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 “Blitz,” a new World War II drama starring Saoirse Ronan, and now streaming on Apple TV+, nine-year-old George, resentful at being evacuated to a school in the countryside to keep him safe amidst the blitz, defiantly embarks on a journey back home as his distraught Rita searches for him.
CAST: Saoirse Ronan, Elliot Heffernan, Harris Dickinson, Benjamin Clementine, Kathy Burke, Paul Weller, and Stephen Graham. Written, produced and directed by Steve McQueen.
REVIEW: The fire and brimstone of the Nazi bombing raids on London, so vividly portrayed in the film’s opening minutes, set the scene, but not the over-all tone of the film.
At its best “Blitz,” and McQueen, capture the tenor of the times of WWII London, particularly on the central characters, Rita (Saoirse Ronan), her father Gerald (The Jam’s Paul Weller, making his feature film debut) and young George (Elliot Heffernan).
But director Steve McQueen, who also wrote the script, has a lot on his mind and allows “Blitz” to wander as he essays the struggles of working-class day-to-day Londoners and topics frequently ignored in WWII films, racial prejudice and the contributions of women to the war effort. Add to that the biracial George’s perilous journey and you’re left with a movie that is part road trip, part social commentary and part war film.
As “Blitz” splinters off in several directions it feels unfocused, as if it’s afraid to settle on one topic for too long.
Still, Heffernan, in his film debut, impresses as George navigating his way home, meeting everyone from a kindly Nigerian air warden (Benjamin Clementine) to a Fagin-like character (Stephen Graham) who recruits the youngster to loot corpses and bombed-out buildings.
It’s a reserved performance, one that relies on his inner monologue as he is exposed to things no child should ever witness. In one poignant moment he comes across a Punch and Judy style puppet show. A small group of kids are laughing, enjoying the antics, but George cannot. His blank stare speaks to a childhood stripped away by circumstance.
George’s journey is the heart of the film, but it isn’t just about his adventures. “Blitz” is a journey of self-discovery as the youngster connects with his heritage. He has experienced racism and name calling in his young life, but, because of his quick bond with Nigerian warden Ife, he learns to take pride in his ancestry.
As usual Ronan, one of the best actors of her generation, hands in top notch work, showcasing Rita’s vulnerabilities and her steeliness.
Despite the episodic wandering of its storytelling and its flirting with clichés, “Blitz” offers up stunning visuals. For example, McQueen’s camera finds a man drinking a cup of tea, in his favorite chair, attempting to lead an ordinary life in a bombed-out building. It’s deftly directed moments like these, and George’s fraught journey, that allows the film to pack an emotional punch in its final moments.
Steeped in tragedy and trauma, “The Iron Claw,” a movie about the Von Erich wrestling family starring Zac Efron and Jeremy Allen White, and now playing in theatres, isn’t a sports movie. Set against the backdrop of professional wrestling, the movie is study of toxic masculinity and how the sins of the father can be visited on their sons.
The film begins with Fritz Von Erich (Holt McCallany) patriarch of the championship Von Erich wrestling dynasty. Early in his career, in an attempt to create a villainous heel persona, he changed his name from Jack Adkisson to the German sounding Fritz Von Erich. The switch purposely stoked post-war animosity and made him a wrestler audiences loved to hate.
In the ring he was a relentless competitor, the purveyor of the deadly Iron Claw, his much-feared finishing move that squeezed his opponent’s face into mush. Outside the ring his drive to win saw him push his sons Kevin (Efron), Kerry (White), David (Harris Dickinson) and Mike (Stanley Simons), into the family business.
“Now, we all know Kerry’s my favourite, then Kev, then David, then Mike,” said Fritz. “But the rankings can always change.”
Under Fritz’s hardnosed guidance, the Von Erich’s became one of the first wrestling families to become popular, winning championship belts and fans for their high-flying, acrobatic style but their accomplishments are tempered by tragedy, which son Kevin blames on a curse brought on by the family’s adopted name.
“Ever since I was a child, people said my family was cursed,” Kevin said. “Mom tried to protect us with God. Dad tried to protect us with wrestling. He said if we were the toughest, the strongest, nothing could ever hurt us. I believed him. We all did.”
“The Iron Claw” is about sports, and clearly stars Efron and White spent time in the gym to prepare for their shirtless bouts in the ring, but like all good sports movies it isn’t about the sport. It’s about the universal subjects of tragedy, brotherhood, brawn and bullies. The backdrop may be unusual, but anyone who has ever been browbeaten by a bully will find notes that resonate in the Von Erich story.
At the heart of the film are Efron and White as sons Kevin and Kerry. Both hand in performances etched by their physicality but deepened by the emotional turmoil that envelopes each character.
Efron digs deep in a career best performance. As Kevin watches his family fall apart, he slips into a depression, afraid that the curse is real and may affect his own wife (Lily James) and kids. For such a physical film, it’s internal work that reveals a well of emotion and sublimated anger underneath the character’s bulky frame.
White has a showier role, but as Kerry, the son who pays a huge personal price for wanting to please his overbearing father at any cost, he is more outward in his reactions to the story’s twists, but the sadness he carries with him is palpable.
Maura Tierney does a lot with little as mother Doris Von Erich. A stoic figure, when her buried feelings threaten to overflow, the look on her face has such quiet intensity it speaks louder than words.
McCallany has a much larger role. He is the catalyst, the bully who pushed his sons toward the ring by any means necessary. He’s the movie’s obvious boogeyman. Trouble is, the family can’t see it until it is too late.
“The Iron Claw” is a slow moving, somber movie that looks beyond the ring to focus on the price this family paid for success.
There is nothing subtle in “Triangle of Sadness,” Swedish filmmaker Ruben Östlund’s over-the-top tale of hypocrisy, greed, and ambition, now playing in theatres.
Divided into three sections, it begins with an examination of the dynamic between men and women, in the form of supermodels Carl (Harris Dickinson) and Yaya (Charlbi Dean, who passed away at age 32 in August). At dinner they fight over the bill when she makes no effort to pony up cash, even though she makes much more money than he does. In their superficial world, the real currencies are good looks and social media followers, she thinks, but he feels if they are to truly be equals, they mustn’t let money come between them, with one lording their wealth over the other.
The second, must-be-seen-to-be-believed, sequence is social satire of the highest and grisliest order. Set aboard a luxury yacht, Carl and Yaya, invited because they are well-known, beautiful people, are joined by a rogue’s gallery of ultra-rich folks used to flaunting their privilege. “The success of a luxury cruise mainly depends on you,” says staff leader Paula (Vicki Berlin) to her team. “I don’t want to hear anybody saying, ‘No.’ It’s always, ‘Yes sir! Yes ma’am!’”
At the helm is Captain Thomas Smith (Woody Harrelson), a drunken American communist, who deliberately schedules the fancy Captain’s Dinner during a patch of very rough weather. As the waves rock the ship, the motion of the ocean coupled with some spoiled seafood, lead to mass sea sickness, and a ballet of bodily fluids.
Both sections dovetail into an apocalyptic third sequence that examines social hierarchies, and what can happen when the powerless get a taste of control.
There is nothing subtle in this over-the-top tale of ambition, power and entitlement. The social satire is as delicate as a punch to the jaw and is not for the faint of heart, but not simply because the satire cuts so deep.
The middle section, the captain’s dinner sequence, turns into a burlesque of barf so vivid it makes the Mr. Creosote sequence from “Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life” seem restrained. Rarely have bodily fluids been so celebrated on screen. It’s a lot, and its message that these wealthy folks are messy, gross humans, is not subtle, but you have to admire Östlund’s commitment to the bit.
Heavy handed as it may be, “Triangle of Sadness” is a singular film. An audacious mix of Luis Buñuel and “South Park,” although often grotesque, it entertains and provokes thought.
“Where the Crawdads Sing,” the Reese Witherspoon-produced movie, based on the bestselling novel of the same name by Delia Owens and now playing in theatres, is a bildungsroman. That may sound like the name of a frenetic Hobbit wedding dance or a syrupy-sweet Klingon dessert, but it’s actually just a fancy word for a study of a person’s formative years or spiritual education. Ripe with themes of abandonment, solitude and, ultimately, independence, the movie is a unique coming-of-age story that covers spiritual growth and more earthy concerns.
Set in and around the small North Carolina town of Barkley Cove, the story focusses on Kya, played by Daisy Edgar-Jones. Abandoned as a child (played by Jojo Regina as a youngster), she raised herself in the nearby coastal marshlands. Nicknamed “Marsh Girl” by the locals, she is almost completely isolated. With no formal education, she learns to survive by observing the marsh wildlife.
Resilient and clever, she says, “The marsh taught me how to survive, but it didn’t teach me everything.”
When her head is turned by two young men from town, the kindly Tate (Taylor John Smith) and chauvinistic football star Chase (Harris Dickinson), she enters an unfamiliar world. Regarded with suspicion, laughed at and harassed, her life takes a dire turn when Chase turns up dead. Charged with murder and facing the death penalty, Kya must draw on all her experience to endure.
“In spite of everything trying to stomp it out,” she says, “life persists. Where out yonder, where the crawdads sing, the marsh knows one thing above all else; every creature does what it must to survive.”
“Where the Crawdads Sing” is a lot of things. It’s a love triangle, a murder mystery, a story of overcoming the odds and yet, none of it really sticks. What could have been a steamy Southern Gothic, ripe with sex and death, is, instead a sleepily paced melodrama that doesn’t deliver on the premise of female empowerment promised by the film’s intriguing lead character.
Kya could have been an electric, autodidactic character, persevering against overwhelming odds—abuse, heartbreak and abandonment—to blossom spiritually. Edgar-Jones conveys some of that through her wide-eyed performance, and her intelligence is obvious, but the resilience needed for Kya to survive and thrive is lacking.
Without a galvanizing lead character, the heart and soul of “Where the Crawdads Sing” is lost, leaving behind warmed over intrigue and melodrama.
In the movies The Kingsmen are a secret spy organization whose members have manners that would make Henry Higgins proud and gadgets that James Bond would envy. They’ve been the subject of two movies, “Kingsman: The Secret Service” and “Kingsman: The Golden Circle,” and now, three movies into director Matthew Vaughn’s spy franchise comes an origin story that takes us back to the early part of the 20th century and the confusing beginnings of these modern-day knights.
“The King’s Man,” now playing in theatres, begins with a tragedy that makes the wealthy and powerful Duke of Oxford (Ralph Fiennes) reject the Colonialism and violence that is the bedrock of his family’s fortune. He questions why he was killing people who were trying to protect their own land. “With every man I killed,” he said, “I killed a piece of myself.”
Meanwhile, as World War I approaches, an assembly of the world’s most despicable tyrants and villains, working for an evil mastermind with plans for world domination, are hatching a plan that could lead to genocide.
With the lives of millions at stake, and his son Conrad (Harris Dickinson) off to war, the Duke realizes he can’t rely on politicians to do the right thing. In an effort to save the world, he abandons his pacifist ways. With the help of his most trusted colleagues, swordsman Shola (Djimon Hounsou) and sharp shooter Polly (Gemma Arterton), he goes into the fray and sews the seeds for the formation of The Kingsmen, an organization that uses violence to attain peace.
The first two Kingsmen movies were overstuffed, but had a certain lightness of touch. Unfortunately, “The King’s Man” lands with a thud. A mix of fact (well, almost true stuff) and fiction—real life characters like Rasputin, the mad Russian monk (Rhys Ifans) are woven into the fanciful story—the movie is all over the place. It’s a spy story, a tale of duty, a slapstick comedy, an action film, a fractured fairy tale of world events.
Some of the action scenes are quite fun and Ifans eats so much scenery it feels like he’ll never go hungry again, but the story takes far too long to get going.
“The King’s Man” feels as though it is splintering off in all directions, like it’s three movies spliced-and-diced into one, bloated, messy sequel-ready story.
It’s rare to see a “Part II” on an arthouse flick title, but here we are. “The Souvenir Part II,” starring the mother and daughter duo of Tilda Swinton and Honor Swinton Byrne, and now playing in theatres, picks up where 2019’s “The Souvenir’s” coming of age story left off.
In that movie, film student Julie (Byrne) falls into a life-changing relationship with an older, arrogant man named Anthony. His death from a heroin overdose sends her reeling.
The new film sees Julie attempt to process Anthony’s death by making a graduation movie as a “memorial” for her late partner. As the project moves forward, it’s apparent Julie, who didn’t know Anthony was a heroin addict, is struggling to make sense of his loss. From the beginning her idea is met with bewilderment by her professors who don’t like the script and her producing partner (Jaygann Ayeh) who grows frustrated with her choice in actors.
“The Souvenir Part II” is a quiet, meticulous film about how artists mine personal experience to create art, to find a voice. Swinton Byrne’s Julie develop into a filmmaker, an artist and person who creates her own path. It is a lovely, delicate-but-steely, natural performance that digs deep into Julie’s maturity, personal and professional. It’s a pleasure to see Swinton and Swinton Byrne interact as mother and daughter in the film. There’s an authenticity to those scenes that feels like a warm hug.
“The Souvenir Part II” is based, in part, on director Joanna Hogg’s experience, and drips with complex ideas and emotions. As Julie heals herself, the film hauntingly has one eye on her past while the other looks to her future.
The filmmaking is more about mood than straightforward storytelling. It’s as if Hogg had a question from Julie’s film school classmate Patrick (Richard Ayoade) ringing in her head as she made the film. “Did you avoid the temptation to be obvious?” he asks. She did, and the movie is better and more challenging for it.
