Black Widow (2021)

 Score: 4.5 / 5

Too late? Maybe, but certainly not too little. After a decade starring in various MCU feature films, Scarlett Johansson's Natasha Romanoff finally gets her own top billing. Heaven knows we wanted -- and she deserved -- Black Widow ages ago. There is more than enough character development and backstory for her alone to have carried a movie series back in the first phase, to say nothing of the richly detailed, mysterious characters in her world of espionage. And then, after 20th Century Fox released Red Sparrow in 2018, I figured all hope was lost for a solo Romanoff movie; it's not the same, but it's damn close. Now that her character has been sacrificed in Endgame, I fully expected this movie to wallow in sentiment, forcing tears out for the star finally getting to shine under her own marquee. But instead, we're given a miraculous movie out of time, one that feels like that first Iron Man but infinitely better: a complex standalone feature woven with a surprisingly fresh origin story that reminds us of what we loved about the MCU in its opening stages.

Nat, having recently fled the authorities -- William Hurt as General Ross -- during her change of allegiance in Civil War, moves from one family in turmoil to another. This time, it's her own. Living off the grid, she receives a package from her sister Yelena; Yelena was also forced on the run from the other Widows after discovering a cure for their chemical mind-control by secret Soviet power players. She journeys to find her sister, and the two embark on a quest to save the Widows and the world from the head of the Widow program, the presumed-dead Dreykov and his legendary Red Room. It's an interesting reversal of the other MCU stories led by men actively seeking to become super soldiers; here, the women seek freedom from these chemically-altered human weapons.

It's a dazzling movie, and frankly each new development took me by happy surprise. I had no real idea the direction in which this plot would go, or even when in the timeline it would take place. Director Cate Shortland and writer Eric Pearson (Agent Carter, Thor: Ragnarok, Godzilla vs. Kong) craft a very '70s spy movie with a very contemporary sensibility, loaded with references to the genre (The Manchurian Candidate and Mission: Impossible come to mind right away for specific, obvious reasons) but, amazingly, never feeling derivative or uninspired. In fact, this movie makes me want to go back and rewatch one of my favorite MCU movies, The Winter Soldier, because its content and kinetic energy are equally matched. Also like that picture, Black Widow centers its energy on two main thrusts of subversive theming for superhero movies: secret government conspiracies undermining traditional American interests, and heroes needing community rather than independence.

This is the kind of movie that makes me want to go back and watch Johansson in the other MCU films she's graced, not because it fits in so well (although it does indeed), but because it just reminds me of what a quiet powerhouse she is in everything she touches. Even in this movie, which she deftly and magnificently leads, she generously gives major time to her co-stars, notably her family. Florence Pugh steals the entire movie as Yelena, a role that's great on its own but clearly designed to be the next iteration of the character, as she will certainly continue in Hawkeye and future projects. At once impossibly strong and critically vulnerable, her richly developed character and pitch-perfect performance rank among the franchise's very best. David Harbour has his share of quality scenes as the sisters' father-figure, the Russian version of Captain America, Red Guardian. Sadly, Rachel Weisz is not given comparable scenes as Melina, the mother-figure, but she is reliably wonderful nevertheless. I was worried initially about the family being part of the tragedy of this movie -- after all, since we haven't seen or heard of them before, I reasonably assumed they would die by movie's end -- but the film's opening sequence (very The Americans, by the by) establishes the family as fraudulent, spies thrust together in Ohio before the "parents" completed their intelligence mission and the girls would be taken and trained as the world's best assassins.

Even when things get a little more familiar in the film's third act, Black Widow has a few surprises up its sleeve. While its villain isn't as iconic or compelling as we've had from the MCU lately, the sheer menace of the Red Room makes up for a lot of heavy exposition or world-building. Ray Winstone's Dreykov is hate-able, and that's more than enough for this story, despite the screenwriter's attempts to make him extra deplorable: in his climactic villain speech with Nat, he reveals that he has preyed on orphaned girls to become his Widows because "With you, an Avenger under my control, I can finally come out of the shadows using the only natural resource that the world has too much of: girls." A didactic howler of a line, it nevertheless earns some credit in the film's final sequence, as the group of Widows wonder aloud what they can do with their newfound free will.

And then there's Taskmaster, a much scarier threat than Crossbones or other similar villains, a killing machine in blue and silver whose silence and possibly mechanized body are the stuff of action figures and terror. Taskmaster features as part of the movie's shocking twist, and while not central to the film, manages to carve out a niche unvisited by Phase One or any phase since. During the final action sequence -- less a climax than a literal denouement -- as the characters fly through the sky in an acrobatic free fall, I briefly found myself annoyed by the overly familiar concept. Then, however, much as with Taskmaster, I realized the film was doing something remarkable yet again: turning the staple scene into an original, fresh, and relentlessly urgent new version of itself. Black Widow recycles and reimagines standard tropes from other spy thrillers, as we've noted, and here it does the same for superhero flicks this same franchise made trite over a decade ago. Even during her confrontation with Dreykov, I found myself thinking of the endless monologues of Bond villains and how and why the MCU was parodying and repurposing that very device.

It's still sad to remember that this will likely be the last we see of Johansson's Romanoff, at least in any measurable content. But it's a damn good way for her to go, and a safe, brilliant way for the franchise to launch us into Phase Four.

The Favourite (2018)

Score: 5 / 5

Yorgos Lanthimos does it again with The Favourite, a brilliant comedy-tragedy that might also be his most accessible film yet to those not familiar with his auteurship.

The year is 1708, but that's mostly incidental, and the characters are based on real historical figures, but that's almost an afterthought. You don't need to know about Queen Anne's reign, her confidant and lover Sarah Churchill, and Sarah's cousin Abigail who rose in power and became the titular favorite of her majesty. I certainly didn't, although apparently it's been extensively documented through letters, memoirs, and even a lengthy biography by Sarah's descendant Winston Churchill. Ignoring, as I do, did, and will, the political and historical details about their biographies, we're left with the film as a masterful portrait of women in power and loving every moment.

The ailing Queen Anne, falling apart from gout and miserably forsaking her own crown in favor of eccentric indulgences, relies fully on her adviser Sarah, who is immediately seen to be the real power behind the throne. Sarah manages the household, the country, and, yes, the Queen's sexual appetites as well; she's also strong-willed and proud, manipulative but not sycophantic, and so tension follows in her wake as sure as sin. Olivia Colman deserves accolades for her role as the queen here, in the kind of powerhouse role women usually dream of and never get. She cries and screams and throws herself around with reckless abandon, speaking to the spoiled monarch in all of us. Meanwhile, Rachel Weisz plays her cards close to the chest, rocking some intensely androgynous costumes with stony-faced intelligence.

Enter, then, Emma Stone as the once and future favorite Abigail, who starts earnestly enough to situate herself in the queen's household. Despite her hostile work environment, she climbs the ranks before we (and her endangered cousin) realize she may be climbing with malicious intent. Her performance doesn't quite match her capabilities, nor does it quite match the output of her co-stars, but the trio of women make a fascinating and brilliant group for us to watch on screen. Their power play is endlessly entertaining, and I found myself laughing and gasping aloud in an otherwise pretty silent theater. Some people just don't understand quality comedy.

I have no complaints whatsoever about this film, except to say there wasn't more of it. It's irreverent, brutally funny and sad, and casts a lasting spell that will keep you giggling and thinking long after the credits roll. Dig the female power. Dig the awesome cinematography, performances, music, screenplay, costuming, and editing. It's all fabulous. One of the best this year, by far.

IMDb: The Favourite

Disobedience (2018)

Score: 5 / 5

An opening scene depicts an aged rabbi orating to his Orthodox Jewish temple on free will before falling down dead amidst a congregation that obviously loves him. It's a haunting scene, made all the more powerful by the story that follows after. We immediately redirect our focus to a young woman, Ronit Krushka (played to perfection by Rachel Weisz), a photographer in New York who receives a phone call and flies to London. Ronit is the rabbi's estranged daughter, and the film chronicles her journey back home to the community that has many mixed feelings about her presence.

Her best childhood friends, Dovid and Esti (Alessandro Nivola and Rachel McAdams, respectively), invite her to stay in their home. Ronit is surprised to learn the two are now married, though it takes us some time to learn why. We do, however, clearly see that Ronit does not fit in with the Orthodox community honoring her late father. Indeed, we hear that it has been many years since Ronit has visited, and we surmise that some bridges, once burned, can never be repaired.

Alone with her two friends, we begin to understand the love triangle that begins to burn anew: Ronit and Esti were young lovers together, which seems to be the root of her estrangement from the community. Esti, left behind, decided to marry Dovid, perhaps as some sort of consolation. Esti's desire is awakened and she and Ronit embark on an affair. Dovid, meanwhile, attempts to step into the rabbi's shoes, and in his stressed state, turns a blind eye to the discord he has sown into his own home, which he tells the elders he keeps in perfect order.

Disobedience is a fabulously melancholy chamber piece, reaching operatic heights in its depiction of the intersection of religion, history, and sexuality. In fact, this is the queer movie we should be raving about this year (I'm looking at you, Love, Simon). Rarely have we ever seen a film that explores this fully the essence of the religious queer person; equally rarely do we see this sympathetic a portrait of modern Orthodox Jewish life. It's a lovely premise and and even lovelier slice of culture.

More important still is the craft built into the film. This is top-shelf work from the actors (and, really, why haven't the two Rachels been in movies before? Or lovers before?), all of whom should be in more movies, period. We have soft, subdued lighting with gloriously muted hues and shapes, tightly controlled camera that humanizes its subjects, and some amazing music that underscores themes of subversion and romance. The score teams up nicely with the editing in creating a realistic yet somewhat disorienting sense of cultural shock and psychological dissonance.

These characters at once belong and do not, love and cannot, believe and should not. The film's insistence on delving into these complexities and shunning clear-cut answers, characterizations, or solutions makes this film a gripping exercise in humanity. For a powerhouse story about the virtues of doubt and bravery, extolling defiance and uncertainty as virtues, you could do a lot worse than Disobedience.

IMDb: Disobedience

My Cousin Rachel (2017)

Score: 4.5 / 5

It was high time for a new adaptation of Daphne du Maurier's classic dark romance, and this is it. Step aside, Richard Burton and Olivia de Havilland!

Philip (Sam Claflin) prepares to meet his deceased cousin's wife. The poor old man has died abroad, after having sent a cryptic letter to Philip suggesting that his new wife, Rachel, is dangerous. Philip, furious at the specter of this woman for driving his cousin (and foster father) to a premature death, is both horrified and grimly determined when Rachel sends word that she will be coming to England to stay with him in her late husband's estate.

Her arrival, however, sparks a rich romance between the two. Tensions rise as Philip tries to remain objective, but Rachel's confidence, beauty, and intelligence beguile him utterly. Can he trust her? Did she kill his cousin? Might she pose a threat to the young man?

Much like the recent Phantom Thread, this movie is a dazzling display of style and substance in equal measure. Gorgeously realized sets and costumes fashion a world of detail, of passion, of texture. The performances are all passable, but the lead is impeccable. Rachel Weisz plays the title character with a perfect blend of compassion and malice; there's not a moment we can be sure of her intentions. In every single scene, she could be a bereaved widow seeking to navigate a world of men or she could be a conniving seductress seeking blood and power.

Also like Phantom Thread, this film delves deep into the horrors of a misogynist world. Rachel is repeatedly referred to in terms of her relationships with men (wife, cousin, lover). The first time both Philip and the audience see her, she is framed, picturesque, by a large window lit by a large, round moon. As the story progresses, rumors abound that she is insatiable. Her bank accounts have been hopelessly overdrawn, and Nick Kendall (Iain Glen), Philip's godfather, reveals that Rachel's sexual appetites may match her material extravagance. According to the logic of the story, her attempts to cast off patriarchal conventions make her a monster.

This film, I'd argue, works especially hard to maintain the ambiguity of Rachel's intentions and behavior. In fact, whereas the novel implies her guilt more often than not (in my reading), this film, so tightly restricted to Philip's perspective, never actually shows Rachel doing the "bad" things. In fact, I came away from this version viewing Philip as an antihero more than anything, as his outspoken misogyny riddles most of his scenes. He's weak and spoiled, jumping to conclusions, stammering when confronted with conflict, and incredibly fickle when presented with new evidence.

My Cousin Rachel is exactly what a new adaptation should be. A beautiful example of updated artistry, a smart and socially relevant rewrite, and still daring enough to stay faithful to the source material. Indeed, I half-expected the ending to provide an "answer" to the almost 70-year-old story, to take a definitive "side" in the mystery. Rather, like all the best du Maurier tales, it leaves us with a perfect character mystery, inviting audiences to discuss the film for some time after a viewing.

IMDb: My Cousin Rachel

Denial (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

An arresting reminder that history is far more fluid that we might prefer, Denial stands out not as a great film of the year but an uncomfortably timely one.

When a famed scholar who denies the Holocaust happened sues a Holocaust studies professor for libel, a colossal chess game is set. Or it would be, if Denial was a better film. What we get is an extended anecdote, a typical courtroom drama that features few surprises though it does remind us of an important real-life event that happened only two decades ago. The film, with its basic narrative cadence and the simple melodies it plays on your heartstrings isn't symphonic as, we might argue, it should be. But it is a simple reminder that some films are sound and sweet and smart and just plain solid, and that's okay.

What matters here -- besides the shockingly urgent implications of its revelation that history's facts are always up for debate and revision, which hit you only after the film is long over -- is Rachel Weisz. Reminding us once again (after her delicious presence in The Mummy) that knowledge can be power when married to passion, she reprises her role as librarian/scholar and transforms it into an heroic warrior, a pillar of virtue whose humanity only makes her stronger and fiercer. This is surely one of her great roles, and one that slowly reveals itself to be far more complex than we might suppose. Forced into silence by her legal team and hindered from the victory she deserves by publicity and legalities, her character keeps pushing for vindication until she achieves it. It's a relentless character, and Weisz crafts a powerhouse performance that still manages more nuances than you could bang a gavel at.

David Hare's screenplay, though simple and straightforward, isn't ever "bad". It just doesn't allow distractions or excess to obscure its heart. As honest and blunt as its leading character, the film reminds us of the inherent beauty of the tried-and-true courtroom drama (my favorite genre, after horror) by forcing us to pay attention to the duelling dialogue. Our era of political correctness and its vicious opposition, of instant messaging and virtual reality and artificial intelligence, might signal the end of this kind of film, where we are stuck watching and listening to people talk. We are compelled to listen and not speak as people present opposing ideas, and like the judge, come to our own opinions of it. In this particular instance, we are made to witness our history being subverted and questioned, and we must determine the extent to which we believe what has come before and why. We must confront the reality that our history is written not by facts but by people whose biases dictate its content, and -- even worse -- consider our own role in perpetuating a particular history as it is happening.

IMDb: Denial

The Lobster (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

This is what filmmaking is all about. Aggressively weird and disturbingly tender, The Lobster defies effective description because it is so many things packed into one. A pitch-black romantic comedy that is too clinical and distant to be romantic and too deadpan and creepy to be LOL-ed at, the film seems to exist in a vacuum. In it, single people are observed Big-Brother-style in a hotel, where they are tasked with finding a romantic partner within 45 days despite bizarre and punishing house rules. Failure to mate within the allotted time results in the subject being transformed into an animal.

Enter our not-quite hero, played by a distinctly un-self-aware Colin Farrell. Channeling his brilliant comic timing from Martin McDonagh's films, Farrell plays a man adrift in this dystopian world, who goes with the flow so much he often blends into the strangely familiar sets and landscapes. As he begins to assert himself into the world and make autonomous decisions, however, he learns the cost of nonconformity and takes drastic steps to find his happy ending. Matching his lost soul and dry wit is Rachel Weisz, a member of the lone singles hiding from society in the woods, and as the two embark on a romantic journey they learn that love is not without its consequences.

A star-studded cast populates this picture, but the focus is strictly on Farrell. That's not quite fair, as the script steals the whole film right away. Beautifully crafted, bewilderingly complex, and lyrically absorbing, the dialogue and pacing control the film in wondrous style. Especially noteworthy is Weisz's narration, which adds distance to our perception of the film and lends formidably bleak satire to the proceedings.

It's not a feel-good film, and I'd even be wary of calling it a comedy. This flavor of vicious black humor and absurdism is an acquired taste, and its scathing satirization of superficial courtship (think of our increasingly virtual interactions with potential lovers) and our cultural ideal of the nuclear couple is so dense and allegorized that it will leave you thinking long and hard for days after viewing. The best part? I'm still not sure the film has a message; it just lambastes our norms and mores, leaving them pulpy and quivering on the screen for us to digest at our leisure. Daring cinematic surrealism at its finest, right here.

IMDb: The Lobster