This Is So Metaphorical

Josiah | 21 | I love movies and music

[josiahwrites]

Album Review: “Notes on a Conditional Form” by The 1975

Matty Healy is an asshole.

He's constantly juxtaposing and contradicting himself, always on the verge of being completely earnest but then pulling a veil over himself. He lets you in only as much as he wants, then revels in insecurity. Matty Healy is an asshole but he's so unmistakably human, so entrapped in a myriad of feelings, thoughts, and attitudes that it's fairly evident to trace these musings in his music. As the frontman to The 1975, a band that has won me over in recent memory, he's had his fair share of controversies, public outings, and self-deprecating tweets. These characteristics have crossed over into the context of their music since the very beginning; Healy's bravado is as much "an apocalyptic sense of being" as his addiction recovery was assisted by David Foster Wallace ramblings. And yet, somehow, against all odds, The 1975 envelop their innermost contradictions and chaotic revelries and tune them into projects that embody the very state of humanity as we know it today.

Notes on a Conditional Form, the band's fourth album, is a mess; a meandering, unfocused, chaotic mess that has very little cohesiveness between its 22-track run. You find yourself moshing to a crazed, neo-punk outing that declares our inevitable doom to swooning over unrequited love, to suspending all disbelief through the glitchiness of UK garage. None of it should make sense, but it does. The muddled and bloated track listing makes for some frustrating yet fascinating listening; this is an album that simply doesn't give a fuck and exists in a tier unto itself. To compare the album to 2018's A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships is futile and, frankly, pointless: the albums are similar and they're not; one cuts to the bone and another confuses profundity with cleverness. Notes plays like a collection of ideas that were thrown on the wall to see what stuck but in the case of postmodern bemusing, the things that stuck together are endlessly riveting. "Yeah I Know" is a techno downbeat glitch-fest that shows a completely different side of the band, and pays homage to UK acts like Burial and (none other than) Radiohead post-OK Computer. "Nothing Revealed / Everything Denied" is an uplifting cry for help against the indulgences and idiocies of contemporary fame; this record's "Sincerity Is Scary." And of course, who could forget "Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy)," with its Temptations sample and grooviness to supple its lyrical bleakness. Only a band like The 1975 could get away with cut after cut of genre-bending, multifaceted elocutions. And they do, they really do.

I will say that I was rather perplexed on my first listen; I had no idea what the hell I just listened to. Was it alternative? Indie? Shoegaze? Ambient? Rather than provide answers to these questions, the album actively defies itself and categorization, welcoming a slot in The 1975's discography that stands as their most assured and frenzied collection of tunes. The album comes at a time when the world is in more peril than when Greta Thunberg's proclamations of civil disobedience were first announced. Despite this, Notes on a Conditional Form does not succumb to the weight of destruction or expectation. Rather, it merely coexists amongst itself, much as we do in our bedrooms when the outside world has been deemed a danger. The only difference is, Notes offers a glimpse into a future--not entirely hopeful and not entirely hopeless, but a future nonetheless.

Favorite tracks: People, What Should I Say, Bagsy Not In Net, Frail State of Mind, If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know)

8.3/10

Best New Album

[youlooklikearealbabetoday]

“Rather than water being important in itself, water flows from top to bottom. I think that’s the tragic and sad element in this film. Water always flows from the rich to the poor, it never flows the other way.” –Bong Joon-ho

Parasite | 기생충 (2019)

[thomasbarrowscigarette]

directed by: Quentin Tarantino

[beatchya]

[mariah-do-not-care-y]

Claudia Cardinale and Marcello Mastroianni in "8½" (1963), Dir. Federico Fellini

[timotaychalamet]

Happy Together (1997) dir. Wong Kar Wai

[cinemove]

Chungking Express (1994) dir. Wong Kar Wai

[madeline-kahn]

“We are alone. No matter what they tell you, we women are always alone.”

Roma (2018) dir. Alfonso Cuarón

[josiahwrites]

The Favourite (2018), dir. Yorgos Lanthimos

“It is fun to be queen sometimes.”

Yorgos Lanthimos is the very definition of chaotic good. His films are disturbing, shockingly violent, outrageously humorous and eerily allegorical to ongoing political and socioeconomic turmoil. His most recent film, The Favourite, is no exception.

The Favourite tells the tale of Queen Anne, the early 18th century monarch of England at a time ravaged by war, and her wavering relationships between Lady Sarah and Abigail as they fight to win over her affection and favor.

I remember reading a quote from someone that said Lanthimos’ films are very akin to a horrific car accident: “you can’t avert your eyes from it.” While The Favourite is surely no exception, it differs from the rest of Lanthimos’ filmography in that, while there is still a sense of outrageousness and frivolous absurdity, there is an obvious metaphor at the core of the story.

The film is about power, specificially amongst women during a period in history known for the achievements of men. Lady Sarah (Rachel Weisz) acts as the queen’s consultant and closest friend, a relationship that is put into trial when Abigail (Emma Stone), a young woman whose family has fallen on hard times, attempts to work her way up the political ladder. The entire duration of the film shows these women manipulating, deceiving, and brutally brawling with each other to win the affections of the queen but they both have different reasons for it. Abigail, who is rebuilding herself after being gambled away by her father, wants to be on top because she understands what it’s like to have nothing. Lady Sarah wants to maintain her loving relationship with the queen, but also wants to continue to play with the big dogs in the court.

The film cleverly outlines how out-of-the-loop the queen was in terms of the ongoing politics of the country. “The war is over. We won,” she contends to Lady Sarah after awarding her her own palace. “Oh, but it is not over. We must continue,” Sarah responds with a sense of determination. “Oh. Oh, I did not know that.” And the film follows through with this on just about every issue. It’s certainly not entirely the queen’s fault, however. She was ailing with physical and emotional pain, and was known to be despondent and unstable. Olivia Colman’s portrayal of the decrepitude queen is masterfully commanding and darkly comedic; she perfectly captures the spirit and troubled soul of Anne. The two contending women, Sarah and Abigail, are portrayed by their respective actresses in a hilarious and horrifying way. We lose ourselves in their battle of the wits and not once does the film ever stop to justify their actions as having the best intentions. Nor does it ever try to paint them in glorified canvas. These are simply terrible, power-hungry people who will stop at no means to obtain or maintain their statuses. This is achieved by the excellent screenplay.

Any film that uses the word “cuntstruck” is already a near-perfect extravagance in my book. This is perhaps the most finely-tuned script that Lanthimos has adapted into film; it is also the first that he did not have a hand in writing (Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara are to blame for this slanderous entertainment). But, I think his attention and pertinence to a story he did not write pays off incredibly well because the end result is a film so ravished by opulent savagery and decadent deliciousness that it is endlessly fun and shocking at every turn.

Another thing that I found interesting was the direction. Yorgo Lanthimos has never really experimented with the camera on his previous films; sure, he’s done a lot with negative space in his shots and the drab, neutral coloring of the cinematography has always worked in his favor. Here, he gives us a glimpse of a classical time through the eyes of the beholder. 

The use of fish-eye lenses in certain shots are jarring and grab your attention, and they do so to show us just how overtly glamorous everything is. The immensity of the palace is compressed into this tight, claustrophobic space within the lens as a sort-of metaphor for how the excessive extravagance substitutes the vacancies at the core of the royalty. Love is not truly felt, but the allure of power is.

The Favourite is easily Lanthimos’ best film to date. It is hilarious, gorgeous, and disturbingly exhilarating. Every turn is unknown and unpredictable in a way that only Lanthimos can fully capture. And, as much as I hate to bring the aura of this film into the 21st century, I found it eerily prescient to today’s politics, what with the leader of the country not really leading it. But, let’s not get too cynical.

The Favourite will surely be a favo(u)rite by many and rightfully so. I am absolutely cuntstruck.

(I’m sorry. I had to.)

9.6/10

[josiahwrites]

Roma (2018), dir. Alfonso Cuarón

“Memory’s not perfect. It’s not even that good. [...] Memory can change the shape of a room. It can change the color of a car and memories can be distorted. They’re just an interpretation. They’re not a record.” - Leonard Shelby, Memento (2000)

No matter how we interpret our memories, we know that they are an essential part of our lives. Hell, they pretty much are our lives. Every fleeting moment is documented and stored in the brain, and although the memory gradually deteriorates and fades over time, it is still there; every detail, every sense. The memory may not be exactly what happened, or it may not have happened at all, but it is nonetheless a gateway into the humanity of humankind. And Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma is a testament to memory.

Roma chronicles a year in the life of Cleo, a housekeeper who tends to the home of a middle-class family whilst handling her own personal life in 1970′s Mexico. 

Let me just start off by saying that no film this year has left me more speechless, more emotionally overwhelmed, more transfixed by its mesmerizing beauty and powerful imagery than Cuarón’s Roma. A film that is thoroughly permeated by passion, Roma is a soaring masterpiece of epic proportions that is rooted in the power of memory. Every shot, every take, every camera pan is so meticulously arranged and framed so that the full macrocosm of life can be seen through Cleo’s eyes. We watch as she washes dishes, cleans bedrooms, picks up the family dog’s offerings, goes out to the movies were her friends, lives her simple but humble life, all with such a tender examination of her character and personality that we begin to connect with Cleo, perhaps because we remember someone similar in our lives, whether living or since passed. Cleo’s interactions with the family she cares for are all fascinating to watch because they are exact scenes from a life. We see the good, the bad, the humorous, the painful, the poignant, and the heartbreaking, all within the realm of Cleo’s life. 

As the film progresses, Cuarón begins to install elements of planting-and-paying-off within his screenplay that only become apparent during the film’s monumental climax. I won’t go into too much detail, but I will mention that Cuarón excellently interwove Mexican history into the central story of the film; it’s done so in a way that does not display overt sentimentality but rather drives the narrative, and it is effortlessly compelling and immensely powerful. 

We see with our eyes and the film certainly is a visual feat. The cinematography, as can be seen via the film’s poster and trailer, is entirely in black and white. Given the dream-like remembrance that structures the emotional impact of the film, the monochromatic cinematography evokes the notion of witnessing the past unfurl before your eyes. Some shots look like photographs coming to life in the best imaginable way. And, as if as a visual homage to his previous works, Cuarón evokes imagery similar to some of his most famous works (i.e. a trip to the beach is reminiscent of Y Tu Mamá También’s final act; the imagery of a film seen by Cleo is evocative of 2013′s Gravity). It may seem like all of this is just a self-congratulatory hoax that is fueled by ego, but I assure you, Roma is simply an exceptional film created from the imagination of an exemplary filmmaker who is constantly outdoing himself. 

The sound design is noticeably exquisite, most notably in scenes that are set in the outdoors. From the crashing waves of the ocean to the minuscule chirping of insects, the sound is also integral to the story as it continues to enthrall and invite us into Cleo’s world as it stretches out before her. Every element of sensory information is impeccably designed and crafts the ultimate film experience. 

Although it’s coming to Netflix on December 14 (this Friday), I will urge everyone who is interested in this film to see it in a theater. Cuarón’s distribution partnership with Netflix was done so that the film could reach a larger audience, but the film is designed to be fully experienced within a theater. It’s just too damn good to watch on your phone. 

Now, as we delve into awards season, Roma will surely be on the lips of the Academy voters. The film has already received three Golden Globe nominations (none for Best Motion Picture - Drama, unfortunately) from the Hollywood Foreign Press Association and won big at the LA Film Critics Awards this past weekend. And although I still have a lot to catch up on for this year, I cannot see any other film having a profound impact on me as much as this. 

Well, it seems I’ve run out of synonyms for perfect, so I’ll just say it. Roma is absolutely perfect. It is cinema in its highest and purest form, a masterful culmination of memory and a testament to waking life. Who knew that, even if memory isn’t perfect, it can lead to perfect creations?

10/10

[josiahwrites]

Beautiful Boy (2018), dir. Felix van Groeningen

Portraying addiction in films is tricky. Do you depict the raw, excruciating pain of the individual at the risk of alienating the audience, or do you dilute it to a formidable enough display of emotion at the risk of misrepresenting the disease? With Beautiful Boy, the choice is painfully obvious.

Beautiful Boy, directed by Belgian filmmaker Felix van Groeningen, deals with the estranged relationship between David Sheff and his son, Nicolas, who is addicted to drugs.

The film is adapted from the memoirs of both David and Nicolas Sheff; both wrote their own based on their experiences on both ends of the drug addiction spectrum, the film’s title stemming from David’s memoir entitled Beautiful Boy: A Father’s Journey Through His Son’s Addiction. Based on that, the film almost entirely overshadows any depth to Nicolas, and by that extension, the disease itself, to make way for David and his arc from completely oblivious father to nonsensically overbearing. And perhaps that's not how David Sheff or his journey were in real life, but that’s what it comes across as in the film. 

David Sheff, portrayed by Steve Carrell, is a wreck. He is devastated by the sudden realization that his son is addicted to crystal meth after a transient fugue state lands him in yet another session of rehab. All the while this is happening, the film establishes this whole debaucle as having happened before but the characters say the exact opposite, creating a confusion that never subsided throughout my screening. It doesn’t help that the film glosses over any nuance or understanding to why Nicolas is addicted to drug and instead focuses on David being two steps behind him along the path of repeating self-destruction. We watch as Nicolas hits rock bottom, attends rehab, gets better, hits rock bottom again, attends rehab again, gets “better” again and so on and so forth. There is seemingly no resolution other than the realization that David Sheff’s “beautiful boy” is a complete stranger to him.

Nicolas Sheff is portrayed by Timotheé Chalamet whom I’ve been a huge fan of since he wowed me in Call Me by Your Name and Miss Stevens, the former of which garnered him his first Academy Award nomination at the age of 22. While he shares a subtlety in those films that distinguishes him from the rest of the cast, he seems dazed and confused in a role that doesn't seem right for him. He gives it his all, no doubt, in scenes where his acting abilities shine through in spades, but he never convincingly portrayed addiction in a way that seemed his own. It felt more like a pastiche of more stellar performances, and better movies for that matter, viewed through the sentimental viewpoint of familial disparity. If this is supposed to be Nicolas’ story, then why does it feels so contrived, unfocused, and lazily compacted? And why is he not at the center of it?

The film cuts back and forth between David and Nicolas, each with their own struggles as the addiction worsens. David, divorced and remarried with two children, tries to maintain his family while chasing after his firstborn son through the streets of San Francisco and learning as much as he can about crystal meth to be one step ahead. Nicolas rises and falls throughout the runtime, trying every drug under the sun to escape...something. We never really know what exactly because, as I mentioned before, there’s never any real explanation or depth to Nic. We instead get painful flashbacks and vignettes of younger Nic, ranging from about six-years-old to twelve-year-old and mostly recalled by David, that seem to be a manifestation of his guilt and devastation. They do nothing more than distance the audience from the Nic that became addicted to drugs and offers no bridge between the gaps of what exactly happened to catalyze his addiction. 

In hindsight, this film seems more like an after-school special than a profound examination of addiction. Carrell and Chalamet are fine in a film that restricts their dramatic talents, quite contrarily given the subject matter. However, the editing and directing for some scenes are a major turn-off and turn what should be an emotional and poignant scene into a clumsy and clunky disarray. The film is a mess, plain and simple.

5.4/10

[josiahwrites]

Mid90s (2018), dir. Jonah Hill

Oh, to be young and full of mischief again. 

But not really.

Jonah Hill’s directorial debut is an odd one. Mid90s tries to be a lot of things: a coming-of-age story; a visual nod to skateboarding culture; a nostalgic reminiscence of the good and bad of the 1990s. The aspect ratio of 4:1 itself offers a visually nostalgic view from the best of times and the worst of times. While it excels on providing an outlet for skateboarding as a sport and culture, the film does not quite succeed on being anything else.

Mid90s follows Stevie, a young prepubescent boy whose turbulent home life drives him to the streets where he befriends a group of skaters in their self-run skateboard shop. The premise is simple and inviting, and we as an audience take an immediate liking to Stevie and his insecurity. He never feels like he really belongs anywhere and that sense of perpetual limbo can be seen in the subtle nuances of Sunny Suljik’s performance. We see him trying to adopt the hobbies (lifting weights, listening to hip-hop CDs, playing video games) of his older, stoic brother, played by a rising Lucas Hedges. We see him trying to make sense of his mother, whose single life is made apparent by her transient dalliances with men. We see him trying to identify with the people around him but he simply cannot grasp onto anyone or anything. Not until he meets a group of older skater boys from the margins of society that take him under their wing. 

The skateboarding is filmed thrillingly. It is so exciting to watch these kids do what they unabashedly and unashamedly love, and that same level of passion is implemented in Hill’s direction. There are shots and scenes, particularly when they are skating down the center of the busy street, that are breathtakingly gorgeous. That being said, this is what the film nails. The rest, not so much.

Jonah Hill sacrifices depth for shock value, or at least it seems that way. I’m gonna talk about specifics, so spoiler alert.

Read at your own risk. 

Anyway.

I found it extremely unnerving and difficult to believe that a teenage girl would attempt to deflower a young boy, who is under the influence of drugs and alcohol, at a party. The scene shocked me and for all the wrong reasons, and I think it says a lot when a packed theater cheers on the young protagonist’s first sexual experience. Objectively, it shouldn’t have bothered me. But I feel like it came out of nowhere. The teenage girl and Stevie have really no common interest aside from being at the same party at the same time, and before their conversation even truly begins, she leads him into a bedroom and begins to take off his clothes. Yikes.

Speaking of debauchery, the car accident scene, caused by Fuckshit’s drunk driving, was cut away before there could’ve been any emotional impact, therefore leaving the audience with no real takeaway from it. We see a close-up of Fourth Grade’s face as the sound of screeching tires prefaces the wreckage that we’re about to witness, but then it just cuts to black and fades back in after it happened. For a film all about making bold statements, you would think Hill wouldn’t be afraid of depicting a car accident after, oh I don’t know, a young boy raves about having someone’s hands “all over his dick.” But, I digress.

One final note I’d like to address is how unfinished the characters feel. While they all stand for something, the film only offers exposition into their lives and never really gives us more. Ray’s monologue about his estranged relationship with Fuckshit is perhaps the most human moment of the film because Ray feels the most realized. Everyone else: Stevie’s mother, Ian (his brother), Ruben, Fourth Grade, and Fuckshit himself, feels sort of half-baked. And this lead to me feeling detached from the film. I never felt like these were real people. 

It’s things like this that prevented me from fully enjoying and experiencing this film. But this is a promising start for Jonah Hill as a feature film director, and I’m excited to see where this leads for him. 

Maybe I’m too critical or maybe I’m too cynical, but Mid90s disappointed me for the most part. It’s main strengths stem, like I said, from its careful and impassioned attention to the minutiae of skateboarding, but I feel like it didn't balance the rest of its subgenres that well.

Despite it being an auspicious directorial debut, Mid90s really has nothing new to offer aside from a fresh look at the world of skateboarding. 

6.3/10

[josiahwrites]

Support the Girls (2018), Andrew Bujalski

I hate working in the food industry. Maybe “hate” is too strong a word for me, but I don’t find myself springing with joy whenever I have to clock in. The hours aren’t great and the pay isn’t much, but hey, if it pays then who am I to complain?

Since my personal distaste for this industry has been established, let’s talk about Andrew Bujalski’s Support the Girls.

Support the Girls follows a day in the life of Lisa, general manager of a “sports bar with curves,” as she deals with the ins-and-outs of the restaurant along with her personal dilemmas. That’s it; just 80+ minutes of life.

Right off the bat, the film seemed so authentic and... different. It didn’t shy away from showing the industrialized nothingness of urbanized Texas where the film takes place. It doesn’t try to sugarcoat the drab and gray skies. It presents the birds flying in the sky as having more freedom than the city, and its inhabitants, itself. Bujalski shows us the dull and dry atmosphere of the world and takes us to the heart of the film, a small sports bar called Double Whammies, where it is anything but dull and dry. The restaurant is full of colorful characters, a majority of which are employees and faithful customers. 

The authenticity is matched in the performances and filmmaking. It’s as if Bujalski just let the actors do their thing, no script or prior engagement; the performances are that honest. You don’t feel like you’re watching an outlandish and over-the-top Regina Hall performance; you feel like you’re watching Lisa as she tries to diffuse situations and overcome obstacles throughout the day, one after the other, with an emotional impact that is subtle but wholeheartedly engaging to the audience. You don’t feel like you’re watching a staged pastiche of melodrama; you feel like you’re peering into the quotidian lives of people that could very well be your neighbor.  These are actual people, not just personages. It’s as if we’re dropped in the middle of an unfolding scenario and we just watch these people live their chaotic lives. 

One of the most compelling aspects of the film is the lens from which we view these characters: although they are within the confines of an objective and oftentimes offensive workplace, the film never objectifies them or shames them for their career choices and actions. Nor does it ever become a sympathetic, sensational centerpiece on how the other half lives. The film maintains a simple, unadulterated viewpoint that drives home its authenticity, and it paves the way for raw, natural drama. 

Given how microcosmic Support the Girls feels in scope and location, it is really a monumental film. It is thoughtful and quite heartwarming but it also has its moments of pensive workplace commentary that holds relevance in the #MeToo era. More important than that, the film is, well, funny. It’s marketed as a comedy and it delivers on the laughs, albeit not without heart. For all its themes, Support the Girls is tenfold in its excellence and should not be missed. 

7.9/10

[josiahwrites]

The Blair Witch Project (1999), dir. Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez

“I’m afraid to close my eyes...I’m afraid to close them...We’re gonna die out here.”

Let’s go back to 1999. It’s the turn of the century, the beginning of a new millennium. Technology is rapidly advancing and integrating itself into our daily lives. And it’s with this technology that films are beginning to develop more and more state-of-the-art visual effects and camera equipment and, in turn, creating some technological achievements that are still being hailed to this day. So, imagine the surprise when a low-budget, documentary style film dominated by box office by roughly 4133 times than what it cost to make without any of the aforementioned gadgetry and innovations. And, imagine the surprise when this film singlehandedly kickstarted a pop culture phenomenon that would be replicated, parodied, spoofed, and reimagined till kingdom come. 

That is the legacy of The Blair Witch Project.

The Blair Witch Project tells the story of a trio of collegiate filmmakers who went missing in the Maryland woods while trying to document the curse of the Blair Witch, a terrifying folktale that involves witchcraft, murder, and really creepy symbolism. 

The film starts off on a positive, even fun, note. These students are entertaining, excited, ambitious. They interview the local townspeople about the curse; they try out new film equipment; they drink and celebrate their successes. They can’t wait to see where the story of the Blair Witch takes them.  It’s this level of naivety among the trio, however, coupled with the information that they go missing, that casts a sense of dread and despair throughout the film, especially once they begin their trek by delving deep into the woods. 

As their journey begins, the trio stumble upon a series of ritualistic iconographies, most notably the branches tied together in the form of (what looks like) a stick figure. Once they encounter these things, the trio begin to experience supernatural occurrences, and little by little, their friendly dynamic begins to deteriorate as they go deeper and deeper into the fateful woods until all hell, literally, breaks loose.

I couldn’t contain myself while I was watching this. I wanted to shout at the characters, turn them away from their journey, do anything that could’ve prevented them from getting lost. I was so engrossed by the film that I totally forgot that it was just a film. It wasn't an actual documentary; it was just a marketing tactic that, well, worked. And it’s because the tactic of presenting the film as a found footage documentary that it resonated with me. If it weren’t a “documentary,” if it were just a traditional, run-of-the-mill anti-camping propagandist scheme, then the film would not have had the success it did. Nor would it have paved the way for similar films to leave similar impacts on viewers. 

There’s something about the psychology of believing something to be real that makes it feel all the more terrifying. And The Blair Witch Project utilizes and manipulates that tenfold. The film is downright nerve-wracking, spine-tingling, gut-wrenchingly horrifying, made all the more intense because the film doesn’t bother to answer any questions. It presents the situation as it was and leaves us with no real resolution. The final scene is so shocking and depressing because, although there are no real answers, the audience can infer what happened to our heroes. And that’s all the audience really can do: infer. What can we make of this horrific situation with the information that we were given?

If I’ve yet to comment on how the overall film is, let me just say that it’s truly great. You follow the crew as they hopelessly try to make their way out of the woods. You witness their frustration and foul-mouthed slanders towards each other. You watch as their spirits are broken and their lives are jeopardized. You squeam as you hear their blood-curdling screams that were birthed from pure terror. 

This is not a film; it’s an experience. 

8.5/10

[josiahwrites]

Update 10/19/18

Hey everyone!

I apologize for not having published any reviews as of lately. I’ve just been swamped with work and school, and I haven’t been able to make time to watch any films.

However, I plan on seeing First Man and the new remake of Halloween, as well as other classic films, so I promise I’ll be back on my feet to publish consistent material.

Thank you all!

[josiahwrites]

A Star Is Born (2018), dir. Bradley Cooper

This is my first review for something non-related to horror, and it’s only fitting that it’s for one of the celebrated American dramas not only of the year, but since the early 20th century.

The 2018 remake of A Star Is Born is directed by Bradley Cooper, marking not only his directorial debut, but the first film to have him star in front of and behind the camera. Although I haven’t seen any of the preceding versions of this film, the central story remains the same: a washed-up singer/songwriter falls in love with an aspiring singer. Not much seems different from the concept of the other films, but the execution and commentaries on celebrity image and substance abuse are what cement this film as its own standalone force to be reckoned with.

A Star Is Born is a monumental showcase of musical and acting talent, and a devastating portrait at the cost of fame. Lady Gaga, who plays up-and-coming singer Ally, is exquisite. Her vocals fill the theater with their authenticity and emotional depth, and her acting is astounding. Bradley Cooper’s direction is just as carefully constructed as his acting, and he really delves into the psyche of Jackson Maine, a has-been whose substance abuse has taken numerous perilous tolls on his talent. The two are spellbinding together and share some of the most captivating and emotional scenes in the film. Everything feels so fresh and authentically 21st century, from the SNL performance to the splendor of the Grammys, that it’s easy to forget that this is an adapted story done twice already.

The music is also a fascinating aspect of the film. The concert scenes are mixed and edited so well that it sonically resembles the notion and excitement of actually being there, witnessing the screams of the fans over the booming notes of the songs. Of course, “Shallow” is a frontrunner for the original song that everyone will sing and cherish for years to come, but other cuts like “Maybe It’s Time,” “Music to My Eyes,” and “I’ll Never Love Again” are bound to become instant favorites and receive recognition during awards season.

That being said, I found that something odd happens during the second act. I felt like it lost what made it so exciting to watch during the first act, like its momentum had started to wind down and instead of interesting character development and progression of the music, we get slightly melodramatic snippets of a slowly fading relationship and unfully realized social commentary on the celebrity and how public perception should not dictate who you are. I wasn’t the hugest fan of this, and found myself losing interest throughout the rising action of the second act. However, once the third act comes barreling in, I was once again reminded of why I enjoyed this to begin with.

If you see this (and you should see this), get ready for a whirlwind of emotion that hits you during the climax and falling action of this film. I will say nothing about the haunting ending but this: if Lady Gaga doesn’t get an Academy Award nomination for her performance, I will have officially lost all hope in the Academy.

This is a magical love letter to the passions of music and film, and should not be missed.

7.8/10

[josiahwrites]

Rosemary’s Baby (1968), dir. Roman Polanski

We live in an era where it’s difficult to separate the artist from the art, especially when the artist has done some deplorable actions. Roman Polanski is no exception, but I would like to objectively praise this film without commenting on his actions because this is a hell of a film. Literally. 

Rosemary’s Baby follows the story of a young woman who, after moving into a beautiful apartment and getting pregnant, begins to suspect that her future child and the circumstances surrounding its conception are not of this world.

Rosemary and Guy Woodhouse are your average young couple; 20-somethings looking to start a life together in the city. He’s an aspiring actor. She’s a housewife. They’ve got a lovely new apartment and share the goal of parenting three children. Everything seems in order, and the beginning of the rest of their life is in full motion. The two are so preoccupied in their insular worlds, so driven by their mutual yearning to become parents, that when their elderly neighbors are introduced and continually direct the couple in their decisions, it becomes increasingly suspicious, even more so when Guy, who is initially reluctant to meet them for dinner one evening, begins to willingly visit them in his spare time. It’s almost too suspicious...

I guess the underlying theme in this film is to never, under any circumstances, trust thy neighbors because they could just happen to be Satanists who want to conjure the devil into an infant for their cultist rituals. So selfish and deplorable are the actions of these characters that Rosemary’s despair is made all the more helpless and uneased; almost everyone she knows turns against her in the most horrific way. The film takes its time, however, in establishing this information because we as viewers learn this alongside Rosemary. We share her initial doubts and her growing suspicions throughout the film, and we share her horror when she realizes that her seemingly innocent neighbors and their seemingly helpful deeds were all a plot for their nefarious intents, and it makes it all the more unsettling.

I sort of mentioned my parents being haunted in a previous review, but I didn’t explain how that shaped their religious beliefs. I grew up in a very religious household and I was raised to believe in God, and while I still do believe in a higher power, I’m not as religious as I was as a child. Nonetheless, this film shook me to my very core. It completely unearthed a part of me that no film has totally done before, and that is the child in me that still clings desperately onto religion as a safeguard. 

I cannot praise this film enough. As much as I don’t want to give due credit to one of the most atrocious beings in film history, I cannot deny Polanski’s breathtaking direction. Every shot is gorgeous and meticulous, and propels the story towards its dreadful climax. It’s how Polanski captures even the most redundant of details that elevates the drama of the film, and ultimately, the horror. The dream sequences, in which Rosemary (portrayed excellently by Mia Farrow) witnesses the Satanic cult preparing her for an encounter with the devil, are filmed so precisely that the viewer feels the terror exhibited in Farrow’s widening eyes. 

The ending is the most powerful display of heartbreak and emotion I’ve yet to see in a horror film. I don’t want to spoil any more than I already have, but I got chills. CHILLS.

What else can I say? This movie is practically perfect.

10/10