Relic (2020)

Score: 4.5 / 5

The camera slowly zooms in on an urn, illuminated on a mantel by pulsing multicolored lights. Death has visited this house before we know anything about it, and not even the nostalgic, warm glow of Christmas can deny the macabre chill we feel right away. Suddenly cutting to half a year later, we learn through exposition that the urn contains the ashes of Edna's husband. The elderly widow recently disappeared from her remote country home in Australia, so we join her daughter Kay and granddaughter Sam as they travel from Melbourne to the home. The house is locked from the inside, but there's no sign of granny here; the camera lingers over dusty household artifacts, a stained-glass window, waxy residue from Edna's candle making, relics of her life that seem to be housed in a dusty, tenebrous museum.

The first act of Relic works incredibly hard and indelibly well at evoking foreboding, an aesthetic choice increasingly popular in horror movies these days. The thick atmosphere of this Gothic house serves as a grim backdrop to the family drama that is all too familiar. Edna appears to be suffering from dementia. Sticky notes litter the house with sometimes functional, sometimes cryptic notes: one demands, "DON'T FOLLOW IT" a la Amityville, and it proves the apparent bewilderment of a disintegrating mind. Kay tells the police about the prior Christmas when Edna flooded the house, about lapses in memory, about the hoarding in her bedroom; the police search the woods and find nothing. Meanwhile, Kay is disturbed by the bowl of rotting fruit on the table and the spots of black mold all over the house.

When Edna suddenly appears in the kitchen, the movie shifts from a chilly creeper to a slow burn. The dynamics of these leading women propel us through act two: the three generations living under the same roof reveal certain strains and affections that are not always what we expect. Edna (Robyn Nevin) was clearly a proud and strong woman -- still is, at least emotionally -- and it seems to have somewhat alienated her daughter Kay (Emily Mortimer) even as it has endeared the distanced and less scarred Sam (Bella Heathcote). Concerned for Edna's well-being, Kay and Sam elect to stay for a time, even as it already apparent to us that Edna needs to be placed in assisted living. Kay must know better though, and even looking at potential new homes for her mother is exhausting and apparently shameful. She's in for a long, tough trial of willpower. Anyone who has lived with or cared for someone with dementia or Alzheimer's knows, and will surely connect instantly with this movie's shorthand for the deeply troubling issues that ensue. For example, Edna seems occasionally frightened, saying the house seems larger and unfamiliar since her husband's death, exactly the sensation described by many a widow or widower.

Of course, being a horror movie, the real horror is buttressed and contrasted with a secondary horror, and it is around the halfway mark that we realize there may be a more sentient malevolence in this house than dementia. What's endlessly fascinating about Relic, though, is the lengths to which it refuses to give solid answers or explanations about the supernatural elements at work here, or even if anything paranormal is happening at all. First-time feature film director Natalie Erika James increasingly allows for the weird to happen, but there's no concrete evidence for any of it; paired as it is with a story of mental illness and aging, the film staunchly frustrates arguments to define the haunting. She suggests a demonic or ghostly presence, even showing it once quite clearly, even as our perspective begins to warp like Edna's has. By the third act, we are as lost as the three women in the labyrinthine hallways of this house that grows and shrinks, twists and turns beyond rationality, time, or space.

Is it real? Definitely, if by "real" we mean consequential for the characters and for our own experience. An inciting incident is teased at one point, suggesting that an unhinged great-grandfather's cottage on the property may have transferred madness (or more literal demons) to the house via the stained-glass window; I took this to symbolize the past returning to haunt the present rather than a portal for spirits, but I suppose that's up for interpretation. The problem is that if you want to lean into the ghostly side of things, you'll wind up horribly frustrated. Though James -- no doubt influenced by her Japanese heritage -- leans heavily into J-horror tropes of a rotting house and sickly, pallid bodies in a shadowy void, there are precious few scares until the surprisingly violent climax of this movie. The plot never really amounts to much here, but the character drama spins suddenly into psychological horror when the house comes alive, more or less claiming what is left of Edna and turning the finale into a home invasion thriller that had a baby with spiritual possession.

It might be difficult to swallow on purely psychological terms, but emotionally, even the finale feeds into the allegory, spectacularly dramatizing the violence and cruelty these degenerative mental illnesses cause on those we love the most. And somewhere between the emotional gut-punches, uncompromisingly beautiful and cerebral aesthetic, and downright terrifying revelations, Relic is one of the most surprising and satisfying movies this year. Hopefully it manages to reach a wider market -- it helps, surely, that Jake Gyllenhaal and the Russo brothers produced it -- so that James can make more amazing movies!

Spectral (2016)

Score: 3 / 5

I'm quite surprised this flick bypassed cinemas and started by streaming. The big-budget spectacle of Spectral seems intended for more than a laptop; but then I remember I'm archaic and most folks watch Netflix on ultra-high-def smart devices larger than my bed.

After a creepy opening scene in which a soldier in a crumbling building is killed by an invisible figure -- invisible but shimmering in a ghostly mist -- we are introduced to Dr. Clyne (James Badge Dale), a DARPA scientist summoned to Moldova and clearly the protagonist here. As it was his special goggles that helped soldiers "see" the otherwise invisible killers, he is brought in to help modify, clarify, identify, and hopefully pacify as a result. Though the assailants are thought to be insurgent enemy soldiers wearing advanced camouflage, the real horror is that they kill almost instantly and with no apparent weapons.

Then we enter the post-intrigue phase of the film, wherein a lot of new characters are quickly introduced with slipshod exposition. Few matter much, beyond Bruce Greenwood as the U.S. general and Emily Mortimer as the CIA operative running operations in Kishinev, the capital of Moldova. The others, we expect, will die soon enough; this may not be a horror movie, but it runs in that vein of sci-fi action in which bodies will surely pile up. After lots of technical dialogue that I couldn't/didn't want to follow, the team travels into the field with Clyne atop a tank with tools to help him see the unseen enemy. And things start to get interesting.

I don't want to bore with too many details, and a joy in the film is to learn the developments along with the characters. This is probably largely because the characters themselves have no personality, no drama, and no complications. The closest we get, during the dull middle of the film, are a couple conversations between Clyne and others about the ethics of scientific advancements and the moral implications that follow. It's not deep, but it rings true once we learn exactly what the enemies are. Then again, I'm still not sure I entirely understand what they are, apart from what I gathered from the visual dynamics during a notably freaky climax.

But the visuals of this movie are what made it worth a watch from me. There is some downright gorgeous CGI that highlights the gritty urbanity of the setting, and it helps that the cold color palette brings a helpful chill to a movie that questions the cost of war and the ghostly consequences of violent human commodification. While the film can't decide if it wants to be more philosophical or action-heavy, and thus it suffers, its final battle does not shy away from the full-blown chaotic conflict we see often on the big screen. This is when I was most wowed by the spectacle, even as I wasn't sure that the film had earned it.

The more I write, the more I become convinced this film was meant for a streaming services. Gorgeous visuals aside, the plot and characters are too thin and cliche to have found a lucrative market in cinemas. Really, this movie could have easily been reworked into an episode or two of an Arrowverse show. I don't mean that as a dig at all; I'd be totally down to see Team Flash fighting a bunch of ghostly white soldiers.

Mary Poppins Returns (2018)

Score: 5 / 5

Mary Poppins Returns, and in a big way. Even for someone who was never a big fan of the 1964 original film, this long-delayed sequel is an amazing movie experience. In fact, I liked this one so much that I'll be revisiting the original with a much lighter disposition. The Broadway musical was great, but this film exploded any and all expectations I had for the character and franchise.

The story takes place twentyish years after the original, when young Michael Banks (Ben Whishaw) has lost his wife and now fathers three adorable motherless children. Helped by his sister Jane (Emily Mortimer), though she's quite busy organizing labor activism, and their housekeeper Ellen (Julie Walters), Michael works for Fidelity Fiduciary Bank and has squashed his artistic aspirations in favor of making ends meet. Yet his dreams do not survive the Great Depression, and the Bank's greedy president (Colin Firth) threatens to take the Banks home.

Remembering their father owned shares in the bank, the Bankses frantically search for proof, and in comes Mary Poppins, floating in on the kite that ended the original film. Emily Blunt is utterly magnificent as the iconic character, at once vain and proper but bubbling over with magical joy. Director Rob Marshall seems infected by this energy, and this movie becomes a sort of sensory overload in the best possible way, forcing you to forget about your troubles and simply enjoy the endless pleasures offered. It's a spoonful of sugar, and then some: vivid colors, mesmerizing effects, glorious dancing, and gorgeous costumes are matched by a score that could have been written by the original musicians. I was tapping along to songs I've never heard before, and humming them as I jaunted out of the theater. That is some damn good movie magic.

Yes, the cast is brilliant and yes the film is a masterclass in what Disney can get so, so right. But what struck me and stuck with me was the absolute genius of this film. Structurally, it is Mary Poppins. The original. Instead of sweeps, we have lamplighters who dance, yes, but underground instead of on the roofs. We have Mary's first number not with cleaning the nursery but with cleaning the children themselves. We have cousin Topsy (Meryl Streep) whose home spins around her, rather than Uncle Albert who floats around his home. We have a chipped china bowl to adventure within, not a chalk painting before the rain. We have balloons instead of kites, given by none other than Angela Lansbury. And Dick Van Dyke shows up for one of the most purely entertaining moments I've ever seen on screen.

If it all sounds like a cheap ripoff -- and it does -- fret not! Nothing here is cheap or forced. In fact, it's all done with such an eye for authentic nostalgia that it even won me over. Unlike The Force Awakens that relied on forced nostalgia and plastered fan service, this movie is a pure work of fans for fans and for everyone else. It's a celebration of childhood, of beauty and creativity, and there's not a moment I wanted the movie to end.

I have absolutely no complaints about this movie except that it did, unfortunately, end. It's pure and sweet and fun and creative and intelligent and everything you could possibly want. We can only hope Mary Poppins will be back.

IMDb: Mary Poppins Returns

The Party (2018)

Score: 4.5 / 5

God, I love dinner parties.

Janet hosts a dinner party for friends and colleagues to celebrate her promotion as minister for health for the political opposition. As wine flows and cocaine is snorted, secrets begin to come out, and one by one the characters assault the veil of propriety. The party could have gone much better.

To talk more about the plot is to ruin the fabulous experience of the film. Shot in gorgeous black and white, this 70-minute chamber piece feels often as though it were being performed on stage in front of you. We're intimately familiar with these characters, which makes their barbed zingers all the more potent.

As they descend to animalistic impulses -- mostly violent words but occasionally violent actions -- we are both horrified and ecstatic. Nothing is better then watching this fabulous cast sink their teeth into meaty material. Nothing is better than Patricia Clarkson consoling Kristin Scott Thomas with "I think you're having...a feeling." Nothing is better than Emily Mortimer weeping over Cherry Jones sleeping with Timothy Spall. Nothing is better than Bruno Ganz awkwardly petting people.

The one-liners are as funny as they are painful, and though we might be grateful we're not the punchline, I couldn't help but feel as the movie clipped along that we are nevertheless complicit in their cruelties. While this particular piece isn't as exhausting as Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, as colorful as God of Carnage, as culturally relevant as Beatriz at Dinner, it finds its niche quickly and efficiently. As delightful as it is repulsive, The Party works best when it's at its worst.

IMDb: The Party