Kent's Week in Film is this: each week (or so) I have a spotlight movie which I write a longer, thinkier piece about, and then whatever else I watched that week I do a quick little summary of my thoughts... just to speed things along.
Rye Lane (2023, d. Raine Allen-Miller - Disney+/Hulu)
Serendipity (2001, d. Peter Chelsom - AmazonPrime)
Grosse Pointe Blank (1997, d. George Armitage - Disney+)
Men In Black (1997, d. Barry Sonnenfeld - Netflix)
A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984, d. Wes Craven - Bluray)
Phantom of the Paradise (1974, d. Brian De Palma - Bluray)
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During my formative years they were the domain of your Meg Ryans, Julia Robertses, Drew Barrymores and Andie MacDowells, then later your Sandra Bullocks, Reese Witherspoons, Kate Hudsons and Katherine Heigls... all names that were warning signs for stereotypical boyfriends to just stay away. The beats of meet-cute -> emotional investment -> complication -> romantic reunion are so eye-rollingly by-the-numbers that it was, from teenage/20-something swm eyes, easy to see one romcom as completely interchangeable with any other.
Like any genre or subgenre, there is going to be the tired, regurgitated pablum that the studios know they can crank out and make money on without even really thinking too hard about it, but there is also going to be the fresh and inventive filmmakers who either want to play within the genre, explore a very specific theme or idea, or bring people or cultures into the genre that are different than the pale-faced American (or sometimes British or Australian or Canadian) blondes and brunettes presented as the standard leads.
Rye Lane is a film that wants to do all three, and does so without making. a. point. of. it. Here we have a comedy about two Black, Gen Z Londoners who meet cute, have an ever-more-involving day together, face a complication, and get over it, because they can't get over each other. It's a film that doesn't break the mold, but it does re-shape it and re-form it into the image and style and story it wants to present.
From the opening moments of the film, an overhead panning shot of public toilet stalls, each, in the scant seconds they're on screen, telling their own micro-story, both in the radically different toilet-stall-environment it presents and in the actions of the people inhabiting them. It comes to stop on Des (David Jonsson), who is uncontrollably sobbing in a way that captures both the pathos of his pain, but also the comedic beats of his broadly melodramatic display. In the next stall sits Yas (Vivian Oparah) who is at once worried, curious and bemused by her neighbour. They have a brief exchange (Des is covering up, Yas is being quite Pithy) before Yas leaves Des to himself, but not before catching a peek of his pink Converse sneakers.
External to this is the art show of Des and Yas' mutual friend, an art show that is exclusively intense close-ups of mouths (teeth and tongues). It's an utterly pretentious, and simultaneously powerful display. I was about to get all arty farty, talking about how judgements and pre-judgements can be made based off the shape of teeth, or the pose of the lips, or the emotions that are conveyed or misconstrued. The film, and its characters, understand that the art is absurd and yet it also understands that there's definitely ambition and merit to it. Des and Yas meet proper over gently ribbing their friend's work, a light, whimsical, mutually satisfying conversation for them both that carries on outside the gallery.
Des, the accountant, is reserved, but not uptight. Yas, the aspiring costume designer, is very forward and immediately familiar in a disarmingly pleasant way. After a few charmingly awkward instances of saying goodbye, only to realize they're both going the same way, Yas breaks down Des' guard in a matter of seconds and learns about the relationship that ended months earlier that still has Des distraught and heartbroken. Yas has an easy way about her that start helping Des reframe the relationship he's still pining over, which involved his girlfriend of six years cheating on him with his best friend. They make it a few blocks of very sharing, very charming conversation, before Des admits he's on his way to meet with them, "to clear the air". Yas offers to come with, Des declines, but Yas turns up anyway, and the two continue on their way together, sharing back-and-forth, getting into mild adventures that are hilarious both in their low-stakes scenarios and the people that they meet.
If we have such a thing as "elevated horror" then perhaps we need "elevated romcom" because this certainly is that. Director Raine Allen-Miller could have just done the Linklater walk-and-talk of Before Sunrise, capturing to attractive people clearly vibing, something definitely happening between them, and putting them in a surrounding worth exploring visually behind and around them. But rather than just keep it so simple, Allen-Miller employs an immensely fun and fresh flashback technique that brings the people in conversation into the flashback as observers. You can bet this is going to be a new romcom trope. But the settings of Rye Lane, Brixton and these other kind of post-hipster boroughs of London the film explores we don't usually see on film with this sort of love and attention paid to them. They're not the pretty tourist parts. They're under-the-bridge shops and the odd alley flats and the like all captured with such wonder and reverie. The colour sense of the film is very, very lush and warm, like the characters are being hugged by their surroundings, like it loves them as much as they love it (and just like the growing love between Yas and Des, it's all unsaid).
The use of fish eye lens (the only real complaint I hear about the film is the employment of the fish-eye), serves a dual purpose: to present more of the cityscape in a broader perspective to the viewer, as well as give the sense that the city is watching these characters, as if its taken a particular interest in them and what's happening...like this is a meet-cute worth watching. And it is.
The fun subtext is about art and both its pretension and its power and how it can bring people together. It's an art show that starts the film, and an art show that closes the film. Yas' ex-boyfriend as well is an artist and, in a respect, as a costume designer, so is she. It's not coincidence... it's clearly a "world" that Allen-Miller is familiar with and finds both alluring and amusing. The ending's art show is particularly preposterous parade of posteriors in portrait, yet palpably potent as a portfolio. I thought it was amazing.
I laughed a lot with this movie and it took mere moments for me to start shipping these two. Jonsson has such an easy demeanor about him that he can shift ever so slightly into anxiousness or charm. Oparah has the gift of gab (and oh, I melted when she rapped) but she's also got the allure of something deeper just bubbling under the forthright, jokey surface. Their chemistry was a warm smoulder that just felt good and comfortable and was an absolute joy to be around. It's got to be a top 10, maybe even top 5 all-timer romcom for me.
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High Fidelity was a landmark movie for me as a lovelorn nerd who loves to rearrange his collections, and Cusack went good actor to my avatar on screen. I went back and did or redid tours with Say Anything, and Better Off Dead, and The Grifters, and Grosse Pointe Blank, and Being John Malkovich which just solidified that for me (at the time). So Serendipity, as Cusack's next big romantic follow-up, was an absolute must, to the point of going to see it, a flat-out, no-foolin' romance...on the big screen...all by myself. And I loved it, deeply. The story of a couple Cusack and Kate Beckinsale, each in a relationship, who meet cute trying to buy the same last pair of gloves for their partners at Christmas and then hit it off. Except she believes in serendipity so if they are meant to be together then they will find each other again. She puts her name in her copy of Love in the Time of Cholera, which she promises to sell immediately, and he writes his name on a fiver that she then goes off and purchases some breath mints with. It's foolish, and left in the hands of fate, as other signs of disconnect start coming between this seemingly once-in-a-lifetime connection.
It's, like 7 years later (no shit), and Cusack is an New York-based ESPN producer engaged to Sex in the City's Bridget Moynahan. Beckinsale is a therapist in San Francisco who is engaged to the culturally appropriative, shanai-playing John Corbett from Sex in the City. While both seem fairly comfortably engaged, they both, very much, are still looking...looking for that Cholera book, or that five dollar bill. If they're in such happy relationships, then why are they looking, especially after so much time has passed (too much time, in fact, it's pretty unhealthy).
The serendipity of Serendipity has their paths crossing but moments too late, but it builds itself two spirals that are bound to meet at the end, so their spiralling paths just gets closer and closer. I kind of love it as a plot contrivance, but as a romcom, it fails in the romance department by keeping the two leads apart for pretty much all of the film.
I think Cusack just startes to enter the sleepwalking-through-the-role/cut-me-a-paycheck mode with this film. He has a natural smarminess to him that he has been very good at hiding in his best roles, but is constantly seeping through the cracks here. The effort to turn on the charm is put in, but not nearly with the same amount of energy or force needed to sell this plot 100%. He's at like 85% at best. Beckinsale here is a bit flighty which seems contrary to her usual nature, and the amount of emphasis she puts onto her supernatural belief systems tampers her attractiveness (but that's my male perspective, it might be something more relatable to many women?).
I realize upon rewatching it that it's not a great romcom, and would no longer make the top ten, or even the honourable mentions for this very fact. But, I also recognize what it was about it that resonated so strongly with me, which is that it's a "you've got to break up with your fiancee" movie, and a pretty good one at that. When the film came out, I was a little over a year past having broken off an engagement, so this film which continually asks the question "should I go through with it?" really, powerfully resonated with me. In film, ultimately the characters understand that their pining for someone they only knew for a few hours is just part of an escape plan, and it validates those feelings that they're actively denying, that something isn't right. It's still a better film than it has any right to be, even though it's not a great film. I still connect with it, except, now that I've been happily married for over 15 years(!), my connection to the material is not even close to as strong as it was over 20 years ago.
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I've seen this film many, many times, and, while it's been a while since the last, it still holds up as a tremendously entertaining movie. Cusack plays Martin Blank as a man with "flexable morals" and the film seems to wrestle with Martin's profession much more than he does, while still retaining a comedic tone. But the chemistry between Martin and Minnie Driver's local Michigan radio DJ Debi is electric from the first time they lay eyes upon each other. Martin, given his profession, is bold and straightforward in approaching her, and Debi is direly curious, attracted and aggressively forward.
Cusack's doing great work here, as he's confronting the past he abruptly left behind 10 years ago (joined the army, did some stuff, went independent, kills people for money...it's a growth industry), meeting old friends, old loves, old nemeses, and his mentally unwell mother. It's not easy for him and Cusack manages each of these scenes with incredible delicacy and precise responses (he co-wrote the script, so he is fully invested in Martin Blank). But in that romance, it's Debi we're behind. We know Martin's bad news for her, even though he's not really hiding anything. They are deliciously cute together and they have to keep wiping the lens down from all the steam they're giving off, but in spite of all of it, I don't really want Debi to wind up with him, and she seems smart enough not to wind up with him, especially once she learns he wasn't joking about his job (and Driver's reaction is so painful to watch...devastation on screen).
The story does have a maybe too clever (but it has to be right) ace up its sleeve in getting this crazy couple back together, and it's a fully understated, but incredible and frequently funny action sequence oddly enough. It dials it in to the perfect degree, not going too huge, and making so much of it feel relevant, not just mindless action. It still doesn't redeem Martin in my eyes as good enough for Debi, but I can see how it thinks so.
I think Grosse Pointe Blank is a great precursor to HBO's Barry, but where Barry is an emotionally troubled sociopath, Martin is the lead of a very odd romcom, so he gets to overcome his demons, where Barry cannot.
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So, with a free evening and no agenda, I just put this on. You know what, it's fine. It's better than fine, it's actually good. Will Smith doing his Will Smith thing at the height of his Will-Smith-thing powers. Tommy Lee Jones, remarkably having just crested 50-years-old at the time of shooting, is doing his full-on cantankerous Tommy Lee Jones thing to its comedic apex. The practical effects by master FX artist Rick Baker are all on point, at a time just before CGI would start taking over seemingly every and any effects need. The creatures are wild, tangible and masterfully done, without the CGI spit-polish. Danny Elfman drops a score that maybe isn't as iconic as some of his other works, but it stands the test of time, and also distinguished (Elfman can get a little same-y, but he can also pull out scores that sound a part of his ouvre without seeming like riffs off earlier work). Sonnenfeld's sensibilities, his affection for simultaneous darkness and whimsey, are perfect for the film, he leaves on a layer of New York grime that the later films scrub and polish away.
The MVP of the film is Vincent D'Onofrio as "Edgar", who starts the film as an abusive white trash husband but is immediately killed by an invading alien species who uses his skin as a suit as a disguise for his mission on earth. It's an absolutely gonzo performance which D'Onofrio commits to fully, with hilarious physicality and a verbal slur that is only accentuated by his perfect "skin suit" makeup job (but D'Onofrio is so good he probably could have pulled off the role without the make-up).
In rewatching the film, I'm still somehow not sucked into the universe of MIB. I wasn't eager to continue with the franchise. I know what else is out there isn't what I wanted. The setup for MIB 2 was Smith's Agent J partnered with Linda Fiorentino's newly recruited Agent L. But Fiorentino, a notorious personality on set, wasn't wanted for the sequel and so the sequel began to rehash the Agent J & K dynamic. Which the third one did as well. I just don't care. And my lack of interest in the sequels also kind of hampers my investment in the original. I attempted to rewatch the miserable Men in Black 2 but I cut it off in less than 10 minutes because it was godawful.
Men In Black as a franchise is similar to Ghostbusters, in that the first film was lightning in a bottle with a sense of magic its sequels couldn't replicate (but that their cartoon spin-offs, by not trying to be in continuity with the film, managed to be the better supplement).
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Part of that is thanks to Will Smith, who, back in his pre-TV rapping Fresh Prince days he did a song "A nightmare on my street". Around the same time, the Fat Boys also had an Elm Street song tie-in, and my pre-teen brain couldn't handle it. These goofy songs still freaked me out. I also remember a school mate on the bus showing me a copy of Fangoria magazine (or some similar horror-themed rag) which was highlighting one of the Elm Street film's gross effects, and that image...well, it still hasn't fully left me. Something like Freddy in a tux serving someone their own entrails maybe...its a bit blurry this picture now.
So even though I watched all manner of horror pictures these days (not devotedly, but with little of the trepidation like I once had) I still hadn't watched any Nightmare pictures (except maybe Wes Craven's A New Nightmare, but I may be confusing it with Scream 3)
My thoughts on my first watching of the original, classic, 1984 A Nightmare on Elm Street. It's fine. Bordering on good. The acting its weakest element, ranging from passable to godawful (but in the end I kind of liked Ronee Blakely's terrible acting as the soused mom with the sincerest of ironic appreciation). Heather Lagencamp's heroic Nancy is a total mess of a character, and I really wish Craven had thought more about how to play stylistically with her delusional lack of sleep. This could have been a real head trip of a movie if it wanted to be. As is it's a competently made production that no doubt troubled many a teen in the 1980s, but I know Freddy become much more playful in later films, and the series goes for bigger, more inventive kills. I'm kind of looking forward to watching those, because Craven seemed to be holding back on both here.
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I don't recall how I watched the film originally, whether it was on VHS or DVD, but it was a film my partner of the time really loved. Now, it's kind of a terrible admission, but I felt my partner at that time had really bad taste in most everything, and I generally bristled against what they liked and loved, much preferring the things I liked and discovered (as I said, it was a very immature relationship). But I would humour her, and watch her shows and movies, and listen to her musics, but at the same time rather than being open-minded, I was kind of resentful, and actively resisted trying to like these things. I would, however, feign appreciation with a slight nod, or an high-voiced "yeah, it's not bad" to maintain the peace.
Phantom, though was something else entirely, something that didn't fit her image and the kind of baseline tastes. I didn't get it at first, because I was so resistant, but it was something I went back to after we broke up. A couple of times. It was something I really couldn't get out of my head.
I've recently been on a kick of acquiring physical media again (heavy suspicion that once the streaming wars end, it's going to make a lot of things scarce) and seeing the recent Scream Factory blu-ray of Phantom of the Paradise was a no-hesitation must-purchase. The opening sequence, crisp blacks, popping colours, as the doo-wop lip sync rehearsal of "Goodbye, Eddie, Goodbye" (the first of many original, and diverse tracks written by Paul Williams, who also co-stars) plays...my pupils dilated and I sunk deeply into my seat, just ready to receive this film (sharing it with a friend who had never seen it before).
It's not an easy movie to describe. It's a horror-musical-satire about the music industry that blends the stories of Faust, Phantom of the Opera and even a little of Dorian Gray with the sensibilities of Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange, taking its lead character through a gruelling journey of identity.
The film has an astounding number of exceptionally well-composed scenes, just some flat-out striking imagery, chief among them an amazing split screen, De Palma-specialty, that is just ...radical. The imagery extends beyond just compositions, set pieces, and sets to costumes like Phantom's sleek black leathers and iconic, absurdly bird-like steel mask (and teeth) and Death Records' amazing dead raven logo. Paul Williams as a world-famous music producer, Swan, who strikes bargains in blood with his subjects is, despite his stature, appropriately intimidating and unsettling (it's all in how little he seems affected by happening around him). Jessica Harper plays the chanteuse that the Phantom has affection for (but not for anything sexual, it's her voice that can service his music that he wants) and Swan basically steals to mess with him.
It's a film unlike any other, an extremely dark rock opera, but with a levity that reveals itself more and more upon repeat viewings. It's a very playful film that warps itself in disarmingly unexpected ways. It won't be to everyone's tastes, but it's a film that rewards repeated attention.
Kind of wishing you had written about each of the movies as if they were a romcom :)
ReplyDeleteAw shit... that would have been great. You need to be my editor and approve my batch reviews before they're published :P
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