SYNOPSIS: In “Babygirl,” a new erotic thriller now playing on theatres, a high-powered CEO, played by Nicole Kidman, risks her career and family over an affair with a much younger intern (Harris Dickinson).
CAST: Nicole Kidman, Harris Dickinson, Sophie Wilde, and Antonio Banderas. Directed by Halina Reijn.
REVIEW: A story of sexual power, control and humiliation that extends far beyond a typical office romance story, “Babygirl” is risky and frisky with a fearless performance from Nicole Kidman.
Kidman is Romy, a high-flying executive who shares two daughters with husband Jacob (Antonio Banderas). Outwardly the couple are happy, but Romy harbors a deep dissatisfaction with their sex life. Then, when she interviews Samuel (Harris Dickinson), a confident young man applying to be an intern at her company, something happens.
As he questions her coffee intake—“You shouldn’t drink coffee after lunch,” he scolds.—sparks fly, and soon Romy tests the boundaries of the employer / employee power dynamic.
But this isn’t a typical movie about a cheating spouse or secret workplace trysts. In Samuel, Romy finds the thing she is missing in her marriage. She wants to be dominated, to relinquish her power within her sex life. She has the power in the workplace (unless they are alone), while relinquishing it extra-curricular-ly.
The difference between “Babygirl” and “50 Shades of Grey” comes down to consent. Romy finds satisfaction within the submission she offers Samuel. While subservient, she is getting what she desires out of their relationship.
As Romy, Kidman contains multitudes. Steely and vulnerable, daring and passionate, she doesn’t play shame. This is a story about finding one’s authentic self and while Romy may be submissive, she’s also a seeker.
“Fatal Attraction” this ain’t.
The movie belongs to Kidman, but she’s ably supported by Dickinson, who oozes confidence and charisma and Banderas, who charmingly plays against his sex symbol image.
“Babygirl” is a daring, unapologetically erotic film that explores the character’s sexuality and psychology.
SYNOPSIS: In “The Brutalist,” an epic new story of the American Dream starring Adrien Brody, Felicity Jones and Guy Pierce and now playing in theatres, a Jewish Hungarian-born architect survives the Holocaust, only to struggle to find success in the United States. His life changes when a wealthy patron recognizes his talent.
CAST: Adrien Brody, Felicity Jones, Guy Pearce, Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy, Stacy Martin, Emma Laird, Isaach de Bankolé, Alessandro Nivola. Directed by Brady Corbet.
REVIEW: At three-and-a-half hours with a fifteen-minute intermission, “The Brutalist” is the kind of sweeping, personal epic we don’t see very often. Think “There Will Be Blood” and “Oppenheimer” and you’ll get the idea.
Spanning 33 years, the film begins with Hungarian Holocaust survivor and Bauhaus-trained architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody), separated from his wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones) and his niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy) in Budapest during World War II. Once in the United States, alone, save for his cousin and his wife (Alessandro Nivola and Emma Laird), László’s life is up and down. Once a celebrated architect, he now dabbles in drugs, does menial jobs and lives in the basement of a church. It isn’t until his previous work in Europe is noticed by wealthy industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pierce) that his fortunes change.
Hired by Van Buren to design a community centre as a monument to his late mother, László creates an ambitious design, complete with a library, a theater, a gymnasium and chapel, quietly incorporating the brutalist elements of the prison at Buchenwald where he was incarcerated. His artistic temperament leads to conflicts with the Van Burens, and his own family.
“The Brutalist” uses the broad canvas of László’s personal story to comment on themes of assimilation, iconoclasm, identity, creativity and the American Dream.
László’s refusal to compromise and his unconventional methods reverberate with echoes of Ayn Rand’s “The Fountainhead,” although director Brady Corbet (who co-wrote the script with Mona Fastvold) shifts the focus from rugged individualism to the immigrant experience.
Rand’s exploration of Objectivism, her philosophy of productive achievement as the noblest activity, is filtered through László’s experience as an immigrant who is told, “We tolerate you,” by the entitled Harry van Buren (Joe Alwyn). Rand’s take in self-interest as the road to happiness is replaced by László’s bittersweet reality of assimilation as personal and professional suppression at the hands of the Van Burens.
It’s a fascinating lens with which to observe László and his family’s tainted American Dream. It is an epic story, told in epic style. Corbet shoots in high resolution, widescreen VistaVision, flooding the screen with gorgeously composed images, set to Daniel Blumberg’s mesmeric score.
Against that backdrop are Brody, in his meatiest role since his Oscar winning turn in “The Pianist,” convincingly portrays László’s broken psyche and tortured genius as roadside stops on the way to his emotional ruin. It’s an impressive performance, one that feels lived-in and weathered. Without Brody at the film’s core as a man who loses himself, “The Brutalist’s” emotional impact would be much blunted.
As Erzsébet, who plays a major role in the film’s second half, Jones displays a grit earned by years of suffering.
The film’s showiest performance belongs to the charismatic Pierce whose flamboyant performance is a grabber, particularly when he’s sparring with Brody.
These three key performances, coupled with a terrific supporting cast, are as ambitious in their personal scope as the film is in its big picture approach.
Like the architecture it showcases—large intimidating structures that feel simultaneously claustrophobic and vast—“The Brutalist” is beautiful but overwhelming in its scope.
SYNOPSIS: “The Fire Inside,” a new sports drama now playing in theatres, is the true story of one of the greatest female boxers of all time, Claressa “T-Rex” Shields, an athlete from Flint, Michigan who became the first woman in American history to win back-to-back Olympic gold medals in the sport.
CAST: Ryan Destiny, Brian Tyree Henry, Oluniké Adeliyi, De’Adre Aziza. Directed by by Rachel Morrison.
REVIEW: “The Fire Inside” is a story of struggle and success set against the world of boxing, but like all good sports movies it’s about so much more than corkscrew punches and bobbing and weaving.
An underdog story, when we first meet Shields (played by Jazmin Headley as a child, by Ryan Destiny as a young adult) she is an eleven-year-old from difficult circumstances looking for an outlet for the rage and frustration that plague her. She lands at the Berston Field House, a community centre where former boxer Jason Crutchfield (Brian Tyree Henry) takes her under his wing.
Six years later, with his training, Shields becomes the first American woman to win an Olympic gold medal in boxing.
Cue the fist in the air and end credits.
Except that’s only part of the story. Most sports movies stop after the big game, or in this case match, but “The Fire Inside’s” script by Oscar winner Barry Jenkins deepens the movie by detailing Shields’s struggle post her first big win.
It’s a story of inequality—she is paid less in expenses than her male counterparts—and professional setbacks—no endorsement deals came after she medalled—that threatened to sink her personally and professionally. It’s here the specific story of a Flint, Michigan boxer becomes a universal tale of fulfilling your dreams, of overcoming obstacles and never saying no, despite the naysayers.
Cinematographer-turned-director Rachel Morrison does sturdy, propulsive work in her directorial feature film debut, vividly evoking the disappointment of what happens when glory fades and the fight for survival must continue.
“The Fire Inside” is a rousing, inspirational, heart-on-its-sleeve story of trauma and grit, with terrific performances from Destiny, whose ferociousness covers her hurt, and Henry, who radiates warmth and encouragement. It’s a sports movie with a twist, one that defies the usual triumphant formula to go deep and reveal the price of success and failure.
SYNOPSIS: “Better Man,” the biopic of Take That singer-turned-solo superstar Robbie Williams is a sex, drugs and British Pop story given an audacious treatment by “The Greatest Showman” director Michael Gracey. A surreal mix of “Behind the Music” and “Planet of the Apes,” it is a raw portrayal of the singer’s vulnerabilities and foibles with a startling gimmick.
CAST: Robbie Williams, Jonno Davies, Steve Pemberton, Alison Steadman. Co-written, co-produced and directed by Michael Gracey.
REVIEW: You can’t talk about “Better Man” without first acknowledging the 500-pound monkey in the room. Or, in this case, in the film’s leading role.
The role of Robbie Williams, international pop star, is played as a chimp in a motion-capture performance by Jonno Davies. It is never directly referred to in the film, although there is some talk about how Williams, who first found fame as a young teen, was somehow stunted by the experience.
In other words, he is not as evolved as his peers.
It’s a stretch, and it is very much a gimmick, but it works. You will believe a chimp can sing and dance, and more importantly, you’ll soon forget the movie’s monkey business and be drawn in by the bombastic, unflinching portrayal of the ups and downs of Williams’s life.
From the fairly straightforward Bob Dylan biography “A Complete Unknown” to the fanciful “Piece by Piece,” the life story of Pharrell Williams, rendered completely in LEGO, 2024 has been an eventful year for music biopics. No matter what the execution, most follow a rags-to-riches trajectory, tarted up with good tunes and some sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll speedbumps along the way to a happy, triumphant ending.
“Better Man” is no different. The story beats are familiar, but it is in its execution that Michael Gracey succeeds in creating something not only entertaining, but memorable. It’s a wild ride, one that paints outside the lines, while still providing a complete portrait.
Bruce Springsteen once said, “You don’t get into this business because you had a normal childhood.” Those words echo throughout “Better Man” as we learn of Williams’s estrangement from his show biz obsessed father, his insecurities and battles with his worst enemy—himself. Amid all the glitz is a very real story of someone who discovered that money and fame can change the bank account and get you a better table at a fancy restaurant but isn’t a remedy for everything.
On some levels “Better Man” is a standard biography, but what separates it from other music bios, like the Wikipedia page style of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” is the raw honesty it displays toward its subject. Williams is a superstar whose life has been tabloid fodder for as long as he’s been in the public eye but there is no whitewashing of his foibles here. Director Gracey may sprinkle a bit of glitter over them, but he never shies away from the grit that makes Williams’s story interesting.
The chimp, loads of bad language, excessive drug use and song and dance numbers bring great energy and entertain the eye, but it’s “Better Man’s” raw, emotional that sticks.
SYNOPSIS: A gothic tale of an ancient vampire’s infatuation with an innocent young woman, Robert Egger’s “Nosferatu” is a reimaging of F. W. Murnau’s 1922 expressionist horror masterpiece “Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror.”
CAST: Bill Skarsgård, Nicholas Hoult, Lily-Rose Depp, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Emma Corrin, Ralph Ineson, Simon McBurney, and Willem Dafoe. Directed by Robert Eggers.
REVIEW: In a showstopper of an opening, the story of “Nosferatu” begins as Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp) telepathically awakens an ancient evil in the form of Count Orlock, a.k.a. Nosferatu from the dead.
Years later this story of evil and sacrifice continues in 1838 Germany with Ellen, now newly wed to real estate agent Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult).
Recently, Ellen’s nights have been flooded with terrifying dreams she doesn’t understand. Thomas dismisses them as “enchanted memories,” but she thinks her visions portend something terrible for the couple.
When Thomas’s boss Herr Knock (Simon McBurney) asks him to travel to the Carpathian Mountains to meet with an elderly new client named Count Orlock (Bill Skarsgård)—“He has one foot in the grave,” jokes Herr Knock—Ellen doesn’t want him to go, but the job offers the kind of money they need to start a family and soon Thomas is off.
Weeks pass. Ellen’s dreams become so intense her doctor calls in Prof. Albin Eberhart Von Franz (Willem Dafoe), a metaphysician and occult scientist who declares, “I have seen things in this world that would make Isaac Newton crawl back into the womb!”
Meanwhile, at Orlock’s creepy castle, the arduous journey and sleep deprivation caused by strange dreams has left Thomas weakened and afraid. Are his dreams morbid fairy tales, as Orlock suggests, or has the Count, a.k.a. Nosferatu, placed a spell on him, as it appears he has on Ellen?
In Germany, as Orlock’s ship heads for their shores, Ellen and others are held in his telepathic sway. “There is,” Von Franz says, “a dread storm rising.”
Director Robert Eggers breathes new life into “Nosferatu’s” withered lungs, staying true to his gorgeously gothic aesthetic while at the same time paying tribute to F. W. Murnau’s classic 1922 film. Immaculately crafted, unsettling images of scurrying rats, crumbling castles and ominous shadows projected by flickering candlelight create a nightmarish canvas onto which this story of dark obsession and sacrifice is projected.
It will be categorized as a horror film, and there are elements of gore, death and the unnerving auditory experience of hearing Count Orlock drain his victims, but it is an old-school horror movie that aims to unnerve its audience with just a few jump scares and no vats of fake blood. Eggers conveys terror with the film’s atmosphere of dread and depiction of madness, decay and unrelenting, elemental evil.
As the film’s tragic heroine Ellen, Depp carries much of the story’s emotional darkness. Ellen is tormented by visions she doesn’t understand, but Depp doesn’t play her as a victim. It’s more like she’s trapped in a toxic relationship and, as such, carries a complex panoply of feelings. Fear and lust top the list, but ultimately it is the steeliness Depp gives her that makes Ellen a compelling but helplessness and hunted character.
The beating—or, in this case, non-beating—heart of the story is Bill Skarsgård as the vampiric Count Orlock. The Dracula stereotype of the vampire with a cape is out of the window. Instead, Orlock is a long-dead Transylvanian noble man, a figure from some folk tale mythology, complete with a bushy moustache and opulent clothing befitting his aristocratic status. But whatever he was when he was alive, he has transformed into a sinister being, a partially decomposed primordial vision of terror. Unseen for most of the film, save for some stunning shadow play early on, Orlock is an avatar of evil and entitlement.
From Orlock’s slow, deliberate speech to his ferocity, Skarsgård, unrecognizable under an inch of make-up, plays him as though he’s just stepped out of a nightmare.
As Thomas, Hoult is a sturdy leading man, and Dafoe, continuing his exploration of off kilter old timey doctors, is obviously having fun, and brings a hint of lightness to this very dark tale.
“Nosferatu” is a story of shadows and light, both thematically and in its visual style.
In one creepy flourish Eggers utilizes shadows to represent the spread of Orlock’s influence. The image of his hand slowly casting shade over Thomas and Ellen’s hometown of Wisborg is eye popping, both visually and metaphorically. As a stylist Eggers creates an atmosphere of evil that emerges from the darkness, painstakingly enveloping all in its path. There is a terrible beauty in these images, one that plumbs the depths of Orlock’s depravity in ways that is both spellbinding and repulsive.
By the time the end credits roll “Nosferatu” is both a compelling homage to, and a reimaging of, Murnau’s original film. The atmosphere of dread remains, given new life with impressive visuals, but it is in Egger’s revision of the core story of obsession and sacrifice that the film becomes truly horrific.
I join CTV NewsChannel anchor Scott Hirsch to talk about Christmas movies, tradition, non-traditional amd Christmas movies for people who don’t like Christmas movies!
I write about bringing the holiday spirit to your driveway for the Toronto Star!
“For car lovers, Christmas decorating doesn’t have to stop with hanging ornaments on the tree or attaching stockings to the fireplace…” Read the whole thing HERE!
Fast reviews for people busy wrapping and unwrapping gifts! Watch as I review three versions of “A Christmas Carol” in less time than it takes to pour a glass of eggnog! Have a look as I race against the clock to tell you about comedic, musical and classic versions of the immortal Charles Dickens story!
IMDB lists 70 entries for the character Ebenezer Scrooge. Everyone from Jack Palance to Vanessa Williams (her character was called Ebony Scrooge) have “bah humbugged” their way through the role.
Jim Carrey joined that list in a big budget Disney motion capture version of A Christmas Carol. But why have the character and the story of the man who hated Christmas stayed popular since Charles Dickens penned it 166 years ago?
The first reason may have appealed to old Scrooge’s frugal nature. The story is in public domain, meaning there are no pesky payments to the Dickens family for using the character, but to be made (the first film came in 1901) remade (21 times on film and dozens more made for TV) then turned on its head and remade again and again, there must be something else about the story’s humbuggery that resonates with viewers. The Life and Times of Ebenezer Scrooge author Paul Davis says the story is one of those rarities that is so familiar it’s almost part of our collective DNA.
“My acquaintance with Scrooge seems preliterate,” he wrote, “different from my sense of … Dr. Doolittle or Robinson Crusoe. I remember when I first met the Hardy Boys, but I feel as though I’ve always known Scrooge and Tiny Tim.”
Some scholars think the story’s ability to seem current, no matter when it is restaged, is a major selling point.
“What it all boils down to is that A Christmas Carol is that rare and precious thing, a story for the ages,” said the Washington Post’s Jonathan Yardley, “like other such stories — the Bible … the plays of Shakespeare — becomes a distinct and different entity in each age.”
Perhaps these days of economic uncertainty have given the story a timely slant as Scrooge’s penny-pinching ways could be seen as something to be emulated. The bottom line, however, may be the simplest explanation of all; A Christmas Carol is a tale of redemption that confirms the fundamental spiritual nature of Christmas itself. In other words, it makes us feel good.
