Rebecca (2020)

 Score: 1.5 / 5

Last night I watched a movie about Manderley again.

I was so excited when I heard Ben Wheatley was adapting the Du Maurier novel for a Netflix feature film. His work is often so intense, abstract, and disturbing that I could scarcely wait to see what he'd do with the iconic story, especially as it is his first adaptation of a classic. The hedonistic and nihilistic wonder of High-Rise, the fever dream horrors of A Field in England; it would certainly make for an interesting aesthetic when paired with the strictures of psychological drama and Gothic romance in pre-WWII England. And, since the only other noteworthy theatrical feature was in 1940, Rebecca was arguably due for a major remake.

And with an introduction of haunting beauty -- a mansion at night, lit by unearthly light as a woman walks away from us toward the front gates -- and the familiar opening narration, I was enraptured. We then jump unceremoniously then to Monte Carlo, where a young woman (Lily James) works for a darkly hilarious wannabe-socialite (Ann Dowd) while traveling abroad. The atmosphere is utterly escapist, with no mention of the Great Depression but all the sensory pleasures of a gilded Jazz Age, and cinematographer Laurie Rose works hard to make everything feel as old-school Hollywood as possible. The chromatic warmth is shared by the leading players: James, ever the wide-eyed doll thrust into a fantasy, is rescued from toil and social stagnancy by her Prince Charming, Maxim de Winter, played by Armie Hammer in an unspeakably monstrous mustard-colored suit. He summons her for drives along Mediterranean cliffs and even enacts sexual liaisons before suddenly proposing to her and sweeping her away to his estate in England.

Which is where the movie lost me. The aura of fantasy continues uninterrupted as the young unnamed protagonist -- and we -- are introduced to the de Winter home. The artificial color saturation grows, if anything, more pronounced in what eventually becomes clear to be a Gothic mansion. As the narrator becomes more keenly aware of the ghostly presence of Rebecca, the deceased former Mrs. de Winter, the movie continues its warmly lit aesthetic, making the proceedings feel increasingly soapy. Rather than fearing for the safety of our protagonist, or even her sanity, we're only kept in suspense to see what her next costume will be, where another monogrammed "R" will pop up, and if we'll ever see some eroticism between the married couple more than the Hayes Code softcore scene on a French beach.

The only visage not coated in candied hues is that of the housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, played by a tight-lipped and ebony-dressed Kristin Scott Thomas in the kind of role she masters. As her dark eyes and skeletal frame slink through halls and doorways, we wonder if she stepped out of a whole different movie, perhaps even an audition for what will surely be Ryan Murphy's follow-up miniseries of a literary origin story to Ratched. But this film, written by committee, hamstrings her best efforts by hewing so damned close to the source material while simultaneously moving along between plot points without fleshing out that same source material.

The most potent power of Du Maurier's novel is in its bleak premise: Am I as good a wife/a woman/in bed as my dead predecessor? But this movie staunchly refuses to dive into that rich mystery, focusing instead on hitting all the recognizable plot points incoherently. When Jack Favell (a wasted Sam Riley) appears in a couple brief scenes late in the film, I vaguely wondered who he was, despite having recently read the book again. And instead of fleshing out crucial moments of character development, the film casts off its secondary talents in favor of a series of bizarre dream sequences with no real purpose. Mrs. de Winter follows Max sleepwalking into the west wing several times, where Rebecca once slept, in a fashion that would make you think he has an enchanted rose slowly losing petals; she later sleeps in a bed with a pattern of green vines before becoming entangled and eaten by a nightmarish Devil's Snare in her own hallway.

These kinds of scenes would have worked if director Ben Wheatley had delivered something akin to his usual fare. Whether he was handcuffed (in velvet, apparently) by Netflix, his producers, or perhaps the daunting idea of adapting the iconic piece, Wheatley's efforts here feel as watered down and inconsequential as a Hallmark adaptation. As the movie leers towards its finale, Wheatley seems more bewildered than I was; his courtroom scenes during what should be the climax demonstrate an ineptitude that borderlines on failure. And then there's the bizarre postlude scene in which Mrs. de Winter confronts a suicidal Danvers on a cliff, and the screenwriters should have been shot; it reminded me of the abject failure of Cinderella (2015) to explore Lady Tremaine's character and thus justify the remake's existence. Personally, I like remakes if only for the critical exercise of considering differing artistic interpretations on a similar work. If this had been a purely straightforward, honest-to-Daphne remake of Hitchcock's brilliant work but in color, I wouldn't have even been mad. But its own aesthetic inconsistencies and inability to make a case for its own existence makes this Rebecca about as haunting as a hangover.

I would have much preferred a version that mined the novel's suggestions and dramatized what Hitchcock could not in 1940: erotic thrills a la De Palma, a Luhrmann's Gatsby-style masquerade ball, a more pronounced necrophilic-lesbian presence, or even an out-and-out ghost story like Del Toro's Crimson Peak. True, perhaps this wasn't the place or venue for that, but this surely could have been entertaining, interesting, or fresh, if not all three. Maybe Mike Flanagan will use this mess to inspire The Haunting of Manderley Hall, which could (and should) do all that and more.

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

Tomb Raider (2018)

Score: 3 / 5

Confession: I've never played any of the Lara Croft games and I've not yet seen the films starring Angelina Jolie (though I'll be watching them soon). This was my first experience with the character and franchise.

What a blast! It's a sort of origin story -- I assume it's a reboot -- of the character with Alicia Vikander (Ex Machina, Tulip Fever, The Danish Girl) playing Miss Croft. She's totally badass, a hardcore action star that I certainly didn't see coming. Tough and reckless, her character is almost as impressive as Vikander, not letting the brute violence around her keep her down long. It's the sort of stuff that makes a star, and Croft, being one of the only survivors of the film's climax, is every minute a rousing hero.

That's not to say it's all a fun and fabulous movie. The story feels like a half-baked, half-eaten, and half-digested meal of Indiana Jones; that's not such a bad thing, but surely there were other ways to film sequences than copying them from Crystal Skull or Last Crusade. It's also irritatingly sentimental for an action movie and relies on excessive flashbacks to unravel the emotional connection Croft has with her father (Dominic West), whose lengthy absence and possible death serves as the major MacGuffin.

The story is simple and dull, that is, until the very end. The denouement is chilling and terribly exciting, as it suggests much more to come as Croft seeks to undermine the villainous Trinity organization, a powerful shadow group that has infiltrated her family's many business holdings. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for more appearances by Derek Jacobi and especially Kristin Scott Thomas as potential Big Bads!

What else is there to say? The action is very exciting, the special effects are pretty great, and the physical work done by the actors is amazing. If you want a mostly mindless action adventure of the old-fashioned kind, watch it. If you love Alicia Vikander (like me) and want to watch her kick lots of booties (and a few balls), watch it. If you like video games and get excited by movie adaptations, well, I can't really speak to that, but you should still watch it. Two hours of preposterous, blood-pumping genre film viewing won't be wasted time.

IMDb: Tomb Raider

Darkest Hour (2017)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Joe Wright is back in form. After the disaster that was Pan, he delivers his most satisfying drama since 2007's Atonement. Stripping away the fabulous style of Anna Karenina, here he pares the story to its core and allows the artistic integrity of his artists to shine.

The story concerns Winston Churchill in the early days of his prime minister-ship in what would come to be known as "The Darkest Hour". Britain is under imminent threat of invasion by Hitler's troops, and the government is reaching a breaking point. Political games and schemes riddle Parliament, where the parties are sharply divided between pushing for peace talks and aggressive warfare. Enter Churchill, the eccentric wild card to presumably help bridge the political gap and deliver a nation in crisis, who radically subverts expectations and ultimately leads his nation through the hell of war.

Like other successful biopics -- The Iron Lady, The Queen, and even this year's Victoria and Abdul come immediately to mind -- the goal here is not necessarily to lionize the protagonist, though it is arguably an inevitable end for some audiences. It is, rather, to mine the complexities of people in power and present them in a fresh and humane fashion. Churchill's politics and beliefs aside, the film demands that we think critically about him but also sympathize with his position. It also, and far more surprising to me, includes at its climax a magnificent scene of Churchill in the London Underground, asking diverse citizens their opinions on the war and politics and morale. A rousing enough scene, he then marches into Parliament and galvanizes the entire room, proclaiming "We shall fight on the beaches" in his now famous speech.

However average audiences leave the theater -- apparently largely happy with the movie and praising Churchill, for better or worse -- I hope they pay attention to that scene on the train. It's a direct assault on the Trump administration, as Wright himself has suggested the film is. What will resonate, though, is Gary Oldman's masterful performance as the main man. His typically brilliant, chameleonic craft is on full display here, and he disappears so fully into the role that I often forgot who was on screen. It's one of those dazzling performances that come once every few years, where so much heart and intelligence went into every single look, line, and sigh, that I cannot fathom the mind who delivers it. It's basically like every single Meryl Streep performance. The difference is that Oldman is so often a secondary character that he doesn't take the spotlight. But here he is, in all his glory, and let's just pray this is his year for a damn Oscar.

The other players fit in nicely, including (a personal favorite) Kristin Scott Thomas as Mrs. Churchill and an awesome Lily James as Churchill's secretary. Ben Mendelsohn steals his scenes, however, as a pitch-perfect George VI, with some really nice voice work to rival Oldman's. Beyond the actors, though, the film is a taut exercise in properly thrilling drama, especially when you consider the various genres employed. Political thrills, old age drama, war, and history combine in a seemingly seamless tapestry, and we move at a brisk pace with a sense of thrumming urgency, helped along by large dates scrolling by and the score, which often includes musical ticking, as of a clock. Most impressive to me was Bruno Delbonnel's (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Inside Llewyn Davis, Big Eyes) cinematography, which sharply focuses on faces but seems more interested in impressionistic lighting tricks and fluid movement. In a movie titled after darkness, it seems only appropriate that the film should visually read as a meditation on the interplay between light and shadow, and this picture does not disappoint.

Finally, the film creates a second pairing of movies this year. After the curious and awesome doubling of Wonder Woman and Professor Marston and the Wonder Women, we now have the no less interesting combination of Dunkirk and Darkest Hour. It's appropriate because the large middle act of this film concerns Operation Dynamo and the evacuation, though almost all of it remains limited in scope to private chambers and political arenas. This pairing also highlights the infuriating discrepancy between the war experience of soldiers on the front lines and of the old men who bicker and squabble for power in absolute safety.

IMDb: Darkest Hour