Can You Ever Forgive Me?
Marielle Heller’s second feature is another inexcusable Oscar snub directed by a woman. Despite Melissa McCarthy and Richard E. Grant receiving worthy nominations for their performances, neither the Best Picture nor the Best Director categories paid any attention. Just like Lynne Ramsay’s You Were Never Really Here and Debra Granik’s Leave No Trace, there’s no reason to overlook Can You Ever Forgive Me? This is a surprisingly tender film, with a wonderful layer of sincerity glowing through the cynical surface. McCarthy and Grant do deserve credit for transforming potentially unlikeable roles into nuanced and empathetic characters; a teary exchange in which they affectionately call each other “c***s” is a prime example of this. However, Heller’s direction is equally vital in bringing out the film’s warmer side, alongside Nate Heller’s cosy, jazzy score and the tactile sound design accentuating the mechanical clunk of the typewriters. In an increasingly cold and judgemental world, a film like Can You Ever Forgive Me? is more than welcome.
Inevitably, the sequel to one of the greatest animated films of all time was going to struggle to live up to its predecessor’s legacy. Accordingly, The Lego Movie 2 isn’t the slickest in the story department. There’s a constant sense that writers Phil Lord and Christopher Miller feel pressured to top the original - as if they’re scrambling to stuff in as many new ideas as possible - resulting in a narrative that’s less neat. That said, it’s still quite a blast. Just like the first film, the animation is some of the most technically impressive and visually creative the medium has to offer. The jokes are unrelenting, bursting out of every scene with a laugh rate most Hollywood comedies can only envy. Many of the gags are also self-aware jabs at the film’s convoluted plot, which doesn’t excuse it but does make it go down a little easier. Even better, The Lego Movie 2’s message is one of surprising nuance, delivered by adjusting Everything is Awesome to reflect a more realistic outlook on the world: “Everything's not awesome, but that doesn't mean that it's hopeless and bleak. Everything's not awesome, but in my heart, I believe we can make things better if we stick together.”
Every film, in some way, manipulates the truth. The debates around the accuracy of this year’s Vice are a perfect example of cinema’s creative relationship with reality. However, even works of pure fiction are trying to convince you what your watching is, on some level, true. Director Lee Chang-dong’s Burning is all about this. Throughout the film, our lead protagonist Lee Jong-su - and by extension, the audience - is buying into a narrative. However, Chang-dong undermines this narrative at every turn. As soon as Jong-su is told one thing, it isn’t long until he’s then told the complete opposite. All films walk a thin line between fiction and reality and Burning plays with this fact to alluring effect. It’s a slow-burning (sorry), Hitchcockian thriller drenched in mystery and deceit, slyly drawing you in with a steady stream of information. It does, therefore, take a while to get a grip on what it's actually about, but the deliberate pace also means you're fully immersed in the film’s conceit - making it all the more disorienting when Chang-dong subverts it. The result is a film that raises more questions than it answers, ensuring it occupies your head long after the credits roll.
It seems, having essentially played all of Shakespeare’s leading men, the only role Kenneth Branagh had left was the Bard himself. And thus, All is True was born. Following the great playwright in his twilight years, reconciling with his family and wrestling with the death of his son, this is a quaint film that bears little resemblance to the bombast of Branagh’s previous Shakespeare adaptations. With the exception of some quotes from the plays themselves, which are employed to cheesy but touching effect, All is True avoids Shakespearean melodrama in favour of domestic intimacy. It’s an approach that reminds me of Bill Condon’s quietly brilliant Mr. Holmes, a film that similarly explored a larger than life figure in a more delicate setting. I rather liked it; despite its revisionist tendencies (Shakespeare appears surprisingly woke for a 17th-century man) it successfully endears the audience to a character who often comes off as rather elusive. A lot of this is thanks to Ben Elton’s script, which balances out the distressing emotional moments with a warm sense of humour, and the tremendous cast, featuring the likes of Judi Dench and Ian McKellen on fine form. It’s certainly no blockbuster, and it has as much respect for historical fact as Shakespeare himself did, but All is True is compelling in its own unobtrusive way.
Director Joe Cornish's second film is by no means perfect. Trite redemptive arcs for the bullies and a familiar absent father story for the protagonist restrict the film’s originality. Some of the jokes are also a bit ‘how do you do fellow, kids?’, with a clumsy Uber reference feeling particularly forced. However, Cornish crafts The Kid Who Would be King with such charm it's hard to stay cynical for long. The action is genuinely fun, instilling an irresistible sense of adventure through the sword fights, car chases and horseback pursuits. The final showdown, in which PE equipment is fashioned into Home Alone-style contraptions to battle Morgana’s undead army, is especially delightful. Also, when the film relies on its goofier side, it can raise a solid chuckle. Ultimately, Cornish’s message of refusing to accept the gloomy status quo and striving for better things is earnestly delivered and highly relevant to the film’s younger audiences. The Kid Who Would be King is honest, heartfelt fun.
Comments
Post a Comment