Category: Oscar Contenders

So often movies must have big, grandiose stakes in order to appease a wide audience.

They have global, if not universal consequences to the world filmmakers create, require massive budgets, large casts, intricate sets and visual effects to become cinematic blockbusters worthy of the big screen.

The scale to which the average movie has expanded has drastically altered the landscape of modern filmmaking and when more intimate portraits of simplicity are crafted by experts with unique vision and care, this exceedingly rare achievement deserves to be shown to as wide an audience as possible to remind moviegoers that not every movie must be an epic tale.

Such is the case with Academy Award winner Martin McDonagh’s latest feature, perhaps the simplest of his four films that examines a low-stakes story between two men with a relatively minor grievance and allows it to play out naturally and fluidly over the course of 100 minutes.

Set on a remote island off the coast of Ireland, The Banshees of Inisherin follows long-time friends Pádraic and Colm at a crossroads when Pádraic goes to Colm’s house to invite him to the local pub only to realize that Colm no longer wants to be friends or even speak to him ever again.

Because of the stakes of Banshees are so small, there’s a lot of time for McDonagh and his cast to unpack the seemingly simple act of ending friendship and expand the depths to a scale more befitting of a stage play rather than theatrical cinema. 

Banshees is McDonagh’s most composed and focused as a screenwriter, with a tightly constructed world that focuses on dialogue rather than bombastic violence like his Oscar-winning Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri or the audacious Seven Psychopaths. It’s also McDonagh at his strongest in the director’s chair as he commands the camera with an assuredness he hasn’t completely shown before as a filmmaker.

But it’s clear from the outset that McDonagh’s vision for Banshees is closely woven in with the actors he wrote the film for, reteaming him with his In Bruges stars Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson.

As Pádraig, Farrell takes a rather bland character and invigorates him with more heart than any performance in the talented Irish actor’s career. Farrell portrays Pádraig as charmingly simple and it never feels like Farrell rushes through the moment or overly considers Pádraig’s thoughts, rather the simplicity comes as a natural extension of Farrell’s connection to the character.

This is especially true when it comes to Pádraig’s devotion to Colm, where the emotional bond between Farrell and Gleeson seeps over into their characters as it would normally resonate better in a stage play. The genuine affection the two have for each other radiates off the screen even as the plot drives Pádraig and Colm further apart.

Gleeson, though clearly in support, also more than holds his own through a stoic gruffness that keeps viewers on the edge of their seats wondering what Colm’s true motivations are and whether he’ll live up to his words.

The secondary characters of Banshees, especially Kerry Condon as Pádraig’s sister and Barry Keoghan as the town simpleton, help provide color to the vibrant world McDonagh creates in such a small setting.

One of the most entertaining elements in Banshees are the ways in which McDonagh utilizes animals as supporting characters, whether it be the emotional connection between Pádraig and his donkey Jenny or a particularly funny exchange between Colm and his dog.

The film is visually arresting without being distracting from the overall narrative and cinematographer Ben Davis does a remarkable job in both framing and especially lighting Banshees in interesting and engaging ways. This is particularly true in how the town pub is lit and the care used to frame cast members in limited natural lighting.

Banshees has strong potential to be a major contender this awards season with the film being almost a lock for a Best Picture nomination and McDonagh’s screenplay as well as Farrell’s lead performance likely to receive considerations. It also could easily land in cinematography and score categories as well as propel Gleeson into a supporting actor nod if the film overperforms.

Sure to be one of the year’s most acclaimed and well-received films, The Banshees of Inisherin deserves a much wider audience than its current limited release and is well worth ardent cinephiles seeking out in theaters.

There’s a fantastic film hiding somewhere deep within Don’t Worry Darling, Olivia Wilde’s follow-up to her surprise hit directorial debut in 2019 with “Booksmart.”

In an idyllic world, Darling takes an incredible Florence Pugh performance and elevates it with exceptional cinematography and production design as well as an ensemble cast that can help create a larger world and bring an intriguing concept to life.

The building blocks for a top-five movie of the year are there, but nothing ever really comes together in Darling, a big swing and largely hit-or-miss drama that doesn’t settle on a proper tone nor truly lets the audience in on what’s going on.

Darling follows Pugh as 1950s suburban housewife Aliceliving out a life of relative luxury in a corporate based community ripped straight out of a mid-20th-century American dream. It’s only when Alice learns that there’s something much darker behind the bright façade that her life begins to spiral.

The centerpiece of the film, Pugh is exceptional at keeping this fledgling genre-bending drama afloat with a subtly manic performance that leaves audiences constantly questioning if Alice is the crazy one or if everyone around her is.

As is often the case with her work, Pugh dances around any other actor she’s on screen with and it’s clear on a scene-to-scene basis that her Alice isn’t like anyone else in the film, nor is her performance on the same level as anyone else. It’s a magnetic turn from a brilliant actress that allows the increasingly confusing, bizarre narrative to take shape while keeping viewers interested.

Pugh being a class above everyone else in Darling is especially true in the wide gap between her work and that of musician Harry Styles cast as Alice’s husband Jack. Their romantic chemistry is increasingly visual through tight camerawork and an emphasis on the physicality of their love.

But whether it’s the screenplay by Katie Silberman or Styles’ inability to emote or some combination therein, there’s a tone-deafness to their marriage that’s much deeper than Wilde or the script might want to imply.

The larger ensemble cast does well with what they are given for the most part.

Chris Pine continues to showcase his ability to be a more well-rounded actor as the Svengali-esque leader of the Victory community. It’s a performance that’s part William Shatner, part Dr. Oz, part Jordan Belfort but always engaging and challenging the audience’s expectations.

Wilde does a solid job of creating mystery behind Pine’s character visually, largely keeping him in the shadows ever lurking but a firm presence for much of Darling.

Where it often seems like Wilde doesn’t have as strong of a grasp is in the supporting female performances in the film, which highly evoke a Stepford Wives vibe but just doesn’t fully click.

It’s problematic that the only African American actress in the film, KiKi Layne, is burdened with a role that accentuates white savior tropes and doesn’t showcase how dynamic of a performer she truly is, but Layne excels at breaking the walls down in an emotional and frantic way.

Darling boasts some of the most engaging cinematography of the year with director of photography Matthew Libatiqueenveloping the world of Victory with a bright glossy sheen that starts to wear off as the plot unfolds. Darling needs to look perfect in the beginning and progressively become an uglierplace and Libatique becomes a secondary star with a constantly moving camera that spirals and encircles Alice to heighten the tension and Pugh’s magnetic performance.

It’s nearly impossible to experience Darling objectively given the lengthy behind-the-scenes drama involving several lead actors and the director, which is a shame given how strong much of the film is. Only the third act truly falters and it’s in the final moments where all the goodwill and momentum Wilde and Pugh have built over the course of 70 minutes comes crashing down.

A Hollywood blockbuster that is meant to be seen on the big screen, Don’t Worry Darling has enough highs to be enjoyable for much of its running time from a magnetic Florence Pugh to exceptional cinematography and production design that make it a movie worth checking out in theaters.

When a film is titled after one of its characters, 99 times out of 100, that movie is almost entirely about that person. (Save for Private Ryan, of course.)

This is even more true when it comes to biopics, especially when the titular character happens to be one of the most iconic musicians of all time, the King of Rock and Roll himself.

But writer/director Baz Luhrmann’s epic, nearly three-hour depiction of Elvis Presley, simply titled Elvis, is only half about the musical legend. There’s a character hiding in the shadows behind the pomp and circumstance that Luhrmann forces into center stage, often pushing Presley to the side for his own redemption and glory.

Much of the rise and fall of Presley is told from the perspective – and often through languishing narration – by his carnival barker-esque manager Colonel Tom Parker to the point where Luhrmann’s overall message about exploitation for profit gets muddled.

It feels unfair to begin a discussion of an Elvis Presley biopic by talking about something other than the man himself because of his irreversible impact on generations of popular culture, music, and American history, but it’s exactly the position Luhrmann wants to take with his film.

Elvis isn’t about Elvis.

At least not entirely.

Oscar winner Tom Hanks turns in his most baffling performance in years as Parker, waffling through a waning, vaguely European accent that feels more like caricature than imitation. Hanks wades frequently into the waters of the conman grifter, then uses his natural charisma to try and charm audiences back in as Parker continues to pull the wool over Presley’s eyes.

It’s a very broad, showy performance that’s audacious and self-congratulatory in a film where audiences are looking for the focus to be elsewhere.

And this isn’t to say that Luhrmann is pushing Hanks to the forefront because the up-and-coming actor playing Presley isn’t worthy of the spotlight. The complete opposite is true.

If Elvis is worthy of consideration for awards in any respect, Austin Butler’s magnetic, almost hypnotic transformation into the man who would become King of Rock and Roll certainly deserves all the praise he will likely get for the next six months.

It isn’t just that Butler sounds like Presley to the point where viewers with their eyes closes couldn’t tell the difference between the real thing and the copy. It’s also not just because expert craftspeople in the makeup and costume departments take a young actor who looks like Presley and perfectly accentuate his look to maximize the effect.

Butler’s physicality, relentless energy, and emotional core transport audiences into everything that is and was Elvis Presley. Concert sequences evolve along with Presley’s musical style because Butler can slowly, then more brazenly contort his body and gyrate to make viewers young and old swoon.

It’s also the way Butler’s able to lift the entire film by connecting with Presley’s heart in such a way that the more tender, emotional moments feel genuine and contrast the bombastic nature of the swirling film around it.

Never one to shy away from audacious cinematography or excessive editing, Luhrmann keeps Elvis at a rigorous pace that has audiences on their toes for much of the run time and it’s only in the final act that the 159-minute feature burdens viewers with the weight of it all. There’s so much going on that often overshadows the brilliant work that Butler is doing in the title role that keeps Luhrmann’s film from being great, or at times even watchable.

But there are other moments, often in concert sequences or the terrific filming of Presley’s 1968 television special meant to be a Christmas ad concert for Singer sewing machines, where Elvis really shines and has Presley’s signature larger than life attitude.

The bloated runtime, excess focus on Parker and the uneven tone of Luhrmann’s extravagance makes Elvis cumbersome to engage with as an audience and this isn’t even to speak of the film’s option not to address Presley’s political and societal implications outside of entertainment.

For ardent Presley fans and those who love Luhrmann’s more avantgarde filmography like Moulin Rouge and The Great Gatsby, Elvis might be worth taking a chance on in theaters. More casual audiences should probably wait until it hits at home rental or streaming services to break the film up into smaller, more manageable chunks.

There’s a moment early in Tom Cruise’s first film in four years where his character must lay everything on the line and push himself beyond all the limits to save his team.

It’s a constant theme in the nearly 60-year-old actor’s latter career as Cruise constantly strives to top himself for the sake of blockbuster cinema, attempting to save theatrical releases by dangling from tall buildings, freefalling from heights unfathomable by anyone who isn’t a stuntman and literally flying fighter jets to show his face in the cockpit at Mach speeds.

Cruise’s endless bravado – a seemingly equal balance of boyish charisma and belief in his own invincibility – propels every choice he has made as an actor the past decade and a half, culminating in a death-defying Mission: Impossible franchise and now the resurgence of his 1980s classic Top Gun.

Director Joseph Kosinski reteams with Cruise for the first time since 2013’s “Oblivion” to modernize the aerial combat action drama, taking full advantage of cinematography advancements and Cruise’s obsession with creating unbelievable movie moments. Top Gun: Maverick puts Cruise back in the cockpit as Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, a former ace pilot called back into active duty to train the next generation of combat aces for a practically incompletable mission.

As with every film he attaches himself to these days, Cruise carries the weight of the entire project on his back from start to finish as audiences play co-pilot to Maverick’s rebellious nature that makes him the world’s premier dogfighter and rubs most of those around him the wrong way.

It’s a role Cruise has played many variations on over the years, but this return to the character is more self-reflective and emotional than one might expect as viewers can feel the weight of unrealistic expectations Maverick places on himself in Cruise’s face. Although there isn’t as much character work done on the post-traumatic stress that Maverick clearly hasn’t totally worked through, it’s easily overlooked thanks to Cruise’s relentless energy and charisma.

The film’s ensemble cast does well to work around the gravitational pull that the last true movie star brings to Top Gun: Maverick and the next generation of pilots led by a very nuanced turn from Miles Teller as a pilot with ties to Maverick and Glen Powell as his cocky rival help draw viewers into the larger story.

Val Kilmer’s return to Top Gun provides the most emotional impact in the film and his performance is incredibly bittersweet and poignant despite the lack of heavy drama surrounding Maverick’s PTSD amid the burdens he carries.

Fervent fans of the original film will find a lot of similarities in this legacy sequel, from near identical opening credits and orchestral themes to the flight school rivalries and shirtless sporting events that mirror the 80s classic.

Where the biggest changes are, however, are in the visuals.

The most arresting moments of Top Gun: Maverick come in the lengthy, spectacular aerial combat sequences, filmed practically with several IMAX cameras attached to the cockpit and nose of F-18 fighter jets that capture both the dazzling maneuvers flown by true elite Navy aviators as well as the genuine reactions and performances of the actors who are in the planes themselves and not acting in a green screen environment.

Aerial combat has never felt as real and dynamic on screen as it does here, far surpassing the limitations of technology in the 1980s original film and creating a level of harrowing, yet magnetic cinema that viewers could easily watch several hours of regardless of a storyline.

Hundreds of hours of footage captured by these Navy pilots both with the actors and through external jets following the action are meticulously edited into a crisp, supersonic freight train of exhilaration that will keep audiences on the edge of their seats and vault Top Gun: Maverick into contention for the year’s best film.

Though there will likely only be room for one, perhaps two, early blockbusters come awards season, Top Gun: Maverick has the firepower cinematically to edge out The Batman and Everything Everywhere All At Once as the first half of the year hit to earn a Best Picture nomination and it’s all but certain to receive nods in editing, sound and best original song for Lady Gaga’s “Hold My Hand,” which plays over the end credits.

Top Gun: Maverick has absolutely everything one might expect from a Cruise-led movie: Tom riding a motorcycle, Tom running at full speed, Tom grinning like he just stole something, everyone else around him in awe of Tom being Tom. Cruise’s magnetism and the dynamic thrills of the aerial artistry make this summer hit one of the best blockbuster films of the last 10 years and something cinephiles need to see in the biggest screen possible.

Acclaimed auteur Guillermo del Toro hasn’t made a new film since winning both best director and best picture in 2018 for his eccentric feature The Shape of Water.

del Toro is known as a master of the avantgarde, relishing in the eccentricities of life and the oddities of horror for decades with everything from Pan’s Labyrinth to a pair of Hellboy films to an upcoming adaptation of Pinocchio for Netflix.

His latest film, Nightmare Alley, taps into del Toro’s love for the obscure and bizarre, all the while emphasizing the uniqueness of a period piece that twists and bends what the mind might find conceivable.

Based on both the 1946 novel and 1947 film of the same name, Nightmare Alley follows Stanton Carlisle, a man who joins the circus leading up to World War II after murdering a man and burning down his house. When he learns the art of mentalism from a “clairvoyant” couple, he sets off on his own for fortune that ultimately leads down a dark path. 

Bradley Cooper provides a mostly stoic yet measured performance as Stanton and it’s a turn that helps ground the audience in the story without endearing them too much to his questionable choices. 

While his chemistry with Rooney Mara’s Molly is somewhat shaky despite the plot’s desire to pair them, his ability to match Cate Blanchett’s mysteriously alluring Dr. Ritter makes for a scintillating repartee that anchors the back half of the film. 

Nightmare Alley has an incredibly deep and talented supporting cast from David Strathairn and Toni Collette’s masterful work as the clairvoyants to Willam Dafoe’s circus leader to Richard Jenkins perfectly playing against type as a rich and nefarious widower. 

del Toro’s film is a visual cavalcade of everything that makes del Toro one of the world’s premiere filmmakers. There’s so much depth to each scene with elaborate production design and set dressing creating a world in every location. 

Cinematographer Dan Lausten creates a wide, expansive arena for cinematic beauty in every frame, longing for audiences to linger in the haunting complexities of del Toro’s vision. No matter what the camera is focused on, each character and set piece is framed and lit in such a way that demonstrably makes it feel like the most important moment in the entire film, which is an astounding feat for a feature littered with unforgettable imagery.

At a running time of 150 minutes, Nightmare Alley somewhat languishes out of the gate as del Toro deeply and richly builds the world of his film to the detriment of pacing. Once Stanton strikes out on his own, however, Nightmare Alley picks up considerably and becomes an exceptionally compelling noir. 

The issue truly stems from del Toro’s insistence on creating a backdrop for Cooper and the rest of the cast to revel in. There isn’t much to define the story outside of the technical aspects for most of the first hour and many viewers may decide to opt out of the film altogether before things fully come to fruition.

As a result, Nightmare Alley is unlikely to receive any major acclaim come Oscars season, although it could do well in below-the-line categories like production design, cinematography and costuming. 

While it might behoove ardent cinephiles to seek out specialty screenings of the film in its new limited black-and-white release, casual viewers might be more willing to take a chance on Nightmare Alley now that it has become easily accessible on Hulu and HBO Max. The vision of del Toro combined with masterful technical elements and compelling, yet somewhat thin performances make Nightmare Alley something worth taking a chance on via streaming service that they wouldn’t normally drive to a theater to see.