Monthly Archives: November 2022

Film Review – Matilda: The Musical

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Credit: Sony/Netflix

I have great fondness for Roald Dahl’s late-career masterpiece Matilda; not just the novel, but also Danny DeVito’s earlier, US-set non-musical screen version from 1996. I took my younger brothers to see it at the cinema, and they also loved it. It has since been turned into a hugely successful stage musical by Dennis Kelly, and that musical has now been adapted for the big screen by director Matthew Warchus. How does it measure up?

Rather well, as it turns out. In Warchus’s take, the action has been returned to England, but the plot is basically the same, plus some terrific musical numbers. For the uninitiated, the eponymous Matilda (Alisha Weir) is born to obnoxious, stupid parents Mr and Mrs Wormwood (Andrea Riseborough and Stephen Graham). In a hilarious opening sequence, Mrs Wormwood refuses to acknowledge she is pregnant even as her contractions take place, and Mr Wormwood can’t get his head around the fact that he’s had a daughter rather than a son. He keeps calling Matilda “boy” in a running gag.

Suffice it to say, Matilda is not a chip off the old block. She’s bullied and mistreated by her ghastly parents, but she’s hugely intelligent, loves books (somehow managing to read Crime and Punishment, Jane Eyre, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, and The Lord of the Rings all in one week), and later discovers she has telekinetic powers. These come in useful when dealing with the odious headmistress at her comically cruel school, Miss Trunchbull (a game Emma Thompson under lots of prosthetics). Matilda finds an ally in kindly teacher Miss Honey (Lashana Lynch), and eventually, her backstory comes to the fore.

As with the DeVito version, all of this is great fun. Matilda is pretty much bulletproof as a story, and Tim Minchin and Christopher Nightingale’s musical treatment is first-rate. Highlights include Revolting Children, The Smell of Rebellion, and When I Grow Up. The latter is a mini-masterpiece; an upbeat song performed by children explaining all the childlike things they’ll do without parental or teacher restrictions once they are adults. Children will enjoy the song at face value, but for grown-up audiences, it’s an oddly bittersweet experience, given the irony of what actually happens when children become adults.

Performances are terrific, with Weir wonderful in the lead, Lynch is spot-on as the lovely Miss Honey, and Emma Thompson has enormous fun with one of Dahl’s most memorable villains. Riseborough and Graham also stand out as Matilda’s caricatured nitwit parents (lately, I’ve wondered if they inspired the Dursleys in Harry Potter). Warchus does a great job transferring the musical numbers from stage to screen, employing lots of swooping cinematic transitions and visual effects. One number called School Song, in which other children at Matilda’s school warn her of what it’s like under the Trunchbull regime by using the alphabet, is captured with an almost Scorsese-esque verve. The choreography is top-notch, and Tad Radcliffe’s opulent cinematography adds to the delightfully escapist tone.

Some have argued this film is too long for children’s attention spans, in view of the stage show origins. I don’t agree. Presumably, children enjoyed the stage show. Or are we at a point when TwitTok-induced damage to the cerebral cortex of one’s offspring is now assumed, and we collectively believe they have the attention span of a goldfish? Perhaps I’m ill-qualified to refute this, as my own children are now 18 and 14, but I’m positive had I taken them to this film as seven-year-olds, they would have loved every minute.

There are flaws. A plot device mostly created for the stage show, involving a fable Matilda tells mobile library owner (Sindhu Vee) concerning circus performers, feels a little forced at first, though it does have a big emotional payoff later in the film. But perhaps I’m nit-picking. The most important thing to take away from this review is that I left the cinema with a beaming smile on my face, feeling a lot better going out than I did coming in. As such, Matilda: The Musical gets a big thumbs up from me.

UK Certificate: PG

US Certificate: PG

Film Review – Bones and All

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Credit: Warner Brothers/MGM

Although I was impressed by A Bigger Splash and Call Me by Your Name, I wasn’t convinced by Luca Guadagnino’s last horror film, his remake of classic Dario Argento’s classic Suspiria. It was overlong and had too many superfluous subplots bolted onto the horror in a rather stuffily self-conscious quest for contemporary political resonance. Bones and All, his adaptation of the novel by Camille DeAngelis, is still a bit baggy, but I enjoyed it a lot more, and found it convincing as an agreeably melodramatic, gruesome, twisted cannibal horror romance.

Set in the mid-1980s, the plot involves the teenage Maren (Taylor Russell), whose strict father is aware of her cannibalistic tendencies, and is rather at his wits end moving from town to town under different names, whenever she has an incident. Early in the film, he abandons her, leaving a Basil Exposition tape recording detailing some of her origins, which Maren promptly decides to look into herself after drying her tears. Joining her on a quest to track down her birth mother is young fellow cannibal Lee (Timothée Chalamet), to whom she is romantically drawn. Along the way, she also encounters rather creepy older cannibal Sully (Mark Rylance), who assuages his hunger without murdering by hanging around old people waiting for them to die of natural causes, before tucking in.

Despite some properly nasty horror moments, the overall tone is more one of a lovers-on-the-run road movie, ala Bonnie and Clyde or Badlands rather than something like Julia Ducournau’s Raw. This also feels like a gay coming-of-age sexual awakening drama akin to Call Me by Your Name, even though the leads are heterosexual. Russell gives an outstanding performance of energetic naivety in contrast to Chalamet’s equally excellent, slightly more been-there, done-that persona, though he too is finding his way and carries the regulation deep trauma backstory. As for Rylance, he gives a wonderfully eccentric performance, and there are a few other interesting bit parts in the cast list. For example, Chalamet’s Call Me by Your Name co-star Michael Stuhlbarg has a particularly alarming scene I won’t spoil.

Suspension of disbelief is surprisingly easy in Bones and All, especially in view of the era in which it is set. Reagan’s America is bereft of modern surveillance and forensic techniques, so the police absence seems plausible. Guadagnino’s road trip through remote, sleepy towns in states like Iowa and Missouri makes great use of real locations, and there are the expected 1980s needle-drops (Duran Duran, Joy Division, A-ha, New Order, and a particularly amusing use of KISS’s Lick It Up). Speaking of music, there’s also a wonderful score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross.

As for the cannibalism scenes, they are furtive and undignified, acting as a sort-of metaphor for transgressive sexual practices that one might feel ashamed of as a result of religious or social conditioning. Alternatively, these scenes could be interpreted as being about any form of marginalisation, or as a gentle satirical poke at younger generations embracing veganism. The film could even be read at a political level, about those impoverished and homeless in America, having fallen through society’s cracks amid Reaganite policies or equivalent modern variations.

If one is a horror fan, this is likely to appeal to anyone who has ever felt “othered”, sexually or otherwise. If one isn’t, well perhaps best to steer clear. This won’t be for everyone, to put it mildly. However, despite being a little long drawn out, in an unusually strong year for horror films, I enjoyed Bones and All more than I expected. And I won’t lie: The warped romance tugged at my twisted little heartstrings. I’m a big softie, deep down. Deep down with all the blood and gore.

UK Certificate: 18

US Certificate: R

Content Warnings: Strong bloody violence, gore, swearing.

Film Review – She Said

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Credit: Universal

Why hasn’t She Said done better at the box office? It’s got good reviews, plenty of Oscar buzz, and features strong performances from its leads. It’s a solid piece belonging to the All the President’s Men filmmaking tradition; a subgenre that’s had something of a recent resurgence, in films such as The Post and Spotlight. But whilst those films were successes, She Said has so far floundered at the box office. Is this due to fudged marketing, a poor release strategy, the knock-on effect of Covid, or something else? I’ll come back to that question in a moment.

For those who have been living under a rock, the plot concerns New York Times journalists Jodi Kantor (Zoe Kazan) and Megan Twohey (Carey Mulligan), whose investigative reporting efforts brought down notorious Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein. They uncovered a culture of systemic sexual misconduct, with many victims paid hush money in return for silence. Kantor and Twohey have their work cut out as they attempt to persuade those who have signed non-disclosure agreements to spill the beans. But even those who are free to speak are reluctant to disclose their trauma and of how Weinstein ruined their lives.

Mulligan and Kazan both contribute strong performances, depicting their fully rounded characters not merely as crusading hero journalists, but also exhausted mothers. In Twohey’s case, she suffers from post-natal depression, and in Kantor’s, she struggles with people misjudging her outward meekness. This makes them relatable and human, and puts the audience firmly on their side, above and beyond the righteousness of their cause.

Beyond that, there are some fine bit parts for the likes of Samantha Morton and Jennifer Ehle, as former Weinstein employees Zelda Perkins and Laura Madden. Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s screenplay is engaging, and director Maria Schrader helms with a solid hand. It isn’t exactly groundbreaking cinema, but it is consistently compelling, and there are moments where one deeply feels the scale of the injustice for all concerned. The film is about Weinstein, yes, but it also touches on the far bigger issues of sexism, misogyny, threats, and violence against women in all workplaces and walks of life. The film rightly acknowledges that Jodi and Megan’s work opened the floodgates for further investigations, reforms, and conversations that are still ongoing.

All in all, this is gripping, powerful, important stuff, so why haven’t audiences shown up so far? Here are my two pennies worth on the subject: It’s too recent. Audiences are still craving escapism after the pandemic, and the Harvey Weinstein story isn’t merely in recent living memory but still being lived, given that further cases continue to be brought against him. Hollywood wanted to leap on this story and get a dramatisation out there quickly, but in truth, it might have been more prudent to wait a few years.

In contrast, although it didn’t exactly break box office records, The Post was modestly profitable as it had the benefit of taking place several decades in the past, presenting the story to a different generation that hadn’t lived through it. The film also had understated contemporary relevance as it was released during the Trump administration’s ongoing declarations of “fake news”, with relations between the White House and the Press degenerating, as they did in Nixon’s day.

None of this means She Said is a bad film. On the contrary, I recommend going to see it. I merely offer the above as an opinion on why American audiences in general seem reluctant to embrace the film in the way it deserves. I hope She Said fares better at cinemas in the UK, Europe, and elsewhere.

UK Certificate: 15

US Certificate: R

Content Warnings: Swearing, references to sexual abuse.

Film Review – Glass Onion

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Credit: Netflix

Because I have a soul, I’ve developed a particular loathing for meaningless entrepreneurial corporate spouting about “disruption”. Billionaire Miles Bron (Edward Norton) is full of such blithering nonsense, as he and his self-proclaimed group of narcissist “disrupters” gather at his Greek private island during Covid lockdown circa 2020, to play a murder mystery game of his devising. Except an anonymous someone invited the world’s greatest detective as well, Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig), leading him to suspect foul play may be imminent.

Yes, it’s Rian Johnson’s much-anticipated sequel to his 2019 hit murder mystery Knives Out. I won’t keep you in suspense: Glass Onion is every bit as entertaining as its predecessor. It isn’t always a compliment to say something is more of the same, but in this case, the assertion is indeed high praise. Glass Onion is another sublimely crafted, old-school, Agatha Christie-style thriller, with an eclectic cast of suspects, all of whom seem to have genuine reasons for offing the aforementioned Miles Bron, assuming this story goes the way we expect, with the billionaire being murdered for real.

It would be cruel to say anything more of the plot, suffice it to say there are mysteries within mysteries, a veritable shoal of red herrings, and a great deal of deft misdirection. The plot may be akin to its predecessor, but the setting and look of the film set it apart. Indeed, this is worth catching at the cinema if you can (it is on wide release in the UK until next Tuesday, ahead of a Netflix release in December, so you need to move fast), to fully appreciate Rich Heinrichs’s labyrinthine production design (the eponymous Glass Onion being both metaphorical and architectural). The sunny island setting also stands in contrast to the autumnal hues of Knives Out.

As for the cast, we get a fabulous line-up of potentially guilty parties, including Janelle Monáe, Kathryn Hahn, Leslie Odom Jr, Kate Hudson, Dave Bautista, Jessica Henwick, and Madelyn Cline. There’s also a smattering of cameos I won’t spoil, with one proving particularly amusing (it occurs when someone answers a door). And once again, Daniel Craig is sublimely entertaining as Blanc. Johnson has created a wonderful character to add to the pantheon of great detectives. If he can sustain the quality, then long may this series continue.

All in all, Glass Onion is a wonderful puzzle box of a film, which incidentally opens with a literal puzzle box. It also satirises everything from the often-hilarious stupidity of “influencers” (one character believes a sweatshop is where sweatpants are made) to current debates around free speech. As Blanc observes at one point: “It’s a dangerous thing to mistake speaking without thought with speaking the truth.” But mostly, this is just great fun. Apart from everything else, it delivers a deeply satisfying kicking to the idiotic self-aggrandising around the term “disruption”.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: PG-13

Film Review – The Menu

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Credit: Searchlight Pictures

Part silly send-up, part gaudy gastronomical grisliness, Mark Mylod’s horror comedy The Menu may be slightly forced, but it is nonetheless a flavoursome dish. Sautéed with succulent performances, it stimulates the cinematic tastebuds throughout, even if the targets are a tad obvious. Rich people are horrible? Who’d have thought it.

Working from a screenplay by Seth Reiss and Will Tracy, Mylod serves satirical starters in the first half, with the plot initially revolving around uptight foodie Tyler (Nicholas Hoult) and the young woman who is apparently his girlfriend, Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy). Tyler is thrilled to be taking Margot to an expensive, exclusive restaurant on an island, where famous chef Slowik (Ralph Fiennes) resides with his kitchen staff in a kind of culinary cult. Along for the ride are various rich and notorious types, including a fading film star (John Leguizamo), his assistant Felicity (Aimee Carrero), an unhappily married wealthy couple (Reed Birney and Judith Light), a ghastly trio of young investment banking “bros” (Mark St Cyr, Arturo Castro, and Rob Yang), as well as a food critic (the wonderful Janet McTeer) and her sycophantic editor (Paul Adelstein).

The swipes at pretentious food critiques are amusing. McTeer’s absurd observations aren’t hugely different from what one hears in the likes of Chef’s Table (a series namedropped in the film). The “breadless plate” scene is a particularly telling emperor-has-no-clothes moment. As the film cunningly demonstrates (via Margot, who is a lot less impressed than her companion), a leaf encrusted in sea foam really isn’t going to fill you up. Sometimes you just need a damn good burger.

Things go south during the main course, as the more traditional horror elements kick in. It works well enough, albeit with an uneven tone, and with a sudden shift that doesn’t fully convince. As Slowik himself observes at one point, it is surprising the guests don’t do more to resist. Still, Fiennes has fun with his character: A kind of cross between obsessive celebrity chef and Hannibal Lecter. The rest of the cast provides fine support, with Hong Chau also worthy of a special shout for her rather unsettling turn as Slowik’s deputy, Elsa. And as always, it’s impossible to tear one’s eyes away from the wonderful Anja Taylor-Joy.

Flaws aside, if sociopathic chefs and sniping at haute cuisine snootiness appeal to your cinematic palate, The Menu provides tasty cinematic sustenance.

UK Certificate: 15

US Certificate: R

Content Warnings: Violence, swearing.

Film Review – Confess, Fletch

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Credit: Paramount/Miramax

Confess, Fletch is based on the novels by Gregory McDonald, which I confess I’ve not read. The original Fletch adaptation in 1985 resulted in a modestly entertaining comedy thriller, and featured Chevy Chase as the eponymous investigative reporter. Fletch’s many disguises became a bigger focus, perhaps to capitalise on Chase’s comedic baggage. A forgettable sequel followed in 1989, and for years, a reboot has been mooted. Confess, Fletch is the eventual manifestation of that reboot, now starring Jon Hamm instead of Chevy Chase.

Frankly, I think Hamm is the better Fletch, though like Chase he carries his own baggage. For instance, he gets a scene with his Mad Men co-star John Slattery, a former editor whom he jokes about blackmailing, because he “defiled” one of his female subordinates. Slattery laughs, saying it was a “different time” and that the defiling was mutual. Given the subject matter of Mad Men, it’s an amusing in-joke.

The plot involves Fletch investigating an art theft, on behalf of his new Italian girlfriend Angela de Grassi (Lorenza Izzo). Unfortunately, this results in Fletch winding up in the frame for murder, with the suspicions of Detective Morris Monroe (Roy Wood Jr) and his smart but amusingly inexperienced partner Griz (Ayden Mayeri) seemingly confirmed with every new piece of damning evidence. To clear his name, Fletch investigates several suspects, often to highly amusing effect.

The man who owns the house in which Fletch is staying (as arranged by Angela), Owen Tasserly (John Behlmann), becomes his prime suspect, since that is where the body of murdered barista Lauren (Caitlin Zerra Rose) is discovered. Then there’s Owen’s neighbour; the talkative, accident-prone Eve (Annie Mumolo), whose hilarious lack of self-awareness features in a particularly memorable scene in her flat. Or was the killer Owen’s narcissistic “lifestyle curator” sister Tatiana (Lucy Punch)? Or EDM-loving, germ-phobic art dealer Ronald Horan (Kyle MacLachlan)? What about Angela’s stepmother Countess Sylvia di Grassi (Marcia Gay Harden)? Her pronunciation of “Fletch” is particularly entertaining, but is she a killer? What about Angela herself?

All in all, this is an enjoyable caper, deftly directed by Greg Mottola (also on screenwriting duties, alongside Zev Borow). It zips by at a fair clip and doesn’t outstay its welcome. Remarkable filmmaking? Not really. But Hamm is amiable, and I prefer it to the earlier Fletch films.

UK Certificate: 15

US Certificate: R

Content Warnings: Swearing, sex.

Film Review – Armageddon Time

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Credit: Universal

Set in Queens, circa 1980, Armageddon Time is so titled because Ronald Reagan, prior to election, referred to that generation potentially seeing a moral Armageddon. But given how often the song Armagideon Time is heard in the film (both the Willie Williams version and the cover by The Clash), I daresay that’s another reason. At any rate, writer-director James Gray’s self-biographical coming-of-age Oscar bait comes off as rather laboured, despite some great acting talent in the cast.

The film revolves around Paul (Banks Repeta), a boy from a middle-class Jewish family of Ukrainian descent. At school, Paul is artistically inclined, dreamy, inattentive, and likes to entertain classmates by clowning around. His smart Black classmate Johnny (Jaylin Webb) also enjoys misbehaving, and the two form a bond. But Johnny is always in more trouble because racism.

After Paul and Johnny are caught smoking a joint at school, Paul’s careworn, uptight plumber father Irving (Jeremy Strong), and his PTA president mother Esther (Anne Hathaway) decide to stretch their budget so Paul can also attend the strict private school attended by his brother Ted (Ryan Sell). Said school is favoured by the Trump family, who deliver indoctrinating speeches to its pupils. Donald’s sister Maryanne (Jessica Chastain) turns up to spout the usual hypocritical guff about hard work and no hand-outs, whilst Donald’s father Fred (John Diehl) lurks in the background like the Devil.

Paul is devastated at the effect this has on his friendship with Johnny (whom he is forbidden to see). However, his kindly grandfather Aaron (Anthony Hopkins) is on hand to provide the moral heavy lifting and lessons on privilege, encouraging Paul to speak up for the racially oppressed and be a mensch, in a scene that screams Best Supporting Actor Oscar clip. Alas, for Paul, sticking up for his pal proves easier said than done.

Frankly, this is all a bit worthy but dull. There’s a good sense of time and place (this harks back to an era when administering a belt whipping to a miscreant child was deemed right and proper). Scenes of boisterous family gatherings are well-observed, with Hopkins, Hathaway, and Strong on fine form. Repeta and Webb are likeable enough too, but this is dramatically obvious throughout, however depressingly timely its themes might be.

Still, Armageddon Time is earnest and clearly means well. It is competently helmed by James Gray, and I don’t want to be too down on it. But I’d be lying if I said it was a must-see.

UK Certificate: 15

US Certificate: R

Content Warnings: Strong language.

Medium and Patreon Update: November 2022

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Photo by Liv Cashman on Unsplash

This month on Patreon, I’ve added several new articles, updates, and other snippets for supporters, including chapter two of my draft novel The Balliol Conspiracy. This romantic psychological mystery-cum spy thriller isn’t a part of my usual gothic oeuvre, but I am serialising the draft manuscript as an exclusive for those who support me at Knight of the Dillon Empire level or higher. For those of you who are supporters, in case you’ve missed these, here are a few highlights.

The Balliol Conspiracy Chapter 2

Bridge engineer Stanley Orchard is drawn into a web of intrigue after bidding an outrageous price for a mysterious suitcase in left luggage at Heathrow airport. However, this chapter is primarily a flashback, detailing his relationship with his now-dead wife.

November Video Update

Those who are patrons get to giggle at my inept attempts at providing short video  updates on my writing goals. Here’s this month’s awkward stuttering.

What I Most Dread About Submitting to Agents

Patrons often get exclusive insights or advance notice of announcements. Here I talk about a particularly irksome aspect of submitting to agents, and also include the pitch for my current submission, gothic mystery novel The White Nest. However, that isn’t the real title. It’s a placeholder temporary title. I will announce the real title here eventually, but if you’re a supporter on Patreon, you already know it, and have been sworn to secrecy (it’s included in this article).

Outside Patreon, I’ve also had the usual busy month on Medium. Here are a few highlights, beginning with a rather silly piece that I hope you find gigglesome.

A Typical Day in the Dillon Empire

The horrible result of foolishly responding to a writing prompt. Let it act as a warning to others, lest they likewise fall to darkness.

Les Diaboliques: Best Twist Ever?

Henri-Georges Clouzot’s 1955 fiendish horror-thriller remains an all-time favourite.

The Rings of Power Series One: The Dillon Empire Verdict

Passive protagonists, pointless preambles, and the lack of a clear-cut premise results in a boredom-inducing mess.

My Ten Favourite Horror Films

An agonisingly selected smorgasbord of scariness.

My Ten Favourite Martin Scorsese Films

Also, the Dillon Empire’s fury at recent ignorant criticisms of the great director.

Poltergeist: 40 Years On

Was director Tobe Hooper or producer Steven Spielberg the dominant creative force behind the 1982 paranormal horror classic?

One Genuinely Great Thing about the Star Wars Prequels: John Williams

The legendary maestro gave these disappointing films a set of scores to die for.

That’s it from me this month. Thank you again for all your support, and a special big thank you to all my supporters on Patreon – Claus, Robin, David S, David P, Steve, Emma, Sterling, Galina, Ian, Gillian, Yasmine and Ville, plus those who have contributed one-off donations on Ko-fi. Also, thank you to Ruth and Iain, and thank you to every one of you who has bought books, reviewed books, and promoted or supported me in other ways. You know who you are, and I wouldn’t be here without you.

If you aren’t already a supporter on Patreon, please take a look at this link, which outlines my writing goals for the next year, clearly stating how much I wish to raise and why, and offering support levels of £2, £4, £8, and £25 per month, with different benefits at each level. Please consider supporting me, even if only at the lower level, as every pound makes a huge difference.

Those of you who aren’t Medium subscribers get three free reads per month. However, if you decide to subscribe to Medium to read all my work (and the work of many others), please do so via this link, as it means I financially benefit from your subscription.

Thank you again supporting my writing.

Film Review – Decision to Leave

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Credit: CJ Entertainment

Comparing Park Chan-wook’s romantic mystery thriller Decision to Leave with Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958) is easy and obvious. Paul Verhoeven’s Basic Instinct (1992) is another film that may leap to mind when watching. Yet despite subject matter similarities, this film stands apart as singularly Chan-wook’s. Some critics have argued it is more “respectable” than bolder, more controversial entries in his filmography such as Oldboy (2003) and The Handmaiden (2016), but despite lacking the shocking violence of the former and the sexually explicit scenes of the latter, this remains a work of incisive craftsmanship, and one of the finest films I’ve seen this year.

That isn’t to say there’s a complete absence of violence in this film, and the sexual tension between Busan insomniac detective Jang Hae-jun (Park Hae-il) and murder suspect Song Seo-rae (Tang Wei) is palpable from the word go. But this is a film about emotional violence, with eroticism bubbling under the surface. Did Seo-Rae murder her allegedly abusive husband and make it look like a rock-climbing accident? The case is ultimately ruled suicide, but Hae-Jun remains obsessed with Seo-Rae, spending more and more time with her. When he makes love to his wife Jung-An (Lee Jung-Hyun), he thinks of her. I won’t say more, suffice it to say, this plot tease barely scratches the surface of the rug-pulling shenanigans to follow.

Performances are excellent, especially Tang Wei, who dances along the is-she-or-isn’t-she-a-femme-fatale tightrope with enigmatic dexterity. Chan-wook’s imaginative visual approach constantly engages the eye, particularly in scenes where Hae-Jun imagines himself in past events, following Seo-Rae through what she may have done. Or in present events, imagining himself next to her in her flat, as he watches her from outside. There are deft transitions between these imagined scenarios, around the backs of characters or via changes in film grading. 

Innovative perspectives abound, including the point of view of a corpse, a dead fish, and a mobile phone. A couple of chase sequences feature superb compositions of high and low ground, making great use of widescreen space. The intercutting of traumatic sequences with their devastating aftermath also hits powerfully. Yet none of this is cinematic showing off for the sake of it. Chan-wook’s directorial decisions inform and reveal character, demanding the audience not only pay attention, but exercise their own judgement, as reality and imagination blur.

Decision to Leave makes good on its commitments. The detective story aspect works brilliantly, seasoned with just the right amount of dark humour. The romantic obsession aspect hits all the right notes of agony and ecstasy. Melodramatics are expected in Chan-wook films, and on that front, the film delivers exquisite torment for emotional masochism connoisseurs. The beautifully shot anguish of the final scene, set to Jo Yeong-wook’s sublime Bernard Herrmann-esque score, isn’t something I’ll shake off easily, and I love the film all the more for it.

UK Certificate: 15

US Certificate: R

Content Warnings: Violence, swearing, sex.

Film Review – Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

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Credit: Marvel/Disney

With superhero fatigue well and truly biting, I went to Black Panther: Wakanda Forever hoping for something that would pull me out of my cynical mindset. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Wakanda Forever is a rather dull film bookended by a couple of quite moving sequences. It’s an exceedingly frustrating experience for many reasons, not least of which is the sheer length of the thing. I believe a film should be as long as it needs to be. I’ve seen 90-minute films too long and 5-hour films too short, but in Wakanda Forever, I felt painfully aware of every one of those 161 minutes. This is a crying shame, as the original Black Panther was such a vibrant, thrilling breath of fresh air, as well as a cultural milestone.

Given the death of Chadwick Boseman, director Ryan Coogler and screenwriter Joel Robert Cole were faced with quite a dilemma for the sequel. I believe they were correct not to recast the part, and in fairness to them, they pay quite a moving tribute to Boseman during the aforementioned opening and closing, in a manner that reminded me of the Paul Walker tribute in Furious 7. The problem is that sandwiched between those moving scenes, we have a deeply average tale involving T’Challa’s sister Shuri (Leticia Wright); formerly the Wakanda equivalent of Q, now heir to the throne and (should she take it up successfully) the Black Panther mantle. Still grieving T’Challa, she doesn’t really want either. In the meantime, her mother Queen Ramonda (Angela Bassett) rules Wakanda following T’Challa’s death. She is starting to get rather miffed about mercenary attempts to steal Wakandan technology (specifically super-metal vibranium).

All this comes to a head when an undersea tribe in possession of vibranium, led by wing-footed antagonist Namor (Tenoch Huerta) wants Wakanda’s help to declare war on everyone else on the surface, as he (not unreasonably) sees them as colonial oppressors and a danger should they get their hands on such technology. Thrown into this mix is student scientist prodigy Riri (Dominique Thorne), who has just made herself a target by creating a nifty vibranium detector, and other returning characters. These include Okoye (Danai Gurira), Nakia (Lupita Nyong’o), M’Baku (Winston Duke), and Okoye’s “favourite coloniser” Everett Ross (Martin Freeman), as well as new character Aneka (Michaela Coel).

It’s all very predictable, not to mention unnecessarily murky. I’m not sure why Coogler decided to force the audience to squint so much. The aforementioned undersea tribe, the Talokan, simply reminded me of Avatar, and I never like being reminded of Avatar. I suppose some of the action scenes are fun, even if Coogler does channel Zack Snyder’s slow-motion orgies a bit too much, but between those bits, whilst enduring dramatically stale conversations, my mind meandered to such a degree that I decided a better title for the film might be A Fish Called Wakanda.

The cast does their best with the baggy material, and they are a talented bunch (especially Wright, who is always brilliant), but this is a rather cluttered film that really could have done with being at least forty minutes shorter. It certainly falls a long way short of the excellent original. Having a poignant opening and close isn’t enough to make me give this a recommendation, let alone an enthusiastic one. For Marvel completists only, but if you do see it, stick around for the mid-end credits extra scene.

UK Certificate: 12A

US Certificate: PG-13