Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (2023)
Director: James Gunn
Screenwriter: James Gunn
Starring: Chris Pratt, Zoe Saldaña, Bradley Cooper, Dave Bautista, Karen Gillan, Pom Klementieff, Vin Diesel, Sean Gunn, Chukwudi Iwuji, Will Poulter, Elizabeth Debicki, Maria Bakalova, Sylvester Stallone, Nathan Fillion, Linda Cardellini, Asim Chaudhry, Mikaela Hoover

How many trilogies really stick the landing?

In 2018, writer-director James Gunn was unceremoniously fired by Disney after some bad taste jokes from his early days as a comedian were unearthed on Twitter by right-wing trolls who objected to Gunn’s outspoken political views. Following a passionate campaign from fans and Gunn’s friends and colleagues, a year later he was brought back on board at Marvel to finish what he started. If you love this particular bunch of a-holes, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 is going to be an emotional one.

Scoundrel-turned-superhero Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) is in a dark place after making a mistake that doomed half the universe and lost him the love of his life, Gamora (Zoë Saldaña). The Guardians were restored following the defeat of Thanos, but a different Gamora – one who doesn’t even like Peter let alone love him – now stands in his paramour’s place. When an attack on the Guardian home base of Knowhere leaves one of their number mortally injured, the team set out on a quest that brings them into conflict with mad scientist the High Evolutionary (Chukwudi Iwuji) and causes Rocket Raccoon (Bradley Cooper) to confront his traumatic past.

What James Gunn has been hiding in plain sight up to now is that the Guardians of the Galaxy trilogy is really about Rocket above anyone else. This is his journey, one that takes him from a bad start in life to being a full and happy person with people in his life he can trust and rely upon.

Much like Gollum in The Lord of the Rings, if Rocket didn’t work as a VFX creation, then nothing else in this instalment (where he’s driving pretty much all the action) would either. Thankfully, the time-lapse transition between a terrified caged raccoon and Rocket’s older, cynically twitching nose that opens the film puts those doubts immediately to rest. Gunn’s empathy for all living things, but particularly those who have been mistreated, is what gives this story its power, and Bradley Cooper’s pitch-perfect vocal performance has the strength to make you feel all the feelings. Just as a raccoon crying over his lost tree friend made us shed tears in 2014, his relationship with his fellow abused creatures brings on the waterworks all over again here with some almost unbearably intense scenes in captivity. We don’t get to spend all that long with young Rocket’s animal experiment friends Lylla the otter (Linda Cardellini), Teefs the walrus (Asim Chaudhry) and Floor the rabbit (Mikaela Hoover), but we quickly grow to love them just as deeply he did.

This does have the feel of a victory lap, bringing everything full circle and giving everyone their time to shine. Everyone loves the literal-thinking lunk Drax (Dave Bautista) and towering tree-man Groot (Vin Diesel) but it is stoic cyborg Nebula (Karen Gillan) and eager-to-please empath Mantis (Pom Klementief), previously both pretty one-note, who end up being the undisputed highlights here. The former’s gruff and tough personality has gradually been eroded over her time with the Guardians, and the rare occasion when she lets down her guard and lets emotion overwhelm her really hits hard. The latter is the heart of the team, gets most of the funniest lines, and her unique power helps her and her friends out of a few tough spots in some unexpected ways.

Newcomers to this universe include Borat 2‘s Maria Bakalova as Cosmo the talking psychic cosmonaut dog who has an adorable film-long argument with space pirate Kraglin (Sean Gunn), Will Poulter as genetically engineered gold man-child Adam Warlock, and Chukwudi Iwuji as the High Evolutionary, arguably the most evil and irredeemable bastard in the galaxy who will mutilate, torture and thoughtlessly dispose of countless living things all in service of his delusional mission to create a “perfect society”.

The action is all very polished and exciting, and because this is the team’s last ride it all feels a lot more dangerous for our heroes somehow. A fight in a corridor in the final act might be the finest couple of minutes of action in the MCU to date – not only is it meticulously choreographed, ludicrously entertaining and set to a killer Beastie Boys track, but it lets the team work in violent harmony and gives every member of the team a chance to showcase their special abilities, each getting their own big character moment at the same time.

James Gunn has always happily leaned into the sillier visual and conceptual aspects of space opera, and rarely have such strange ideas been more convincingly brought to life as here. From a bio-formed space station seemingly made of meat to learning that the city of Knowhere (built inside the skull of a dead space god) can actually be driven to a new location, and even to a mirror image “Counter-Earth” populated by humanoids forcefully evolved from lower lifeforms, big swings are taken. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 is an epic, galaxy-spanning quest, but all this imagination vitally remains in service of a very intimate story. 

A minor criticism that could be levelled at this particular Guardians iteration is that the soundtrack isn’t as memorable or pitch-perfect as in the previous two films, with John Murphy’s (Sunshine, The Suicide Squad) original score extensively incorporating choral singing provoking a stronger reaction than the vast majority of the needle-drops. Similarly, the final act of the film, after over two hours of putting every Guardian through one life-threatening incident after another, keeps piling on the jeopardy to an almost absurd degree even when it is already fit to burst.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 brings this unlikely team’s journey to an immensely satisfying and appropriately epic conclusion. It is spectacular to look at and really funny, but it is also easily one of the darkest stories in the Marvel universe and does not pull its punches to make its pretty explicit discussion of abuse and animal testing any more palatable. We may see some of these characters again down the road, but for now it’s a fond farewell to them all, especially the acerbic Racoon who just wanted to be loved.

Score: 21/24

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Way back in 1997, Christopher Nolan released Doodlebug, a short film about a man trying to squash a bug in his cramped apartment. The director’s trademarks were already present; claustrophobia, existential dread, and a surreal twist that suggests a non-linear chronology. There’s little time for the character development or emotional depth one might expect from a feature length movie, and little need for either of them in something so well shot, thematically concise, and lasting only three minutes. But has Nolan moved on since Doodlebug? Are his later efforts really more rich and substantial, or is he merely stretching the same whacky concepts over two and a half hours?

Twenty three years has seen the release of the much-hyped Tenet, a primary criticism of which has been its use of sound. Similar complaints were leveled at Inception (2010), The Dark Knight Rises (2012), and Interstellar (2014), with viewers feeling that actors were mumbling, and important spoken sections were hard to make out above the near-constant soundtrack. Although this may seem like a job for the sound department, Nolan is incredibly involved in his films from conception to release, and has long allowed his sound design to greatly affect the tone and pacing of his movies.

The endless music and marked lack of silence in Nolan’s feature films really afford them some of Doodlebug’s claustrophobia. Tenet’s thumps and booms and screeching synthesisers sync up with every scene, something which is artful and stylish and keeps the blood racing. Like a true action movie, there are few quiet spaces to reflect or to feel. If the music stops, it’s probably because a gunfight has broken out, or a helicopter is deafeningly taking off. The interactions between main characters, even those chillingly toxic ones shared by Andrei (Kenneth Branagh) and his wife Kat (Elizabeth Debicki), are fast and plot-heavy. Some scenes slow a little compared with the rest of the movie, but all the pacing is so elevated above real life that much of one’s viewing is spent trying to keep up.

It’s known that Nolan is a huge Bond fan, and if Tenet, Inception and Memento are merely action thrillers exalted to complex and psychologically challenging levels, must an audience expect slow thoughtful pacing when there are so many twists and turns to get through? The issue is that Nolan boasts more than this; he employs prestigious actors in roles written for them alone, and gives his characters a wealth of emotions and troubled backgrounds that beg a certain degree of exploration.

One scene in Tenet sees The Protagonist (John David Washington) note that Kat is asleep – another director may have allowed for more space between it and the dialogue, but when The Protagonist looks at Kat, her sleeping form is on screen for a fraction of a second before talking resumes. The same can be said for Inception’s maze scene: it’s a potentially engaging passage where Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) gives Ariadne (Ellen Page) two minutes to draw a maze that it takes one minute to solve. It’s their first exchange alone, and despite Ariadne making three attempts, the scene is over in about forty-five seconds. Another director may have lingered, may have let the lessons and their insinuations sink in. Not Nolan, who keeps the soundtrack going throughout and segues quickly to another scene before most viewers have a chance to process what has happened.

It’s interesting that most conversations about Inception are little to do with the protagonist’s grief, self-deceit and existential dread. The film’s main pull is certainly its complicated plot, as if mapping out the narrative is a set challenge for viewers. Plot appears to be a priority with Nolan, and every part of the film merely serves it. There are times where character development is breezed past once it has done its duty to the narrative, even if further exploration would have charged the storyline with more emotion and thus an incentive to keep watching. There are, however, a handful of exceptions to this rule…

Interstellar had tear jerking moments, and expansive characters with room to breathe. The opening scenes that follow Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) and his children inhabiting a barren and doomed planet earth are uncharacteristically slow, and later there’s a devastating scene in which he watches video messages from his children, now grown up in his absence due to the relativity of time and space.

Though nonlinear time is a strong subject of Interstellar, its primary theme is love. Interstellar, The Prestige (2006), and Dunkirk (2017), certainly hit home emotionally more than Nolan’s action-packed spectacles. Whether it’s through their slower pacing, period set pieces, or more believable plotlines, these latter two films feel as if they are set on earth, whereas Tenet and Inception almost pride themselves on being a sort of self-contained madness, a nice neat puzzle to solve rather than a sprawling question about humanity.

But perhaps this is not the way we should be approaching Nolan’s works…

Regardless of whether his films make an audience laugh or weep, could it be that the crazy concepts themselves are where the depth lies? Nolan, who studied English Literature, invites audiences to dissect and analyse his themes in a similar way that one is encouraged to read Shakespeare at University. Maybe his intention is not always to get through to his audience immediately, but rather to send chills down their spines over the coming weeks as the implications of his plot begin to unravel themselves in their minds, perhaps with the help of some online explanations.

As stated above, Inception may well be about grief and existential dread. There is something terrifying about the way Cobb may be kidding himself into thinking he is not dreaming, just to spend more time with the love of his life. Tenet similarly explores Andrei’s willingness to turn back time with his wife by his side, despite her clearly loathing him. He would rather live in a fantasy world of his own creation than face his own mortality and shattered relationship. This may have shone through if Branagh’s nuanced performance had been afforded more screen time, but the film had a lot to get through in its 150 minutes.

Christopher Nolan’s first blockbuster Memento features a similar vein of self-deceit. Leonard (Guy Pearce) has no short-term memory, and so the movie runs backwards in time, each scene explaining how the previous one came about. This illness is cleverly exploited not only as a narrative device but by its sufferer himself; he knows that he will forget anything he does not record, and gladly does this in order to give his life purpose. He deceives himself into continuing a fruitless search to avoid confronting a terrible grief. However oddly the director delivers such a theme, it’s far from shallow.

Dunkirk is the intense and claustrophobic war movie that many wanted, but still utilises a non-linear timeline. Events unfold for some characters before others, and whilst adding to the warlike chaos of the movie, this device serves to express the differing experiences of the Dunkirk evacuation from the perspectives of ground troops, the navy, and the air force, all of whom would have remembered the event as taking very different lengths of time. It could be viewed as a gimmick, a Nolan trademark crowbarred into a potentially straightforward drama. It could be viewed as clever, informed, and sensitive. Some of it must come down to personal taste.

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Whatever you think of each movie, they’re certainly momentous tasks to watch, as viewers find themselves juggling the plot, themes, and emotions of individual characters, all while trying to enjoy the picture as a whole. Not surprisingly, it may take a quote from the director himself, responding to complaints of Interstellar’s sound mixing, to shed some light on how his films are intended to be enjoyed:

“I don’t agree with the idea that you can only achieve clarity through dialogue. Clarity of story, clarity of emotions — I try to achieve that in a very layered way using all the different things at my disposal — picture and sound. I’ve always loved films that approach sound in an impressionistic way and that is an unusual approach for a mainstream blockbuster, but I feel it’s the right approach for this experiential film.”

Despite critics’ constant endeavours to get to the bottom of his plotlines, this quote suggests that their efforts may be misguided if they wish to fully understand his films. Perhaps Nolan, under the guise of creating complex plots whose logic needs mapping out, has spent his career doing something wholly illogical: telling tales of pure feeling. Perhaps, much like his hero Stanley Kubrick, he has been using cinema as it ought to be used; as an audio-visual medium for expressing an emotion, an idea. Seeing Tenet in the cinema, as with many of his other films, is an unforgettable experience. One’s senses are bombarded, and one is left with surprisingly few questions after the film’s end. The story makes perfect sense according to its own science-fiction rules; it may be difficult to follow every twist and turn of the plot without a clear mind and a notepad at the ready, but the emotions, the motivations, and the gravity of the situations, shine through without hindrance.

Nolan’s films are more like pieces of music; they are a sensory experience, and the complicated plot is merely Nolan’s idiosyncratic way of writing. The way his soundtracks sync up so perfectly with the action makes the two inseparable, like an opera or musical play. He can’t resist far-out science-fiction concepts, but these do not define his style. It’s common to see those credits roll and feel as if there’s something you’ve missed, but a complicated plot only has so much depth; once it’s solved, it’s solved. What Nolan does is give viewers some meat to chew on, no matter how buried that can seem; some pure essence of raw emotion, something that scares them, something that confuses them, something that shocks them and gets the blood pumping. This often runs the risk of alienating those who want to get stuck in by making them feel like they’ve missed far too much of the storyline to appreciate the spectacle, but Nolan doesn’t really demand you understand everything. He takes you on a wild ride, and whether you like it or not, you’re unlikely to forget it.

Written by Louis B Scheuer

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*Spoilers Ahead

Over the past few months, the once routine idea of relaxing with a freshly popped tub of popcorn in a dark auditorium to enjoy the booming ecstasy of a new release has seemed like a far-away dream. Therefore, after dealing with the long-absence of communal theatre-going over the past six months, and with the recent reopening of cinemas up and down the UK, audiences have been chomping at the bit to once again sit back in the comfortable embrace of the big screen. But movie-goers might have to wait a little while longer if they want the enveloping, easy magic of cinema to wash over them once again; as cinema’s latest offering expects them to put in a little more work than they’re perhaps used to.

From the off, Tenet, Christopher Nolan’s time-muddling, espionage thriller starring John David Washington and Robert Pattinson, appeared shrouded in mystery; sold to us as an enigma with mysterious trailers teasing time-reversal, undercover spy organisations and the vague idea of ‘World War Three’. These puzzling clips were only aided and exacerbated by revealing on-set interviews with cast members, in which they confessed their whole-hearted confusion and hazy understanding as to the meaning of the complicated, action-packed endeavour they were involved in. There’s no doubt; as audiences wandered back into their long-abandoned, local theatres, they were more than prepped and ready to tuck in and decipher the mystery of Nolan’s latest blockbuster. Yet, since it’s first showing, Tenet has been generating marmite reviews, with some hailing the film a masterpiece, the likes of which we’ve never seen before, and others struggling to engage with or make sense of the impossibly convoluted plot. Tenet asks us to put our thinking hats on for sure, but could it be the case that Nolan’s eleventh feature asks too much of its audience? It seems the work Nolan expects his audience to do is proving polarising this time around.

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Nolan frequently assigns his audience chores, engineering his films in such a way that requires them to participate in each narrative actively. Suppose we think of a movie as a rollercoaster, the typical movie gradually builds towards an epic peak, before tumbling to an exuberant conclusion; our job as the audience is to sit back and enjoy the ride. Nolan however, asks us not just to ride his rollercoaster, but to get off and help build parts of the track ourselves. Memento, his backwards neo-noir puzzle, employed us to unlearn how we watch movies; inviting us to take part in a reverse journey, on which we forage for enough information to piece together a linear narrative structure. Interstellar, his momentous space odyssey, asked us to wrestle with difficult scientific and mathematical principles; which made even the cleverest among us doubt ourselves. Inception, his multi-layered dream innovation, permitted us to choose the ending we most desired; with the wobble of Cobb’s totem signifying either his arrival back in reality or his failure to acknowledge the delusional fantasy of sleep. Even Dunkirk, perhaps Nolan’s most widely accessible film outside of his Dark Knight franchise, is structured in such a way that tasks audiences to fathom the fluctuating chronology of the war-epic narrative. In comparison to Tenet, however, Nolan’s previous films seem like a carefree stroll in the park.

There is no ready, steady, go! Tenet is happening, and it’s happening now. Nolan throws us in at the deep end, briefly pausing only to deliver us our first task:’ Don’t try to understand it, feel it.’ The line comes in the most expositional scene of the film, in which John David’s The Protagonist learns the basic rules of time inversion, and we are tasked with surrendering to the visceral experience of his journey. We learn that attempting to stay in control is a futile endeavour, as with each densely complicated scene, it eventually becomes apparent that any seemingly inconsequential moment could be of momentous significance. Yet, what does it mean to feel a movie such as this exactly? Should we stop looking for clues? It’s undoubtedly a request many cinema-goers are not willing to entertain, looking to prove themselves smarter than the sophisticated puzzle they were sold.

For the perceptive among us, or for those of us willing to commit to multiple viewings, as the film moves towards its conclusion, its complex ideas will begin to slot satisfactorily into place. Yet, what if you missed something? Say in ‘feeling’ the movie you failed to ponder the significance of something as small as a little red tag poking out of a particular someone’s backpack. Due to the overwhelming complexity of Tenet, it’s challenging to know the essential noteworthy scenes from those that simply bridge one moment to the next; it’s almost as if the film expects you to know in advance when to pay extra attention. Unable to catch every clue and unwilling to ‘feel’ the movie as Nolan instructed, many have become exacerbated with Tenet. However, it’s arguable that Tenet is not a code-cracking operation, that it is instead a trust exercise between audience and filmmaker. Although frustrating, perhaps the audience must trust that it isn’t vital to understand every single beat, and that they are more than capable of experiencing the significance of Nolan’s creation on feeling alone. 

With this said; it isn’t precisely simple to tap into any kind of powerful feeling (even if you are willing to put in the work) given that the film lacks a substantial emotional crux. Due to their lack of personal motivation, it’s challenging to create a sympathetic connection with any character; with the exception perhaps of Elizabeth Debicki’s Kat, who seems to be the only character capable of communicating an emotion. The Protagonist moves from scene to scene with impenetrable coldness, seemingly lacking any discernible motivation. Yet, armed with only a single word, Tenet, he throws himself entirely into his covert work, willing even to die for a faceless, nameless organisation. Nolan does occasionally tickle our interest; hinting at pre-existing relationships which The Protagonist seems utterly unaware of: with Pattinson’s Neil, upon their very first meeting, ordering The Protagonist a glass of Diet Coke, his exact beverage of choice. While these moments allow us a glimpse at something hiding beyond our grasp, for the most part, every character appears to be only a rough sketch of the typical personalities you might find in your average spy-genre thriller. This lack of melodramatic substance alongside the significant bombardment of dense dialogue and convoluted temporal theory, not only makes it challenging to understand what’s going on, but also makes it difficult to know why we should even care.

Bad screenwriting? Or an entirely intentional choice? Let’s say it’s the latter. Once in possession of the complete narrative that Nolan is willing to share, it’s the audience’s job to fill in the blanks. You’ve heard of “show don’t tell”? Nolan takes it one step further, neither showing nor telling. The real trick to cracking Tenet’s complicated narrative is to focus on what remains unsaid; with Nolan asking us to use our imaginations to create character motivation. He does so by supplying us with slight clues as to what might exist in The Protagonist’s past and or future, but, ultimately, leaves it to us to connect the dots. While characters might feel underwritten, there’s enough in Tenet to work as the blueprint for two notable characters with one heck of a backstory. We can choose to run with Nolan’s hints, motivating Neil and The Protagonist entirely in our minds; dreaming up a friendship so profound we can begin to understand why they are willing to die for one another. In the case of Inception’s Dom Cobb, we were left to choose an ending. In the case of Tenet, Nolan gives us our conclusion but asks us to work backwards this time, in order to create a beginning and a middle that will lead us to the events we have witnessed. In essence, to understand what we have seen, we must attempt to understand what we haven’t seen. It helps to think of Tenet as a colouring book; Nolan has supplied us with the drawings, but it’s up to us to colour them in. What Nolan chooses not to tell us would make for good sequels… or prequels? But until we get them, if we ever do, it’s up to you to write them.

Nolan doesn’t make any of this easy; there are complications everywhere, not only for The Protagonist but for the audience too. Ludwig Göransson’s audaciously loud score permeates every scene, drowning out a great deal of loaded dialogue. Having been sold Tenet as a sophisticated puzzle, it makes sense to want to hang onto every word, to try to decipher any hidden clue that might unexpectedly unlock the mystery of what is happening on screen. It’s almost funny that Nolan makes it as difficult as possible to pick apart his dialogue. It’s as if the inaudible, clunky conversation is used as a deliberate red herring, consciously frustrating you, while also drawing you in further, encouraging you to look for clues in the wrong places. The same is true for the scientific and mathematical theory that builds the time-inverted world. The theory takes place in a fictitious world; it seems almost redundant to try to understand it, but, unable to help ourselves, we try to anyway. Many have assumed that an explanation lies in repeat viewings, which would be a worthy experiment if you’re willing to put in the man-hours. Yet given that, catching every word and deconstructing theory isn’t entirely essential for comprehending the premise of what Tenet aims to achieve. Arguably, enough can be gleaned from a singular viewing to piece together a suitably motivated, cohesive narrative—if you’re willing to use your imagination that is.

Palindromic themes run throughout Tenet, such as, a forward and backward car chase, the referencing to an ancient puzzle named the Sator Square, push-ups (which look the same in reverse as they do forwards) and the crashing of and a 747 aeroplane. Their existence in the film makes for pleasing Easter eggs; giving the viewer momentary gratification upon their realisation of Nolan’s neat tricks. With technical finesse, Nolan explores these themes, bouncing from one beautiful location to the next, relying on the camera and magnificent set pieces to celebrate the scale and scope cinema can capture. There’s no argument that Tenet is physically stunning to behold, but for many, this is where Tenet’s significance ends. With those unimpressed with the film, describing it as Nolan’s most egotistical movie so far; too tricky for its own good, relying too heavily on clever ‘Nolanesque’ novelties we have come to associate with the experimental director. For many Tenet lacks a gravitational pull, asking us to do too much and to fill in too many blank spaces. Where you come to stand with Tenet will depend on your willingness to engage with it, on your willingness to do the chores Nolan asks of you. We arrive, full circle, back at Memento, with Nolan asking us once again to unlearn how we participate with film. He asks us to give up the idea of being drip-fed information that will lead to an emotionally satisfying, comprehensible conclusion. What happens in Tenet happens because it always has, and it always will. How you organise and make sense of Tenet is down to you. Sure, the film has flaws, but, once again, they are what you make of them. 

In a conversation with Neil, The Protagonist asks, in regards to the reversed flow of time, ‘Doesn’t us being here now mean it never happened?’ Meaning that, for The Protagonist to have met Neil in the future, doesn’t that mean they must have succeeded for Neil to have met The Protagonist in the past? ‘In short, yes’ Neil says, and goes on to explain the Grandfather Paradox to him, illustrating the loop of causality they are currently acting within. Both Neil and The Protagonist must behave as they do, and use the information they have extracted from both of their pasts and presents, to set into motion the chain of events they know must happen. Why? Well, because you can’t change the past. 

The future, though, well… that’s up to you.

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Tenet (2020)
Director: Christopher Nolan
Screenwriter: Christopher Nolan
Starring: John David Washington, Robert Pattinson, Elizabeth Debicki, Kenneth Branagh, Michael Caine, Clémence Poésy, Himesh Patel, Aaron Taylor-Johnson

Time is up. Or, is it? The latest time-bending sci-fi leaning action blockbuster epic from the world’s leading director of high budget original fare has sought to invite audiences back into cinemas with the warm and open arms that only the medium of film can offer, and in this fresh and rapid classic spy-thriller-inspired adventure, Nolan has delivered. Tenet is a timely reminder that we all need cinema; that through time (both forwards and backwards) these are the adventures that have shaped us the most, that have provided us with our most fond memories and have sculpted what we consider to be film, the adventures that have truly impacted the people of the then and now, the adventures that stand the tests of time and speak of our limitless creative pursuit of absolute adventure and transportation.

Christopher Nolan has spoken at length in the limited press for this film of his intention to update the globe-trotting spy-thriller formula, best realised in the 1960s in titles such as James Bond and The Ipcress Files, for a modern worldwide audience, his mantra to add action and world-ending stakes the likes of which we haven’t seen before providing the backbone of this thrill-ride adventure that is a festival of cinema both old and new; an intelligent and knowing refresh of the old formula in something recognisable and simultaneously unique – a film that seeks to go backwards to go forwards. The result is that Tenet, as a spy thriller turned blockbuster with a simple macguffin-chasing narrative twisted until it’s almost unnoticeable, absolutely works, the picture overcoming a typically laboured and exposition-laden Nolanian opening to gather pace at an unrivaled rate, thrilling in all of its elements, whether they be world-leading stunts, beautiful locations, its immaculate photography or its mind-bending narrative.

One of the early critical confrontations Tenet has been met with is the argument of logic holes and ill-informed science, and with a formula that demands you go along for the ride and often laughs off any theories or applications of logic, there is credence to this perspective. But to judge a blockbuster such as this by means of logic and scientific opinion alone is to reduce the immaculate construction of its every element into the most basic of analyses. In the case of Tenet, criticisms such as this amount to little more than the criticisms leveled at James Cameron’s Titanic because of how Jack (DiCaprio) can also fit on the floating door, the perspective holding credence in terms of logic to some, but the opinion also departing from any meaningful understanding of genre convention or the importance of the character’s death to that particular narrative. In the case of Tenet, as is the case for Titanic, arguments about the science amount to little more than nitpicks that misunderstand genre convention, filmmaker intention, and ultimately the very reason for stories to exist.

This sticking point is one that will be off-putting to a relatively large percentage of filmgoers however, especially if you have become accustomed to more simplistic narratives filled with the kinds of dialogue that pinpoint the filmmakers’ intentions at every possible opportunity. In this respect, Tenet is more Interstellar than Inception. It asks that you go along for the ride and trust that, in the universe it presents, the science works and the reality said science helps to shape is inhabited by those we journey with. There will be a disconnect for some pursuing the all-seeing eye that most film narratives provide, but for those willing to surrender to Tenet’s wholly unique world, there are gifts aplenty – thrill after thrill, heart-stopping moments of action and an emotional core that will resonate with even the most hardened of Nolan fans.

Tenet is also arguably very much a self-aggrandising directorial effort in that it showcases an intelligent, almost pretentious understanding of filmmaking in every aspect, sometimes coming across like Nolan giving himself a firm pat of the back. But to tear down the creative endeavour and technical achievements in editing, photography, visual effects, score and performance because of how the film recognises the weight of each contribution would also be reductive, and would vitally overlook the achievements of this film in each aspect. Nolan here seems at his most philosophical, inviting every moving part of his production to fulfill the largest of creative obligations and thus illustrating the importance of each, combining the fantastic and heart-pounding work of Ludwig Göransson’s score with the immaculately designed cinematography of Hoyte van Hoytema and the vitally important editing of Jennifer Lame and so on and so forth. Could it be shorter? Sure. And it could certainly have benefited from dedicating more time to the true emotional core of its narrative – Elizabeth Debicki’s wonderful turn as a grief-stricken, abused and imprisoned woman at the heart of John David Washington’s adventure – but at 2 hours and 40 minutes, you’ll not feel like a minute was wasted and will be itching to dive back into the universe right away, pleased for your every minute in this unique and inspired world.

Tenet is an extraordinary blockbuster that has come just in time for our most extraordinary summer. It is a film that promised something the likes of which we had never seen before, and in incorporating the familiarity of classics along the way, has absolutely delivered on that promise. This is science fiction, thriller, spy movie and blockbuster all in one, and is an unmissable cinematic experience in every aspect. Whether you’re looking to be thrilled by cinema’s most seductive elements or you’re wishing for a film you can unravel and analyse, Tenet has it all. Be invigorated, surprised, thrilled and inspired by the work of a filmmaker like no other on the planet.

20/24

The Warner Bros produced project, which also began filming today ahead of a 17th July 2020 release date, will be titled Tenet, and is reportedly an action-epic evolving from a base story regarding international espionage.

While further details regarding the project are scarce, it is understood that the picture will film in locations across some 7 different countries, and as of today now has its five leading cast members.

Joining Widows actress Elizabeth Debicki, BlackKklansman lead John David Washington and newly announced Batman actor Robert Pattinson on the cast list originally revealed in March are: Golden Globe winning actor of Nocturnal Animals Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Nolan’s Dunkirk collaborator (and 4-time Oscar nominee) Kenneth Branagh.

Nolan will work from his own script and also act as one of the film’s producers. The world famous director has assembled a recognisable crew that includes his Dunkirk director of photography Hoyte van Hoytema and the Oscar-winning composer of the Black Panther score, Ludwig Göransson.

Source: Variety

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Left to right: Debicki (Widows), Pattinson (High Life), Washington (BlackKklansman).

According to The Hollywood Reporter, BlackKklansman lead John David Washington will play the movie’s central protagonist, though details on who he is, what his story will be, or what any of the film is about has yet to be revealed.

The inclusions of Debicki and Pattinson are even more secretive, with the stars of recent releases Widows and High Life respectively each lending their talents to the film’s youthful albeit very small (as of this stage) cast.

Nolan, whose last film Dunkirk got him a nomination for Best Director at the 2018 Oscars, has written the script being described as “an innovative blockbuster” (Variety), with long-term production partners Warner Bros. set to distribute the picture. The film will also be released in Imax.

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Star-Lord and crew are back for the most anticipated Marvel sequel in years, and with a few notable stars added to the mix, and a host of 70s and 80s pop gems providing the musical backdrop, James Gunn and company have managed to capture a lot of the original’s magic in a funny and colourful romp that didn’t quite manage to spark lightning in a bottle for a second time but was still mountains of fun.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is, first and foremost, evidence of the sort of summer blockbuster tentpole movie that we, as audiences, deserve and have come to demand. Typically, such movies are modes of escapism filled with oceans of beautifully constructed CGI, so many high profile names that the movies barely know what to do with them, a rocking soundtrack and the oh-so-important comic relief at times of high stress; and Guardians 2 is all of these things. Where James Gunn’s movie separates itself from the lesser appreciated members of its genre, like Suicide Squad, X-Men: Apocalypse, Ben-Hur and Independence Day: Resurgence, is in the filmmaker’s loyalty and admiration for the characters at the heart of his movie and the ways by which he trusts the audience to work some things out on their own. Guardians 2, much like its predecessor, is more than its genre’s simple constructional parts, it is a character driven spectacle movie that successfully combines awe with empathy and vitally doesn’t let marketing interfere with story. As is the case with any film of its ilk, there are moments of forced connection where a rising score works to try and create a sense of empathy where there isn’t one, but Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 seems to hit the emotional beats nine times out of ten, and nine out of ten ain’t bad.

Guardians 2 is, despite this, quite a stretch from being as great as the first movie. The ways in which it seems to falter the most are due to a number of developments that have occurred between the two films. Firstly, the Guardians’ huge critical and financial success in 2014, and their confirmed involvement in Avengers: Infinity War, have placed different demands on the filmmaking process that have seemingly restricted Gunn to a sensibility much more like the film’s Marvel Cinematic Universe brethren than the original movie ever came close to being. What was once a standalone product with self-referential and almost meta humour (including, remember, a dance-off as the epic final show-down between good and evil), has filtered much more into the typical Marvel way of doing things, with much less of the convention busting jokes and therefore just a little bit less heart and originality than Guardians 1 so marvellously contained – pun intended. Second of all, it seems that the success of the movie’s original gifted Gunn the sort of budget that the filmmaker didn’t really know what to do with and thus was freely done away with in scene after scene of ‘cool CG’ battle shots, aircraft boarding, etc. that left the earlier parts of the movie feeling heavy and slow in comparison to the picture’s quicker and much more satisfying second half. Along the same lines came a seemingly more typical presentation of the story too, with countless establishing scenes for the movie’s many characters precursing a huge universe-saving battle – revolving around an entire planet – which was the centrepiece of the movie (much like every Avengers film ever). We’ve seen it all countless times before and, despite providing a relatively high-stakes version of the trope courtesy of a well developed villain – somewhat of a rarity in Marvel movies – and a much more convincing threat to our heroes than in the original or much of the MCU, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 still couldn’t quite overcome how over-used its formula was.

This did, however, create the spectacle that Guardians 2 needed as an excuse to present its outstanding visuals, the likes of which are without comparison in the rest of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Each scene was filled with a vibrancy unlike much of the ‘clear as day’ cinematographic techniques in the rest of Marvel’s central Avengers franchise, separating it from the pack in terms of visual appeal. As referenced above, the CGI was also hugely impressive and leaps beyond much of the work done in The Avengers or Avengers: Age of Ultron. There were a few sequences in which the camera worked against the wonderful work of the CG to create an effect whereby the film felt like more of a top-end video game than a cinematic work of art, but these were small missteps in an otherwise fantastic piece of visual artistry.

Crucially, the camera was also pointed at the right people. The Guardians were their usual fantastically individual and different (for action comic book movies, at least) selves, only with improved individuality for Gamora (Saldana) and Nebula (Gillan), two characters of whom much of the original’s criticism was dealt courtesy of being underdeveloped. The building of each of the core group’s members was as cleverly constructed and well performed as in the original only with the benefits of not having to introduce them anymore, with this movie tending to lean towards more typically emotional fare than much of what occurred in Guardians 1, something that helped to grow the characters of Rocket (Cooper) and Yondu (Rooker) substantially and brought out some of the best work from its cast. The crucial addition of Kurt Russell was a welcomed one too, with an immersible performance to boot, but Sylvester Stallone and Elizabeth Debicki who played Ogord and Ayesha respectively, seemed more like bonus features by the film’s end than any meaningful casting choice or character addition, with each performer bringing very little to their roles. It was, however, the Guardians as a collective upon which the film hinged, and in the writing of their group dynamic and the strong comedic performances by much of its cast (particularly Dave Bautista as Drax), the same sense of comrardery between them felt as real and present as ever, with a closer family dynamic seeming to occur naturally as the result of their actions in Guardians 1.

The group was, of course, brought together by music, a theme that is highlighted throughout much of the franchise and is present from the very opening sequence in Guardians 2. The promotional material for the film paid the music a great deal of attention and the film delivered on its promise of using it as creatively as in the original. The soundtrack was a symphony of classic hits with some of the titles being highlighted by the characters themselves as being useful metaphors for the situations they were going through or had been through in the past. Usefully, this brought about a more conscious attention as to the meaning of the songs being used in the film and thus utilised them as a source for emotional input for characters who were holding emotions back at certain points, therefore enhancing them as heroes worth routing for without the need for expository dialogue or out-of-character declarations.

Where Guardians 2 most prominently succeeds is in the presentation of the family of outcasts that it brought together in the original, and the ways in which they’ve grown to appreciate each other despite each of their less likeable qualities. Much like the franchise originally was to Marvel, the group are different to everyone else, and James Gunn’s presentation of the ways in which their differences make them the only people capable of defending the good of the galaxy is one of the more drawing aspects of the franchise as a whole, and particularly this second movie. The Guardians of the Galaxy franchise is much like the misfit toy we all played with as children or that many of us felt like at certain points in our lives, and that is what is truly identifiable about it and particularly the group of heroes. It is this connection that fuels the success of everything in this movie and does the most difficult job of making you care.

Conclusively, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 may not be quite as good as the original, but through the passion of its screenwriter-director and the world class work of its cast and crew, creates an identifiable group of characters on a romp of an adventure that could be the blockbuster of the year and is certainly worth your ten bucks.

18/24

Author’s note: if you haven’t seen this yet, be warned that there are five post-credit scenes.

The film starts by introducing the audience to Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire) as he seems to be describing the story of Jay Gatsby to a doctor. We are immediately given an idea of the dissolute lifestyles of the 1920s in the U.S, especially in New York and we find out that Nick had moved there to work on Wall Street, thus seemingly giving up his dream of becoming a writer. The story gets more interesting when we are introduced to the enigmatic and magnetic character of Daisy Buchanan (Carey Mulligan) and her womanising former college football star husband Tom (Joel Edgerton), as Nick – who is her cousin – goes to her house to have dinner. She’s interesting because unlike many of the other characters she is presented to us as a angel from the outside, and yet is equally corrupted deep down. I was fascinated by the use of white and bright light to introduce her character to the audience because it gave us the idea of something beautiful and out of reach; a beautiful case of foreshadowing from the crew of the film. It was a very good start.

The moments following it were focused on a dinner party sequence cleverly constructed to convey the characters’ shallow approaches to life and their preoccupation with partying, luxury and fun, primarily through rotating camera movements focused on their faces that worked to remove focus from the characters’ words and thus prove them to be irrelevant, but also through how their conversation was interrupted almost immediately after the start of a serious discussion about racial equality. Generally, the movie stuck to this confrontation of outlandish wealth and privilege, and remained attached to telling its story through the flashbacks motivated by Nick’s decision to write a novel about his friend the great Gatsby. A particularly fine technique of presenting this information was the alternation between Nick’s recollection of the events – the words appearing on screen being the words he’s writing down on his manuscript – and the thoughts of Nick as he is at the time he tells the story. In short, the past and present intertwine, creating a sometimes contradictory presentation of events that echoes the reality of memory and hindsight.

What I found most interesting about the structure of the film was that Gatsby himself wasn’t introduced until half an hour into the movie, which I think is a good way of creating suspense given Nick’s pre-existing explanations of the character. Much like Nick’s life, the story moves much faster from the moment Gatsby is introduced to it, and the famously melancholic tone of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s famous novel.

A particularly standout moment from the presentation of the picture was the interesting choice from the director of photography to present the flashback of when Daisy and Gatsby first meet through the eyes of another character, Daisy’s friend Jordan. It was a brave choice as by this point in the movie people could have easily gotten tired of waiting for that moment, but it paid off because the build-up and presentation created a tangible chemistry that brought out the performance of the film from Carey Mulligan who conveyed Daisy’s shallow nature and conflicted feeling towards Gatsby with truly admirable craftsmanship.

Mulligan’s character seems ultimately incapable of love, just like her husband, and it’s presented as if a result of their social status and way of life, something Gatsby’s more sentimental and honest nature does not fit into despite his best intentions. As Nick explains: Tom and Daisy don’t care about other people, they just manipulate them for their own fun and amusement. Mulligan’s performance as an angelic yet negative figure that drives Gatsby to his end seems to convey a misogynistic message, reinforced by her actions and words as a shallow rich girl who doesn’t know what she wants and hurts everyone in the process of finding out. In contrast, the film’s narrator Nick, played by Tobey Maguire, was incredibly unlikable.

I was never a fan of Maguire’s work and his performance here did little to change that. At no point did his delivery make me feel involved in the journey his character was explaining and this lack of connection left a bitter taste in the mouth upon the discovery of his character being the only one in the movie to achieve any real success: becoming a writer. Similarly, I wasn’t impressed by Leonardo Di Caprio’s performance as he always seemed too melodramatic in his acting, thus giving the impression of his actions being contrived and simply unnatural. I must admit I enjoyed his performance more than Maguire’s and that it is much easier to sympathise with Gatsby’s character for his troubled life and past, though he does have violent outbursts and seems to consider Daisy his property – just like her husband Tom does.

Generally, as a woman of the 21st century, I fount the portrayal of women to be bordering on sexism and misogyny. Additionally, I felt that the decisions to dose the film with CGI and other special effects despite the loyally period costuming of the characters seemed out of place despite the otherwise impressive cinematography. The soundtrack also suffered from a similar fate whereby the works of classical composers were mixed with modern pop songs by the likes of Lana Del Ray, a general choice that took me out of the picture on several occasions. It seemed like Luhrmann was attempting to recreate the successful hybrid of techniques that made Romeo + Juliet (1996) such a success, but he ultimately failed in capturing the same essences of the original story as he had managed to find in his Shakespeare adaptation.

Overall, The Great Gatsby was a disappointing affair lifted by the work of its cinematographer and particularly Carey Mulligan. For these reasons, I give this film a…

10/24