I'd Like to Thank the Academy

(And the nominees are . . .) Last year's analysis of Oscar nominations was the most wildly different from any I had done before, for a multitude of reasons, although all of them stemmed from the fact that we were in the middle of a pandemic. The nominees weren't even announced until mid-March; none of the major nominees were box office successes of any note, thanks to theater closures; every single one of the Best Picture nominees I watched either streaming or VOD at home. So many of the would-be blockbusters originally slated for 2020 release were pushed to 2021, making last year's slate of Visual Effects nominees particularly bizarre, with only one of them (Christopher Nolan's Tenet) even seeming normal. Compared to all of that, this year's slate of nominees is far closer to what previously passed for "normal," and yet comparatively, it's kind of a mixed bag. At least, when it comes to what might have been expected in years prior to 2020. Plenty of excellent and deserving films were nominated this year, and plenty of them even got theatrical releases—although several that even had theatrical releases I still watched streaming at home. With the whiplash-inducing changes of COVID mitigation measures, first with what promised to be a freeing "hot vax summer" only to get derailed first by the Delta variant and then the truly overwhelming Omicron variant, even with theaters open for business consistently since the spring, only a select few such releases actually translated to what once passed for genuine box office success. The pressing question now is, how many people have even seen most of these movies? It's an ironic question, given that it could be argued most of the nominees are far more accessible than any slate of Academy Award-nominated films has ever been before. Even theatrical releases wind up either streaming or on VOD far sooner after theatrical release than ever before, and the most-nominated film this year, The Power of the Dog with 12 nominations, is available on Netflix, having only gotten a limited theatrical release to qualify as an Oscar contender. I didn't even get a local theatrical release of that film here in Seattle, and I really wish I had. The second-most nominated film, Dune with 10 nominations, got a simultaneous release in theaters and streaming for a month on HBO Max. There remain some exceptions; Spielberg's remake of West Side Story (7 nominations) is still currently only in theaters, and Kenneth Branagh's Belfast (also 7 nominations) is available on VOD, but for $19.99. Both of them will surely be available to watch at home at a lower price within a matter of weeks, though. There remains a lot of hand-wringing about what the long term consequences of the pandemic will be on both the movie industry and the Academy Awards. For now, all I can say is, great films are still getting made, and it's easier to find them more quickly than ever—at least on average. Which is why, even though the Academy still hardly always gets it right, the Oscars remain relevant, the steep dive in the ceremony's viewership notwithstanding. So, let's get on with it!
Actress in a Leading Role Jessica Chastain, The Eyes of Tammy Faye
Olivia Colman, The Lost Daughter
Penélope Cruz, Parallel Mothers
Nicole Kidman, Being the Ricardos
Kristen Stewart, Spencer WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Three months ago I would have sworn Kristen Stewart was a shoo-in. After she was left out of most of the other awards bodies' nominations (most notably the SAG Awards), it's almost a surprise she still got included here. Goldderby.com, which calculates odds on all of these races, now has Olivia Colman as the front-runner. I feel like this category is still pretty competitive, but I guess I would currently put my money on who has the best odds.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: It astonishes me that Spencer resonated with virtually no one . . . except for me; it was, no contest, my favorite movie of 2021. After years of being relatively unimpressed with Kristen Stewart, now I'm dying for her to win this award. And she's not going to!
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: I wouldn't be mad at any of these women winning, really. But, I would still argue Jessica Chastain is the least deserving here. An incredible physical transformation is not the same as a great performance, and her performance in The Eyes of Tammy Faye was . . . fine.
Actor in a Leading Role Javier Bardem, Being the Ricardos
Benedict Cumberbatch, The Power of the Dog
Andrew Garfield, tick, tick...BOOM!
Will Smith, King Richard
Denzel Washington, The Tragedy of Macbeth WHO I THINK WILL WIN: This year, it has long been clear that Will Smith is the man to beat for Best Actor.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: Honestly? If I were a voting member of the Academy, I'd vote for Andrew Garfield. He embodies the character of real-life Broadway writer and composer Jonathan Larson so fantastically, he disappears in the part—and without any major prosthetics or makeup to augment the transformation.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: I love Javier Bardem. But, I'm kind of mystified as to how he even got nominated for this particular part. He's good in it, but it's nothing special; it's Nicole Kidman whose performance truly impresses in Being the Ricardos.
Actress in a Supporting Role Jessie Buckley, The Lost Daughter
Ariana Debose, West Side Story
Judi Dench, Belfast
Kirsten Dunst, The Power of the Dog
Aunjanue Ellis, King Richard WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Another one easy to predict: Ariana Debose. And if you haven't seen West Side Story, you need to get on it. Debose is reason enough alone to see it.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: Everyone here is excellent, really. I think Kirsten Dunst, here with her first-ever Oscar nomination, barely edges out the competition, and she gets my vote.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: Judi Dench, I guess? Nothing against her here—I really love her, actually—but she's already got an Oscar. Granted, she hasn't won one since 1998, and it was for all of eight minutes in the ridiculously pretentious Shakespeare In Love. I'd actually love to see her win again, I just don't think it should be for this particular movie (even though I liked Belfast, and I liked her in it).
Actor in a Supporting Role Ciarán Hinds, Belfast
Troy Kotsur, CODA
Jesse Plemons, The Power of the Dog
J.K. Simmons, Being the Ricardos
Kodi Smit-McPhee, The Power of the Dog WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Somewhat to my pleasant surprise, the front-runner here is apparently Kodi Smit-McPhee, a 25-year-old actor who has been impressing me with his acting since he was 12 in The Road (2009) and 13 in Let Me In (2010). I would put my money on him at the moment, but Troy Kotsur also has a shot.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: Kodi Smit-McPhee also gets my vote.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: Being the Ricardos was pretty good, but is revealed by these nominations to be wildly overrated. J.K. Simmons is a fine actor, but he doesn't have a chance in hell of winning this award this year, and that's as it should be.
Animated Feature Film Encanto
Flee
Luca
The Mitchells vs the Machines
Raya and the Last Dragon WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Historically, it's the Pixar film that's the shoo-in, but Luca, which exclusively streamed on Disney+ and was merely pretty good, falters in the shadow of other nominees here. Encanto is presently the front-runner, which had both a theatrical release and is available now on Disney+ as well. And while I liked Encanto slightly less even than Luca (B-minus versus solid B), it appears I am in the minority here, as ever since that one's been streaming, social media has been rampant with takes and, especially, covers of its runaway smash song "We Don't Talk About Bruno."
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: This should be no contest, but I am not likely to get what I want here. Flee, about a gay Aghan refugee in Denmark, is not only the first film to be nominated the same year for Animated Feature, Documentary Feature and International Feature, but it's superb. It should win in all three categories. My guess is it will win in just one of them.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: I have no particularly passionate objection to any of these movies, but by a slim margin, I'd say Raya and the Last Dragon is the least deserving. Funny how three of these nominees are Disney films (two Disney Animation Studios and one Pixar), and all three of them are the weaker entries here. Setting Flee aside, among the other four that were clearly made for children, The Mitchells vs the Machines is the most sophisticated accomplishment in terms of both writing and animation.
Cinematography Dune, Greig Fraser
Nightmare Alley, Dan Laustsen
The Power of the Dog, Ari Wegner
The Tragedy of Macbeth, Bruno Delbonnel
West Side Story, Janusz Kaminski WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Given its staggering 12 nominations overall, it feels like The Power of the Dog has a kind of surprising shot here—but, not nearly to the degree that Dune does. And it's not like Dune is any slouch in this year's overall race; it has 10 nominations of its own.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: All of these films are shot beautifully. Dune, however, was the most memorably stunning. Even if you can't always understand what's going on, you cannot take your eyes off that movie.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: I'm going to say The Power of the Dog here, even though I truly loved that movie, and even think, as I said, it was beautifully shot. But, I could never get past the knowledge that I was actually looking at New Zealand when it was supposed to be 1925 Montana. Some of the landscapes are almost otherworldly, in a way I'm not convinced can be found anywhere in Montana.
Production Design Dune Nightmare Alley
The Power of the Dog
The Tragedy of Macbeth
West Side Story WHO I THINK WILL WIN:  I have a feeling Dune will sweep a bunch of the awards that are not for acting, directing or Best Picture, which would include this one.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: This is kind of a tough call. I'm tempting to say this is the one award I think The Tragedy of Macbeth deserves—it's easy to credit its cinematography, but the entire film was shot on impeccably designed, quasi-brutalist soundstage sets. I wouldn't be mad at a win there. But, my vote still goes to Dune, which is stunningly successful at world building as part of what was long thought to be an impossible task of literary adaptation.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: All of these films have great production design, to be honest. No further notes.
Costume Design Cruella, Jenny Beavan
Cryano, Massimo Cantini Parrini and Jacqueline Durran
Dune, Jacqueline West and Robert Morgan
Nightmare Alley, Luis Sequeira
West Side Story, Paul Tazewell WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Gold Derby cites Cruella as the frontrunner in this category, and I fear they may be right—it's the only movie that blatantly calls attention to its costumes, as its title character is literally a fashion designer.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: Dune is tempting, as it is for all of these design categories, but in this case I think I'm going for West Side Story. And that movie deserves more than just one Oscar.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: I find Cruella's odds irritating. It's too easy, lazy, low hanging fruit. Pay more attention, people!
Documentary (Feature) Ascension
Attica
Flee
Summer of Soul (..Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised)
Writing with Fire WHO I THINK WILL WIN: I often have seen so few of these films by the time the nominees are announced that I don't even include the category in my analysis, and even this year I have only seen one of them (Flee). That said, I have heard enough about Summer of Soul from the many movie podcasts I listen to, to know that it is the clear front runner. Questlove's documentary about the Harlem Cultural Festival in 1969 is widely beloved.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: As always, I am pulling for Flee. But, I'm not really being fair. If a bunch of people say Summer of Love is better, who am I to argue?
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: After doing a bit of spot research, every single one of these films sounds amazing, and I can't believe I've never heard of three of them: Ascension (Paramount+) is about the pursuit of the "Chinese Dream" in modern China; Attica (Prime Video) is, as you likely expect, about the 1971 prison rebellion; and Writing with Fire (on DVD and VOD March 1) is about India's only newspaper run by Dalit (lowest caste) women. Instead of saying any of these don't deserve an Oscar, I'm going to seek out every one of these films.
Directing Kenneth Branagh, Belfast
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, Drive My Car
Paul Thomas Anderson, Licorice Pizza
Jane Campion, The Power of the Dog
Steven Spielberg, West Side Story WHO I THINK WILL WIN: This one might be the biggest "duh" of them all: Jane Campion. I'm baffled that Denis Villeneuve was not nominated here for Dune, but even if he were, Campion would remain the front runner.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: Jane Campion. She is one of only seven women ever nominated for Best Director, and she's the first in history to be nominated twice. It will be great to see her make history by winning.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: Spielberg did a great job updating West Side Story, but come on. That man already has three Oscars. He doesn't need to get greedy!
Film Editing Don't Look Up, Hank Corwin
Dune, Joe Walker
King Richard, Pamela Martin
The Power of the Dog, Peter Sciberras
tick, tick...BOOM!, Myron Kerstein and Andrew Weisblum WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Gold Derby says Dune is the front runner, and I have no reason to disagree with them. As indicated previously, Dune may well sweep the technical categories.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: I'm pulling hard for Dune in this category, actually. I had to see it twice to fully appreciate it, but the editing in that movie, particularly considering its sweeping, epic scope, is—to be a little on the nose—stellar.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: Okay, so now we start in with the four nominations for the simultaneously polarizing and wildly overrated Don't Look Up, a movie that's far too pleased with itself while also being too on the nose. I really wanted to enjoy this movie and then found it fundamentally useless. And by the way? At 138 minutes, as a supposed comedy, it's far too long. The editor didn't even do his fucking job!
International Feature Drive My Car, Japan
Flee, Denmark
The Hand of God, Italy
Lulana: A Yak in the Classroom, Bhutan
The Worst Person in the World, Norway WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Seems hard to predict. God Derby has Drive My Car as the front runner, and given its wild critical acclaim (far greater than I quite understand), that tracks. But, The Worst Person in the World has real momentum, and that combined with it being a romantic comedy could push it ahead.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: Oh, my god. How many times do I have to say it! Flee. Unfortunately, it's not the frontrunner in any of its three categories, which is a travesty of justice. On the other hand, Gold Derby has it ranked #2 in the odds for all three categories, so you never know.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: I actually saw Paolo Sorrentino's The Hand of God, and although I found it relatively enjoyable—nice to look at—I also really could not make sense of it. A win in this category would be truly baffling.
Makeup and Hairstyling Coming 2 America
Cruella
Dune
The Eyes of Tammy Faye
House of Gucci WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Another one that's low hanging fruit: The Eyes of Tammy Faye will probably get this, just because of the radical transformation of Jessica Chastain into Tammy Faye Bakker. Turning Andrew Garfield into Jim Bakker wasn't nothing either. Either way, it's showy in a way that unfortunately overshadows more nuanced achievements in other films.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: I'm not above leaning into contradictions when it comes to low hanging fruit: Tomothée Chalamet's hair is almost—almost!—too perfect in Dune. Give that movie the Oscar!
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: House of Gucci is way too smugly bombastic to deserve any Oscars.
Music (Original Score) Don't Look Up, Nicholas Britell
Dune, Hans Zimmer
Encanto, Germaine Franco
Parallel Mothers, Alberto Iglesias
The Power of the Dog, Jonny Greenwood WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Gold Derby's listed odds have Dune dropping, but still in the frontrunner position. Honestly, I think it's too early to tell. I didn't pay that much attention to the score in these movies anyway.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: The only one I even vaguely remember, really is Dune. So, okay sure. Give Dune this award.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: Seriously. Do not give Don't Look Up any Oscars. Not even as a consolation prize!
Music (Original Song) "Be Alive," from King Richard, Music and Lyric by DIXSON and Beyoncé Knowles-Carter
"Dos Oruguitas," from Encanto, Music and Lyric by Lin-Manuel Miranda
"Down to Joy," from Belfast, Music and Lyric by Van Morrison
"No Time to Die," from No Time to Die, Music and Lyric by Billie Eilish and Finneas O'Connell
"Somehow You Do," from Four Good Days, Music and Lyric by Diane Warren WHO I THINK WILL WIN: This really feels like no contest. Beyoncé is by far the most famous contender here, plus her song is actually the best of these five. It seems logical that she will win. Gold Derby says "No Time to Die" is the frontrunner but I'm still standing by this.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: I'm also in Beyoncé's corner with this one. By comparison, all of the other songs are forgettable.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: I usually pick just one here, but in this case I have two. First, Van Morrison is an anti-vaxxer, so, fuck that guy. Second, I actually like Billie Eilish generally speaking, but her "No Time to Die" is the dullest Bond theme song in ages.
Visual Effects Dune
Free Guy
No Time to Die
Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings
Spider-Man: No Way Home WHO I THINK WILL WIN: This isn't even a fair contest. On average, the visual effects among these five movies are . . . pretty good. All competent, but only one truly stands out, and that is—you guessed it!—Dune.  
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: If Dune can get even one Oscar win, it absolutely has to be this one.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings because such a cliched, swirling CGI mess in its final climactic sequence, it feels like it got included here only because it was a blockbuster with some box office success. That doesn't mean the effects were as good as they could, or should, have been.
Writing (Adapted Screenplay) CODA, Screenplay by Siân Heder
Drive My Car, Screenplay by Ryusuke Hamaguchi, Takamasa Oe
Dune, Screenplay by Jon Spaihts and Denis Villeneuve and Eric Roth
The Lost Daughter, Written by Maggie Gyllenhaal
The Power of the Dog, Written by Jane Campion WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Apparently The Power of the Dog and The Lost Daughter are neck and neck at the moment. I'm still officially predicting The Power of the Dog for the win, as its far higher number of overall nominations will likely help it in most categories.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: Gold Derby's odds currently place Dune dead last in this category, which is truly astonishing to me. I have not read the book on which it's based, but I have known for years about the perceived challenges of adapting it successfully for a film (exhibit A: the notorious 1984 David Lynch film). This movie is doubly impressive for how superbly crafted it is.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: Again, I have nothing against any of these films. I even love that the Japanese film got four nominations (International Feature being the only one it's likely to win). But, it also has an incredibly slow script that relies far too heavily, in my opinion, on a working knowledge of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya, which I don't have at all. And that made it a lot more difficult to lose myself into the world of its story.
Writing (Original Screenplay) Belfast, Written by Kenneth Branagh
Don't Look Up, Screenplay by Adam McKay; Story by Adam McKay & David Sirota
King Richard, Written by Zach Baylin
Licorice Pizza, Written by Paul Thomas Anderson
The Worst Person in the World, Written by Eskil Vogt, Joachim Trier WHO I THINK WILL WIN: This might just be the only Oscar, of three nominations, that Licorice Pizza actually wins—giving Paul Thomas Anderson his first Academy Award, after eleven nominations.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: These categories are always interesting, because since they have long been separated into "adapted" and "original," ten movies get nominated for writing every year, making it the closest analogue to the current state of Best Picture. Two of the ten movies here get the award, though, and sometimes only one of the two categories gets the most high profile nominees—or at least, the majority of the ones that would be nominated if "writing" were just limited to five. I can't judge The Worst Person in the World because I haven't seen it yet; it doesn't open locally until this Friday (annoying!). But, among the other four, I suppose my vote would actually go to Belfast, which is mercifully not overlong (98 minutes) and is very well constructed.
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: Here we go again. If there is any award Don't Look Up deserves the least, it's this one. Yes, even less than Best Picture. If that movie wins this award I'm going to jump off a cliff. So you all better fucking make sure that doesn't happen!
Best motion picture of the year Belfast
CODA
Don't Look Up
Drive My Car
Dune
King Richard
Licorice Pizza
Nightmare Alley
The Power of the Dog
West Side Story WHO I THINK WILL WIN: Sometimes, a movie with tons of nominations comes away with nothing—like The Irishman at the 2020 Oscars. I don't think that will be the story this year, though, and it will be a genuine upset if The Power of the Dog doesn't win.
WHO I THINK SHOULD WIN: The Power of the Dog is the only one of these ten films that I gave a solid A, so that should make my choice pretty obvious. (Incidentally, I gave two of the others an A-minus: CODA and West Side Story.)
WHO I THINK SHOULD NOT WIN: All together now! "🎶 Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck Don't Look Up! 🎶"
(Nominations for documentary short, animated short, live action short, and sound were also announced, but I don't know enough about them to make any worthwhile observations.) The 94th Academy Awards telecast will air on ABC Sunday, March 27 at 4 p.m. Pacific Time. .

FIRST AND LAST MEN

Directing: B
Acting: B+
Writing: B
Cinematography: A-
Editing: B

Last and First Men is like a cross between Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey and Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. It blends far-reaching futurism, black and white cinematography, and long, ethereal tracking shots of concrete architecture. Except in this case, instead of art deco, the structures onscreen are memorial structures still standing from the former Republic of Yugoslavia. These memorials were shot in what are now Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia, Kosovo, and Montenegro.

And . . . visually speaking, that’s literally all it is. One black and white slow tracking shot after another, of these structures, clearly intended to evoke the notion of ruins of the future civilization described by the one performer in the film, Tilda Swinton, who serves as narrator. To her credit, her delivery is impeccable, and I could listen to her talk about anything in this mannered way, all day. Still, I’m glad the run time is only 70 minutes. With no action of any kind onscreen, this movie might just lull you to sleep. Many of the tracking shots go on so long that it doesn’t even matter. More than once I nodded off and when I came to again, it was still the same shot.

This film is receiving wide critical acclaim, and although I actually did enjoy it, I still take some issues with it. Far too much context is needed in order to appreciate it fully, which is always a pet peeve of mine. An astounding detail is that this cinematic art piece, which might be more at home in the Museum of Modern Art than in a theater, is presented as based on a novel—of the same name, by author Olaf Stapledon, first published in 1930. (Given that Metropolis the novel was published in 1925, and the film from which it was adapted also features black and white imagery of concrete structures, this brings the comparisons just short of coming full circle.) Last and First Men, the novel, tracks two billion years of human evolution, starting with the present version of humanity and spanning another seventeen successive human species.

To say this film, directed and co-written by Icelander Jóhann Gunnar Jóhannsson, pares down that insanely expansive premise is a grand understatement. The “story” as presented in the film is only ever revealed through Tilda Swinton’s narration, as though having been dictated by the last humans before cosmic annihilation, then sent back in time to our present day. Maybe to teach us about our future, maybe to give us the tools to help future generations, maybe both. How the exclusive footage of Eastern European memorial structures fits into that, exactly, is difficult to glean. It gives an air of long-dead civilization with just a few relics left behind, except in this scenario, wouldn’t these relics also have been annihilated?

Another darkly fascinating detail: Jóhann Gunnar Jóhannsson, up until this film, which was actually first released in Berlin in late February 2020, was a composer. This was his feature film directorial debut. As it happened, however, Jóhannsson died two years prior to that, to the month, in February 2018, apparently of a lethal combination of cocaine and flu medication. This means Last and First Men was both his debut and his last film, and that it should be such a broad—and, according to some, profound—rumination on existence itself is, in its way, astonishing.

I remain a little stuck on the premise, however. Maybe it’s just that people in 1930 had a lot easier time being optimistic about humanity’s long-term future, but two billion years? It actually makes sense for the span of time to be that long if it’s to encompass genuine evolution of species, but from the vantage point of 2022, it’s hard to imagine humanity surviving long enough to do any further evolving at all. Perhaps I should just think of this as yet another in a now-long list of “alternate reality” movies. Or, maybe I’m just not giving humanity enough credit: the narrator cites several things that affect the repeated rise and fall of civilizations, with climate change being among them. Perhaps believing that climate will truly render us extinct is excessively absolutist. We could be whittled down to next to nothing and still regrow our numbers.

Last and First Men challenges us to consider time on a scale far grander than most of us can truly wrap our heads around—the very thing that prevents theists from understanding how we could have ancestors who were fish. It does offer a great deal of food for thought, but it relies a little heavily on the thought portion, which is arguably tipping the scales too far for the visual medium of film. What this film has to offer is a pleasant enough experience, but left me wanting. The premise is far too epic in scope for there to be nothing epic whatsoever onscreen, exclusively in favor of otherworldly—if beautiful—shots of Slavic sculptures.

This means something. I just don’t know what!

Overall: B

Advance: MOONFALL

Directing: F
Acting: D
Writing: F
Cinematography: D+
Editing: C-
Special Effects: D+

Academy Award Winner Halle Berry. Patrick Wilson. Michael Peña. Honorary Academy Award Winner Donald Sutherland. John “Samwell Tarly” Bradley. Charlie Plummer. Hell, even Kelly Reilly or Kathleen Fee, or literally anyone else in the cast: what in god’s name did they do to deserve Moonfall? Has every single one of these actors truly hit rock bottom? Were they having a party together while reading the script the first time, got collectively wasted, and said “Yes, let’s do this!” Is this a sinister government plot of some kind? Are they victims of mind control?

So many questions! Someone should do an investigative docuseries about the making of this movie. Because I want answers.

Moonfall is unbearably bad, even by Roland Emmerich’s steadily plummeting standards. This is the director who has made “dumb, fun disaster movie” his brand. He’s fully into the era now where the “fun” part is gone entirely. I always loved his 1996 breakout Independence Day, largely because it blended then-state-of-the-art special effects with subtly winking, self-aware humor. It was a movie that didn’t take itself seriously. Although his 1998 follow-up, Godzilla, was a genuine dud, the same still could be said of other far lesser, but still fun works like The Day After Tomorrow (2004), or yes, even 2012 (2009)—which I gave a solid B! But, I could be generous in rating those films because of a level of entertainment value transcending the utter ridiculousness.

Not so with Moonfall, which is so awful, I saw it at an advance screening, in an auditorium full of people who had gone to see it for free, and I still think we should all pool our resources and sue for damages. The solitary silver lining to the experience is how much more fun it is to write about how terrible it is. This movie opens in theaters officially tomorrow, which means first screenings are actually tonight at 6:00, but remember: this is February. February release dates, especially for blockbusters, are always a bad sign. There is no month suitable for this movie’s release. It should have been thrown in the garbage. This movie is top to bottom, utter trash.

And it has talented actors in it! You sure as shit wouldn’t know it by watching this movie. Very early on, Halle Berry’s delivery of a line like “We just lied to the American people!” sets the stage for a genuinely painful experience. Patrick Wilson is slightly better while still clearly phoning it in. Donald Sutherland slums it in a bit part. How much did these people get paid, anyway? Was it worth it? The only performance that is even halfway close to fun is that of John Bradley, who gets saddled with a backward take on the “crackpot character,” where his theories about the moon being a “megastructure” (a word you will wish you never hear again for the rest of your life) built by prehistoric super-advanced alien technology turns out to be right.

Okay, let’s back up for a moment. I’m finally getting into the premise here, which is so idiotic, I think I’m genuinely dumber now just by sitting through it. This movie could have been improved immeasurably just by doing away with that “megastructure” bullshit, and making it just about the moon somehow getting thrown off orbit and causing havoc on the planet and its tides and such. Instead, much like 2012, itself a brainless movie that still looks like a Kubrickian masterpiece by comparison, Emerrich takes a “kitchen sink” approach to the proceedings, where seemingly anything that could happen does happen.

Except, of course, nothing whatsoever here is tethered to reality. And I do mean nothing. The way this movie is wildly derivative of far greater movies that came before it and then gleans over their compelling concepts like a pretentious middle school writer who doesn’t realize they don’t know what they’re talking about—all that is, frankly, low-hanging fruit. I’m even more annoyed by the more subtle misses, which are even more boneheaded when you pay attention to them. Not a single line of dialogue, for example, rings true for any scene or scenario in which it is uttered. In one scene, a group of guys carjack a group of our principal characters, including Sonny (Charlie Plummer), who plays the 18-year-old son of Patrick Wilson’s unfairly disgraced astronaut Brian Harper. One of the carjackers roughs Sonny up a bit, and actually says, “You a college boy? Huh?” Remember, this is literally in the middle of pieces of the moon breaking off and falling to the earth as huge meteors. In what universe would someone say that? Was this written by rightwing nut jobs who think colleges are the enemy? Sonny is revealed to be a bit of a criminal delinquent early on, not even any mention of his going to college. Mind you, this is just one example among many similarly baffling lines.

I have to mention the special effects, because they are ultimately just as lazy as every other aspect of this movie. In a sequence that truly should be a visual thrill, the moon, now much closer to Earth, has caused a tidal wave crashing into an urban neighborhood of the West Coast, presumably Los Angeles. Water crashes through streets and around Palm Trees, pushes cars and tumbles yachts, crashes against the first floor or two of buildings. In this wide shot, we see countless blocks of this—and none of the vehicles are moving before the sea wave arrives. We literally see no people at all, as if this city has been evacuated completely. Cut to Brian Harper showing up at a conspiracy-theorists mini seminar about “megastructures” (oh, for fuck’s sake) held by Joh Bradley’s KC Houseman character, at a hotel in that very neighborhood.

A fair amount of the imagery in outer space is rendered well, in terms of the effects. That’s as complimentary as I can get. When our heroes barely make it off the surface of the Earth ahead of a “gravity wave” and find their way into the center of the moon (which, remember, is actually a giant alien machine), Moonfall goes further downhill fast, on a curve so steep you didn’t even realize was still possible.

Roland Emmerich, who co-wrote this garbage with a team of two other writers, is now 66 years old. Granted, that’s not that old, but the filmography is the evidence: someone should check this man for early stages of dementia. How can he not understand what a black hole of idiocy and wasted time this movie is? Even worse, it’s completely witless. The one time it got a laugh out of me when actually trying to do so was with the use of the phrase “free bagels.”

On the other hand, assigning a medical or mental condition to the people who made this movie is too close to excusing it. Roland Emmerich and his writers should be brought up on assault charges. These people need to be held accountable. This movie is so bad it’s genuinely, deeply offensive. I mean, every blockbuster is a stunning waste of resources, arguably, but at least with a lot of them you can find some level of merit, either artistically or in terms of sheer entertainment value (and on rare occasions, both). But all I can think about is how much money was spent on this movie (reportedly $140 million!), just for it to fail on absolutely every level. This film is an epic waste of resources. If it has any use at all, it’ll be in the hands of terrorists, or maybe highly specialized masochists. I left the theater feeling like I’d just had a lobotomy.

There could be a scene with someone literally fucking the moon and this movie wouldn’t be any worse.

Overall: F

FLEE

Directing: A
Writing: A
Cinematography: B+
Editing: A
Animation: B+

Flee has to be seen to be believed. Or perhaps more accurately, seen to broaden your mind, about refugees, about people from Afghanistan, about the tumultuous modern history of Afghanistan, about the human experience. This is a window into a world and a past that puts the privilege of citizens of the Western World into sharp relief.

it’s also a uniquely incredible cinematic achievement. Flee is the first film ever eligible for an Oscar simultaneously in the Documentary, Animation and International Feature categories. Not since the incredible 2008 film Waltz with Bashir have I been so taken with and moved by an animated documentary film. I have to admit, that film was more immediately stunning on a visual level, helping render it both hypnotic and transporting. Flee, on the other hand, uses comparatively rudimentary animation in effectively specific, emotional ways. We left this movie in stunned silence.

The conceit of Flee is that Danish director and co-writer Jonas Poher Rasmussen interviews Afghanistan-born Amin Nawabi (who is also credited as co-writer) about his extraordinary life story, which he has not told a soul in his country of residence—Denmark—until now. Even when he begins referring to his story and his childhood, he casually references details that are later revealed to be part of the elaborate lie he told everyone in order to protect the family that actually did survive: that Afghan militants killed both his father and his mother, and kidnapped his sister. This was the story he concocted at the behest of the last in a series of human traffickers attempting to get him out of Russia and into Sweden. This after multiple unfortunate detours through Russia and, in one six-month period, Estonia.

Amin is not this man’s real name. The animation reportedly alters his appearance as well, which lends another layer to the choice of animation for this film. Many times throughout the film, Rasmussen switches to archival video footage. But, any time we see Amin and his family, whether in the present day or in the many flashbacks, they are animated. This is less an attempt at artistic flourish as it is a strangely comforting means of obscuring the vividness of Amin’s reality.

His extended traumas of childhood affect his relationships today. It feels like it was one of his few strokes of luck that he landed in a Scandinavian country, with its comparatively tolerant and permissive cultural attitudes. One top of all Amin’s family stresses, the kind of which most Americans can’t even fathom, Amin also turns out to be gay. There is an extended sequence after Amin finally confesses to his older brother and sisters in Sweden that he’s not interested in women, which, particularly if you’re also gay (like me) or queer, packs an acutely emotional wallop. It also bucks the stereotype of people from sexually repressed Muslim cultures.

Curiously, Amin never discusses religion in Flee, in spite of its massive influence on all of Afghanistan’s history. When it comes to Amin’s fears about the revelation of his sexuality, he doesn’t discuss any fear of God, but only the fear of being rejected by a family who had sacrificed so much for him to get the chance of a better life. His much older brother, who worked as a janitor in Sweden and scraped enough savings to attempt smuggling his family out of Russia, is ultimately supportive in a way many queer kids, even in America, can only dream of. There’s a scene where young Amin visits a gay bar for the first time, and I could only imagine that the un-self-conscious freedom on display was both intimidating and disorienting.

As for present-day Amin, there doesn’t seem to be any lingering issues with accepting his sexuality. Instead, his lingering issues have to do with how his traumas become road blocks to a healthy relationship with his current partner, who has never heard any of this backstory, and can only guess at the underlying cause of some of his subtly frustrating behaviors.

Flee is the kind of movie that not nearly enough people will watch, but which everyone should see. It’s great on a big screen in a theater, but luckily it’s also currently available on VOD for about six bucks. It’s undervalued. The idea that it reveals a dramatic story largely unrealized by xenophobic bigots, who might gain some understanding and compassion for immigrants and especially refugees, is the tip of the iceberg. This is a true story with plot twists that rival the most suspenseful of narrative feature films. It’s a literal illustration of resilience, as well as the lasting effects of deep trauma. This film is an experience I will not soon forget.

Amin and his mother, facing another in a llong ine of false promises

Overall: A

A HERO

Directing: B+
Acting: B+
Writing: B
Cinematography: B
Editing: B

I have seen and loved Asghar Farhadi’s films in the past, starting with A Separation in 2012 (A), then The Past in 2014 (B+), and The Salesman in 2017 (A). Apparently he shifted from Iran to Spain for a 2018 film starring Penélope Cruz and Javier Bardem called Everybody Knows, which I never saw, somewhat surprisingly. While The Past had connections to Iran but was set in France, both A Separation and The Salesman had elements of subtle revelation about Iranian culture and daily living, and A Hero largely returns to that. Apparently, a person can be sent to jail for being too far in debt, and the debtor is the person given the power to choose whether said person is set free without the debt having been paid.

That’s a big part of the story this time, and it just didn’t hook me the way Farhadi’s previous films have. Generally speaking, it has about the same, relatively impressive production value, but with this one I’m not quite seeing the same greatness as a slew of other critics are. Maybe I’m just not as moved by a “modest morality tale.”

Farhadi, who once again both writes and directs, does weave elements of social media consequences through the narrative here in a way he hasn’t quite done before. A Hero did hold my attention for its 127-minute run time, yet again presenting Iranian people to an international audience with a deeply human eye.

Maybe I’m just missing something here, but I couldn’t quite get my head around the motivations of the central character, Rahim Soltani (Amir Jadidi), who spends a lot of time smiling at oddly uncomfortable moments. He has a young woman who hopes to marry when he is released from prison, who brings him a handbag full of gold coins with the hopes of selling them for enough cash to pay his debtor. This first attempt at getting himself out of jail happens during a two-day leave from the jail, and starts a chain reaction of sorts that only further complicates his position, instead of solving it.

The title, A Hero, refers to Rahim’s ultimate decision, after discovering the gold is not worth enough to bail him out, to return them to the owner of the bag. This woman is only seen once, and Rahim himself never even sees her; the exchange happens with his sister, and the original owner of the gold coins is never seen again. Rahim makes certain choices to engineer the spread, through word of mouth, of his “good deed,” which even gets to the point of his being interviewed by the local news. But, as his story is revealed to be increasing levels of shady or suspicious, particularly in the mind of his debtor, Rahim gets more desperate and makes self-destructive choices. Some of them, unfortunately, are inspired by a desire to endear himself to a young son who happens to have a stutter—ultimately another key plot point in the proceedings.

All of this is well and good, except although suspicions surface on the part of the woman to whom the gold was returned, Rahim tries in vain to find her in an effort to convince a potential employer that his story is true, and he cannot find her. This is the one element of A Hero that I remain stuck on. I want to know more about that lady, but instead she exists only as a transparent plot device. One could argue, perhaps, that it’s beside the point of the film, but to me it feels like an unnecessarily glaring loose end that’s never tied up.

That said, the performances and particularly the direction are solid, and A Hero fits well into Farhadi’s history of films with little action but great tension through narrative momentum alone. I don’t regret having watched it, I enjoyed it, and it’s a worthwhile couple of hours on Prime Video—it’s just not Farhadi’s best. His last Iranian film, The Salesman, is notably superior, and is also available on Prime Video. I recommend watching that one instead. But, if you like it, watching A Hero next might still be worthwhile.

Rahim hopes to present himself to his son as A Hero.

Overall: B

THE VELVET QUEEN

Directing: A-
Writing: B+
Cinematography: A+
Editing: A

Maybe this is hyperbole, because I have seen so many movies in my lifetime, and even so many documentaries, that I can’t possibly remember them all, so who knows if this claim is accurate. Still, right now at least, I am convinced I have never seen a documentary more beautifully shot than The Velvet Queen.

It all takes place in the largely unexplored Tibetan plateau, with renowned French wildlife photographer Vincent Munier, who has taken French writer and traveler Sylvain Tesson with him on his latest expedition. Their goal, here, is to get rare photos and footage of the elusive snow leopard. Spoiler alert! They get their shots, but not until after weeks of hiking and searching, in weather averaging between 3° and 14°F. Along the way, they get plenty of photos and footage of other fascinating, majestic, or also otherwise elusive wildlife, from birds to Pallas’s cats to foxes to a rare sighting of a Tibetan Brown Bear family.

It should be noted that there is no sense of frustration whatsoever in Munier and Tesson’s endeavors. It takes weeks for them to catch glimpses of a snow leopard, and yet they find joy in the hunt itself. And I don’t mean hunting to kill—just to observe and record. These men, who are both in their mid-forties, have a passion and joy in what they do that is infectious. It never seems to matter what the interest is, it’s always fun to see people do what they truly love.

As such, in contrast to most movies, and even most documentaries, The Velvet Queen features no conflict to speak of. There’s a central challenge, which is the search for the snow leopard, but that’s distinctly different. We’re not watching these people with any hope that they “overcome” any obstacles, because there are none to speak of. A lot of what they endure is astonishing; I’d be whining like a big baby within minutes in those conditions. These guys are as happy as pigs in shit the entire time.

They also have a bit of a relationship with local rural Tibetan farmers, who have young children nearly as fascinated with Munier and Tesson as they are with the wildlife. We see them interact only briefly, in maybe three brief scenes. In one, Tesson is attempting to ask an eight-year-old boy a question, using a Tibetan language book. This is the only time either of these guys show any real frustration, and even this scene is filled with joy.

“Joy” is a somewhat tricky word to use for this film, actually, because for Munier and Tesson, emotion that intense comes in short bursts. Most of the time, a better word might be serene. We get voiceover narration of journal entries, and sometimes see conversations between them, about how contented they are just to pick a spot in the wilderness, sit still, and wait, for hours. As they do this, they get the photos and footage that packs the film that is The Velvet Queen, usually of wildlife but often just of landscapes, all of it stunning and gorgeous. Sometimes, you think you’re just looking at landscape and then you’re informed of the camouflaged wildlife you didn’t even realize was in the frame. In one incredible still shot, the wildcat peering just over the ridge of a rocky mountainside wasn’t even spotted until the photo was reexamined later.

The only slightly odd thing about this film is how it’s presented as though it’s just Munier and Tesson on a trip by themselves, except of course, there is someone else there holding the camera. It’s not just footage we see the two of them filming themselves, and we often get the two of them onscreen together. Title cards at the end of the film note that it was filmed “with a small crew,” and with a crucial goal of not interfering with any of the wildlife—they use wide angle lenses from quite far off, and often discuss how the animals still know they’re there. They never discuss the crew during the film, though, and I often found myself thinking about them.

Whoever shot this movie, they did a spectacular job. The still shots and live footage alone make The Velvet Queen worth seeing. Once they finally get their glimpses of a snow leopard, it’s just icing on the cake. They are overcome with emotion. A couple of tears are shed. I didn’t get emotional in the same way watching it, but it sure was wonderful to watch it happening to others who care so very deeply about something.

Yasss queen, werk!

Overall: A-

PARALLEL MOTHERS

Directing: A-
Acting: A-
Writing: A-
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B+

You can practically recognize a Pedro Almodóvar film on sight. Parallel Mothers is his 22nd feature film, and his track record, dating back to 1980, is overall so great that I will see any movie, regardless of what actors are in it, based on his name alone. This is not always a guarantee, of course; some of his more recent output as varied slightly. In the past 25 years, seven of his films have featured Penélope Cruz, whose best work has arguably been under Almodóvar’s direction. Almodóvar has more than one muse—he’s made eight films with Antonio Banderas, who was in his last film, 2019’s Pain and Glory (as was Penélope Cruz)—but Cruz brings a softer, if still complex, tone to his projects.

Almodóvar also has a history of unique stories centered around women, which is what he returns to with Parallel Mothers. And instead of pairing Cruz with a man as the co-lead, we get 25-year-old Milena Smit, playing 17-year-old Ana, who happens to be hospital roommate to Cruz’s Janis when they both give birth at roughly the same time. Janis as a character never states her age, except to say she’s nearly 40; Cruz herself is 47. I suppose she has to play at least a few years younger to make her getting pregnant at an unusually older age slightly more plausible.

Janis and Ana become friendly in the hospital, and to a degree, bond over their shared experience. They exchange numbers and, over time, develop the kind of relationship you might only expect to see in an Almodóvar film. The overall arc of the story here has to do with their respective babies and their relationships with them, and early on it becomes clear what unfortunate circumstance ties them together. The knack that Almodóvar has, however, is for taking his stories, which often only seem at first to be predictable, into shockingly bizarre directions. Granted, Parallel Mothers never gets as overtly weird as, say, The Skin I Live In (2011), but it still has its own “wait, what?” paths to take.

This is a hard movie to discuss without giving away too much. It has sort of gentle twists, even as Janis, who is ultimately the central character, endures some moments that are deeply shocking to her. These are revelations that we can see coming as viewers, though, and it’s much more interesting to consider the psychological implications of her position. A lot of it begs questions of what it means to be a mother, and how much genetics truly comes into play when bonding with an infant or a child.

Genetics play a larger contextual part of Parallel Mothers than just mothers and children, and Almodóvar folds in a subplot here tied to the Spanish Civil War, which Ana clearly is not very well informed about. But, Janis is in the process of getting the unmarked grave of her murdered great grandparents excavated, and discussions about this are what both open and close the film. Exactly how this dark part of Spain’s history ties directly to the story of Janis and Ana and their babies is kind of lost on me, but there must be some connection.

In the meantime, the acting is great across the board in this film, but Cruz’s performance is stellar, and although odds seem about even regarding her getting an Oscar nomination this year, she certainly deserves one. The uniquely complex emotions of the character she plays are unparalleled in their rendering onscreen, and Cruz alone makes this movie worth seeing. But then, so does the rest of the cast. So does Almodóvar’s direction, even with his sometimes odd or quirky choices of editing or cinematography. Parallel Mothers starts with several scenes that leave you compelled yet wondering exactly where this is going, and then ends having taken you places you had no idea you’d ever have wanted to go.

That shirt is very . . . direct.

Overall: A-

CODA

Directing: A-
Acting: B+
Writing: A
Cinematography: B
Editing: A-

In my 17 year history of reviewing movies, CODA must be setting a new record, in that I have never reviewed a movie this long after its release. This was released in theaters, and even streaming on Apple TV+ (as it still is now), on August 13—a good five months ago. In the “Before Times,” before the pandemic, if I didn’t catch a film in its initial theatrical release, I simply did not review it. Those were the rules—self-imposed, sure, but I stuck by them without exception for sixteen years.

The year 2020 changes a lot of things, of course, including this—and indeed, when I finally took up reviewing movies either streaming or VOD that had otherwise been originally intended for theatrical release, in the fall of 2020 after an unprecedented six-month hiatus, over time I wound up reviewing movies then that had been available for an unusual amount of time already. This increasingly became the case as I restarted my reviews in September 2020 but did not actually venture back into theaters until May 2021, which meant eight months straight of reviewing exclusively streaming or VOD content. For all I know, some of the films I reviewed in that period may have had their initial streaming releases five or more months prior to my reviewing them. But, I don’t think so.

My point is, I loved CODA so much that I felt it warranted this sort of exception, for its own sake. This isn’t a movie I’m reviewing because I can’t see movies in theaters. Granted, I am actively avoiding theaters again, temporarily, due to the current surge of the Omicron variant. But, this time it’s a choice I’m making rather than one imposed upon me—and although I had heard of CODA a while ago, my interest piqued after its recent two notable nominations for SAG Awards, including Outstanding Cast, that awards body’s equivalent to the Best Picture Oscar. The other is Best Supporting Actor, for Troy Kotsur, who plays the father of the family central to the story. Both nominations are well deserved.

All this is to say, CODA, which stands for Child of Dead Adults, is a movie you should see. It hasn’t aged past its moment. Its moment can still be right now, if that’s what you make it. Granted, it’s no longer in theaters and is only available on Apple TV+, which not everyone has. Most of the time, I don’t either. Just do what I do and sign up for a free trial month subscription, canceling immediately so you don’t get auto-renewed. Trust me, this movie alone will make it worth the effort.

I expected to enjoy CODA, and still it significantly exceeded my expectations. I had no idea it would be so funny. Technically it’s more of a dramedy, but it should be noted that I laughed a lot. High school senior Ruby (a wonderful Emilia Jones) is the only hearing member of her four-person family, and she loves music and singing and turns out to be very talented, which means, somewhat ironically for a movie revolving so much around deaf characters, CODA also features a fair amount of quite lovely music. I laughed, I was moved, I cried, I got to hear deeply affecting music. Really this film offers everything you could possibly ask for in a fantastic movie watching experience.

I suppose there could be some discussion about a film ostensibly about deaf people and how they integrate themselves into a hearing world, yet making a hearing person its central character. On the other hand, with three of the four principal characters being deaf and—thankfully—played by deaf actors, CODA offers a level of deaf representation rarely seen on film. It’s true we’ve gotten it before, but how often, particularly in mainstream films? Maybe, what, once or twice a decade?

We do get Marlee Matlin, always a welcome presence, as Ruby’s mom. Then there’s the aforementioned Troy Kotsure as her dad, and Daniel Durant as her brother, Leo. All of these characters, including Ruby herself who is hearing but also fluent in American Sign Language, are drawn as characters with nuance and dimension. In every other aspect, they are just regular people like any other, with hopes and dreams and fustrations and lusts. Director and co-writer Sian Heder has no pity for these people, because they don’t need any. Sometimes they have insecurities that are tied to their deafness, sure, but that’s never what CODA is about. The story here is about Ruby, who bridges the divide, caught between their expectations of her as part of an independent fishing family, and her awakening dream of pursuing a music education.

I have comparatively, somewhat mixed feelings about music teacher Bernardo Villalobos (Eugenio Derbez), who is written as a little over the top and then Derbez’s performance goes even a tad further over the top. He’s objectively entertaining, but he’s also the one character who feels more plausible in a movie than in real life.

But, that’s about as close as I get to any true complaint about CODA, which consistently surprises in its ample delights. I really can’t recommend it enough. If you’re looking for something to watch that will make you laugh, move you, and raise your spirits, you can’t go wrong with this one.

Yes, CODA, I love you too.

Overall: A-

BERGMAN ISLAND

Directing: B
Acting: B
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B
Editing: B+

Maybe Bergman Island is above my intellectual pay grade. I always say a film should work on its own merits, but some films are built to be fully understood only in real-world contexts, and I fear that is very much the case with this one. Would this be far easier to understand and appreciate with a working knowledge of Swedish film director and writer Ingmar Bergman? Having nearly zero such knowledge myself, I find myself presuming the answer is yes, although I have no way of knowing for sure. At least, not without doing a ton of research I don’t feel I should have to do. Maybe this movie just wasn’t made for me.

And yet, I say all that, still having found myself interested and compelled by this film, in spite of my having watched the entire thing feeling like I was missing something. That feeling is what prevents me from saying any of you need to fire up Hulu to watch it; the movie, released theatrically October 15, has been streaming since yesterday (January 14).

Part of it may just be that I tend to approach films about writers with interest, being a writer myself. I also have a soft spot for the kind of writing where the lines between reality and fiction get blurred. Typically this means an interest in meta fiction, which used to be a lot more novel than it is these days—we now get movies like The Matrix Revolutions, which hit us over the head with it—but French writer-director Mia Hansen-Løve is far more subtle.

In Bergman Island, middle-aged couple Chris and Tony (Vicky Krieps and Tim Roth) are writer-directors themselves, both with a deep love of the works of Ingmar Bergman, going on a writing retreat of sorts—on the Swedish island of Fårö, where Bergman lived and worked. For fully half the film, we see Chris and Tony arrive on the island, get settled there, and have subtle struggles, both with communicating with each other and with their respective relationships to both their current writing projects and with Bergman’s work. Bergman, of course, looms large in this area of the island, largely attracting tourists. In one sequence, Tony goes on a “Bergman Safari,” while Chris winds up with a local young man, Hampus (Hampus Nordenson), who gives her a personalized tour of Bergman points of interest on the island.

Hampus, as it happens, is the one character we see both here, and within the rendering of the film (or maybe TV series, she hasn’t decided) Christ relays the story of to Tony. About halfway through Bergman Island, Chris tells Tony she needs some advice about what she’s writing, and she begins to tell him the story. The narrative we see onscreen then switches to the story she is telling, of other characters also coming to this same island, this time a younger couple of people, these ones sort of estranged after years of near misses for a potential relationship. These are Amy and Joseph, played by Mia Wasikowska and Anders Danielsen Lie. They are both headed to the wedding of a mutual friend, and Hampus appears as another guest at the wedding.

When this happened, I wondered if maybe the characters Chris created might somehow show up in her real world in some way—that would be the predictable twist in a more overtly “meta” story. But that’s not the direction Hansen-Løve is interested in, and she leaves a lot more open to interpretation. Bergman Island is a surprisingly pleasant and quiet experience considering all the food for thought it provides, if you think long enough anyway: consider that the second half veers into a “movie within a movie,” and yet the primary characters we’ve watched up to that point are also characters in a movie. They don’t even realize it. And later, there is an abrupt transition from us seeing the rendering of Chris’s story, to Chris and Joseph being in the same scenes together—because we are now seeing the man who plays Joseph, on the set of the film (or series?) Chris eventually shoots in the same location.

How much all of this echoes the work of Ingmar Bergman, I couldn’t say. That’s, perhaps, something for people with a working knowledge and memory of his films to explore. This does leave me feeling limited in my capacity to process all that is onscreen in this film, which feels very intentional, nothing accidental, no matter how subtle. But, as I said, I found myself compelled by it anyway. I just can’t say exactly how or why. I even finished the movie kind of feeling like, I don’t get it. The reason I’ll still give this film credit, though, is because I don’t care about that so much. I enjoyed the journey regardless, even though I never quite gleaned what was its destination.

Is Chris reading what her husband wrote, or what we are watching?

Overall: B

FINCH

Directing: C+
Acting: B
Writing: C
Cinematography: B
Editing: C
Special Effects: B+

Finch has a compelling concept, which then gets squandered by a fatal mix of cutesiness and implausibility.

I was actually kind of enjoying it for a while, even as “Jeff,” the robot character created by Tom Hanks’s title character, evolves to become more “human” in ways that make less sense as time goes on. I kept wondering about anyone watching with even slight scientific knowledge (which, by and large, I do not have). I can easily imagine such people pulling their hair out in frustration. People who don’t mind, those who take this movie as simple escapism, either have no critical thinking skills or are happy to turn them off completely. More power to them, I guess.

The premise of a post-apocalyptic world ravaged by a massive solar flare that destroyed the ozone layer is plausible enough, I suppose, although I presume this movie gets pretty ridiculous the more details it gets into even with that—I don’t have any idea how it could be that cities like St. Louis and Denver are roasted and dead shells of what they once were, but the air around San Francisco and the Bay Area is somehow just fine.

What gets me more is the very concept of “Jeff” himself, basically a self-teaching android, whose very existence is never fully explained. When we meet Finch, he’s scavenging St. Louis with another robot creation that serves to place valuable items into its body basket with an extended robotic arm. He hasn’t even finished creating “Jeff” yet, and it’s never clear how Finch is smart enough to create an android but not smart enough to head west any earlier than this, when random weather systems threaten to destroy the laboratory he lives in and was once his place of work. Doing what, exactly, I don’t have any idea. The place doesn’t seem like a robotics lab, but that’s evidently what Finch has turned it into.

Jeff, as voiced by Caleb Landry Jones, is a vaguely humanoid robot that evokes memories of similar robots in earlier, superior films. He’s like a cross between the metal skeleton of The Terminator and Johnny 5 from Short Circuit. His voice is robotic in a way that recalls Stephen Hawking, and evolves over time to become “more human” until he sounds like a naive dipshit. In the film’s latter half, when my patience with it increasingly ran out, Jeff does narratively pointless things like give Finch a hug even though he can’t physically feel anything, or move his shoulders up and down as though he’s breathing—like, what? It’s not like Jeff is a replicant, as in the Blade Runner movies; he’s literally a walking collection of metal parts. I had a really hard time getting past this stuff.

To be certain, Finch would be a far worse film without the presence of Tom Hanks, who spends more time onscreen without any other human present than in any other movie since Cast Away (again, a far superior movie). Even at 65, Hanks remains a bona fide movie star, among the last of a dying breed, a man with such charisma and screen presence that he truly elevates anything he’s in. I was happily suspending my disbelief for a good two thirds of the movie thanks to Hanks’s performance alone. And even this is far from his best performance. But, he’s basically the only human face we ever see in the movie, with the very brief exception of a little girl in a flashback sequence. That flashback features one other grown man and one other grown woman, and neither of their faces are seen.

Finch is also fairly impressively rendered, on a visual and technical level. I can’t find any information as to its budget, but it looks like a movie that made the most of its limitations. I just wish the same had been done with its script, which clearly expects us to fall in love with this robot that exists to be heartwarming even though he was created by a terminally ill character who is dying from the effects of an extinction level global event. Why does this story need such a deeply incongruous, devastating framework? Finch creates Jeff with the sole purpose of leaving something behind to care for his dog. How sweet, right? I guess, if you’re okay with also seeing Tom Hanks cough blood all over himself.

This was Tom Hanks’s second movie to release straight to Apple TV+. The first was last year’s Greyhound, which wasn’t great either but at least it was good. Still, this process is starting to feel like the twenties equivalent to “direct to video,” the movies that have some value but aren’t quite good enough for theatrical release. Given its limited amount of content, Apple’s fledgling streaming service could stand to up its game a bit.

A great man and a couple of dummies.

Overall: C+