OSCARS 2023: Aftersun (2022)

A24 has come a long way from “A Glimpse Inside the Mind of Charles Swan III.” The distributor and production company, specializing in modestly budgeted films from up-and-coming talent and high-profile directors, has perhaps become the defining name in modern indie cinema. In addition to defining the look and feel for what art house movies are in 2023, A24 has also slowly become an awards season powerhouse. This year has been especially fruitful for the studio, as six of their movies are nominated at the Oscars. (Including the presumed Best Picture champion.) Among the less written about nominees is “Aftersun,” the feature debut of short filmmaker Charlotte Wells. Paul Mescal received a Best Actor nominee which was a bit of a surprise, considering the movie was largely not in the Oscars conversation before the nominees were announced.

The film follows Sophia, a twelve year old girl on a vacation at a Turkish resort with her father, Calum. Calum's 31st birthday is a few days away and he's clearly feeling some angst over it. Sophia, who documents the trip with a MiniDV camcorder, is at that awkward age where she's trying to define herself but is still filled with childish naivety. Calum does his best to teach and protect his daughter, while clearly grappling with regrets and pains of his own. In particular, he seems to be estranged from the mother of his child. As an adult, Sophia looks back on this formative time in her life. 

“Aftersun” is one of those indie dramas that imply everything and reveal almost nothing. We never learn what exactly went down between Calum and Sophia's mother, some sort of separation only being hinted at through terse phone conversations and brief mentions. At the beginning of the film, Calum has a cast on his one arm, the origins of which are never expounded on. It's clear that Calum has mental health struggles of his own, as we see him weeping alone in his hotel room with prominent postcards near-by. He does Tai Chi in his spare time, perhaps pointing towards an attempt to calm himself from his inner struggles. Sophia references her dad being low on funds, which makes you wonder why they are on a vacation or why he purchases a fancy Turkish rug. Wells' film doesn't even make it immediately clear that “Aftersun” is told in flashback, the scenes of an adult Sophia with her own family only appearing about halfway through, amid more dream-like scenes of a shadowy dance party.

Since “Aftersun” is so vague, it begs the question of what exactly it's suppose to mean. The film, to my eyes, seems to be about the ambiguities inherent in the child/parent relationship. Calum is doing the best he can. He teaches his daughter how to defend herself from handsy boys, something that proves useful later. He discourages her from smoking, which he sneaks off in the middle of the night to do himself. Yet he also wants her to have a fun time on this trip. Sophia's awareness of whatever struggles her father is going through seems to vary from moment to moment. When she sings karaoke on stage, he refuses to join her, much to her frustration. Both father and daughter are desperate to get to know each other, to reach and support one another. Yet there are these boundaries between them, which can never quite be pierced. Both are unwilling to say everything, forcing them to always be a little bit apart, no matter how much of a connection they try to forge. Calum wants to give Sophia the space she needs to be a budding young girl, to have flirtatious romances and little adventures, while she is reluctant to get into her dad's concerns.

“Aftersun” is clearly a movie awash in nostalgia. While the exact date of the setting is never revealed, it feels like the early 2000s to me. There's a lot of focus on Sophia recording with her small camera. At one point, we see the recording on the TV while she watches her dad, who begs her to turn the camera off. This sets up the presence of the camera, clearly presenting the idea of Sophia looking back on these recordings. When combined with the dream-like image of meeting her father once again at a strobing dance, “Aftersun” furthers the idea of a child reflecting on a pivotal time with her parent, trying to determine what exactly happened and what it all meant. That's where the ambiguity comes from. The movie doesn't know exactly how and why things have worked out because the characters don't know.

I heard a lot of critical praise for “Aftersun” before seeing it. Especially for Paul Mescal's performance as Calum, which I suppose is affable. He seems to be a good guy who is trying his best to be a good father. Yet I'll admit this one left me a bit cold. I found myself frustrated with its unwillingess to reveal more. I get that's the point. This seems to be a highly personal project for its director. Perhaps being a bit more forthcoming would have given me a little bit more of an emotional entrance into a story that frustratingly keeps a lot of details close to its chest. Ultimately, “Aftersun” strikes me as just a snapshot of a larger story, deeply personal for those involved while leaving the rest of us only to wonder what exactly it all means. [6/10]

OSCARS 2023: The 2023 Oscar Nominated Live-Action Short Films

An Irish Goodbye (2022)

Following the passing of their mother, Turlough is planning on selling the family farm. This is much to the consternation of his brother, Lorcan, who wishes to keep the farm. Lorcan has Down’s Syndrome and Turlough plans to leave him in the care of their aunt. After returning from the funeral, Father O’Shea mentions that the coroner found a list in their mother’s jeans before she passed. It was a list of things she hoped to do before she died. Lorcan becomes determined to achieve every one of these goals, dragging his mother’s ashes along for each activity, no matter how impractical. Turlough reluctantly agrees. 

I’ve seen people complain that “An Irish Goodbye” is cutesy or cloying. This surprises me, as the short’s humor struck me as nicely surreal and refreshingly vulgar. The last wishes the brothers fulfill include such sights as doing Tai Chi with an urn, sending it on a balloon ride (which nearly gets away from them), and posing for a still life painting with the container. Solidifying 2023 as the year the Academy noticed Irish profanity, the word “feckin’” and “dick” are thrown around frequently. I really appreciate how the brothers’ relationship is depicted. Lorcan is not reduced to a caricature or an inspirationally disadvantaged plot point. He’s rough-around-the-edges, creative, funny, and self-determined. Overall, “An Irish Goodbye” made me laugh a surprising number of times. I mean, how many Oscar-nominated short films include fart jokes and then attempt to make them a part of the story’s emotional center? 

But, yes, this is a sentimental story. It’s about two brothers, in a stressful time, choosing to stand by each other when all they really want is to be left alone. That means it’s about love, which we also see in the central premise of the boys’ attempts to complete their mom’s journey. The acting is effective all around, the cinematography is nice, and the soundtrack is pretty. This one worked for me. [7/10]

Ivalu (2023)

Set in an Inuit village in the mountains of Greenland, “Ivalu” follows Pipaluk, a young girl living with her father and grandmother. Her sister, the titular character, has mysteriously vanished. Ahead of a visit to her school by the Queen of Denmark, Pipaluk sets out to find Ivalu. She is guided by visions and dreams of a black bird, seemingly inspired by her sister's fascination with local mythology. As she journeys into the snowbound wilderness, Pipaluk reconsiders her own memories of the last few days.

It seems every year, at least one of the Oscar-nominated live-action shorts features an endangered or dead child. “Ivalu” is entry in this inexplicably common occurrence. I'll say this about the short. The cinematography is lovely. The aerial shots of the snowy Greenlandic mountain ranges or ice-covered lakes are very pretty. The way memories, dreams, and reality interweave create a nicely contemplative feeling to the proceedings, which further supported by Pipaluk's narration and a sparse musical score. Rooting so much of the story in native mythology creates a sense of cultural specificity that I enjoyed.

However, this is another example of a short using a horrible, real world issue more as a plot point, than as an earnest attempt to bring attention to this topic. It doesn't even make sense within the logic of the short. Pipaluk already knows the information that is revealed to us, the audience, near the end. It's kept from the viewer until the most dramatic point. Which, when it comes to a sensitive subject like child abuse, borders on the tactless in my eyes. It also leads to a rather dramatically limp conclusion, that seems to suggest there's nothing much that can be done about these things. It's a disappointing conclusion to a short that starts off strong and clearly has an interesting point of view. [6/10]

Night Ride (2020)

This Norwegian film, set around Christmas time, begins with a short woman named Ebba standing in the snow at a train station. After the train stops, the driver tells her he can't let her on alone. Undeterred, Ebba climbs in and begins driving the tram herself. Awkwardly stopping at the next station, a transwoman is among the people who climb aboard. After an abrupt stop removes the woman's wig, she begins to be harassed by another passenger. Ebba can only watch for so long before she feels the need to intervene. 

“Night Ride” starts off well enough. Director Eirik Tveiten and cinematographer Vegard Landsverk display a strong visual sense, the snowy nighttime setting immediately establishing a certain feeling and tone. I also like Morten Rognskog's quirky musical score, which sets up quickly enough that this story is going to take an unexpected turn. 

Unfortunately, that turn is towards clueless social commentary. “Night Ride” is yet another example of a well-intentioned but ultimately oblivious attempt at trans representation. The obvious problem here is that we never learn anything about the transwoman at the story's center. She exists solely to define the cisgendered main character, to teach her a lesson about kindness and responsibility to her fellow humans. I think there's some point here about how, as a little person, Ebba can relate to the passenger's status as an outsider or something. It's clumsy, is my point. And it doesn't help that the script focuses a little too much on the abusive language the harasser on the train throw around. As nice as “Night Ride” looks, during a time when trans people are more persecuted than ever, we really don't need films like this that frame their struggles only in the context of how it effects cisgendered people. [5/10]

Le pupille (2022)

Perhaps the most high-profile of the live action shorts is “Le pupille,” which is directed by acclaimed Italian director Alice Rohrwacher, produced by Alfonso Cuaron, and received a plum release on Disney+. It takes place at a strict Catholic school during World War II. As Christmas approaches, the nuns attempt to organize the girls for the yearly nativity play. Yet the girls, one rebellious soul named Serafina in particular, keep getting distracted. They hear a pop song on the radio by accident, the racy lyrics lingering in Serafina's head. An eccentric woman barges into the school to prayer. The Mother Superior has prepared a decadent cake after Christmas dinner, as part of a moral lesson. Serafina doesn't go along with the crowd.

By far the cutest of this year's nominated shorts, “Le pupille” is definitely attempting to capture a certain anarchistic, child-like spirit. There are multiple scenes of the girls talking directly to the camera, singing songs that explain some of the set-ups and location. This returns for the coda. These are interspersed with shots of hand-drawn notes, counting down the days to Christmas. All the characters are somewhat exaggerated, with one of the nuns getting a cartoonish mustache drawn on their face. It's very whimsical, which is reflected in the naturalistic performance the film gets out of the young girls playing its characters. There's even a cute dog that plays a key role. 

It's well assembled, with some excellent production design and cinematography. The main takeaway I got from “Le pupille” is its reflections on Catholic guilt. Mother Superior makes a demand of the girls to teach them a lesson in charity and humility. Yet anything they sacrifice is just being done to impress a church elder. By rebelling against this standard, Serafina shows a more humanistic approach tot he idea of charity. One that's based not in guilt and spiritual responsibility but merely in helping people out. It's a good lesson, even if it can't do much to keep the short from feeling rather wispy and overlong, even at only 38 minutes. [6/10]

The Red Suitcase (2022)

A teenage Iranian girl arrives at a Luxembourg airport, a distinctive red suitcase being her only piece of luggage. Inside are countless illustrations and drawings. On her cellphone are messages from her father, saying that “her husband” is waiting for her. She soon spots the older, hirsute man carrying a bouquet of flowers. The girl lets her hair down, in hopes that her husband-in-waiting won’t notice her. She continues to make her way out of the airport, towards a bus outside, attempting to avoid detection by the man she has been promised to the entire time. 

“The Red Suitcase” is an economic little thriller. It puts us directly in the headspace of its young protagonist. From the minute we see her cowering from the baggage checkers, we are on her side. We never learn too many details about this clearly arranged marriage she’s found herself in, though it seems evident that it wasn’t her idea. From what we see of her father’s messages, he genuinely cares about her… But still seems content to practically sell his daughter – the proposed husband mentions money a lot during his enraged phone calls – and to keep her imprisoned in a patriarchal system. This set-up allows the film to comment on the social issues facing women in countries like Iran without being too heavy-handed about it.

The short film is also well directed by Cyrus Neshvad. The camera remains tight on our heroine’s face, as she often hides out or just barely misses being detected by the man. I suppose it pushes plausibility that the would-be husband is always just over her shoulder, nearly spotting her every time. Yet it does keep the suspense rolling high, while also getting us to relate strongly with her plight. I also like that Neshvad decorates the airport with images of western woman, usually in some state of undress, selling make-up or bras. As if to contrast with the protagonist, a girl from a culture who can’t even show her hair. This comes into focus in the final shot, following a sad but not hopeless ending. Well done. [7/10]

OSCARS 2023: EO (2022)

I'll admit to not being especially familiar with the Polish New Wave cinema. However, I've definitely seen the name Jerzy Skolimowski before. I've seen his dreamy, unnerving 1973 horror film “The Shout.” His most acclaimed film, surreal dramedy “Deep End,” has been on my watch list literally for years. While most of the figures from that era of filmmaking have passed on, Skolimowski is still alive and still making movies. In fact, his seventeenth feature, “EO,” has become maybe the most critically acclaimed work of his life. People whose opinions I trust listed it as one of their favorites of last year. Now, the Academy has nominated it for Best International Film. 

Inspired by Robert Bresson's “Au Hazard Balthazar” – which I've also never seen – the film follows a donkey performing in a circus named Eo. When animal performances in circus are outlawed, Eo is shipped off to a farm of some sort. The woman who would perform with the donkey in the circus, and is fond of him, frees Eo from the farm. The donkey begins wandering across Poland, walking through urban and rural areas. He encounters violent soccer hooligans, animal rescue workers, a wind power turbine, a trucker shipping horses, and many other people. Eo doesn't know it but he is on a journey towards a final destination. 

For years now, I've been fascinated with the idea of how animals perceive the world, compared to how humans see it. I've always wanted to see a movie told from the perspective of an animal, really attempting to replicate the thoughts and experiences of something other than a human being. “EO” comes pretty close to what I've envisioned with such a project. More than anything else, “EO” shows us how animals – untethered from humanity – experiences both the best and the worst people have to offer. After being ceremoniously adopted as a mascot by a soccer club, Eo is attacked by fans of a rival team. The poor beaten creature, after being patched up, arrives in a terrifying holding station for wild animals. As much as this shows the cruelty people senselessly inflict on animals, Eo also experiences kindness from strangers. He's rescued from the side of the road by a friendly fellow. He receives head pats and carrots from random folks. Animals bring out the best and the worst of us, because humans don't believe animals can react to actions the same way people do.

For this same reason, animals have no class status. A donkey might be a working animal, accustomed to pulling carts on a farm, as Eo does for a period. Yet the way the beast of burden wanders from location to location, he becomes a silent observer of all different types of social strata. The donkey sees a truck driver, crudely attempting to talk a woman into having sex with him, before he gets his throat slashed by a bandit. This is the most blue collar of existence, not unlike what a farm animal might experience. Yet Eo also finds himself on the front yard of an opulent mansion at one point, witnessing some petty drama between a man and a woman. (A surprise cameo appearance from Isabelle Huppert.) I suspect some commentary on Polish society, that goes over my dumb-ass American head, might be evident here. However, some things are the same everywhere. This donkey watches it all go by with the same quizzical continence. 

“EO” further sells its unique perspective with a kaleidoscopic visual style. Skolimowski and cinematographer Michal Dymek create a number of stunning, surreal sequences that take the viewer on a wild trip. The very scene has Eo and his friend performing their circus act under strobbing lights. A night in the woods, climaxing in a bird killed by that wind turbine, is a nightmarish trip through a red-tinted, cinematic Hell. There's another moment devoted to one of those dog-like police robots walking and running through the streets, a machine trying to be an animal. Swirling, fish-eye lens are used in other scenes while aerial drone shots add a heavenly perspective to others. 

Eo was played by six different donkeys, all of whom are adorable. The movie gets a surprising amount of pathos just out of their dark, soulful eyes and fuzzy muzzles. “EO” is a loosely plotted film but, because the donkey proves so cinematic and compelling, you don't mind going on this journey with the guy. I have no doubt “EO” will be studied and picked apart by cinephiles and film students for years to come. It's the kind of movie that invites personal readings, with various political or social subtexts just under the surface. I found it to be a fascinating experience. I really need to see more of Skolimowski's work. [8/10]

OSCARS 2023: Blonde (2022)

It's fitting that movies about Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe are both nominated for Oscars this year. Both are towering pop culture figures, American archetypes that have left such a massive impact on our collective consciousness that it feels like they've always exist. If Elvis is the ultimate rock star, Marilyn is the ultimate sex symbol. And much like Elvis, Marilyn Monroe means many different things to many different people. The conflicts between her status as a woman and an icon, not to mention a tumultuous personal life, has made Marilyn a favorite topic of filmmakers and biographers. This isn't even the first time Joyce Carol Oates' novel “Blonde,” a fictionalized take on Monroe's life, has been adapted. Yet Andrew Dominik's film has courted controversy and prompted discussion. From its NC-17 rating to whether it's insightful about sexism or merely misogynist, people are still debating “Blonde's” merits months after its release. Despite the polarizing reaction, Ana de Armas' performance did impress the Academy enough to earn a nomination. 

“Blonde” loosely follows the facts of Marilyn's life. It begins in her childhood, when her mother's mental instability caused a young Norma Jean to be shuffled in and out of foster care. After having success as a pin-up model, Norma Jean and her agent invent the persona of Marilyn Monroe: The ultimate blonde sex symbol. Her acting career slowly starts to take off, while Marilyn suffers sexual abuse at the hand of studio heads. She finds some comfort in the hands of other men. Such as a threesome relationship with Charlie Chaplin Jr. and Edward G. Robinson Jr. and eventually having difficult marriages with Joe DiMaggio and Arthur Miller. All the while, Norma Jean is haunted by visions of the father she never knew, the unborn children she lost, the crushing weight of fame, and the image that has taken over her life.

From its opening minutes, “Blonde” is a punishing assault on the senses. Norma Jean's clearly unwell mother rambles and lectures at her, before driving into a firestorm and then attempting to drown her. Once she becomes “Marilyn Monroe,” she is raped by Daryl Zanuck. She marries Joe DiMagio, who is brutally abusive towards her once he becomes uncomfortable with her status as a sex symbol. Even the intellectual Arthur Miller, with whom she is briefly happy, only desires her because of what he can get out of her. (Namely, a replacement for a long lost love.) Throughout the film, Norma Jean often refers to “Marilyn Monroe” as if she's a different person. Multiple scenes have the panicking Norma looking into the mirror, only for the always sexy, always collected Marilyn to be looking back at her. She resents the role of the dumb blonde object of desire she's assumed, frequently reduced to screaming fits while on-set. It was a means to an end for her that then took over her life, which saw her constantly being objectified, used, and discarded by the men around.

Andrew Dominik was clearly determined to put the audience in the head of Marilyn Monroe, to make us feel the agony she felt every day. Yet much of the discussion around the film has circled around his intentions. “Blonde” is a gauntlet of a film, two and a half hours made up almost entirely of watching Monroe brutalized, assaulted, or objectified. It seems to me that “Blonde” almost feels disgusted with itself for finding Monroe attractive. More than once, she speaks directly to the camera, practically telling the viewer to fuck off personally. She asks if she's just a piece of meat as she's dragged toward John F. Kennedy's bedroom, which is not the only time she compares herself to a product. This proceeds a bracing sequence where she fellates the president, which is shown on a giant theater screen while Marilyn wonders how she got to this point. She pukes right into the camera or Dominik irises in on her ass, after a casting agent makes a lewd comment about it. “Blonde” is all about showing Monroe's suffering. It's also about making us complacent in it, the viewer becoming one of the agents of her destruction. 

In order to transport the viewer into Marilyn's personal hell, Dominik overloads his film with visual flourishes and stylistic approaches. The film constantly shifts aspect ratios, depending on whether we are cutting between Marilyn's inner thoughts or her roles in movies. It cuts between stark black-and-white and blistering color on a whim. One nightmarish sequences has the faces of the leering men in a crowd subtly distorted. In another scene, Arthur Miller's face vanishes all together. “Blonde” all-but commits to a horror atmosphere in a moment where Marilyn awakens in bed, covered in blood, unaware of the strange man in her room. There's sped-up scenes, slow motion, CGI fields of stars, close-ups on blinding lights, and ironic needle drops. A threesome with her lovers is obscured by swirling waves of color. Dominik is constantly screwing around like this. Sometimes, it's effective, making Marilyn's waking nightmare keenly felt. Other times, it's excessive. This is most apparent in an abortion sequence with a frankly offensive POV shot from inside Marilyn's womb. 

That's maybe the most frustrating thing about “Blonde.” I get what it's going for. It makes its point in effective, startling ways. Yet the film doesn't know when to stop hammering you over the head with these ideas. I don't just mean it's unrelenting depiction of Norma Jean's suffering. As much as the film wants us to relate to this woman's pain, it's also strangely reductive of her personality at times. All throughout the film, Norma Jean is depicted as stuck on her missing father. She receives letters from this absent father figure. She calls her husbands “Daddy.” Longing for loving male authority, always denied from her and frequently tortuously dangled just out of reach, is shown as Marilyn's main driving force here. It's not just father issues though. Her mentally ill mother haunts her, as does the fear she'll suffer a similar fate. In the movie's most questionable choice, Marilyn has conversations with the fetus growing inside her. The unborn baby nags her in the same way every other character in the film does. If “Blonde” wants to present the suffering, tortured human being behind the icon, why does it simplify all of her problems down to hang-ups with parenthood?

If “Blonde” is a punishing slog to get through at times, it is grounded by a heartbreaking performance from Ana de Armas. De Armas perfectly captures Monroe's child-like coo of a voice, which she effectively lets slip during her more emotional moments. Even when the dialogue is too on-the-nose or overdone, de Armas plays Norma Jean as a suffering human being in pitiful, relatable pain. The agony she carries in her eyes, often buried beneath a flirty smile, speaks volume. A close-up on her crying face is among the film's most touching moments. If de Armas spends the entire movie reenacting one long PTSD flashback, she at least makes it a brutally human one. (Which is more than can be said for most of the supporting roles. Bobby Cavanaugh plays Joe DiMaggio as a blustering bully and Adrien Brody plays Arthur Miller as an ineffectual nerd.) 

Ultimately, there are elements about “Blonde” that I can admire. The film absolutely succeeds at its goal of making us feel Marilyn Monroe's pain. I have no doubt that it exaggerates and simplifies her real life. I'm sure she had moments of joy, laughter, and love too. Yet focusing only on her agony and objectification makes a cutting point about how women are treated in our culture. At the same time, that's pretty much the only drum “Blonde” has to beat and it makes many odd concessions on the way to that message. At times achingly haunting but also tedious and needlessly taxing, it's a movie I can almost recommend... But also one I have no desire to ever see again. If nothing else, I hope this makes Ana de Armas the A-list star she so clearly deserves to be. [6/10]

OSCARS 2023: All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (2022)

The AIDS crisis of the eighties, that decimated the population of gay men all across the United States, might have been over forties years ago now. Yet, in so many other ways, it feels like we are still living in the shadow of that time. For every step into the mainstream LGBT+ culture has made here in this country, there's been another step back. We live in a time more beset by misinformation and fear mongering than ever before, it seems. It's important that the lives lost and the world they lived in not be forgotten. That period still echoes into the present in many ways. The latest documentary from “Citizenfour's” Laura Poitras, “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed” shows us the direct parallels between these two times while also telling a deeply personal story. 

The film tells the story of celebrated photographer Nan Goldin. It leaps back and forth in time between the past and the present, telling how she grew up in the suburbs with emotionally distant parents who institutionalized her rebellious sister. How she moved to New York City and quickly fell in with the queer art scene, which she documented through photographs that soon made her famous. It follows Nan through the AIDS crisis, where she led protests against apathetic authority and watched countless friends die. This is interwoven with her current work with P.A.I.N., an activist group for those effected by prescription drug addiction. P.A.I.N.'s and Nan's current mission is to publicly shame the Sackler family, the billionaire family (and patrons of the arts) behind the production and sale of Oxycontin. 

Nan Goldin's chosen art form is photography. She displays her photos in books, galleries, and via slideshows. Frequently, “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed” devotes itself to showing Nan's photos on-screen, sometimes accompanied by music or narration. Or to underground movies made by her friends, documenting the same time period. These moments make it clear while Goldei's artistry is so respected. Her work is a snapshot of a specific time and place. We see the faces of friends of her's, fellow artists. We see their photos, their sculptures. We hear their poetry and watch their films. Goldin's photos clearly captured the cluttered lofts and crowded bars that they called home. It gives you such a clear of what the New York art scene was like in the seventies and eighties. Considering how much of this talent was lost over the next decade, it's a monumentally important time capsule of a period threatened to be forgotten. 

As much as Goldin's work was about capturing what was unfolding around her, it was also blisteringly personal. This makes “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed” as much a movie about her life as it is about the things she lived through. She talks openly about her drug addiction, the different substances she struggled with over the years. A lengthy chapter is devoted to a longtime boyfriend of her's, that eventually turned abusive. She photographed her own bruises. Golden opens up about being a stripper and sex worker during this time as well, which seems to be the only aspect of her life she has any reluctance to speak about. (Among Golden's photos is one of her having sex, so clearly she's no prude.) Mostly, these deeply personal recollections are delivered by Nan herself, her distinctly raspy voice running throughout “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed.”

Yet this is not a film simply preoccupied with looking backwards. It actively documents Goldin's work with P.A.I.N. and their campaign to bring some justice to the victims of Oxycontin. Much time is devoted to demonstrations, where her and her friends laid down in museum or toss fake money or fliers stained with blood. Their goal is to shame the Sackler's for profiting off the addiction, misery, and deaths of millions of people. Goldin and her associates have no illusions about the billionaires actually facing justice. Instead, they simply hope to shame the Sacklers through their connections to the art world. The emotional climax of the film, as stirring a sequence as any I've seen this year, involves the Sacklers being forced to sit and listen to personal testimonies of families who were torn apart by the drug. Their faces remain stony and unmoving while mothers and fathers talk about their children dying from overdoses. Simply making those in power see your face and hear your story is, sometimes, the closest thing to justice that can be achieved. 

“All the Beauty and the Bloodshed's” title comes from the doctor's notes concerning her sister, another powerful personal moment in a film filled with them. Much of the movie is like that, effortlessly using images, music, and narration to create deeply effective filmmaking. At a little over two hours long, the film is dense, packing in a lot of information. Yet it never feels rushed, none of its topic coming across as underserved. It's extraordinary movie making, a loving tribute to those that have died and a stirring cry to speak truth to power. Through it all, there is the central figure of Nan Goldin, a survivor with a unique outlook that she is eager to share with the world. [9/10]

OSCARS 2023: Navalny (2022)

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

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

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

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

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

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

OSCARS 2023: Babylon (2022)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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