Category: Oscar Contenders

World building in cinema can be a richly rewarding experience that will encircle and fully immerse the audience, pulling them out of their everyday lives and transporting them beyond their mind’s eye.

Crafting something intricate that will stand up to scrutiny and encourage repeat viewings while not overwhelming casual audiences is an especially tricky feat to accomplish. It’s one that director Denis Villeneuve tackles head-on with a flair for dramatic, picturesque visuals with a moving art gallery aesthetic that will surely thrill many and confound others.

Based on the Frank Herbert science fiction novel of the same name, Dune follows the son of a noble family charged with protecting valuable natural resources on the galaxy’s most dangerous planet while being thrust into a destiny beyond his understanding. 

Villeneuve takes exceptional care to fully design and intricately flourish every note of Herbert’s novel to the point where the 155-minute run time of a film originally titled Dune: Part One feels narratively incomplete.

Because things are so long-winded in exposition and orienting viewers in the smaller details of the world of Arrakis, Dune can occasionally feel hollow and emotionally distant as characters pontificate about religious prophecies that never fully flesh out or political relationships that won’t come into play until an expected second film finishes Herbert’s original narrative.

Timothée Chalamet delivers a relatively commanding performance as the main character Paul, especially in more intense moments where Paul seemingly loses control over his emotions. Much of his role has softer tones as Paul attempts to find his way through a strange new world and because of the film’s structure, the work he’s doing likely will not pay off until the sequel bridges the gap.

Dune has a star-studded ensemble cast to surround Chalamet with, all of whom give considered, meaningful turns to help create the world of Villeneuve’s film.

Rebecca Ferguson gives the most emotionally resonant performance as Paul’s mother and it’s in the smaller moments opposite Chalamet or the confrontational moments with Charlotte Rampling that she truly shines.

Oscar Isaac is much more stoic and polished here than audiences may have seen him as more brash in the Star Wars sequels, but his Duke Leto is a drumbeat from which Villeneuve is able to build the political world of Dune.

For most of the 155-minute run time, Zendaya’s Chani appears simply as a clairvoyant vision in Paul’s dreams, a far-away whisper of things to come while not providing much to the actual film. Her presence is mainly to foreshadow the importance of her character in a potential second film not yet greenlit for production.

Smaller turns for Dave Bautista, Josh Brolin and Stellan Skarsgård also feel like placeholders for part two, though it’s Jason Momoa’s strongest theatrical turn as Paul’s weapons trainer and confidant Duncan Idaho that serves as standout among the secondary cast.

Villeneuve’s films have always had magical, artistic cinematography at the forefront and Dune is no exception with Greig Fraser’s visuals providing the backbone of the entire movie in keeping casual audiences engaged during the many overwrought and confusing moments for those unfamiliar with the novel’s canon.

It’s clear every frame of Dune has meaning beyond the simple visuals seen at first glance and exploring the nuance and unspoken iconography translated from Herbert’s novel will be a treasure trove that ardent fans will be scouring and debating over for years to come.

Even without dialogue or Hans Zimmer’s pulsating, ever-present score pounding in the ears of audiences, Villeneuve and Fraser have created a tapestry of art that transcends most big-budget blockbuster films and will remain the largest selling point for skeptical first-timers.

With a production as audacious and bold as Dune is, the exceptional quality of technical aspects of the film make it ripe for nominations, and likely wins, come awards season in below-the-line categories like cinematography, production design, editing and original score. In all likelihood, a Best Picture nod at the Oscars would make too much sense while voters could opt for more developed performances in other films rather than recognizing the ensemble cast of Dune in any notable way.

The spectacle on such an epic scale almost demands audiences seek Dune out in the largest theater possible to maximize the “experience” of it all, though the relative ease of access on HBO Max for more casual audiences to pause, rewind or segment out the film’s exceedingly dense subject matter and world building is more than acceptable as well.

Regardless, Villeneuve has crafted one of the year’s most complex and artistic cinematic films worthy of both acclaim and moviegoers’ time.

Two men – former close friends – battle to the death for honor and the truth in God’s eyes.

It’s a singular moment in time that frames director Ridley Scott’s latest film, an epic two-and-a-half hour medieval odyssey featuring the first script penned by Ben Affleck and Matt Damon since the duo won the Oscar for original screenplay for 1997’s Good Will Hunting.

But The Last Duel is about so much more than a brutal fight played out in front of thousands of Parisians.

While audiences see Sir Jean de Carrouges and Jacques Le Gris being dressed for combat, a third person is also readying for this moment, de Carrouges’ wife Marguerite, and it’s her equal footing to two polar opposite men that truly gives The Last Duel a unique and remarkably compelling narrative to draw viewers in. 

Based on the true story of the last sanctioned duel in France, the film follows the lives of three individuals over the course of a decade during the 1360s and the rape allegation that brought all three to the brink of death in front of the king.

All three lead performances are distinctly intertwined because of the narrative structure segmenting out the events of the film into chapters, each focused from the vantage point of the primary character of the chapter.

This creates a dynamic energy to scenes as they unfold a second or third time, allowing the actors to change tone, physical presence or mannerisms with the same blocking and dialogue to completely transform everything audiences have come to know about the character up until that point.

Damon’s de Carrouges maintains the physicality and brutishness of a battle-tested soldier whose rough edges put him at a distance from those around him and leave him on the outside of high society. In the first chapter from his perspective, de Carrouges has a softer underbelly of emotion for both his mother and his wife, Marguerite, that sets him up to be the hero of the tale.

When the story turns to Marguerite or even more darkly to Le Gris, Damon sheds the emotional heart and plunges into a bitter, vindictive persona that indicates how those around him perceive de Carrouges to be.

Conversely, Adam Driver’s exceptionally shrewd work as Le Gris has a smarm-filled villainy that makes him easily reviling but does a remarkable job of rounding out the character during the middle chapter that makes Le Gris the opposite side of the coin to de Carrouges as one who uses his charm and smarts to curry favor rather than by brute force.

The film’s best work comes from Killing Eve star Jodie Comer, whose presence lingers throughout much of the film but truly comes alive once The Last Duel essentially cedes itself over to Marguerite for the final lead-up to the duel. Her performance is warm and cheery, somber and melancholic, up and down as the moment and perspective calls for.

Marguerite’s motivations are the least clearly defined of the three characters, which increases the degree of difficulty in pulling off such a magnetic performance, but Comer astounds with terrific poise and wonderful chemistry (or lack thereof as is called for) with her co-stars.

The exceptional screenplay weaves moments in time seamlessly by replicating them through the eyes of each of the three main characters, giving audiences perspective on how each sees the world by showing how events (or perceptions of events) differ based on who is living through them.

While this plays out solidly in interactions between de Carrouges and Le Gris, what’s more compelling is how approaching the narrative in a tri-fold, blended manner impacts the sexual dynamic of how the men believe their interactions with Marguerite are before revealing the truth through her eyes.

Putting Marguerite on equal footing with the two men in her life requires a deft screenplay, rounded out by writer Nicole Holofcener who takes the lead in the final chapter and creates the film’s most emotional moments in establishing Marguerite’s state of mind as she fights for agency in a world of men who never truly believe her.

The Last Duel is the kind of quality epic period drama that the Academy usually recognizes heavily come Oscar season though it’s unclear whether this will be the Scott-directed, Driver-starring feature voters will lean towards with the crime biopic House of Gucci still to come this fall. It certainly has the ability to earn Best Picture and Best Actress nominations in addition to several below-the-line categories but could be passed over for flashier films.

There’s a brutality to the violence that could be off-putting to more casual viewers, but ardent cinephiles looking for a grandiose big-budget drama with movie stars at the top of their game will easily find what they are looking for with The Last Duel.

Much of great filmmaking comes down to proper world building, creating a community within the narrative to help bring the audience into an unfamiliar, unique place.

Filmmakers often showcase the worlds in which they come from, which makes authentic portrayals of diverse communities rarer than they should be.

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first Broadway smash hit took audiences into his community, a melting pot of Latino immigrants from all walks of life. Paired with the vision of “Crazy Rich Asians” director Jon M. Chu, In The Heights pushes underrepresented voices to the forefront of major box office cinema with one of the year’s most vibrant and joyous film.

Based on the Tony Award winning musical, In The Heights follows a summer in the lives of four young residents in the Washington Heights district of New York City, a diverse immigrant community staving off gentrification and generational expectations.

After breaking out in Miranda’s “Hamilton” and the 2018 remake of “A Star is Born,” Anthony Ramos should be a full-fledged star after this performance as Usnavi, a young bodega shop owner with dreams of returning to the Dominican Republic to rebuild his father’s beachside bar.

It’s within Ramos’ eyes that audiences are pulled into the world of the film and his everyman persona carries the narrative through its relatively disjointed moments leaping between multiple storylines.

Melissa Barrera is a revelation to American audiences as the Mexican actress breaks out in a big way with a passionate, wide-eyed turn as Usnavi’s love interest, Vanessa, who longs to leave her job at the local salon to become a high-end fashion designer.

A secondary love story between Leslie Grace’s Nina and Corey Hawkins’ Benny worked better in the Broadway production than in the film version as neither character gets the full character development needed to get audiences to buy in to their romance.

“NYPD Blue” star Jimmy Smits provides a commanding, fatherly presence as taxi cab company owner Kevin Rosario, while Miranda himself takes on a smaller role as the piragua salesman that doubles as a sort of Greek chorus to reinforce the larger community presence.

The best work in the entire film comes from Olga Merediz, who offers a simply perfect turn as the neighborhood matriarch Abuela Claudia. In what becomes the emotional core of In The Heights, Merediz personifies the immigrant struggle masterfully over the course of a single song and her portrayal of Abuela’s quiet confidence and faith in God becomes a guiding light for not just the community but the other actors as well.

The tenderness in Abuela and Usnavi’s relationship is exceptional and bridges the gap between the first and second act perfectly.

Chu has the ability to create visual spectacle that becomes cinema magic in short bursts. The style he developed for “Crazy Rich Asians” translates incredibly well for the musical moments in this film. Bright, vivid imagery that radiates joy into the hearts of audiences are perfectly edited to match the rhythms and flows of Miranda’s music.

The bombastic showstopper “96,000” set at a local pool features a cast of nearly a hundred basking in the outdoor sun while slamming their hands into the water and encapsulates the pulse of the community in one hopeful set of images.

Conversely, Chu’s nuanced, almost theatrical take on “Pacencia Y Fe” is far more intimate, trapping audiences in narrow, confining hallways meant to symbolize the struggles immigrants faced in their new life in America. It’s a breathtaking sequence that will likely help Merediz contend for an Academy Award as a supporting actress after earning a Tony nomination for the same role as a part of the original Broadway cast in 2008.

If there are shortcomings to the musical adaptation, the most glaring comes out in between songs as the energy and vibrancy are tempered down by exposition. Chu struggles in these moments to provide the amount of urgency needed to maintain the audience’s attention, but it’s swiftly regained as soon as the next number kicks off.

The driving force of the narrative is a sweltering heat wave that leads to a blackout in the neighborhood, but visually, In The Heights lacks the ability to indicate just how hot it is on the block besides sweat stains on the backs and underarms of shirts even though the characters aren’t sweating themselves.

In The Heights will likely be a popular prediction for major nominations next awards season, but an early June release and the looming West Side Story remake from Steven Spielberg slated this December could leave the crowd-pleaser on the outside looking in.

Film lovers intrigued by In The Heights should make the effort to seek out the film both in theaters and on HBO Max. The musical format lends itself to easy viewings on a streaming service at home as audiences can create their own intermissions between musical sequences and Chu’s visual language makes a perfect backdrop for the casually engaged.

But it’s also important to catch In The Heights on the biggest screen possible, where the spectacle of the vibrant musical can be fully appreciated.

More importantly, it’s a chance to vote with the almighty dollar to convince studios that culturally diverse cinema is not a niche market and offers something for every moviegoer.

In that regard, In The Heights is a true triumph.

Growing up on animated films, there are any number of terrifying villains that easily scare young children with their wicked and cruel nature.

One such baddie with a demonic last name and a penchant for turning puppies into fashion statements felt especially repulsive and scary to adolescent cinephiles.

After two Angelina Jolie-led features putting the antagonist of Sleeping Beauty at the center of the plot, the Mickey Mouse company has set its sights on a redemption – or at least anti-hero – arc for Cruella De Vil.

Director Craig Gillespie’s Cruella far exceeds the expectations of previous live action iterations of classic Disney animated IP and is a ton of fun for adults who grew up on either the 1961 animated feature One Hundred and One Dalmatians or Glenn Close’s turn as the villainess in 1996’s live-action 101 Dalmatians.

The film is essentially an origin story for the character, set in London during the punk-rock 1970s as a young Cruella seeks to make a name for herself in the fashion world while also picking pockets alongside a pair of thieves she befriends along the way.

It’s an incredibly difficult task for Gillespie and Disney to salvage the Cruella character and it shouldn’t be possible given just how reviling her intentions have proven to be.

Simply put, the only reason Cruella works at all is casting Oscar winner Emma Stone in the title role.

Her performance as the reimagined Cruella is very against type for her and yet exactly what Gillespie needs to center the entire film. Audiences need to be magnetized by the actor in the tole to overcome the fact that they are conditioned to be reviled at a villainess who eventually plots to turn dalmatians into a fur coat.

Cruella also provides the additional challenge of presenting the title character as a dual personality – the kinder, more reserved Estella and the darker, aggressive Cruella. Stone has to maintain a keen sense of where the character is within the context of the script and within each scene and does a terrific job of blending the two into one cohesive performance.

Emma Thompson does a terrific job as fashion designer The Baroness, who serves as the film’s antagonist. Alongside Joel Fry’s charming work as Jasper, Paul Walter Hauser continues to prove why he’s one of the best character actors in Hollywood today with a delightfully humorous turn as absent-minded henchman Horace.

Gillespie certainly leaves his mark on the film for better (dynamic visuals and cutting dialogue) and for worse (unnecessarily long handicam shots, excessive run time at over 130 minutes).

The technical aspects of Cruella are especially alluring with two-time Academy Award winning costume designer Jenny Beavan making the film an absolute must re-watch simply for the endless plethora of fantastical, outlandishly fashionable pieces of art that Stone, Thompson and countless extras wear scene to scene.

In a film that sparks from a woman’s obsession with fashion, Beavan creates a whole world within each stitch, color palette decision and cut. Often viewers are so drawn in by what Stone is wearing that her magnetic performance becomes somewhat hidden behind artistry in black and white.

The visual paradise of Cruella extends to its entire production design – a hallmark of any top-caliber Disney film – as 1970s London engulfs the screen through elaborate staging and crisp, emboldened cinematography from director of photography Nicolas Karakatsanis.

A signature of Gillespie’s style in 2017’s terrific biopic I, Tonya, major moments in Cruella are themed with ‘needle drop’ infusions of a variety of era-appropriate punk rock anthems. In one or two instances, these ‘drops’ add to the larger personality of the film, but often the ‘Now That’s What I Call Music!’-esque soundtrack drowns out Oscar-winning composer Nicholas Britell’s masterful mood-setting score.

Cruella could easily become a frontrunner in technical categories come awards season, especially in costumes and production design.

Where the film may get lost, however, is in its marketing as parents of younger children may simply see the Disney origin story as a family friendly outing at the movies.

Gillespie’s film is much darker and more relentless with its pace than a typical Disney venture and children may get lost, confused or bored by large stretches of the film. Adults, though, should revel in just how uniquely ambitious this interpretation becomes.

It’s incredibly reductive to suggest Cruella is an amalgamation of Joker, Birds of Prey and The Devil Wears Prada, but there’s certainly parallels there that are unmistakable comparison points between this film and those “influences.”

The least Disney movie of all traditional Disney films in quite some time, Cruella marches to the beat of its own black and white drum while simply not caring about audience expectations or response.

Perhaps the most pleasant surprise so far in 2021, Cruella is certainly worth seeking out in theaters although probably not quite worth a $29.99 price point for home viewing on Disney+.

First time filmmakers delivering quality debut features has been a staple of this year’s award season with Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman and Regina King’s One Night in Miami… as standouts.

Dramatist Florian Zeller has also become a name to watch in cinema, adapting his critically acclaimed stage play for the big screen and earning five Academy Award nominations including Best Picture, two acting nods and best adapted screenplay.

The Father finds Anthony trying to maintain his independence in spite of his advanced age while his daughter Anne hopes to find a caretaker to help him with his daily life. As he balks at the help of others, Anthony finds himself doubting those around him, his own mind and even reality itself.

At the core of the film is a terrifically nuanced turn from Sir Anthony Hopkins, for whom Zeller wrote the titular role and named the character after. The Oscar winner is especially adept here at guiding audiences through the tonal shifts in the drama through his performance, which finds Anthony more and more unsure of himself over time.

Hopkins uses the non-verbal to communicate these changes with both a widening or narrowing of his eyes to give viewers clarity into Anthony’s mental state, but also in his physicality as Hopkins’ gait, shoulder movement and posture inform the larger picture that Anthony’s words cannot express.

This is especially true as Anthony meets (or more likely re-meets) characters throughout The Father as Hopkins expresses an individuality to each interaction that matches the mood of the scene and yet allows for Anthony’s fading memory to befuddle or confuse things.

Hopkins’ strongest moments come opposite Olivia Colman as Anne. The pair have an ability to emotionally express how Anthony’s situation has become a burden onto Anne, but in a way that shows off a deep-rooted bond somewhere between comradery and love.

Zeller’s screenplay is ripe with emotionally taxing yet fulfilling moments that genuinely display the effects mental illness have on the elderly and those who love them. Where it turns from solid script to truly inspired drama, however, is during a second viewing of the film as the pieces are all assembled and early moments take on new meaning with greater context.

The Father has a very large influence from its theater roots, often feeling immensely small in scale with dialogue-intensive exchanges in tight quarters.

But the film becomes something much more in its cinematic form thanks to expert, Academy Award nominated editing from Yorgos Lamprinos. Scenes are tied together in such a way – always from Anthony’s perspective – that audiences wander through the film trying to piece together its mysteries like how Anthony attempts to understand an everchanging environment.

In its stage form, it would be difficult for characters to melt in and out of the action in the same way they do in Zeller’s film. A simple, well-timed cut away masks this process and allows scenes that would change dramatically on stage to occur without incident. 

The fact that the editing enhances viewers’ understanding of Anthony’s mental and emotional predicament is astounding and very similar stylistically to Tara Miele’s indie fantasy drama Wander Darkly. 

Visually, The Father suffers slightly from Zeller’s shot construction and staging as his eye for the theater can cause imbalanced framing with slightly askew cameras positioned over the shoulder of actors as they are blurred at the edge of a frame to highlight another.

The Father is a strong contender this Sunday at the Academy Awards with Hopkins a co-frontrunner for Best Actor alongside the late Chadwick Boseman for Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. Colman, a recent Oscar winner herself, could be a surprise as well in supporting actress although she is likely running third behind Yuh-Jung Youn in Minari and Maria Bakalova in Borat Subsequent Moviefilm.

A solid drama with compelling lead performances, The Father certainly deserves the honors it has been bestowed this awards season although it’s safe to say that Zeller’s film could wait until a reasonably priced home viewing rather than premium on-demand rental or a trip to the theater.

Danish teenagers play an unusual drinking game at the beginning of director Thomas Vinterberg’s new film.

Teamed in pairs, they run around a large lake carrying a case of beer and must finish the entire load before they can cross the finish line, where adults cheer them on and police idly look on.

It’s a familiar tradition in Denmark, a country whose laissez-faire attitudes towards alcohol create the backdrop for the most intriguing premise to a feature film.

Another Round, starring Mads Mikkelsen, follows four high school teachers plagued with the malaise and minutia of ordinary everyday life. Their solution to rouse them from lethargy in the hopes of being better teachers, more attentive spouses and to feel alive again is to test a theory that they will improve their lives by keeping a constant, yet moderate amount of alcohol in their system.

If it were an American film, Another Round would be a rumpus comedy that might blend Animal House with American Beauty. But Vinterberg keeps a more deliberate tone that feels looser and free from genre constraints, floating in and out of pace in a naturalistic sense that pervades the lead performance as well as the filmmaking itself.

Mikkelsen is more subdued than one might expect from a character experimenting with alcohol as intoxication brings out layers within Martin, both positive and negative that Mikkelsen balances to create a sense of believability without excessive sloppiness.

The shallow lethargy of Martin to open the film, almost to the point where audiences can touch the glazed-over look in Mikkelsen’s lifeless eyes, begins to awaken as alcohol flows into his system to validate the group’s hypothesis. Mikkelsen and Vinterberg take great care to ensure that the path to inebriation feels fluid and in keeping with a larger dramatic narrative rather than for comedic show.

Within Mikkelsen, viewers are able to feel the pulsating highs and crashing lows of alcoholism in revealing, entertaining ways that ground Vinterberg’s tragicomedy.

While Martin provides the center of the film, his three comrades in drink – Tommy, Peter and Nikolaj – give Another Round added depth by exploring the differences alcohol may have on people mentally and physically. Thomas Bo Larsen, Lars Ranthe and Magnus Millang perfectly capture the relatable way in which close co-workers can bond together and yet lead separate lives hidden away in solitude.

The narrative is framed through segments that follow the trajectory of the group’s “research,” with Vinterberg often interrupting the visual space with black screens and small text to indicate text message conversations or lines from the study the group is writing as it is being crafted. Smartly, this also clearly defines for the audience the degree to which Martin and his colleagues are intoxicated, often showing the blood alcohol content level rise on screen as breathalyzers are used.

Vinterberg’s screenplay – written with Tobias Lindholm – draws the audience in by giving Martin the words to express his emotions as the alcohol increases, but also starts to remove those words at the same rate with a potent poignancy that culminates in one of the year’s most rousing cinematic endings.

A clear front runner for Best International Feature at this year’s Academy Awards, Another Round also snuck into the Best Director category for Vinterberg, ousting expected nominee Aaron Sorkin for The Trial of the Chicago 7 and contender Regina King for One Night in Miami.

Another Round isn’t an advertisement for alcohol use in excess, nor is it a treatise on the moral consequences of substance abuse. Countless films have engaged with the subject matter in that way.

Through Mikkelsen’s splendid performance and a thoughtful screenplay, Vinterberg has captured a largely hopeful outlook that celebrates life and second chances – literally another round of living – that audiences should seek out now that the Oscar contender has arrived on Hulu.