WARFARE Review

Making a war film inherently means you're making an anti-war film even if that intention was never part of the process. No matter your political persuasion, the reasons for the conflict, or even the dopamine hit certain types of personalities receive from being amidst such situations, one would hope we could agree the waste of life given in exchange for such rationale is not only unfortunate, but unnecessary. By default, most war films are labeled as propaganda - using seductions of the cinematic language to portray the horrors of combat in an idealized and/or unrealistic fashion - yet writer/director Alex Garland in collaboration with Navy vet Ray Mendoza seek to strip the genre of all such seductions in order to make audiences both more aware of such stories while also conducting something of an experiment in order to gauge what conclusions are drawn and what the perceived central idea becomes when taking a more forensic approach to these events as opposed to a more fabricated one. 

Interestingly, the film informs the audience of said experiment up front stating that the film is based on the memory of the people who lived it. Though Mendoza serves as co-director as well as receiving a screenwriting credit and is portrayed in the film by D'Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai, Warfare is an ensemble piece that is essentially a re-enactment of an encounter this platoon experienced during the Iraq War in the wake of the Battle of Ramadi. The film gives no more context than this, allowing viewers to take from it whatever they choose to glean. While the film very clearly seeks to honor and respect what these men do when risking their lives in order to execute the whims of their superiors and their superiors’ superiors, in terms of being an exercise in the “less in more” school of filmmaking and crafting what is ultimately a collage of memory pieces it is a fascinating experiment as it is inherently understood that even the most vivid of memories are subjective, that there can be no absolutes in the chaos of such confrontations, and further – that everything that has happened to these individuals since these events has informed their recollections of these moments.

FREAKY TALES Review

Neither Anna Boden nor Ryan Fleck, the writers and directors of Freaky Tales, hail from the Oakland area where their latest feature is set but Fleck grew-up in Berkeley and was eleven years-old in 1987 - when the film is set - indicating this is more a passion project for Fleck and something more akin to a challenge or an insight for Boden. Fittingly, the dynamic between the filmmakers - the homecourt advantage for Fleck and visitor status of Boden - is imbued in the final project as Freaky Tales fittingly straddles the line between being an underdog tale while understanding domination is the more appealing perception in the real world. Still, when it comes to the stories - or excuse me, tales - the underdogs continue to stand as the more inspiring option with this line of thought being present from the opening scroll of Boden and Fleck's latest.

Narrated by Too $hort with the film itself taking its title from the MC's 1989 track, we're told that Oakland in '87 was "hella wild"; the people, the culture, the music - it didn't matter - the descriptor applied to all. $hort also informs us the reason for everything feeling so fresh likely had something to do with a "bright green glow" that felt akin to an electricity in the air but clarifies said glowing green was not the same color as the city's "underdog A's uniforms". What the "bright green glow" might symbolize or represent is of course up to interpretation and will likely vary based on age and relation to the time and place at the heart of the film but broadly, it's meant to be something of a vibe incarnate; an embodiment of the attitude of Oakland at the time that lends each of the characters in each of the featured vignettes the swag necessary to convince us there's something a tad atypical or "freaky" about these tales that are otherwise as old as time.

BETTER MAN Review

With better musical numbers - at least as far as how they’re conveyed in the format of film - than Wicked and a more innovative take on the musical biopic certainly than anything that has been released since Bohemian Rhapsody became a four-time Oscar winner, Better Man transcends its multiple genres and demolishes expectations via a number of choices, perspectives, and ideas. Chief among these being that the main character, British pop star Robbie Williams, is rendered as a chimpanzee for the entirety of the film. Whether this is due to the fact he felt “less evolved” than those around him, that he felt treated like a circus act during his "Take That" days, or simply that he became something of an animal once fame afforded him the space to be, the central gimmick is more admirable in a distracting fashion than it is an influential one, but it doesn't not work and that was the risk in taking such a swing.

The facet that actually separates Better Man from the current crop of musical biopics is the fact Williams himself couldn't give less of a shit about PR. That is to say, the man has no issue showing you his scars or telling you how he feels about those that surrounded him. Getting this kind of unfiltered access and perspective feels more and more rare these days when the majority of musical documentaries are more or less controlled and therefore extremely filtered pieces of marketing material for their subjects. Luckily, a puff piece is not what neither Williams nor director Michael Gracey were interested in. As these things always go, it begins with wanting to make a father proud because of the lack of attention said father paid to their child while still on their own quest for fame and fortune. This neglect enables the kind of imposter syndrome Williams suffers from throughout the film and likely still to this day even with all of the awards and accomplishments, propping up the drive that has ultimately placed him in a position to command his own musical biopic despite what some might consider proper talent.

TOP 10 OF 2024

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After 2023, I wasn't sure what the future of my role in "film criticism" would be or if there would be one at all. After the dissolution of my YouTube channel in May of last year and trying to find my footing so far as how often I would go long in writing about films it has more or less organically become a pattern of logging my viewing habits on Letterboxd and if a film comes to evoke a certain type of response that either has me wanting to process my reaction further or simply discuss it at length, then it typically ends up on this site. This happened less than I would have liked this year, but to be completely frank it may happen even less in the upcoming year and not because I’m pessimistic about the new year’s slate of films (I’m actually quite hopeful for what '25 might bring) but simply because my wife and I are welcoming our fourth child in a matter of weeks and I don’t know that I’ll be able to sustain my weekly theater visits. That said, I’ll be at home and even on paternity leave for some portions of the year, so I don’t plan on seeing fewer movies just seeing fewer movies at the multiplex - potentially. Speaking of this year I watched 172 2024 releases, 93 of which were on the big screen and some of them - including Deadpool & Wolverine, Dune: Part Two, Alien: Romulus, Joker: Folie à Deux, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, and The First Omen - I saw twice in theaters. I watched upwards of 250 films total over the course of the year including re-watches and older films I experienced for the first time. Essentially, I have no idea what 2025 will look like in terms of what or how often I will post here as I also plan on doing a good amount of offline writing, but one thing I can say with certainty is that if I'm still here in a year’s time you can count on me to post my favorite films of 2025. But first! My ten favorite films of 2024…

NOSFERATU Review

Throughout Robert Eggers' interpretation of the Dracula mythos we hear the word "providence" uttered multiple times, most frequently by Simon McBurney’s servant figure Knock (I wonder if he and Nicholas Hoult consulted with one another). Naturally, one would assume the context of such comments would be regarding the protective care of God in a film about a plague-inducing demon, but providence can also be defined as timely preparation for future eventualities. This latter meaning is in fact the outline for what composes much of 2024’s Nosferatu. As much of an impression as Bill Skarsgård’s titular character makes throughout the course of the film it is he who is largely orchestrating said timely preparations (which are sometimes a little too timely) whereas it is Lily-Rose Depp’s Ellen who is the focal point of both the vampire and Eggers’ fascinations. The future eventualities of this particular situation are the unlocking of this young woman’s shame (or sin, as she sees it) in order to find salvation – whether that be her own, the monster’s, or mankind’s is up to the viewer. Initially, Ellen believes she has found such salvation in Thomas Hutter (the aforementioned Hoult), a young man whom she’s recently wed, who she is eager to start a life with, and with whom she believes she can remedy her darkness. We learn, of course, that when Count Orlok, Nosferatu, the vampyr, is stirred from his grave by the afflictions of others, he cannot be sated – satisfied - without fully consuming them which, ironically, feels more like an absolute than the possibility promised by “providence”.

There is undoubtedly an unlimited number of allegorical meanings one could graph onto Ellen’s function, but most interesting about Eggers film is this idea that this central character embodies the facade of the thing she believes she should be yet is seemingly afraid to embrace her instinctual tendencies while Eggers ensures the film itself is the inverse of as much; following his innate, natural inclinations so far past their conclusions that what we’re delivered is not necessarily what we expect from Dracula (outside of maybe the costumes and language), but moreover it authentically amps up and delivers upon the startling terror of what made (and makes) this long-looming figure of the genre so horrifying over a century after his creation. He, Nosferatu, is more than just the presence of a monster but the enigma that fills us with conflict and dread.