Please Don’t Destroy: The Treasure of Foggy Mountain (2023)
Director: Paul Briganti
Screenwriters: Martin Herlihy, John Higgins, Ben Marshall
Starring: Martin Herlihy, John Higgins, Ben Marshall, Conan O’Brien, John Goodman, Bowen Yang

October 9th, 2021. The first episode of the forty-seventh season of ‘Saturday Night Live’ and the debut of Please Don’t Destroy with their short video ‘Hard Seltzer.’ Consisting of three New York comedians, Ben Marshall, John Higgins, and Martin Herlihy, the troupe almost instantly skyrocketed to fame after only four years together as a group. Now, after three seasons with SNL, the trio bring us their first feature film Please Don’t Destroy: The Treasure of Foggy Mountain. SNL stars like Dan Aykroyd, Eddie Murphy and Tina Fey have all gone on to bigger things, though the results are not always so pretty – some acts have failed to make a splash and some sketches that were turned into films have flopped. So the question is, how will Please Don’t Destroy fair?

The film stars the three comics as themselves, the exception being that they live, work and do everything together. When they realise that they don’t like their life trajectory, they set off to find a gold treasure that is rumoured to be buried in the nearby mountain.

Unlike the fictional versions of themselves in the film, it is clear that the trajectory of the boys’ popularity is one that not only they believe in, but in which many others do too. After only three years on the show, they earned a credit in SNL’s opening montage. Credited as “A Film by Please Don’t Destroy”, it marks the first time since 2008 that a recurring segment has its own credit in the opening; a reward that was not even afforded to the insanely popular The Lonely Island. Equally so, the opportunity to write and star in a film as themselves shows the belief that many have in the popularity of Please Don’t Destroy.

The movie opens with a narration from John Goodman explaining the lore of the titular treasure; a bust of Marie Antoinette, worth $100 million, was hidden in Foggy Mountain by French explorer Jean Pierre La Roche and the key, a golden compass, was found by the three boys as children. Flashforward fifteen years and we meet the Ben, John and Martin of today through a sequence in which they prepare to make breakfast and go to work, a sequence of events which continuously takes hilarious left turns including roller skates and underage drinking.

The film then smash cuts to Ben’s father in the form of Conan O’Brien, the owner of the store that the three work at, screaming “where the fuck were you!? You’re three hours late!” The story begins to unravel. We learn that Ben wishes to earn his father’s approval and take over the store, whereas Martin is trying to keep his girlfriend happy by going through with an adult baptism. As for John, he has no plans nor prospects. Worried about losing his friends, he proposes that they hunt for the treasure.

The story, in premise, structure and character development is far from original. The friendship of the three is predictably tested, and there comes a point where it seems as though they can’t move past their issues but in the end they remain best friends. It’s a tried and tested formula that, though not necessarily bad, is instantly recognisable. Ben, John and Martin’s sense of humour is far from traditional and so, to deliver it in the form of a traditional story allows for more accessible viewing for new viewers, all the while keeping much of the same humour that fans have come to know and love.

Similar to the writing and performance style they have become known for, the editing of the film is very in line with that of their regular sketches. Fast paced and manic, the editing allows for maximum engagement and a whole lot of laughs through unexpected sight gags and jump cuts.

By far the biggest challenge for PDD in this film was to take their style of comedy (which is usually told in three to five minute sketches) and stretch it out into a full feature film. Though there are little segments of the film that feel like their own individual sketches, they keep recurring and eventually combine together to tell a nicely intertwined story. From park rangers who wish to steal the treasure for themselves to cults, or John falling in love to a particularly sassy hawk, all of these come together well to tell the full story. It is in this sense that Foggy Mountain feels closer to traditional silent comedies like Harold Lloyd’s Safety Last, a film that similarly tells many little stories in order to make one complete narrative.

This film does not, however, feel as though it will work for those who are not familiar with Please Don’t Destroy or who are not fans of that type of humour. The group’s eccentric form of delivery, performance and writing may distance some audience members. The Treasure of Foggy Mountain is a movie made for the fans.

With their feature film debuts, Ben Marshall, John Higgins and Martin Herlihy bring their A-game in every single aspect of production. The jokes come quick and fast, and the situations they put themselves into are nothing short of ridiculous. Playing themselves, the three bring their likeable personalities and adorable chemistry to craft a trio of characters that are not only hilarious but who we care for and whose company we love to be a part of. Though every cast member does a fine job, it is when one or all of Please Don’t Destroy are on screen that we laugh the hardest. Moreso, they make it seem natural, as though comedy is second nature to them.

With The Treasure of Foggy Mountain, Please Don’t Destroy may not be making unforgettable characters or legendary films like fellow SNL alum movies The Blues Brothers and Wayne’s World, but by presenting themselves as the heroes of the story they create a movie that represents their brand and elevates it in the process.

The Treasure of Foggy Mountain is a wonderful new addition to PDD’s growing library, and is evidence of their popularity and talent. Proving themselves as one of the best comedy acts in all of the United States – better yet, the world – one can only hope that their sophomore effort will be as good as Foggy Mountain.

Score: 18/24

May December (2023)
Director: Todd Haynes
Screenwriters: Samy Burch, Alex Mechanik
Starring: Natalie Portman, Julianne Moore, Charles Melton, Gabriel Chung, Elizabeth Yu

Todd Haynes’ films are hard to pin down. Ever the subversive, the renegade of the new queer cinema movement has a proven track record of destabilizing conventional wisdoms surrounding everything from sex to gender to celebrity to domesticity and the American nuclear family. Unafraid to wear his influences on his sleeve, and to subject them to satire and scrutiny, Haynes wields homage, melodrama, and allegory in his deconstruction of the social, political, and aesthetic contexts in which his characters dwell. His is a cinema of transgression that gets its teeth from a sort of reflexive formalism, for his films frequently call attention to their own artifice. 

Take 2002’s Far From Heaven, for example. In many ways, the film, which centers on a 1950s suburban housewife whose secret affair threatens the sanguine domestic lifestyle she is expected to uphold, is a straight-up remake of Douglas Sirk’s 1955 melodrama All That Heaven Allows, complete with all the soap and glitziness that defined Hays Code-era Hollywood. The catch is that Haynes’ film is, nonetheless, thoroughly modern in its details—by peppering in subject matter that would have been considered too taboo back in the 50s (even for Sirk, who was considered a rebel in his time), namely interracial and homosexual relationships, Haynes turns the entire genre on its head. Films such as Far From Heaven demonstrate Haynes’ unique ability to firmly situate his work relative to established cinematic traditions—and to then boldly defy them. In this way, Todd Haynes is a filmmaker who always seems to have his finger on the pulse, his films conversing with the past to illuminate the present. 

The present unto which May December, Haynes’ latest, arrives feels particularly elusive—and, fittingly, so does the film. Written by Samy Burch and loosely inspired by the public scandal surrounding Mary Kay Letourneau, the screenplay orbits three central characters: Gracie Atherton-Yoo (Julianne Moore), a suburban pariah who was once the subject of a tabloid frenzy surrounding her predatory sexual involvement with a 13-year-old boy; Joe Atherton-Yoo (Charles Melton), the boy, now in his 30s and married with children to Gracie; and Elizabeth Berry (Natalie Portman), a B-list actress who comes to study Gracie and her family in preparation to play her in a movie about the scandal. 

On first glance, such a premise seems tailor-made for the Netflix-patented true-crime-content-machine; and yet May December cleverly co-opts these vapid true-crime precepts, and our twisted attendance to them. Where Far From Heaven leverages melodrama to challenge the genre’s largely sanitized depiction of domestic life in the 1950s, May December weaponizes viewers’ learned appetite for sensationalism to unravel the tabloid mythologies that form around deviant crimes and their perpetrators—and which often exploit the victims. 

Portman’s Elizabeth is the doorway through which Haynes instantly implicates the viewer. Her morbid curiosity to get to the bottom of Gracie and Joe’s strange dynamic largely matches our own. However, as she ingratiates herself among the family, it quickly becomes clear that Elizabeth’s intentions are far more perverse. As Gracie’s mask begins to slip, so too does Elizabeth’s, revealing her obsessive, megalomaniacal fantasy of coveting, or perhaps recreating, Gracie’s and Joe’s lived experience. The ensuing dissonance, heightened by the melodramatic register in which the film operates, not only makes for an unnaturalness that is often quite funny (Marcelo Zarvos’s ostentatious score is a big part of this), but it also makes space for thorny ethical questions surrounding spectatorship, representation, autonomy, and consent—none of which feel overly didactic. 

Instead, in true Haynes fashion, ambiguities stay ambiguous, and the viewer is left to dwell in the gray areas. Neither patronizing nor flattering these characters, Haynes complicates prevailing assumptions surrounding Gracie and Joe by lending them both a degree of agency, and in doing so undermines whatever vague suggestion is made toward a simple sociological explanation for their relationship (e.g. personality disorders, abuse begetting abuse). Actors and outcasts alike, these are characters whose identities are defined by performance, whether of normalcy, security, sincerity, or innocence. Like the many mirrors Haynes frames them in, Portman, Moore, and, perhaps most impressively, Melton reflect and belie their characters’ superficial personas. 

May December comes at a strange moment in time when the popularity of true-crime content feels at odds with flattened conceptions of moral goodness and badness in popular media. What makes the film feel particularly incisive and contemporary—infinitely more so than the titles it is destined to be algorithmically paired with on the Netflix home screen—are the ways in which it converses with this moment and indeed the viewer. Haynes’ latest is, once again, hard to pin down; but it is even harder to forget. 

Score: 22/24

May December is nominated for 4 Golden Globes.

Written by Connell Oberman

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It’s a Wonderful Knife (2023)
Director: Tyler MacIntyre
Screenwriter: Michael Kennedy
Starring: Jane Widdop, Joel McHale, Justin Long, Jess McLeod, Katherine Isabelle, Cassandra Naud

One has to wonder if a review for a film titled It’s A Wonderful Knife needs any introduction, but one must be written regardless. If you think it might have some twist to what the title would suggest, please allay those fears: it’s exactly what you think it is. Knife is a slasher take on It’s A Wonderful Life, the 1946 Frank Capra film starring Jimmy Stewart, a man who wishes his life never existed and through visiting an alternate timeline at Christmas, comes to appreciate what he had. Here we have a play on the same thing, with Jimmy Stewart being replaced by Jane Widdop’s Winnie, who stopped the Angel Falls masked killer one year before, and when ending up in a timeline where she never existed, finds the killer still on the loose, now with over 25 kills under his belt. If Winnie doesn’t stop the killer before the end of the night, she’ll never get back to her home world.

When you realise that Michael Kennedy also wrote the screenplay to Christopher Landon’s 2020 slasher film Freaky, a slasher sendup of classic Lindsay Lohan/Jamie Lee Curtis film Freaky Friday, you know what you’re in for. It’s a film that isn’t afraid to lean into the film it’s stealing its storyline from. It’s going to be pretty campy, silly in parts following teen outsiders coming together in the strangest of circumstances, with a decent production budget, and everyone knows what they’re doing. There’s never an attempt to be anything it isn’t and there are a few people who overdo the acting for the sheer joy and fun of it. Case in point, horror veteran Justin Long as the smarmy corporate businessman Henry Waters, doing his best capitalist megalomaniac impression. It’s overdone to a Matthew Lillard Thirteen Ghosts level, but so good for it. As the kids would say, he understood the assignment.

The cinematography from Nicholas Piatnik is great, full of christmas lights managing to set off the darkness well. It’s a film of contrasts, of light and dark, of neon greed shining out in a world that has forgotten hope and faith. In a film like this which is, despite the bloody slayings, warm and cosy, the atmosphere is perfectly captured. Of course, congratulations also go to the art direction by Louisa Birkin, and set dressing by Matt Carson and Jan Sikora for helping Piatnik get the lighting right with the practicals. It’s a wonderfully cohesive film in terms of its visual aesthetic, and when the blood hits the snow and the white costume of the killer, the blood is dark and visceral, which only works in contrast to the vibrant lighting. It’s a gorgeous looking film.

It’s a Wonderful Knife also isn’t afraid to go the whole way with its anti-capitalist statement. Its whole sentiment is that greed and complicit non-action in the thuggish, brutal ways to establish corporate dominance is not only manifest in physical actions, but is a kind of mental virus, capable of taking over the minds of those watching. It preys on grief. It preys on when we are at our lowest. Even those vehemently opposed to megalomaniacal corporations taking advantage of the lower classes still order from Amazon on occasion. In this way, Knife manages to take criticism of capitalist greed further than other films which might otherwise just have a statement of ‘capitalism bad’ as their fundamental premise.

But despite all this praise, there are parts that aren’t fantastic on a technical front. A few moments are very on-the-nose with their dialogue, expositionally overdoing the points we already know. The first kill is badly done, seeming like it’s cut to hide any effects work that they apparently haven’t done. Either that or it’s just badly cut. And even though Justin Long is perfectly embodying the smarmy businessman, one could say it’s overdone even past the point of campiness; overdoing an overdone performance. It’s how you take it.

So it isn’t perfect. Perhaps the messages are heavy handed, as subtle as a candy cane to the throat. But who cares? It’s not the greatest film in the world, but the main cast is great, the visuals are very Hallmark, and it’s got a cute ending. So on a cold night, if you’re fed up with the regular Christmas films, this 90 minute blast might just hit the spot for some holiday horror hooliganism.

Score: 16/24

Wish (2023)
Directors: Chris Buck, Fawn Veerasunthorn
Screenwriters: Jennifer Lee, Allison Moore
Starring: Ariana DeBose, Chris Pine, Alan Tudyk, Angelique Cabral, Victor Garber, Natasha Rothwell, Jennifer Kumiyama, Harvey Guillén, Evan Peters, Ramy Youssef, Jon Rudnitsky

One hundred years of Disney. How does one possibly celebrate such an occasion? The little studio that begun with animated movies about a cartoon mouse (and rabbit) almost one hundred years ago now exists as a behemoth of the entertainment industry, owning half of Hollywood as well as the famed Disneyland and Disneyworld theme parks. With so much power, so much history and so many controversies, what could the company plan for their 100th birthday party release Wish that could possibly pay homage to such a legacy?

After undergoing a five year hiatus from releasing original animated movies between 2016’s Moana and 2021’s Raya and the Last Dragon, Disney have gone back to what they do best, what they are most known for, animation. They have returned to their roots in the past few years and released animated pictures like Raya, Encanto, and Strange World, to varying degrees of success. 

Wish finds itself set in the wonderful kingdom of Rosas, which is ruled by its king Magnifico (Chris Pine). King Magnifico performs a yearly ritual in which once someone turns 18, they can pass their greatest wish onto him and he will protect it and potentially allow it to come true one day. However, once Asha (Ariana DeBose) discovers that Magnifico’s intentions may not be as pure as they seem, she realises that she must do whatever she can to stop him. Even wishing upon a star. 

As is probably obvious from the story of a young girl wishing upon a star, the film finds itself heavily inspired by the famed Disney tune “When You Wish Upon a Star”, which originally featured in Pinocchio but has since become Disney’s signature song. Much like this little reference to the past of the company, the film is also filled to the brim with references that show the journey of Disney from then to now. 

It’s a good idea in scope; a nice way to celebrate the history of the studio whilst pushing forward with the new. This is, however, the only facet of the movie that feels at all genuine.

Whilst Disney were patting themselves on the back for how great their company used to be, they forgot to put heart into any other aspects of Wish. Similar to the hand-drawn animation style that the film attempts to replicate, much of Wish is flat and one dimensional.

This disingenuity is most evident in the film’s characters. The main character Asha (voiced by DeBose in perhaps the only memorable vocal performance of the entire film) is given a bit more depth and personality, but the side characters make it clear what was most important to Disney in the making of this film. The supporting cast of Asha’s family, friends and sidekicks is upwards of ten people, all of whom are of varying races, genders and sizes, placing equality, diversity and inclusivity at the forefront of the film to showcase the company’s core values. At least, what the company would like you to think are their core values. This becomes painstakingly obvious through the number “Knowing What I Know Now”, in which the film makes a point to show the differences in the characters through their blocking.

The issue is, these characters are given so little to do and have such little depth that we simply do not care about a single one of them. Though the filmmakers would like us to believe that these are beliefs, values and causes that the studio care about, they do almost nothing to convince us of that fallacy. Instead, the little bit of character that Asha’s friends are afforded is that each of them are inspired by the dwarfs in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. This once again proves that what Disney cares about the most is patting themselves on the back.

Wish essentially only exists as a form of corporate self-fellatio that is as insufferable to watch as it is to write about.

Coming in at only ninety-five minutes, the centenary celebration of Walt Disney Studios moves along at a breakneck pace, showing us that even the execs up at Disney HQ wanted this one to be over just as quickly as we did. This simultaneously illustrates just how little care was put into the story aspects of the film and how Wish is really just one big advertisement for the company that made it. Come the end of the film, a character asks how they could possibly keep the magic of the Kingdom of Rosas alive, to which another responds “easy, just keep wishing.” What Disney are really saying is “keep buying tickets.”

Just as one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, it must be said that among the garbage there are some nuggets of gold in Wish. The story has a really good idea underpinning it, and the film offers a nice opportunity to create a full-circle moment for the “wish upon a star” fable that Disney is essentially built upon. Going back to the hand-drawn aesthetic is also a nice touch, as is making the film a musical. Given more time, care and passion, Wish could have been something special. All it needed was some heart. The lack thereof in the final product tells us more about the company that made it than anything in Wish ever could. 

Wish is a hollow and lazy picture that feeds its audiences the propaganda of Disney, only this time they aren’t even hiding it with the usual magic that pervades throughout their output. Though the kids seeing this film will undoubtedly enjoy it, they deserve better. 

Score: 7/24

Napoleon (2023)
Director: Ridley Scott
Screenwriter: David Scarpa
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Vanessa Kirby, Tahar Rahim, Rupert Everett, Paul Rhys

Almost a quarter of a century after his swords and sandals epic Gladiator became a critically acclaimed cultural phenomenon and Oscars Best Picture winner, Ridley Scott re-teams with one of its stars – one of this generation’s leading actors and a multi-time Academy Award nominee, Joaquin Phoenix – to revisit another of history’s most written about leaders, Napoleon Bonaparte of France. With more historically accurate locations and just as many period-appropriate costumes as in his turn of the century fable, this life and times of France’s great-then-disgraced general should be a lot more affecting than it actually is. This bullet point journey through Bonaparte’s rise and fall from power doesn’t make powerful comment on the corruption of man, nor does it evaluate the emperor’s influence on war or peace, on Europe or France or the United Kingdom or Russia. In fact, it doesn’t say much at all…

It would be difficult to chronicle Napoleon’s story and fail to capture the imagination in one way or another. This is one of history’s most important figures, an emblem of power and greed. His various roles in post-revolution France took him across continents, saw him as the figurehead of coups, and brought about the deaths of more than one million people. His was a life filled with so many historically significant events, moments, and decisions, that anyone with so much as an Encyclopaedia Britannica could recount his story with at least some drama, shock and awe. The issue with this $200million film is that the script does little more than precisely that, recounting the significant moments of his leadership as if listing them out of a book, with a cheap and at times barely legible love angle tacked on to evoke empathy and provide commentary on the events that come fast and often with little context.

Joaquin Phoenix tries his best. He dominates every scene, embodying a character he clearly sees as more of a creature than a man. Under his spell, Napoleon Bonaparte is worthy of attention, a character whom we are desperate to investigate, to interrogate. But the film doesn’t allow for that. As we depart the beheading of Marie Antoinette in revolution-era France to first meet our subject, Phoenix is not unlike a lion with his jaw clenched, his eyes glazed, his uniform as extravagant and symbolic as a mane. There is so much promise held within this introduction – a potentially world-shifting performance, some spectacular wardrobe work, effective framing and blocking – and instead it sadly becomes emblematic of a film that leaves so much of its potential unfulfilled.

The bullet point journey through Napoleon’s conquests, political manoeuvres, and exiles, requires an emotional core for any potential audience to attach to, and it finds that in the would-be emperor’s marriage to his beloved Josephine. Vanessa Kirby embodies the infamous leader’s muse as if a witch who has cast a spell, and the Oscar-nominated performer’s turn is at times just as beguiling as Phoenix’s. Together, they never hit the highs of some of their other on-screen relationships (Phoenix in Her, Kirby in Pieces of a Woman), nor is their relationship as moving as that presented by Mel Gibson and Catherine McCormack in Braveheart, or as lustful as that presented by Omar Sharif and Julie Christie in Doctor Zhivago. There isn’t even a sense of dangerous plotting as underlined by the incestuous relationship hinted at between Phoenix and Connie Nielsen in Gladiator, which at least provoked a reaction. In Napoleon, Phoenix and Kirby are believably brought together, but they are far from enchanted by one another, and as time passes and events occur, you expect that to become part of the commentary on Napoleon’s lack of humanity, but it doesn’t. Napoleon instead frames this relationship as the beating heart of its subject, as the primary motivating factor, the biggest achievement, the biggest regret. And the film only takes brief moments to dissect this, or even present a valid argument as to how the relationship motivated the man to achieve otherworldly horrors. Theirs is a story that runs parallel to the story of Napoleon’s “achievements”, evolving from time to time but largely suffering from the same “this happens and then this happens and then this happens” that plagues the rest of the tale.

Beyond the limitations of David Scarpa’s screenplay, which was no doubt limited in its potential by the vast period of time it sought to cover (a period of more than 25 years), and the effects this has on Claire Simpson’s editing and pacing of the film, Napoleon does achieve a lot cinematically. First and foremost, the costume work is spectacular. David Crossman and Janty Yates’ work in costuming is nothing short of stellar, and a glimpse at the level of quality many expected a modern Ridley Scott historical epic to achieve. Everyone looks unique and period-appropriate, but the smaller details on the limited selection of main characters are worthy of the biggest screen possible and plenty of critical acclaim. Similarly, the production design by Arthur Max is a significant factor in bringing cinematic qualities to scenes that are otherwise inconsequential or at least far from unmissable. The party and governmental scenes are where the latter shines the brightest, some sequences decked out and presented as if the period’s great paintings.

Ridley Scott must be commended for his role in bringing this to life, too. Some shots are of the highest cinematic calibre, a master clearly touching on the greatness that has been foundational to his visually impressive career to date. His party scenes are filled with life, there are unique physical qualities to many of the major historical figures at play in the story, and he seems intent on ensuring that not a single battle is presented in as bland a fashion as many other director’s have long since settled. His work with cinematographer Dariusz Wolski in the capturing of cold, of fog, of early morning winter sunrises, imbues the piece with a sense of reality and ensures that nobody can be bored by the achievements held within each frame. Some sequences, such as the one in which Napoleon takes Moscow, are worthy even of a highlight reel that includes The Duellists, Alien, Blade Runner, Thelma & Louise and Gladiator.

As has often been the case in more recent Scott movies, there are also shots, scenes and sometimes even entire sequences that seem absent of his once unique and form-topping touch. Early on, it is easy to be removed from the reality of the time period courtesy of poor CGI, such as that showing Joaquin Phoenix riding a horse on a beach or large crowds resembling AI renditions more than actual people. The picture is also so awash with greys that it seems more like a mid-2000s early digital filmmaking release than even Scott’s own from that era. Some night time shots are utterly spectacular, and seem to be of the same school as those celebrated in Jordan Peele’s Nope, but there are vast periods in which everything looks washed out, and it is almost certain that minutes of this film will be barely legible (too dark) to anyone who eventually watches it at home.

Ridley Scott has spoken a lot in the press tour for Napoleon about how his movies do not need to be historically accurate. When a film seeks to explore something thematically, personally, or ideologically, then Scott is most certainly correct. Film is art, and art seeks truth rather than fact. Gladiator worked because of this perspective, because of how it abandoned fact in search of the truth held within the myth. But Napoleon doesn’t do that. It presents moment after moment from the history books, often inaccurately out of negligence as opposed to deeper purpose. There is no doubt that a lot of care and artistry can be seen on screen in Napoleon, but that negligence will be the story of this film: a movie that could have been great, that could have meant something, that could have simply been accurate, and ended up being none of those things. Like Napoleon himself, Napoleon thinks itself as greater than it is. It isn’t insulting like Ridley Scott’s idea of Napoleon firing canons into the Great Pyramid of Giza was to historians the world over, but it does offer only glimmers at its full might. Some individual pieces are greater than the whole in this instance, and what a shame that is. This should have been special.

Score: 15/24

Recommended for you: Ridley Scott Films Ranked

Thanksgiving (2023)
Director: Eli Roth
Screenwriters: Jeff Rendel
Starring: Patrick Dempsey, Nell Verlaque, Addison Rae, Rick Hoffman, Milo Manheim, Jalen Thomas Brooks, Gina Gershon

There were quite a few issues with the Quentin Tarantino/Robert Rodriguez exploitation double feature ‘Grindhouse’ from 2007, with Rodriguez’s film Planet Terror admittedly being the superior film to Tarantino’s Death Proof, which whilst not awful, is certainly his worst film so far. What was possibly the best part of both films were the opening few minutes, which contained mock trailers for exploitation horror films before the main feature. Out of these came Rodriguez’s Machete in 2010, which somehow has become Danny Trejo’s modern day calling card, and Hobo with a Shotgun starring Rutger Hauer in 2011. Now, twelve years after the last feature-length version, and sixteen years after the fake trailer short film first aired in the double bill, Eli Roth brings us Thanksgiving, a pure exploitation slasher flick of the greatest kind.

Following a massacre at a Black Friday sale at RightMart, the next year’s thanksgiving is rightly looked to with apprehension. Demonstrations to close down the store, comments towards the store owner’s daughter, Jessica (played by Nell Verlaque), and the return to town of her old boyfriend, Bobby (played by Thomas Brooks) are just small parts of it. The more pressing issue is that someone has stolen an axe from a mock-up of John Carver’s ancestral home, and there are a load of masks of his face being handed around for the upcoming parade. Someone is back for revenge, and this time there will be no leftovers. So says the tagline.

The poster designs for Thanksgiving have shown clearly where the film’s interests lie, as four are variations of old slasher posters, from The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) to Halloween (1978). The original Grindhouse short was very much a love letter to these films of the seventies and eighties. However, it would be remiss to say that Thanksgiving is simply an 80s tribute, because whilst there are moments (even referencing slightly lesser known entries like Prom Night and even Happy Birthday To Me), there’s as much praise given to the neo-slashers of the modern era. The slick stylings of Kevin Williamson-penned slashers like Scream and I Know What You Did Last Summer are front and centre, and Roth’s swift direction and Rendel’s dialogue make it clear that this is a modern film which isn’t interested in replicating the crackly quality of the 80s, as the film Abrakadabra (2018) did to stylistically replicate the 70s giallo. There’s as much tribute paid to old schlock like My Bloody Valentine and New Year’s Evil (80s slashers, after Halloween, took any national holiday they could to make a film around) as there is to Happy Death Day. Thanksgiving is traditional in sentiment and tropes, but modern in its slick execution.

It is precisely this balance that makes Thanksgiving so fun to watch. Yes, it’s violent to the extreme, with gnarly gore and twisted deaths, and if that’s not your cup of tea then the film won’t be for you, but this amount of red meat is to be expected of Roth, who has never shied away from ripping off body parts for the past twenty years. Yes, the formula is baked into the film’s very existence, and Roth never tries for a single second to step away from it. It is cliched to the hilt, shining its axe blade to a finely honed edge of horror formula. Yes, it never for a second tries to do a single thing which might be considered new or innovative or interesting from a standpoint of pushing things forward.

Yet that is the exact point of the film. This is a love letter to all of the teen slasher’s history, from Blood and Black Lace’s giallo beginnings to the most recent Scream films. The characters are stock but well acted, music by Brandon Roberts in the now-traditional orchestral stylings that Marco Beltrami used to great effect in Scream doing its job, and everything slots together nicely in the final product.

There’s a strong anti-capitalist message which comes and goes in varying strength depending on when the plot calls for it, and the clunkiness of its execution in this department isn’t going to score it any points, but there is, at least, something in there. It doesn’t simply use teen technology as a joke, although it also doesn’t put its full weight behind using it to give the message of the viral nature of crime and the desensitisation to violence as it seems to think it is doing. Perhaps this would be explored in a sequel, as the film certainly leaves enough scope and enough lingering doubts as to warrant it. There are no loose ends, but there’s a feeling that things aren’t all said and done.

For the most part, however, Thanksgiving does exactly what it says it’s going to. It gives a good, bloody slasher flick with confident writing and directing, and whilst it never achieves anything distinctly new, it is as monolithic a tribute to the slasher film as there ever has been, without going postmodern and meta to name-and-shame every film it stole a shot from. It feels very much like a film which heralds the end of an era for the slasher film, as the reboots of Halloween and Scream have seemed to begin to usher in a new wave of the formula. The film holds its axe high to the world and confidently, without shame, declares, ‘I am a slasher film, and I love it.’

Score: 18/24

The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (2023)
Director: Francis: Lawrence
Screenwriter: Michael Lesslie, Michael Arndt
Starring: Tom Blyth, Rachel Zegler, Hunter Schafer, Josh Andres Rivera, Peter Dinklage, Jason Schwartzman, Viola Davis

Everyone loves a good origin story. Whether that origin story is worth telling is a different matter entirely.

When The Hunger Games was released more than a decade ago, its massive success (both with fans and at the box office) opened the floodgates for countless other young adult dystopian adaptations. We got The Mortal Instruments, I Am Number Four, Ender’s Game, Divergent, The Fifth Wave, and The Maze Runner, all of which failed to garner the same praise as The Hunger Games had. Though this trend didn’t make it out of the mid-2010s alive, The Hunger Games series has continued to endure thanks to the quality and consistency of the performances, writing, directing, and production design across all four films. Its themes of war, rebellion, oppression, and the power of love, are more timely than ever.

It was inevitable that Hollywood would eventually circle back to The Hunger Games, especially considering the new trend that has emerged in recent years: nostalgia. In the years since The Hunger Games series ended, Star Wars, Harry Potter, and Ghostbusters have all been resurrected to varying degrees of success, each new entry seemingly struggling to justify its reason to exist. But The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes somehow manages to escape the same fate. Based on the 2020 prequel novel of the same name by “The Hunger Games” author Suzanne Collins, the film stands on its own, reigniting the same spark that made the original films so popular, without ever using those films as a crutch.

In Songbirds and Snakes, we return to the world of Panem 64 years before Katniss Everdeen stepped into the arena. The country is struggling to rebuild following the war, the dark days are barely behind them. The Hunger Games is in its 10th year, but Head Game Maker Dr. Volumnia Gaul (Viola Davis) is struggling to figure out how to get people to keep watching her sickening reality show. Amid this, a young Coriolanus Snow (Tom Blyth), years before he will become the powerful and cruel dictator we know him to be, is desperate to save his family from financial ruin. Though his father helped to create The Hunger Games, his suspicious death left the family penniless. Coriolanus lives in a constant state of possible eviction with his grandma’am (Fionnula Flanagan) and older cousin Tigris (Hunter Schafer), who will go on to become a stylist for the games and later an ally to Katniss in the resistance against The Capitol.

At the academy, Coriolanus is informed that there will be one more test before graduation: seniors must become mentors in the upcoming games. “Your job is to make them into spectacles, not survivors,” Dean Highbottom (Peter Dinklage) tells them. Coriolanus ends up being paired with Lucy Gray Baird (Rachel Zegler), a fiery tribute from District 12 and member of the Covey, a traveling musician troupe. Lucy Gray doesn’t have much in the way of fighting skills, but she is a performer and the arena becomes her stage. She also has a habit of slicing snakes on people that have wronged her. When Coriolanus and Lucy Gray form an unexpected connection, he ends up risking everything to make sure she makes it out of the games alive, but the threat of rebellion in the districts and Coriolanus’ ambition begin to tear them apart.

Songsbirds and Snakes works for a couple of different reasons, chief among them being the fact that almost the entire production team behind The Hunger Games returned to make it. Francis Lawrence, who took over for The Hunger Games director Gary Ross with Catching Fire (2013) and stayed until the end of the series (2015), returned to direct, along with producer Nina Jacobson. Returning production designer Phillip Messina and cinematographer Jo Willem manage to recreate the look of the original series to ensure that it feels as though no time had passed between the final instalment and this prequel, while still giving the film its own visual flair. While The Hunger Games is not tame by any means, the luxury and gloss of The Capitol’s state of the art technology gives everything a glossy sheen. In Songbirds and Snakes, everything is primitive and wild: the arena is a crumbling concrete dome, there is no late night talk show, no fancy training center or tribute living quarters, everything feels rough and unpolished and ten times as dangerous. The color pallet, although reminiscent of the original films, is decidedly darker. The production and costume designers took obvious inspiration from the 1940s, and particularly Nazi Germany, especially in regards to the battle rifles used. While The Hunger Games used analogue technology as a jumping off point for its futuristic designs, Songbirds and Snakes takes that to another level. It’s easy to see how this Panem will eventually becomes that one, decades later. The film is one of those rare big-budget spectacles that actually looks as expensive as it is.

The Hunger Games succeeded in part because the novels were adapted with care, the filmmakers making sure to keep important details and characters and moments that made the story work in the first place. The narrative wasn’t tossed into a blender and then thrown up on screen. Suzanne Collins’ rich world building remained in tact throughout the four original films, and the same goes for Songbirds and Snakes. Every film in the original series is nearly 1 to 1 to its novel counterparts. Fans eager for another faithful adaptation will not be disappointed. Songbirds and Snakes stays almost entirely true to the spirit of the novel.

Despite the pressure of being the first entry in a widely popular franchise in nearly decade, Songbirds and Snakes is not trying to replicate the story beats of The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins crafted an intriguing origin story for her main villain, and that is partially responsible for this, but the filmmakers can also take credit as they didn’t feel the need to replicate moments from the original series or reference characters and events that haven’t happened yet (in the timeline of their in-film world). The closest they get to a wink and a nod is when Lucy Gray tells Coriolanus that the plant she’s holding is Katniss. Of course, those looking to have a little bit of the original series injected in their veins will not be disappointed either. Composer James Newton Howard knows exactly when to employ his Mockingjay theme. The structure of the film is also different and not just a carbon copy of the previous films, which almost always ended in the arena or in some type of explosive battle. Songbirds and Snakes takes the opposite approach. The first half of the movie is spent preparing for and executing the games, with the latter half dedicated to the unravelling of Coriolanus and Lucy’s relationship. Although, the movie does lose some steam once the games are over.

As far performances go, Songbirds and Snakes has a strong main cast that helps elevate the material and convey the complex inner lives of our characters even when it’s not necessarily found on the page. In addition to an impeccable American accent and a really good blond wig, relatively unknown English actor Tom Blyth manages to step into the shoes previously worn by the prolific Donald Sutherland with ease, although he doesn’t quite have Sutherland’s flair for the dramatic. But he’s just as charismatic to watch, and although he makes the character his own, it is not hard to believe that he is the younger version of a character we already know. He has a similar face and a similar voice, but there’s a hint of humanity in him that he has all but abandoned when we see him in The Hunger Games. In Songbirds and Snakes, there’s a vulnerability to him, but there’s also a darkness lurking just below the surface and Blyth balances that very well. Rachel Zegler is perfectly cast as Lucy Gray, brimming with charm and confidence. It should be no surprise that Zegler has a fantastic voice, thanks to her screen debut as Maria in Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story. Josh Andres Rivera is an absolute scene stealer as Sejanus Plinth, classmate of Coriolanus whose sympathy for the rebel cause becomes his ultimate downfall, and Hunter Schafer, who burst onto the scene as Jules on the HBO series “Euphoria”, is enchanting as Snow’s cousin Tigris, although her talent does feel wasted on such a small part. Jason Schwartzman (Asteroid City) is absolutely hilarious as Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, first television host of the games and presumed relative of Caesar Flickerman, who was played by Stanley Tucci in the original. His one liners in the midst of children killing each other highlights just how crass and and out of touch the people in The Capitol are. His performance never feels forced or over the top, as Tucci’s sometimes did.

All in all, Songbirds and Snakes is a worthy entry into The Hunger Games canon, offering a rich and intriguing peek into the past. It’s not as emotionally satisfying as the original series, but with only one film as opposed to four, that’s a difficult height to reach. Still, in an industry overrun with remakes, prequels, sequels, and reboots, Songbirds and Snakes understands how capturing the magic of a series so many already love is easy, you just have to tell a really good story.

Score: 22/24

Saltburn (2023)
Director: Emerald Fennell
Screenwriter: Emerald Fennell
Starring: Barry Keoghan, Jacob Elordi, Rosamund Pike, Richard E. Grant, Alison Oliver, Archie Madekwe, Carey Mulligan

With the release of her debut feature film Promising Young Woman in 2020, Emerald Fennell established herself as one of the most exciting directors working today. Her candy-pop infused, #MeToo-inspired revenge thriller provoked challenging discussions and introduced the world to Fennell’s fresh voice and unique talents. With her sophomore effort Saltburn, can lightning strike twice?

The film opens at the beginning of the 2006/07 academic year as Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan) enrols at Oxford University. Though Ollie struggles to make friends at first – hilariously summed up in the trailer by Ewan Mitchell’s great line “Did you know there was a college Christmas party tonight? NFI, me and you. Not fucking invited” – he quickly finds himself under the wing of charming and aristocratic Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi). Before long, Catton invites Ollie to stay with him over the summer at his eccentric family’s sprawling estate, Saltburn.

The title card of the picture finds itself scribbled across the film’s 4:3 frame, like the graffiti you’d find sprawled over an old school textbook. Immediately, with this simple design choice, Fennell sums up the schoolboy immaturity of many of the characters; they think the world revolves around them but really their problems are the sort of issues you’d find on the playground, and they hold onto their grudges forever. What makes it so terrifying, as their placement as the elite in society shows, is that these are the people who hold power. The ones that make the rules for everyone else yet don’t abide by them (a very funny karaoke scene in the film seems to poke fun at a very real example of this in recent British politics), the kind of people who don’t need to worry financially. There is maybe even something to be said about the latter point with regard to the film’s setting in 2007, right before the climax of the 2007–2008 financial crisis. 

Making up this abhorrent and aberrant family are an unforgettable cast of characters made up of the airhead family patriarch Sir James (Richard E. Grant), the oblivious family matriarch Elsbeth (Rosamund Pike), Felix, his siren-like sister Venetia (Alison Oliver) and their cousin Farleigh (Archie Madekwe), a particularly mischievous jester-like character that entertains the whole family. Oh, and let’s not forget the ludicrously melancholic “Poor Dear” Pamela (Carey Mulligan). All of whom are portrayed wonderfully by each respective actor, often delivering hilarious comedic performances with such an immense depth to them that not only do they make us laugh but they offer a scarily accurate portrayal of the type of people we allow to control our world.

The loathsome behaviour and elitist thinking of each character is introduced very early on. This is perhaps best exemplified by Oliver’s first meeting with his tutor, in which he is essentially mocked for having completed the summer reading, rather than celebrated for his hard work. All the while Farleigh, who is twenty minutes late, gains the respect of the tutor due to his family name and the power that it holds. In this world, status beats out hard work every time. Equally so, the first time Oliver and Felix officially meet, Felix’s bike has a puncture and Oliver offers him his bike so that he can make it to class even though it is clear that Felix really wasn’t doing much to even attempt to fix his bike. Felix was raised to believe that all of life’s problems would be solved for him. 

In spite of all this, Oliver can’t help but to find himself seduced by their lavish lifestyles, just as we can’t help but to be tempted by the Catton family, leading to both us and Oliver finding ourselves entangled in their web. It is in the way that the film is shot that allows Fennell to seduce us so easily. Shooting the stately home as though it were a fetish object, Fennell captures the alluring nature of such a home in the most perfect way that it becomes clear why anybody who enters would never wish to leave again. 

Saltburn doesn’t produce a product that simply delivers a message of the evils of privileged high society, but instead delivers them as fully fleshed out humans of both good and bad doing. Just as Felix may be a spoilt brat he is also by far the most understanding of the family and the one who is constantly generous to Oliver for little reason other than genuine kindness. Jacob Elordi captures this in his layered performance as Felix, bringing a charm and charisma to the character as well as a childish nature.

Instead, Saltburn shows the evils of desire and the lengths that many will go to in order to get what they want. In the game that is Saltburn, everybody wants something and they are all playing against each other to get it. It’s like ‘Succession‘ for the ‘Skins’ generation.

Though it is certainly an ensemble piece and one in which each performer must be nothing short of brilliant in order to make the world of the movie work, the story really rests on the shoulders of lead actor Barry Keoghan. He, along with Fennell’s wonderful direction, brings Saltburn to life. As the film progresses and it is Oliver who becomes the desirable object, things begin to get interesting and Keoghan’s portrayal of this journey is nothing short of spectacular. Not only does he capture the growth and progression of his character with precision, but with each new scene he brings something a little different, making Oliver’s evolution all that more interesting. Come the end of the film, once Oliver has transformed into his final form, it is clear that what we have just witnessed is a special performance that will linger in the mind for years to come.

Deciding which of Fennell’s two feature films is better will inevitably come down to a matter of taste. For some, one message will hit harder than the other, but for others the pacing and structure will leave a lasting impact. It all comes down to the individual. What is clear, however, is that Emerald Fennell is one of the most exciting directors working today and Saltburn marks the second successive masterpiece in her short but impactful career.

Saltburn is a seductive odyssey of lust, desire and betrayal that plays out like a Shakespearean episode of ‘Skins’, with a slight dash of ‘Succession’. Perhaps just as importantly, it does for Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s “Murder on the Dancefloor” what Promising Young Woman did for Paris Hilton’s “Stars Are Blind”. Emerald Fennell has done it again.

Score: 23/24

The Marvels (2023)
Director: Nia DaCosta
Screenwriters: Nia DaCosta, Megan McDonnell, Elissa Karasik
Starring: Brie Larson, Teyonah Parris, Iman Vellani, Zawe Ashton, Gary Lewis, Park Seo-joon, Zenobia Shroff, Mohan Kapur, Saagar Shaikh, Samuel L. Jackson

Previously on the MCU…

In Captain Marvel, Carol Danvers became the most powerful woman alive when she absorbed the cosmic energy of an exploding alien reactor. In ‘Wandavision’, astronaut Monica Rambeau gained the power to manipulate the electromagnetic spectrum when she passed through a barrier of chaos magic. In ‘Ms Marvel’, teenage superhero fangirl Kamala Khan’s inert extra-dimensional mutant powers were unlocked by a magical bangle passed down through her family. Now…

When three superheroes with light-based powers mysteriously start switching places across the universe, Carol Danvers (Brie Larson), Monica Rambeau (Teyonah Parris) and Kamala Khan (Iman Vellani) must team up to find the root cause of their conundrum and stop fanatical Kree warlord Dar-Benn (Zawe Ashton) from doing untold damage to the universe.

The debate about whether it’s a good move for buzzworthy indie directors to make the leap to superhero blockbusters so early in their careers continues. Cop Car’s Jon Watts managed to keep some of his directorial voice intact when he swung into the MCU with Spider-Man: Homecoming, ditto Taika Waititi taking up Thor’s hammer straight after Hunt for the Wilderpeople, but other filmmakers like Cate Shortland (going from Berlin Syndrome to Black Widow) and Chloé Zhao (following Nomadland with Eternals) have struggled to make their superhero movies stand out. Nia DaCosta (previously behind the Candyman reboot) seems to find herself somewhere in the middle of that scale, bringing plenty of personality to her story but perhaps having to temper her darker impulses to fit the studio brief.

The sheer charm of the central trio’s dynamic makes you forgive the film a lot of sins. This is what you’re watching for, to see this unconventional surrogate family unit – an absentee aunt, a grieving daughter and an over-enthusiastic younger sister who just wants to be included – puzzle out their predicament and support each other through their trials. The problem is that exactly what Captain Marvel has been doing since her movie debut, referenced in brief flashbacks and confronted directly at this film’s close, sounds a lot more interesting than the film we are actually watching. Rather than grappling with the responsibility of what to do with your near-unlimited power, seeing her make what will prove to be disastrous decisions that impact the lives of billions of extra-terrestrials, more often than not we’re hurtling around the universe searching for space trinkets for undefined reasons. 

There are some admittedly eye-catching sci-fi vistas on display, with glittering futuristic cities and spectacularly collapsing planetary bodies aplenty. There is also, disappointingly, still the odd uninspiring brawl that amounts to repetitive punching with added fireworks, usually in pretty featureless added-in-post environs. 

The action highlight is unquestionably the bravura fight sequence in the first act that is given its lifeblood and rhythm by sterling work from editors Catrin Hedström and Evan Schiff, hilariously inopportunely zipping the three Marvels in and out of their brawl taking place at three different points in the galaxy every time they use their powers. This unexpectedly not only puts the Khan family and their Jersey City home in the firing line but also keeps the powered trio physically apart and unable to effectively coordinate a little while longer.

You can’t really accuse DaCosta and co for playing it safe, mostly because of how prominently they feature multiple Flerkens (chaotic alien cats that can consume just about anything with their disguised tendrilled maws). The film also finds room for not one but two musical, or at least musical-inspired sequences to break up its more generic action. The more self-aware of these scenes that references an infamous piece of bad pop culture is the better and most memorable of the two by far and will doubtless be doing the rounds on social media as soon as The Marvels is released digitally.

This is one of the funnier Marvel movies, but most of the humour comes from the performances (especially Vellani’s insatiable excitement levels) rather than what was written on the page. The script could have used another pass for sure, and it contains very little that might be considered quotable. The warm interplay of Kamala and her protective family, the undoubted heart and highlight of her solo show, is always welcome, plus it’s amusing that they gave her parents (Zenobia Shroff and Mohan Kapur, both great value) more to do in this than Samuel L. Jackson’s Nick Fury.

The Marvels has probably the most boring villain since we completely lost Christopher Eccleston behind his prosthetics to play Malekith. Zawe Ashton’s Dar-Benn is literally carrying around her Kree uber-bastard predecessor Ronan the Accuser’s hammer and making foreboding pronouncements, sneering through metal-capped teeth completely straight-faced without the luxury of a Star-Lord dancing to puncture her pomposity. We know she’s after a pair of magical MacGuffins and she wants to destroy a sizeable portion of the universe (which is bad) in order to save her own dying world (which is goodish), but she has no other personality or nuance to make her feel like anything more than a driver of plot.

You do wonder how much this movie was whittled down in the edit and whether DaCosta would have wanted to delve further into Carol’s costly mistakes and dwell on the dark implications of godlike power a little more in addition to delivering a fun space romp driven by sparky interplay between three gifted female performers. As it is, The Marvels is a decent enough time at the movies that doesn’t quite come together as a satisfying whole. Fans won’t need to be told to stick around during the credits for a couple of pleasant surprises. 

Score: 16/24

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