Romance and ‘roid rage collide in “Love Lies Bleeding,” a pulpy new romp starring Kristen Stewart, now playing in theatres.
Set in 1989, Stewart is Lou, a loner who works at Crater Gym, a rundown fitness center owned by her estranged father Lou Sr (Ede Harris). When she isn’t fixing plugged toilets at the gym, she listens to How to Quit Smoking cassette tapes while inhaling deeply on cigarettes and helps her sister (Jena Malone) and abusive brother-in-law JJ (Dave Franco) look after their kids.
When ambitious bodybuilding drifter Jackie (Katy O’Brian) blows into town, on a quick pitstop on her way to a Vegas bodybuilding competition, she falls hard for Lou. But will a sudden, violent chain of events get in the way of their love and bodybuilding glory?
“Love Lies Bleeding” is a squirmy, no-holds-barred hybrid of crime thriller, family drama, psychological study and LGBTQ2S+ romance. Director Rose Glass entertainingly juggles the various elements, and isn’t afraid to shock and amuse the audience with audacious breaks from reality. No spoilers here, but the visualization of the protective power of love is eye-popping, funny and, if you are willing to take an artistic leap, really effective.
Stewart is a brooding character whose actions are governed by new love and some old habits (again, no spoilers here). She’s a jumble of rough edges, but underneath her sneering facade is a warm, beating heart, open to those brave enough to get close. As the situation around her spins out of control, old instincts arise, and Lou morphs from taciturn gym worker to a dynamo fueled by anger and lust.
O’Brian plays Jackie as a fit and toned archetype, a drifter with a past and maybe not much of a future. Glass cleverly uses the traits of Jackie’s bodybuilding—the bulging muscles, popping veins shot in extreme close-ups—as a metaphor for the rage that bubbles just underneath her carefully sculpted physique.
The chemistry between them lies at the heart of the success of the film and yet, Anna Baryshnikov (dancer Mikhail’s daughter) as the messy Daisy manages to steal every scene she appears in. As a young woman with an unrequited love for Lou, she is a catalyst for some of the film’s chaos, with a baby voice and some strange, but kinda sweet, energy that almost makes you feel bad for her. Almost, but not quite.
“Love Lies Bleeding” is a bloody and brutal twist on the neo noir that harkens back to films like “Wild at Heart” and early Coen bros. It comes equipped with a scruffy looking Ed Harris, some shocking violence, but also an attitude. It is a wild and occasionally thrilling ride that plays into old crime story tropes with fresh and fun execution.
What the new remake of Daphne du Maurier’s “Rebecca,” starring Lily James, Armie Hammer and Kristin Scott Thomas and now streaming on Netflix, lacks in gothic thrills it makes up for in eye candy.
Taking over as handsome widower Maxim de Winter, the role Laurence Olivier made famous in Alfred Hitchcock’s Oscar winning 1940 film, is Armie Hammer. Max is a charmer, a trust fund aristocrat with a beautiful estate, called Manderley, and a dead wife, named Rebecca.
On vacation in Monte Carlo a young woman (Lily James) catches his eye when she is refused service on the balcony of a fancy hotel restaurant. She is not a guest, she’s told, but an employee of a guest and therefore must eat elsewhere, anywhere but among the wealthy tourists enjoying their canapes and champagne. He invites her to join him and a whirlwind romance ensues. When her boss decides it’s time to travel to New York for debutant season, Max asks her to stay with a marriage proposal.
They move to Manderley, his family home on the windswept English coast. The sprawling home has been in his family for generations and is so grandly appointed it makes Downton Abbey look like an outhouse. At Manderlay the romance, which blossomed quickly, fades as the specter of Rebecca, the late lady of the estate, hangs heavy over the house and on Max’s mind.
Keeping Rebecca alive in heart and in mind is Mrs. Danvers (Kristin Scott Thomas), Manderley’s baleful housekeeper. She is not impressed by Max’s naïve new bride who she thinks is trying to take Rebecca’s place.
Cue the dirty tricks, withering glances and gothic tomfoolery.
“Rebecca,” directed by Ben Wheatley, is undeniably beautiful looking. From its good-looking stars to the sumptuous production design is by Sarah Greenwood, it will make your eyeballs dance. The set decoration at Manderley alone is “Architectural Digest: Baroque Edition” worthy, but this is a movie that wants to appeal to more than just your eye and that’s where it disappoints.
The bones of the story seem perfect for a 2020 revisit. du Maurier’s exploration of the power imbalance between a wealthy man and a woman who must fight to find her own sovereignty is timely but undone by a story that never takes hold.
Hammer’s take on Max misses the essential coldness of the character. He’s short tempered, snippy and brusque but the icy core necessary to freeze out the new Mrs. de Winter is missing. Without that character element his reactions to events don’t bring the friction needed to engage the audience. At the pivotal ballroom scene, where the new bride is (MILD SPOILER ALERT) tricked into making a serious error in judgement, Max seems irked, pouty but the wound that is unintentionally opened doesn’t seem particularly deep. If Max doesn’t care that much, why should we?
From that moment on Wheatley drifts through the story with none of his patented risk taking—think his daring adaptation of J.G. Ballard’s “High-Rise” or his edge-of-your-seat “Kill List”—relying Clint Mansell’s score to provide the emotional highs and lows.
Like the story’s female protagonist the new version of “Rebecca” is haunted, this time by the ghosts of the story’s previous incarnations.
We first meet the title characters, Angela “Queen” Johnson (Jodie Turner-Smith) and Ernest “Slim” Hinds (Daniel Kaluuya) as they are strangers, passing time on a first, awkward date at a Cincinnati diner. “So what’s gonna happen tonight?” asks Slim. “I thought we could hang out and get to know one another.” Then fate intervenes, Tinder may have brought them together but circumstance binds them together forever when Slim gets pulled over for “failure to execute a turn signal and swerving a little bit.”
The situation quickly spirals out of control.
Slim presses the aggressive cop to hurry it up while Queen, an attorney, questions the officer’s motives in searching the car. As the police officer’s dashcam rolls, there are harsh words, a skirmish, a misfire and soon the cop lies dead.
“You are a Black man who shot a cop and took his gun,” she says.
“But I’m not a criminal,” he replies.
“You are now. If you turn yourself in you will never see your family again. We have to move forward.”
Panicked, they flee, heading for New Orleans home of Queen’s shady Uncle Earl (Bokeem Woodbine). By the time they make it out of state a video of the accidental shooting has gone viral and their photos are splashed all over the papers.
The press paints them as “lovers”—even though they have just met—on cross country crime spree but public opinion is mixed. An African-American mechanic (Gralen Bryant Banks) they meet on the journey says, “You gave them a reason to kill us,” while his young son (Jahi Di’Allo Winston) sees them as folk heroes who stood up to authority. “If you don’t make it,” he says, “that’s OK. You’ll be immortal.”
They plan on making a run to freedom in Cuba. First, they have to avoid the police as they weave and wind their way to Florida’s coast.
Written by Lena Waithe and showcasing the style of director Melina Matsoukas in her feature debut, “Queen & Slim” takes a story with echoes of “Thelma and Louise” or “Bonnie and Clyde” and updates it, presenting the couple on the run tale from an African-American perspective. Angela is a lawyer whose first-hand view of the abuses of the justice system has made her a realist. It is her experience that self-defense will never fly solely based on the colour of their skin and it is her who sets the action in motion. The story of police brutality swaps the frequent narrative, presenting the story of two people who refuse to be oppressed by standing up to authority. There will be no spoilers here but know that “Queen & Slim” isn’t a manifesto, it’s a personal story about how quickly lives, ripe with possibility and promise, can be changed forever.
With terrific performances “Queen & Slim” transcends the outlaws-on-the-lam genre. Instead it is a timely humanistic drama that combines resilience with despair.
