KWIF=Kent's Week in Film. A quieter week.
This Week:
The Invite (2026, d. Olivia Wilde - in theatre)
The Samurai and the Prisoner (2026, d. Kiyoshi Kurosawa - in theatre)
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Late in the week a whole slew of new releases dropped that I want to check out in theatre. Early in the week, I had nothing I was itching to see. So I saw The Invite.I've enjoyed Olivia Wilde's films in the past (Booksmart was fantastic and Don't Worry Darling was a mess, yes, but an interesting one). The Invite really intrigued me until I started hearing critical feedback (almost universally positive and/or glowing) that talked about the premise of the film. Like The Drama earlier this year, another critically well-received movie (and very successful one at that, grossing over 100mil at the box office), I was intrigued but upon hearing that premise but my aversion to discomfort steered me away.
The Invite's simple premise conjured little but cringe comedy in my mind, and I just don't have the stomach for such comedic affairs anymore. Here Angela (Wilde) and her husband Joe (Seth Rogen) are hosting their upstairs neighbours Pina (Penelope Cruz) and Hawk (Ed Norton) for a getting-to-know you dinner. They get to know their upstairs neighbours alright, they get to know that they are swingers and the titular invite is not for dinner, but to have group sex. (Uh, spoiler, I guess)
You can already start to see the many, many opportunities to have one's hackles raised just in such a simple description. But it seems so much worse...potentially... when you learn, within the first ten minutes of the film, that Angela and Joe are both miserable in their relationship, do little other than argue, and Joe is totally not on board with the short-notice event Angela has arranged. You can just picture the cringe-inducing moments as Joe and Angela put on their game faces and try to hid their bitterness towards each other for the benefit of the guests.
But that's not this film. Mercifully that's not this film.
Not to say that The Invite is a comforting watch by any means, but it is not interested in being cringe comedy in the slightest.
With a savvy script from Rashida Jones and Will McCormack (based of a 2021 Spanish film The People Upstairs), The Invite immediately cuts out the pretense the moment Pina and Hawk walk in the door. Joe is not hiding in the slightest his displeasure about this dinner date, while Pina and Hawk immediately fess up that they heard their hosts arguing through the door when they arrived.
The smart play in all this is that Angela and Joe are emotionally repressed, while Pina and Hawk are emotionally intuitive. Pina is also a therapist so she, in particular, has a way of approaching a hostile environment and cutting through the tension. Hawk has such an easy going, friendly demeanour that he not only seems open to talking about anything, he kind of draws things out of people.
And so the evening, set for disaster, is...well... a disaster, but a disaster that ebbs and flows in waves. Joe and Angela are unable to contain their hostility but Pina and Hawk are continually able to disarm them, to a point. Joe wants nothing more than to confront their upstairs neighbours about their loud, middle-of-the-night sex noises, but Angela is committed to saying nothing and wanting to make friends (which are in short supply).
When the truth about Pina and Hawk's sexual proclivities come to light, suddenly you see Angela and Joe in a whole new light. Their elation and excitement and curiosity becomes a shared moment where they seem like a loving couple and best friends... for a little bit. And then the ebb and flow begins again.
The Invite is a comedy-drama. It lives squarely between those two worlds. There are some pretty good laughs, but there's also dramatic intensity as the core of this film is not a goofy sex comedy but a break-up story. To paraphrase a review on Letterboxed, this may be the film that launches a thousand divorces.
It's a pretty exceptional production featuring a cast of only four actors that carry pretty the entire hour and forty minutes with remarkable performances. Rogen provides a reminder that, yes, he may be a very specific type, but within that type he's got exceptional range and is undervalued as a dramatic performer. Wiled is a perfect bundle of tension looking for release. Cruz is effortlessly alluring that you have to wonder if it's a put on and Norton is at his best in a very long time being affable, enticing but also a little weird and sad.
It's a film that is part TV bottle episode, part stage play, but only feels at home structured as a movie. Wilde's direction is exceptional and intriguing that follows the appropriate action to accentuate the comedy or the drama (and sometimes cleverly elides over details for comedic or dramatic effect). The opening credits are an editing smorgasbord of repeating frames and or split screens that doesn't necessarily prepare you for the film to come based on the content of the images presented, but gives the feeling of a 70's relationship comedy and/or drama, which should tell you what you're in for.
My immediate impulse was to compare it to Woody Allen's work of the 70's and 80's, sans-neuroses, and I only hesitate because Allen's reputation has been tainted so greatly by, well, you know (and if you don't, look it up), that it seems wrong to compare anything to his work. And yet, I can't think of much else other than Allen's work looking at relationships and sex and mixing it with awkward comedy and emotionally impactful drama that seems to have all but disappeared in the wake of, well, Allen's irrelevance (as if the whole realm or style storytelling was verboten). There's been few films that really trigger that sense of "oh, here's what we've been missing from our cinematic diet" so specifically.
I was indeed surprised to find not a cringe comedy, but a thoughtful, thought-provoking, funny, fascinating, mature and entertaining film that challenges the audience who may cross their arms with discomfort, but asks them to uncross them and open up.
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I am by no means an expert of samurai fare...though I have dabbled in it infrequently over my many decades. It's a subgenre of historical storytelling that fascinates me every time I watch (or read) it. While I have watched a decent amount (and read a not so decent amount), I have only the remotest of understandings of the many eras in which samurai culture was predominant, the tides of Japanese culture across those eras, the topography in which the samurai traverse, and meaningful understanding the social, political and economic structures as well as the deeper workings of the religious and samurai cultures of these stories tend to elude me time after time. It's not my history, it's not my culture, but it is something I'm almost always satisfied with spending time exploring.This is all to say I'm going to have a tremendously difficult time really talking about The Samurai and the Prisoner, a new drama set in the late 1500's where much of Japan is in the midst of war. On one side is Lord Oda, who is barely seen in the picture at all, but his presence is felt almost constantly. He is a man to be feared, and his desire is nothing less than ruling the world. On the other side is Lord Araki (Masahiro Motoki), who has banded a small collection of lords together to oppose Oda, with tenuous allegiances making a war council inside the impregnable walls of Arioka Castle (which Araki presides over having himself taken it with force as an ally of Oda).
Oda sends an envoy to Arioka Castle, Kanbei (Masaki Suda), who Araki tries to turn to his side, but he is rebuffed. Rather than let Kanbei return with a message, or killing him (which itself is a message), Araki imprisons Kanbei. Soon after there's a murder within the castle walls, a seemingly impossible mystery which Araki's closes advisors can't seem to make sense of.
At this early stage in the film, with this sweeping drama of politics and war in play, it seemed like the story was going to swing completely into a sort of police procedural/CSI-Samurai and I got pretty excited. So it was to my own minor disappointment that Araki turned to Kanbei's wisdom to tease out the solution, and suddenly there was an answer...sort of. In the next season there comes another mystery, and again the season after that, and so establishes a pattern within Arioka Castle between phenomenal events and its Lord seeking the counsel of the only man in his cells.
Running at almost 150 minutes, Kurosawa's incredibly patient-but-eventful film never ceases being interesting though it's hard at times to truly understand where it is going or why until well past the half-way point.
Eventually we come to understand that the protagonist of our film, Lord Araki, may be a merciful man, but his mercy is still a calculation, it's still strategy. He wishes for a world free of conflict, war and murder, but he's also a brilliant military tactician who can't stop thinking about the ways of war. He's haunted by senseless death, though well aware that sometimes one death can prevent many more. His prisoner's life is spared, but Kanbei has no life in a prison cell except to serve Araki's requests, and the fate of his son, held by Oda to keep his loyalty in check, remains a torturous mystery for him.
The curious structure of the film told over the approximate span of a year, presents big events which lead to smaller events which lead to ripples barely noticed, but still felt by Araki. Every gambit or ploy Araki makes against Oda, or defends against, seems to result in just a little more chaos within Castle Arioka. Big waves to Araki are ripples to others, while little ripples eventually form into waves that cannot be ignored. It's all connected in some way, but it feels both organized and chaotic...who can say. Kanbei? Maybe.
The world within Castle Arioka is so well realized and so intricately understood by its director that you feel like you could turn to practically anyone who passes by on screen and follow them as a fully fleshed out individual. Meanwhile, the world outside the walls feels vast and unknowable. All the reports we hear of Oda's machinations and manoeuvres, and the bending to his whims of other Lords, seem questionable...but there's no other choice except to trust it.
It's a well-composed film that only falters when it tries to go big. A battle scene seems lit by floodlights in an abandoned field with sneaker prints all over it, and feels starkly uncertain as a production compared to the assuredness of the remainder of the film.
It's a production that feels like it could do with some pruning, and perhaps its resolution isn't as satisfying (or unpredictable) as the remainder of the film, but it's time certainly well spent if this genre is at all in one's wheelhouse.
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