers, with “Love My Way” by the Psychedelic Furs getting an especially significant shout-out. I really like that song.

There's so much wrapped up in “Call Me by Your Name.” It's a multi-layered film about being queer in a time when this was less accepted then it is now. It has something to say about the Jewish experience, especially in places were that is less common. By setting the story in Italy, and making Roman history part of the film's backbone, Guardagnino raises interesting questions about his feelings towards his home country. These questions are wrapped in a story that beautifully captures the joy and heartbreak of being young and in love. After his finishes up that “Suspiria” remake, Guardagnino will supposedly start work on a sequel, revisiting the characters during the AIDS era. This will probably be a worthy film but part of me wishes to leave Elio and Oliver where they are, separated but never far from each others' thoughts. [9/10]

Director Report Card: Paul Thomas Anderson (2017)

8. Phantom Thread

Just the announcement of a new Paul Thomas Anderson movie is an event. That's the level of anticipation that greets your new projects when you've made at least three era defining masterpieces. His latest, “Phantom Thread,” was an especially mysterious venture. Up until its release, we only had a vague plot summary – that it was about a fashion design in 1950s England – to go on. The film saw Anderson re-teaming with Daniel Day-Lewis, which made “There Will Be Blood” fans go crazy. Then the announcement came that Day-Lewis was retiring following the film's completion. For all these reasons and more, “Phantom Thread” was hotly greeted by cinema fans. The movie, perhaps Anderson's most difficult to unravel, has already spurned debate and discussion.

Reynolds Woodcock is the greatest fashion designer of his day. He has designed gowns for princesses, movie stars, the rich and famous world over. Privately, he's a guarded, conflicted man, living with a controlling older sister and obsessed with his dead mother. While getting lunch at a  country diner, he meets a waitress named Alma. He asks her out on a date and she quickly falls in love with him. Reynolds, however, proves a difficult man to love and live with. Soon, Alma takes drastic measures to earn his affections.

With “Punch Drunk Love,” Paul Thomas Anderson made a movie about the sea-sick, whirlwind feelings that occur when falling in love. “Phantom Thread” is also a love story but couldn't be more different from Anderson's earlier film. This is a movie about how difficult it can be to love someone. Alma and Reynolds' relationship ebbs and flows wildly. They have close, intimate, even sweet moments together. These can then be followed with ugly fights, Reynolds becoming upset over trivial manners. As is often the case in real relationships, one partner takes and the other gives. “Phantom Thread” is all about the tension that can exist even between the most loving partners.

Sometimes that tension even manifests in a more visceral way. Since “Phantom Thread” has been such a mysterious project, I've heard the film described as belonging to several different genres. Some have referred to the movie as a thriller. This isn't incorrect. There's frequently a quiet unease running throughout “Phantom Thread.” Alma and Woodcok's first date turns awkward when the subject of his dead mother comes up. Reynolds sister, Cyril, exerts a sinister, unnerving influence on her brother. As the relationship comes close to collapsing, during a tense dinner or a New Year's Eve party, you often wonder how violently things are going to fall apart. “Phantom Thread” is indeed a thriller, where all the thrills exist in the quiet space between two people. A ghost, of sorts, even appears at one.

Yet I've also seen “Phantom Thread” called a comedy. This is somewhat true as well, as the film slowly reveals itself to be an extremely dry comedy of manners. Reynolds Woodcock is a supremely awkward person. He's prone to impolite outburst. During a fever, he repeatedly tells the doctor to “fuck off.” When well, and running into the same man at a Christmas party, he repeats the insult. The scene where he falls sick also has a sudden, odd comedy to it, the man collapsing suddenly. Depending on how you see the film, a scene where Woodcock becomes agitated because of asparagus is ever deeply unsettling or wryly funny. “Phantom Thread” tows this odd genre line, funny or uncomfortable depending on how you react to it.

As I review “Phantom Thread,” its the same week the final film in the “Fifty Shades of Grey” trilogy comes out. Anderson's latest film presents an interesting contrast. This is also a deeply kinky film, without any actual sex being depicted on-screen. Woodcock and Alma's first date concludes with her coming back to his house. She stripes down to her undergarments, while Woodcock records her measurements. The film's conclusion has Woodcock giving himself up to Alma in a similarly humiliating way. It's hard to imagine someone as anally retentive as Reynolds Woodcock ever having physical sex. It seems these odd games of control, manipulation and exhibition, are the closest he can get to physical intimacy. (The film also luxuriates in rich food, a visceral, bodily pleasure Woodcock can enjoy, that almost takes the place of sex.) This is another way in which “Phantom Thread” is a very atypical love story.

More than anything else, I related to “Phantom Thread” as a story about perfectionism. Reynolds Woodcock demands every facet of his life be planned out and controlled. This is set out early on, when he orders a very specific meal at Alma's dinner. Any disruption to this schedule greatly upsets him. Alma simply entering his workshop while he's stitching a gown is enough to piss him off. Her making a little more noise then usual at breakfast enrages him. Further more, he demands perfection from his product. When a drunken, depressed debutante passes out in one of his dresses, he insists she take it off, as she's sullying his work. This is because his work is his life, as evident in the secret, personal messages he weaves into his outfits, the titular phantom threads. As a perfectionist with some obsessive-compulsive tendencies, Anderson's latest impresses me the most when focusing on how Woodcock's obsessive desire for perfection disrupts any semblance of a normal life.

Most of the press that has greeted the film has surrounded Daniel Day-Lewis' announcing his retirement, supposedly to pursue dress-making, the profession he learned while preparing to make “Phantom Thread.” Day-Lewis' performance here is not the theatrical, spine-rattling style of acting he displayed in “There Will Be Blood.” Woodcock is a far more reserved character than the thundering Daniel Plainview. He's quiet, his obsessions often working at him from the inside out. Day-Lewis, as always, puts an insane amount of detail and obvious thought into his acting. Woodcock's physicality suggests his emotional repression. His greater neurosis – his hang-ups about his dead mother, his odd relationship with his sister – are expressed mostly by what he doesn't say. Yes, it's a fantastic performance, a rich and thoughtful bit of acting.

Starring opposite Day-Lewis is Vicky Krieps, a relatively unknown character actress. Krieps, however, is just as good as the lead actor. Krieps' body language is as controlled, as expressive about the characters' inner thoughts, as Day-Lewis' is. Where Woodcock keeps his feeling bottled, Alma is more intuitive and feeling. Her attempts to interact with him, to pierce his prickly personality, frustrates her. Krieps displays this frustration in the most charming way possible. She plays Alma like a real person, desperate to connect with this person she has feelings for but finding it difficult. It's an impressive performance and I don't know how Krieps didn't earn a Oscar nomination herself.

Lesley Manville did, however, grab a Best Supporting Actress nomination. She plays Cyril, the closest thing “Phantom Thread” has to an antagonist. While Woodcock's obsessive tendencies are often counteracted by an occasional sweetness or vulnerability, Cyril is always hard and judgmental. She's more practical than her brother and seems to openly resent Alma. Instead of trying to keep the two together, she considers the girl a petty distraction for Reynolds. Of the film's primary characters, Cyril is probably the least explored, making Manville's performance more difficult to judge. The character is so unlikable and I found Manville's acting didn't overcome this status.

Being a movie about perfection, every aspect of “Phantom Thread” is sumptuously detailed. The costumes and production designs is incredible. There's so much meaning in every background item. The film is a feast for the eyes, the viewer being wowed by the amount of skill and work on display in every minute of this motion picture. The period details are accurate but, more importantly, reflect the character's world. The costumes, naturally, are brilliant and beautifully designed. Even the sound design is incredible, especially in moments such as that disastrous breakfast. Someone spreading butter on a piece of toast is made to sound like fingers on a chalkboard. As strictly a technical achievement, “Phantom Thread” is incredible.

Anderson just pointing his camera at this extraordinary detail would probably be enough. Instead, his visual approach to the film is just as meaningful as the rest of it. He switches back and forth between moments of overwhelming stillness – such as Alma and Reynolds' dinner, which is primarily shot in two static ways – with scenes that have more motion to them. Such as the camera following behind Reynolds' car as he drives towards Alma's restaurant. Or the dressmaker rushing into a wild New Year's party to retrieve the woman. Johnny Greenwood, by now Anderson's go-to composer, provides a score to match. The music fluctuates between throbbing low chords and sweeping, romantic themes.

When a director has made as many great films as Paul Thomas Anderson has, it's hard to decide where his latest work falls. “Phantom Thread” is a more mysterious film than his more widely recognized masterpieces. I have no doubt people will be trying to unravel its unspoken secrets for years to come. It's also a beautifully constructed and deeply beguiling film, with fantastic performances, that gracefully dances towards one of 2017's most meaningful endings. If it is indeed Daniel Day-Lewis' final film, it's an awfully good note to go out on. [Grade: A-]

OSCARS 2018: Faces Places (2017)

You'll have to excuse me but I'm not very familiar with the work of filmmaker Agnes Varda. The French New Wave is a major blind spot for me in general. The likes of Truffaut, Godard, and Rohmer are largely unknown to me. Varda, who is also receiving a life-time achievement Oscar this year via cardboard cut-out, is 89 years old and considered a pillar of that movement. Her latest, and possibly final movie, is a quasi-documentary called “Faces Places.” (The French title, “Visages Villages,” is also pretty catchy.) The filmmaker puts herself in front of the camera with this one, something she's apparently done before.

The film details the friendship between Varda, an elderly icon of European cinema, and JR, a photographer in his thirties. The two decide to drive across the French countryside, in a van shaped like a giant camera. They stopped in obscure corners, talking to people and making friends. JR takes pictures of the people they meet, blowing the photographs to massive size and placing them on the side of buildings. Along the way, we get insight into Varda and JR's friendship, discovering why these two unlikely friends are so close.

As the title indicates, “Faces Places” has the main duo coming in contact with many different people on their journey, hearing all sorts of stories. These range from the touching to the every day. We hear a daughter talking about her father, who worked in the mines beneath her town many years ago, brought to tears by the photographic display. One of the people they encounter is a farmer, who talks about managing a large field of land mostly by himself, with only an increasingly high-tech tractor to help him. They go inside a factory, which produces large amounts of salt to help in the creation of sulfuric acid. Among the people they meet there is an employee on his last day, before retiring. Many of these stories catch life as its happening, in a sweet and natural way.

With photography being a main aspect of the story, “Faces Places” also touches upon what a photograph means and how that has changed. By taking normal photographs of people and blowing them up to massive size, JR makes the commonplace extraordinary. There’s a definite degree of whimsy to his work. He takes pictures of fish from a marketplace, makes the photos giant, and adds them to the outside of a water silo. He takes several photos of people holding a baguette before cropping them together, making it look like they’re all holding one giant piece of bread. Yet JR’s commitment to physical photography makes him a bit of an outsider in the modern age. On their travels, they meet several young kids, snapping selfies. So his artwork has a physical value, making it even more meaningful.

More than anything else, “Visages Villages” is about the friendship between Varda and JR. They make an odd pair, a younger man always wearing sunglasses and a short, elderly woman with a cap of grey hair. Several scenes show the two talking about the progression of the film you’re watching as you’re watching it, which is neat. We get cute little glimpses into their back-and-forth, such as the two driving through the countryside, Agnes singing along with the radio. Or when the two are walking up a staircase, Agnes stopping to catch her breath, owing to her age. Ultimately, “Faces Places” concludes on a touching moment. An attempt by Varda to meet with Jean-Luc Godard, her contemporary and mentor, goes wrong but leads to an emotional conclusion between the film’s protagonists.

As someone largely unfamiliar with Varda’s output, “Faces Places” doesn’t have as much impact for me as it does some of its other viewers. However, I still found it to be a touching, entertaining little film. It straddles the line between documentary and fiction film, as some scenes – the ending especially – are pretty clearly staged. As a peak at the people living in the French countryside, and as the connection between two very different friends, it’s a compelling motion picture. At the very least, it’s encouraging me to look at some of Varda’s other films. [7/10]

OSCARS 2018: Abacus: Small Enough to Jail (2017)

One of my favorite things about Oscar season is that it gets me to watch movies I otherwise wouldn't see. The Documentary and Foreign Language categories are great for this, in particular. As much as I love film, as closely as I follow new cinematic offerings, this two categories represent blind spots for me. Before the nominations were announced, I hadn't heard of “Abacus: Small Enough to Jail” at all. The film is apparently the latest from Steven James, the critically acclaimed documentarian behind “Hoop Dreams” and “Life Itself.” See, now I feel guilty for not keeping up with things. 

“Abacus” returns us to the subprime mortgage crisis, when banks giving out mortgages to people who could not pay them contributed to the American economy heading into a recession. While most of the banks and people responsible for this were given government buy-outs and golden parachutes, one was taken to court. Abacus Federal Saving Banks, a small family-owned bank operating out of and primarily serving New York's Chinatown community, was the only financial institution in the fallout of the crisis to face criminal charges. James' film chronicles the family behind the bank, the court case, and shows both sides of whether Abacus deserved to be made an example of.

“Abacus: Small Enough to Jail” works best when focusing on the Sung family, the Chinese-American immigrants who operated Abacus. James takes his camera into the homes and personal spaces of Tom Sung, his wife, and their four daughters. We see them sitting in restaurants, eating and talking. While going over court details, Tom and his daughters also complain about their sandwiches not having mayo on it. While waiting for the jury to decide, Tom's wife also frenziedly reminds her husband and daughters to eat something and get some sleep. We learn all about Tom's background, how a desire to serve his community saw him change his profession from lawyer to banker. This stuff is personable and fascinating, each member of the Sung family making an impression on the viewer.

James' film isn't just about a family going through a trying time. It's about how tight-knit immigrant communities can be and how this can lead to persecution. We see someone connected to the case, a legal expert in Chinatown, talk to a woman who was unfairly ticketed for something. The doc's central image – a chain of Abacus workers hand-cuffed together and marched into court – can't help but make the case look like a small racial community being unfairly oppressed. James tries to add some ambiguity to the story, interviewing jurors and lawyers who believed Abacus was rightly prosecuted, but it's clear where his alliances fall. Considering what mega-corporations got away with, it was odd that Abacus was the only bank singled out. As hard as James work to put a human face on the court case, the legalese behind the case is sometimes a little tricky to get your head around.

Much of James' film takes place in the Sung family's offices and homes. He often places his camera around the various tables they sit at. When not doing this, he's usually interviewing his subjects. There are long scenes in “Abacus” devoted to recreated the court case, which is shown through illustrations, voice-over reenactments, and shots of the empty courtroom. James' visual style is pretty relaxed though. We get a few infographics about the other banks involved in the crisis or the layout of the Abacus bank. Over all, what's interesting about the film is the personalities inside and not so much how it looks.

It seems that, among people more familiar with James' overall output, “Abacus” garnered a somewhat mixed reception. Some praised it, others called it inessential. I found the family at the center of the film's story to be charming. Allowing this group of people a chance to express themselves, even while their family was in crisis, is definitely the film's best quality. Otherwise, it does strike me as a fairly routine documentary. I wasn't familiar with the court case beforehand, adding a little suspense to the movie. If you do know how things turned out, you probably won't be super compelled to check this out. But, hey, I still liked it well enough. [7/10]

OSCARS 2018: Get Out (2017)

(Around last summer, buzz starting to build that Jordan Peele's "Get Out" might be an Oscar contender. Despite the film being a runaway critical and commercial success, I still thought the odds of a February-released, honest-to-gawd horror movie getting nominated for Best Picture was unlikely. For that reason, and also because it was one of the year's most talked about genre films, I reviewed the film during last year's Halloween Horror-fest Blog-a-thon. Since I was super-duper wrong, and the film has gotten a bunch of Oscar nominations, I've decided to dig that review out and re-post it. Mostly because I really want all the Best Picture nominees covered this year and also because I'm lazy. So here's a blast from the very recent past, namely last October.)

I'm a strong believer that horror, as a genre, has always existed to exercise cultural fears and anxieties. Too often, audiences and filmmakers alike have forgotten this. I've never seen a whole episode of “Key & Peele,” though the segments I have seen have been really funny. Jordan Peele, who is apparently a big horror fan, certainly hasn't forgotten that horror and social commentary go hand-in-hand. He made a boldly political genre film with “Get Out.” The film would connect with audiences, becoming a huge hit earlier in the year. I probably should've seen the movie before now but it's not uncommon for me to fall behind new releases. As one of the most talked about horror films of the year, October seems to be the right month to finally watch this.

Chris Washington, a black man, has been dating Rose Armitage, a white woman, for four months. The relationship has gotten serious enough that Rose's parents have invited the couple to visit their home for a few days. Rose's parents try to make Chris feel welcomed. However, he begins to suspect something is wrong. The maid and groundskeeper are both black. Moreover, both of them act extremely strangely. At a party the next night, Chris meets another black man who also acts very odd. Soon, he begins to suspect there is a local conspiracy targeting African-Americans. What he discovers is even more horrifying than he could have guessed.

Being a black man in America is already scary. Peele need only exaggerate things a little. “Get Out” builds upon the awkwardness of being black in a white community. (And America is, in many ways, one big white community.) When Chris first meets Rose's parents, they attempt to establish kinship by mentioning black athletes or Obama. Rose's brother asks about Chris' genetic make-up. While at a big party, Chris is at the center of more awkward interactions. People asking about his sex life, feeling him up like he's a commodity, giving their own undercooked opinions. Even before outwardly creepy things happen, Peele lays hints that something is wrong. Rose's father talks about exterminating deer in a weirdly racial way. He makes a reference to wiping out “black” mold. It's not the obvious racism Peele is criticizing but the subtle kind, the type most white people probably aren't even aware of. Fittingly, when the motivation behind the villain's scheme is revealed, they deny race plays any role in it at all. I'm a pasty white guy but it seems to be that Peele is saying that black people live in a culture where they are constantly under attack or on display. “Get Out's” horror content grows out of this real world anxiety.

“Get Out” isn't just a potent political allegory. It's also a really effective horror movie. The score mixes Swahili chanting with discordant, shrieking strings to create an unnerving mood early on. The black workers on the Armitage property act in very strange ways. Their uncanny appearance and behavior is also unsettling. This leads up to more intense moments, such as when Chris stumbles upon one of the workers running around the yard at night. Or another black man momentarily lapsing out of his hypnotized state. All of this is preparation for “Get Out's” descent into full-blown surreal horror. The appearance of the Sunken Place – which became something of an internet meme earlier in the year – is a startling and original visual. Smartly, Peele also contrasts his horrific scenes with comedic ones. The scenes revolving around Chris' friend, Rod, are frequently hilarious.

Another reason “Get Out's” big box office was so surprising was its lack of any marquee names. The film stars Daniel Kaluuya, an obscure character actor best known for British television. Kaluuya as Chris, perfectly playing the character as a normal guy caught up in something bizarre while, simultaneously, giving him plenty of distinct characteristics. As Rose's parents, Bradley Whitford and Catherine Keener are especially chilling. Whitford's glad-handing ways effectively mask a darker intention. Keener, meanwhile, impressively projects an unnerving sense of authority. Caleb Landry Jones has no time for subtly as Jeremy, Rose's brother, who is outwardly creepy in a very obvious – but no doubt effective – way. Stephen Root puts in a supporting appearance as Jim Hudson, making the blind character both sympathetic and off-putting. And, once again, I must point out hilarious Lil Rel Howery is in his few scenes, making pretty much everything that comes out of Rod's mouth funny.

If horror is a vehicle for political commentary, it's also a genre built upon catharsis. The actual details of the strange things going on in the Armitage house are not especially novel. It's the kind of story we've seen play out in other horror pictures. Honestly, considering how original “Get Out's” brand of horror had been up to that point, the reveal is a little disappointing. What it sets up, though, makes it worth it. The film almost shifts into an action film at the end. Antlers – in another move that aligns Chris with deer – are put to good use. The repressed get righteous revenge on their tormentors. It plays out gory and incredibly satisfying fashion. Peele originally envisioned “Get Out” with a much darker ending. That ending, perhaps, would've made more sense. However, the more up-beat ending was the right decision. “Get Out” ends on a note of triumph, not defeat. Given the story's obvious sociological element, it's well earned.

Due to the movie's success, Peele has already been offered at least one big blockbuster project. However, it seems the director is more interested in focusing on smaller films. He's promised that “Get Out” is the first of what he hopes is many politically engaged horror picture. I hope they are all as exciting, creepy, and well executed as this one. “Get Out” really is as good as I had read, a horror film with something vital to say without sacrificing its status as an effectively chilling motion picture. [9/10]

OSCARS 2018: Darkest Hour (2017)

So much of Oscar Season is driven by narratives. The critical body makes up their mind about something early in the season and hold on to it through the weeks leading up to the ceremony. Sometimes these predictions come to pass, sometimes they don't. Last year, the narrative was that “La La Land” was the unstoppable Best Picture winner. Two years ago, it was that Leo DiCaprio was finally going to win an Oscar for “The Revenant.” This year, an award season with few clear consensuses, the prevailing narrative is that Gary Oldman is going to win a statue for “Darkest Hour.” (The definite article was left off presumably to avoid confusion with that sci-fi movie from 2011 absolutely no one saw.) Will this come true, like Leo's win, or will things take an unexpected swerve, as it did with “La La Land?” Well, I guess we'll find out in a few weeks.

“Darkest Hour” is the token historical biopic among this year's Best Picture nominees. The latest from Joe Wright concerns Winston Churchill. It begins in 1940, when British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain is forced to resigned, following Nazi Germany pushing the rest of the continent into war. Churchill is chosen to assume the role of P.M. It's not an easy choice. Churchill faces opposition from all sides. As he refuses to consider peace talks with the encroaching German and Italian forces, he faces the possibility of resignation himself. As the war grows more heated, and England itself becomes a target, Churchill finds himself questioning his own choices.

Like many Oscar bait-y biopics, “Darkest Hour” is essentially a delivery system for an impressive lead performance. Yes, Gary Oldman acts his ass off as Winston Churchill. He very much disappears into the role and is totally unrecognizable. The strong make-up transforms him totally into the historical Churchill. Oldman's acting both humanizes the Prime Minister while playing up his mythic standing. We see Churchill yell at his secretary, bicker with his wife, drinks too much, wears a robe a lot, and stumbles out of the bath. Oldman gives Churchill a nasal, reedy voice, in contrast to the blustery, bulldog accent Churchill is usually depicted with. For these humanizing elements, Oldman also gets moments of huge emotion. Churchill's refusal to concede the possibility of defeat to the Nazis, his emotions boiling over in a meeting with his cabinet, is stirring and emotional. So are the expected scenes where he makes big speeches to British Parliament. I have little doubt Oldman will win his Oscar. This is exactly the kind of performance the Academy loves. It's pretty good, I'll admit.

Surprisingly, “Darkest Hour” is more of a chamber drama than a proper war movie. I suppose the title led me to believe that the film would deal primarily with the Blitz, when the British Isles were bombarded by bombs by the German air force. Instead, “Darkest Hour” primarily takes places before this time. In an interesting coincidence, the film covers much of the same historical period as “Dunkirk” but from the other shore. In both films, the German forces are kept primarily off-screen, a threat that is spoken of more than seen. “Darkest Hour” is really about Churchill's refusal to back down from his opponents. What would normally be a stubborn politician refusing to budge is put in a very different context here. “Darkest Hour” shows Churchill standing up against the evil of Hitler and the Nazis. He's shown as a populist hero, riding a subway train and changing Parliament's opinion by speaking for the common person. Someone better attuned to British history would have a clearer opinion on this but, to me, it plays as pretty idealized.

“Darkest Hour” is the latest from Joe Wright. Aside from outlinears like “Hanna” and “Pan,” historical dramas like this are Wright's bread-and-butter. His visual approach is sweeping and smooth as fuck. Corresponding to the title, he often shoots his cast members in dark rooms. There's a painterly quality to these images, such as when Churchill, as the newly minted Prime Minister, first meets with King George. He employs low, natural-seeming lighting. Wright also throws in some really grand motions. As German planes fly overhead, his camera cranes higher above the British countryside. At one point, we pan from Churchill's inner chambers to an exploding battle field to the face of a dead soldier. The director also flashes large dates on-screen throughout. This kind of approach is catnip for me, flashy but not overdone. This is a really good looking movie.

“Darkest Hour” does not truly rise above the cliches and common tropes of award season, prestige biopics. It's pretty much exactly the kind of movie you expect it to be. However, within those parameters, the movie does fairly well. Oldman's performance is excellent, Wright's direction is strong. Dario Marianelli's score is also very good, full of strong themes and rumbling atmosphere. (Marianelli's work didn't earn a nomination, probably because of how fierce competition was in that category this year.) In an exciting Oscar season, this is the kind of film that fades into the background a bit but I still managed to appreciate it some. [7/10]