Tuesday, 17 December 2019

Top 10 Worst Films of 2019


10. The Laundromat (Steven Soderbergh, 2019)
Indie-veteran Steven Soderbergh directs and produces this light-weight pastiche of Adam McKay’s The Big Short (2016), a facile, amateur project that fails to live up to its star ensemble (including Gary Oldman and Meryl Streep). Unfortunately for Soderbergh – who, ironically, is also brought to light in the film’s finger-pointing agenda – it has all been done before, and better, despite possessing the ingredients for a worthy competitor. High Flying Bird (2019), his other picture to be released this year, is worth streaming instead.

9. The Dead Don’t Die (Jim Jarmusch, 2019)
Jim Jarmusch delivers zombified opera with his latest picture, The Dead Don’t Die, flitting loosely between the oddball townsfolk of a fictional US town, ‘Centreville’, on the dawn of apocalypse. George A. Romero’s cult classic Night of the Living Dead is acutely remembered in Jarmusch’s addition to the genre, but also recast, as glacial storytelling dredges up well-used motifs to unoriginal effect. Jarmusch’s film is peppered with glorious moments, but they are few and far between. Self-conscious irony becomes increasingly painful as scenes repeat and characters circle one another. A tepid, half-hearted effort.

8. Jellyfish (James Gardner, 2018)
Jellyfish is not a bad picture, nor does it completely mispresent a way of life. Nevertheless, much like the free-swimming, marine animal from which it takes its name, Jellyfish floats with no real direction in mind, swept one way and then, inevitably, another. Partnered with this, Gardner’s picture indulges in the poverty of its  seaside landscape – unsubtle, melodramatised scenes that leave a bitter taste in the mouth. 

7. Between Two Ferns: The Movie (Scott Aukerman, 2019)
Zach Galifianakis’ absurdist, internet talk-show finds new turf with a full-length picture, helpfully distributed by Netflix. Gluing together an assortment of interviews – with high-profile names such as Matthew McConaughey, Gal Godot, and Keanu Reeves – the film barely reaches its finale, offering up a loose collection of unfunny scenes. As per, Will Ferrell makes a typical, hideous showing. Between Two Ferns should remain on the internet, not on the big screen.

6. 21 Bridges (Brian Kirk, 2019)
Originally titled ‘17 bridges’ – did they somehow forget 4 in the original? – this is a forgettable and mediocre blockbuster, whose limp narrative is only just supported by the performance of its lead actor, Chadwick Boseman. Little can be said for J. K. Simmons, whose loud-mouthed performance (winning him an Oscar in Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash (2014)) is here loosely parroted, offering laughs where before we might have trembled. 21 Bridges is delivered more like a weak, Dirty Harry sequel than its clear James Bond-esque ambitions. Over its 100-minute runtime, director Brian Kirk allows a leisurely pace to the proceedings, in which, surprisingly, there is very little substance or plot to carry things forward.

5. All is True (Kenneth Branagh, 2018)
Kenneth Branagh plays Shakespeare in his final, declining days – maybe the most “Kenneth-Branagh” performance Kenneth Branagh has ever given. Cosied up in the English countryside with his ever-tolerant wife, Anne Hathaway (played by Judi Dench), Shakespeare gardens and strolls, often visited by the ghost of his dead son (‘Hamnet’). A titanic bore, Ben Elton’s script reads much like a fact-checking list, unoriginal and mundane. (I am still grieving for the five pounds that this film robbed from me.)

4. In the Tall Grass (Vincenzo Natali, 2019)
Of the glut of Stephen King adaptations to have been produced this year (the highlights including Pet Sematary (Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer) It: Chapter 2 (Andy Muschietti) and Doctor Sleep (Mike Flanagan)), In the Tall Grass is undoubtedly one of the less memorable, and, contrary to expectation, one of the least frightening to date. An abridged plot summary is possible simply by viewing the opening ten minutes: a young couple wander into a field of tall grass and can’t get out. Nothing more happens, really, except for the appearance of a large rock – as if the grass wasn’t terrifying enough – whose ominous presence curdle the minds of whoever (intentionally or not) touches its surface. Unsatisfying overall.

3. Murder Mystery (Kyle Newacheck, 2019)
Adam Sandler and Jennifer Anniston solving mysteries on a big yacht, whilst playing light-weight, sexist jokes. Is there anything more to add?

2. Dumbo (Tim Burton, 2019)
One of the most horrendous, live-action remakes to be regurgitated by Disney – a gargantuan, ever-broadening empire of sorts – Dumbo is a retelling of the classic story of the elephant that could fly … and more! Not only can the elephant fly (otherwise the pinnacle of Walt Disney’s original effort) but, with the miracle of CGI, we also witness Eva Green straddle its back whilst it flies circles around an audience. More or less another convincing reason to not watch Tim Burton, if you weren’t convinced already. (To quote Marge Simpson: “I like to think that I’m a patient, tolerant woman and that there was no line that you could cross […] but last night you didn’t just cross that line, you threw up on it!”)

1. Under the Silver Lake (David Robert Mitchell, 2018)
Uncompromisingly, unapologetically dreadful. David Mitchell, having previously succeeded with indie gems The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010) and It Follows (2014), serves up a 130-minute comic spree of jumbled, inter-crossed events that loosely centre around the disappearance of a young woman. Under the Silver Lake, undoubtedly the worst film to be released this year, is a pretentious and lazy tome that can at no point buoy itself up. It’s a shame the waters were never that deep to start with.

Monday, 9 December 2019

Marriage Story – review | scenes from a marriage falling out of love


Marriage Story (dir. Noah Baumbach, 2019)
✭✭✭✭
Listening to his father’s fifteenth studio-album, Blood on the Tracks (1975), Jackob Dylan – the estranged child of Bob and Sara – recognised it as “my parent’s talking,” a conversation in lyric between two people once so familiar. His remark is, of course, belated, having only properly understood their divorce with the hindsight afforded by time; and yet, by contrast, the simplicity of his phrase reminds us of how such damage is registered in the mind of a child (simply understood, they just appeared to be “talking.”) Henry Barber (Azhy Robertson), the child of Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) and Charlie (Adam Driver) in Noah Baumbach’s Marriage Story, might have understood his parents’ divorce in a similar way, conscious of his pendulum swing between their two embraces, the confusion of life distilled into a minor civil war of sorts.

The narrative of Dylan’s album, much like Baumbach’s film, is of course just one side of things, tilted, hardly a univocal measurement of their heartbreak. Marriage Story is partially inspired by his divorce from Jennifer Jason Leigh, as well as that of his parents, a story – quite literally, as the title would imply – of two people falling out of love, a devastating and harrowing event to unfold. Charlie (favouring the East coast) is a successful director of amateur theatrics, lean and tall, as if borrowed from Woody Allen’s Manhattan in many ways; whereas his wife, Nicole (favouring the West coast), is a former teen actress who now plays the lead in his productions. Unable to reconcile their differences, the two reject counselling in favour of marriage lawyers, the python-like Nora Fanshaw (Laura Dern) hired by Nicole and Jay Marotta (Ray Liotta) used by Charlie, respectively; their participation, ironically, demands a theatrics to the weather of the proceeding, one ugly and turbulent in every aspect.

Tuning characteristic elements of his prior films, The Squid and the Whale (2005), Margot at the Wedding (2007) and The Meyerowitz Stories (2017) most evidently, Baumbach again pursues familial ties, disappointment, and the polished, New Yorker-esque shine of his everyday people. Marriage Story is far more calibrated than his other works – which, recurrently, seem to be underpinned with their own brand of cynicism – uncovering every faultline of the human experience whilst, thankfully, suggesting grounds for hope. Randy Newman’s animated soundtrack, largely confined to the piano, boosts such a promise with every note played, lending softness to the remains of the day; we might compare such use of music to Baumbach’s evident inspiration, Scenes from a Marriage (Ingmar Bergman, 1974), only here minimal and quieter throughout. 

Marriage Story deserves all the praise it has inevitably received, especially for the understated performance of Johansson, whose sunshine personality battles so evidently against the encroaching frontiers of divorce. Of the two, Nicole is the more empathetic, even if she is less understood.

Undoubtedly one of the best films of the year.