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Review by Sean Boelman
Onur Turkel’s slasher comedy Poundcake comes with so many trigger warnings that it’s hard to imagine anyone not being offended, upset, or put off in some way by it. And yet, unlike so many movies that exist to shock the viewer, Turkel has used his shocking premise to create something genuinely thoughtful and meaningful.
The film follows a serial killer who targets straight white men, killing them by raping them to death. It’s a premise that is meant to be provocative and mean-spirited, and it pulls no punches, going so far that it is likely to offend — or at least piss off — a majority of viewers. And yet, this type of rude awakening is exactly what we need to inspire real change and not just performative activism. However, these horror aspects of the movie only take up a small portion of the runtime (maybe a total of 15 or so minutes). Instead, the film is largely a cringe comedy about the reaction that the community is having to these brutal killings. The more interesting thing about the movie is not that the killings are happening, but the hilariously uncomfortable discussions that people are having about their anxieties. First and foremost, the film is a takedown of the idea of the “nice guy.” Turkel makes the argument that even the people who put up a nice façade and claim to be progressive have these internal biases. In other words, he’s calling everyone out on their bullshit — and he doesn’t leave himself innocent, poking fun at his own fragile masculinity throughout. However, that isn’t the only theme that Turkel tackles here. Poundcake is essentially a 90-minute long rant about everything that is wrong with this generation, but it doesn’t feel off-putting. Turkel is legitimately insightful with what he has to say about the shallowness and insecurity of our society, and challenges us to think about how we can defeat our own biases. Every character in the movie is an unlikable, pretentious asshole, but that’s exactly what it is meant to be. And yet, there is something undeniably entertaining about watching this ragtag bunch of insufferables. The best comparison in recent memory is Bodies Bodies Bodies — another film which brilliantly calls people out for their lack of authenticity. In terms of execution, the movie clearly shows its low budget. The cinematography, production design, and effects aren’t particularly high-quality. The score also feels like stock music because it’s a bit generic in nature. However, when the script is as intelligent, funny, and engaging as this, the less-than-stellar production values can be forgiven. Poundcake is one of two movies that have played the festival circuit in recent memory that are virtually unreleasable — and that’s a compliment. Onur Turkel has made a movie that is so incendiary, so disgusting, and (dare I say) so ingenious that the world is not ready to see it. And yet, I can’t wait until they do. Poundcake screened at the 2023 Make Believe Film Festival, which runs March 23-26 in Seattle, WA. Rating: 4/5
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Review by Sean Boelman
Gringa was the winner of the Audience Award at this year’s Gasparilla International Film Festival, and it’s totally understandable why: it’s a sometimes cheesy, always feel-good dramedy boasting a great performance by Steve Zahn. Although the movie doesn’t do much to stand out, it does what it sets out to do pretty well.
Gringa follows a teenager who, after the sudden and untimely death of her mother, runs away to Mexico in an attempt to reconnect with her father that she never knew. Although the film hardly reinvents the wheel, it’s wholesome and generally agreeable in a way that makes it a pretty sure bet to be a crowd-pleaser. One of the biggest issues with the movie is that it can’t decide on its identity. It's a soccer movie, a fish-out-of-water comedy, a surfing movie, a grief drama, an alcoholic dad movie, and an eating disorder drama — all in one. It throws a bunch of things to the wall, and while many of them are effective, there are so many pivots that it becomes frustrating. Still, the film manages to consistently find humor and charm in all of these varied situations. Even when the story is hitting the familiar beats — such as the obligatory romance with the suave local boy whose intentions might not be as pure as they seem — it’s hard to deny the movie’s cuteness factor. 
Indeed, even though the characters’ arcs are all very conventional, audiences will certainly be rooting for them the entire way. The central relationship dynamic, between father and daughter, is really wonderful and very sweet. Some of the supporting characters, like the protagonist’s teammates, feel underdeveloped and much less authentic.
The best thing about the film is Steve Zahn’s performance. Zahn is one of the most underrated actors working today, and he is able to nail both the comedic and dramatic elements of the role. The rest of the cast struggles to find the right tone, doubling down on the sentimentality and cheesiness. Visually, the movie makes the most of its Mexico shooting location to provide some absolutely gorgeous scenery for the film to be shot in. That being said, there are some missed opportunities in terms of the execution. For example, the soccer scenes are very plainly shot and could have been done in a more energetic, entertaining way. Had Gringa been able to focus on one part of its story more specifically, it likely would have been a lot more effective. Still, thanks to a very strong performance by Steve Zahn and a charming aura, it’s the type of movie that is sure to be a crowd-pleaser. Gringa screened at the 2023 Gasparilla International Film Festival, which runs March 23-26 in Tampa, FL. Rating: 3/5
Review by Sean Boelman
The courtroom drama is a tried-and-true genre, and very few films attempt to reinvent the wheel. Miranda’s Victim is the type of movie where you can tell that it was would-be Oscar bait, its A-list cast and solid production values held back by occasionally Lifetime-quality writing and inconsistent themes.
The film tells the story of teenager Trish Weir, who is brutally kidnapped and assaulted, only to face legal challenges due to a legal loophole that threatens to allow her assailant to go free. The movie’s intentions are noble — bringing attention to the side of this true story that people don’t know — but it isn’t always able to succeed in its lofty goals. One of the more concerning things that the film fumbles is that its messaging is frustratingly mixed. Although the movie’s heart is in the right place, the execution is uneven, causing the film to occasionally come off as insensitive. It’s obvious that the intention was for the movie to say “although suspects’ rights are important, remember the victims too,” it can sometimes come across as, “although what happened to her is a tragedy, so too is what happened to him.” And that logic seems counterintuitive to what the film is hoping to accomplish. There are also some moments that feel somewhat excessive. For example, there is a scene in which the protagonist is brutally subjected to a post-assault evaluation. Although the lack of a male gaze is welcome, preventing the scene from ever feeling fully exploitative, it also feels as if there was no real reason to include this scene other than to shock and discuss the audience. Sure, it succeeds in doing so, but at the expense of coming across as cheaply cloying. 
Part of the reason why the messaging is ultimately ineffective is that it can’t seem to decide whose story this is to tell. The title — Miranda’s Victim — refers to the protagonist, Trish Weir, who only recently came forward to allow her story to be told. However, so much of the movie is framed through the eyes of Miranda, reducing her to be little more than a victim.
Still, the film is bolstered by strong performances by a mostly A-list cast. Abigail Breslin is quite good in her leading role, with the exception of a few scenes in which she plays it far too big. And the supporting cast includes some small but effective performances from recognizable faces, including Luke Wilson, Andy Garcia, Taryn Manning, Donald Sutherland, and Emily Van Camp. The movie also boasts above-average production values. Although they are nothing to call home about, the film has decent cinematography, production design, and costume design that do a good job of periodizing the movie. Some aspects — like the score and editing — are a bit heavy-handed, forcing the film to lean into the melodrama a bit too strongly, but are still competently done. Miranda’s Victim is a very flawed film that skirts by on good performances and the fact that it means extremely well. It’s close to being a great movie, but arguably even closer to being a bad one. Miranda’s Victim screened at the 2023 Gasparilla International Film Festival, which runs March 23-26 in Tampa, FL. Rating: 3/5
Review by Sean Boelman
Belgian filmmakers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne are acclaimed for their ability to make highly realistic dramas about important social issues. Their newest film, Tori and Lokita, explores the refugee crisis in a way that is harrowing and devastating — as if one would expect anything less from them.
The movie follows two young refugees who pose as siblings in the streets of Belgium in an attempt to survive the extremely harsh reality of their situation. To no one’s surprise, everything is not peaches and cream for the duo, as they go through a series of stressful and devastating experiences while trying to maintain their status. The Dardennes are known for making movies that are extraordinarily on anger, and they have gone on record saying that this is their “angriest” film yet. Admittedly, Tori and Lokita isn’t likely to be as incendiary or controversial as some of their more recent work (such as Young Ahmed) because it opts for a more depressing tone. Indeed, the best way to describe this movie’s tone is something more akin to the work of Ken Loach than what we might used to be seeing from the Dardennes — and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The filmmakers appeal to the audience’s emotions by absolutely ripping their hearts out with an ending that will stick with viewers for quite a long time. 
If there is a downfall to this approach, it is the movie’s predictability. It’s clear where this story has to end for the Dardennes to be able to make their point, leaving viewers waiting with dread as they know in their gut what is going to happen next. And yet, even though the film lacks the shock value of some of their other work, it’s still staggeringly effective.
Of course, a big part of what makes the movie work so well is the Dardennes’ signature realism. The Dardennes shoot the film almost as if it was a verité documentary, with very intimate, rough cinematography. The emphasis that the filmmakers put on grounding the movie ensures that it feels authentic, even when the narrative beats feel like they are in service of the themes. To further accentuate the film’s realism, the Dardennes cast two non-actors in the leading roles, and they both do a phenomenal job. Mbundu Joely is fantastic as the older of the two sibling figures, giving a turn that seems mature beyond her years — fitting, given what the character is put through — but the quietly devastating turn of Pablo Schils will leave viewers feeling affected. Tori and Lokita is somehow one of the more restrained movies by the Dardennes despite also being their angriest. The filmmakers have once again proven to have an uncanny finger on the zeitgeist of society, and delivered a necessary — if overt — commentary on one of the most pressing issues we face today. Tori and Lokita is now playing in theaters. Rating: 3.5/5
Review by Sean Boelman
Nam June Paik: Moon Is the Oldest TV debuted at the Sundance Film Festival to a pretty enthusiastic reception, becoming one of the earliest pick-ups out of the festival. The documentary offers a conventional biography of its subject, and while it is bolstered by its extensive use of Paik’s library of work, it feels much more straightforward than it should be.
The film tells the story of experimental artist Nam June Paik, who is considered to be the father of video art. Anyone who has worked in the realm of video before knows Paik’s name thanks to his influence (he coined the term “electronic superhighway” after all). That being said, many in the general public might not be aware of his extraordinary work and story, and they are who this documentary is aimed at. Unfortunately, despite Paik having made a name for himself as an ambitious avant garde artist, filmmaker Amanda Kim’s form is frustratingly conventional. The movie tells its story in exactly the way that one would expect — through a combination of archive materials, talking head interviews, and footage from the subject’s work. The film also contains narration by acclaimed actor Steven Yeun (Minari, The Walking Dead) — who also serves as an executive producer on the movie — reading Paik’s personal diaries. The practice of having a celebrity speaking the words of a documentary’s subject is nothing new, but it is used too sparingly here to make much of an impact. 
Instead, the more impactful moments are those in which Kim allows Paik’s work to speak for itself. The kinetically-edited sequences of Paik’s experimental video art are what is most likely to leave the audience with a feeling of respect and admiration for the film’s subject, more so than hearing his praise sung over and over again by interviewees.
There are also a few interesting ideas to be found in the movie, such as the portions that discuss Paik’s experience as an immigrant or the legacy he had on the art industry as a whole, but these are often neglected in favor of a more broad survey of his career. One of the most interesting bits of the film shows Paik’s work side-by-side with the derivative works it inspired, including some hugely recognizable music videos. If the purpose of the movie was merely to bring broader awareness to the existence of an undersung figure in the experimental art community, Kim has succeeded at doing so. However, this ultimately feels like the bare minimum that this film should have been. There are so many deeper levels with which Kim could have engaged with this material, yet it feels disappointingly shallow. Nam June Paik: Moon Is the Oldest TV is a straightforward biographical documentary, and while there is nothing poorly-made about it, the fact that it is so straightforward makes it somewhat underwhelming. Someone as revolutionary and ambitious as Paik deserved an equally ambitious cinematic treatment, and this is not that. Nam June Paik: Moon Is the Oldest TV is now playing in theaters. Rating: 3/5
Review by Sean Boelman
The Five Devils is the type of movie where it is easy to see the directorial vision on the screen, even if it’s obvious that it was a little thin on the page. There is no denying the visual prowess of The Five Devils, cementing Léa Mysius as a director to watch, but the narrative certainly leaves something to be desired.
The film follows a young girl with seemingly magical powers whose calm life is thrown into disarray when her aunt is released from prison and comes to stay with her and her parents. As Léa Mysius’s sophomore feature, The Five Devils is an ambitious swing-and-a-miss, failing to live up to its potential. The bigger draw of the movie is likely to be its fantasy elements, which are frustratingly ambiguous. It’s an interesting concept, but Mysius seems so unwilling to adhere to genre conventions that the film instead ends up feeling grossly underdeveloped and a shell of what it could have been. That being said, the character elements don’t fare much better. The dynamic between the three characters — the child, her mother, and her aunt — is intriguing and shows a lot of promise, but ends up falling into a lot of melodramatic trappings. The issue is less with how the characters are written, and more with how the conflict is written. 
That being said, the movie does boast some pretty consistently good performances. Although the role is a bit suspect — coming dangerously close to white savior-adjacent territory — Adèle Exarchopoulos is quite good here, as always. The real star of the show, though, is young actress Sally Dramé, whose performance is quiet and nuanced.
The visual style is also quite impressive. Paul Guilhaume (who co-wrote the screenplay with Mysius) is the cinematographer of the film, and he has a keen eye for framing and lighting. The result is images that are transfixing — at times even hypnotic — creating a great atmosphere, even when the script isn’t able to maintain its tension. Indeed, even though the movie is quite visually alluring, the narrative is so sleepy and meandering that it will lose many viewers’ interest nonetheless. It’s the type of film that requires patience from the viewer, but it fails to realize the key factor in audiences accepting a slow burn: it has to earn that pacing. Ultimately, The Five Devils is the type of movie that offers some pretty undeniably great vibes, but from a narrative standpoint, it’s disappointingly hollow. Léa Mysius directs the absolute hell out of a script that may leave viewers feeling more confused and unfulfilled than satisfied. The Five Devils is now playing in theaters. Rating: 2.5/5
Review by Sean Boelman
With some of the most popular creative talents on Broadway working behind the scenes, the new Hulu series Up Here seemed destined to be a hit. While it’s charming enough to get by, the derivative nature of Up Here — both of other series and itself — causes the initial intrigue to wear off rather quickly.
The show follows two New Yorkers who, discontent with their lives, spark up an unexpected romance only to find that they are getting in the way of their own happiness. Although the core premise is a pretty basic rom-com set-up, there are some ambitiously surreal elements that promise to make Up Here stand out. Unfortunately, these aspects are largely left underdeveloped. Ultimately, as is the case with a lot of half-hour comedies these days, this did not need to be as long as it was. The structure is quite literally repetitive, and it grows monotonous in the back half. It’s light and breezy enough that it’s still easy viewing, but it feels very much like they had a good concept and just did not know what to do with it. One of the most confusing things about this show is its tone. Although it’s mostly enjoyable as a whole, the show often seems to struggle to understand exactly who it is made for. In some parts, it’s an idealistic, almost wholesome comedy a la Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt; but in others, it’s a cynical raunchy comedy in the vein of Trainwreck. It gets a decent amount of laughs, but still would have benefitted from more consistency. 
Viewers’ opinion of the show will likely be made or broken by their opinion of the characters. And while the characters aren’t exactly frustrating, they also aren’t particularly likable. You may find yourself rooting neither for nor against them, which is about the worst spot this could be in. It doesn’t help that — despite being excellent performers on their own — Mae Whitman and Carlos Valdez have no chemistry together.
The biggest draw of the show is the music by Kristen-Anderson Lopez and Robert Lopez, but even that peaks relatively early. The first song in the series is extremely catchy — and they seem to know it, because it’s repeated throughout the show quite a few times. The rest of the songs are good, but the only other one to wow is a show-stopping solo by Brian Stokes Mitchell. The directors also manage to direct the hell out of the show, but it’s no surprise given how heavily Hamilton director Thomas Kail was involved. The musical sequences are shot in a way that is fun and creative, giving the series a much-needed boost of energy. Even if the writing leaves something to be desired, the visuals and choreography give it sufficient vibrancy. Up Here gets a pass due to a few catchy tunes and inspired choreography and direction, making it just fun enough to be worth watching. Still, viewers’ interest will likely take a sharp nosedive after the first couple episodes, and they’ll likely forget it rather quickly. Up Here streams on Hulu beginning March 24. All eight episodes reviewed. Rating: 3/5
Review by Sean Boelman
Photograph by Claudette Barius/HBO.
After becoming a bit of a sleeper hit, HBO’s Succession is now one of the most acclaimed shows on television right now. It was recently announced that the fourth season is set to be the last, leaving fans with anticipation to see how the saga of the Roys will fall out. If the first episode is any indication, this may be the best season of the best series ever created.
As is the case with previous seasons, we start the first episode of the final season in medias res, as the Roys continue their power struggle to determine who will control the Waystar Royco empire. This episode again takes place during one of Logan Roy’s (Brian Cox) birthday soirées, but it makes “Dundee” look like child’s play by comparison. For the first twenty minutes or so of the episode, it’s dryly funny and sharp. However, it quickly begins to escalate and turns into one of the most exhilarating episodes of television that you will ever see in your life. The negotiations that happen in the last thirty minutes of the episode are so delectably petty that they will have fans giggling with glee. The most interesting thing about this season — at least for the first episode — is that it features the siblings in an uneasy alliance, as the finale of season three hinted at, rather than each other’s throats. It’s a very different dynamic than we are used to seeing from the characters, but it is still devilishly fun and feels like an entirely natural progression of their arcs. 
Photograph by Macall B. Polay/HBO.
This episode really returns Cox to the spotlight after a couple of seasons that were arguably more dominated by the performances of the actors playing the Roy kids. Cox has such a commanding, confident screen presence that is virtually unrivaled by anyone else in the cast. He delivers every single line with the sharpness of a razor blade.
Of course, the rest of the cast does a great job too. Sarah Snook shows her cold side as Shiv yet again, while Jeremy Strong plays it much quieter than usual — but seemingly deliberately so. Matthew MacFadyen and Nicholas Braun are at it once again too, bringing fans’ favorite dynamic duo to increasingly wacky heights. Mark Mylod’s direction in the episode is among the series’s best. There are so many power dynamics at play that have to be captured through the performances and editing, and they’ve never been done better. And, as if anyone expected anything less, Nicholas Brittell’s iconic score slaps as hard as ever, creating the tension masterfully. The first episode of the final season of Succession hits the ground running, setting the bar extremely high for the remaining episodes. It’s always good when the creators of a series are able to end the show on their own terms — because the result is a conclusion that feels as deliberate as this. Succession debuts on HBO on March 26 at 9pm ET/PT. One out of ten episodes reviewed. Rating: 5/5 [SXSW 2023] IT'S ONLY LIFE AFTER ALL -- An Amazingly Transparent Music Doc About the Indigo Girls3/19/2023
Review by Sean Boelman
Credit: Michael Lavine
It’s Only Life After All debuted at the Sundance Film Festival to a positive but not particularly noisy reception. Leave it to the music capital of the world to give the film the platform it deserves, as its showing at Austin’s SXSW Film Festival is sure to give this extraordinary music documentary its due.
In the movie, the iconic folk rock duo the Indigo Girls tells their story as singer-songwriters and as queer icons in the music industry. Although the film is structured very much like a traditional biographical music documentary, the extraordinary story of Amy Ray and Emily Sailers — which is anything but traditional — makes the movie stand out. If the film does have one shortcoming, it’s that — at just over two hours in length — it can feel a bit overlong. That being said, it’s hard to pinpoint a particular area in which content could have been cut. Between their music, activism, and personal lives, the Indigo Girls have so much story to be told, and for the most part, it’s absolutely captivating. The Indigo Girls have received several accolades, but they still have a fair share of detractors who attempt to detract from their work for reasons that range from political opposition to outright homophobia and misogyny. However, in the movie, Ray and Sailers engage with these naysayers and respond to their criticism in a positive way. However, even though this movie is primarily about the Indigo Girls, Ray and Sailers share the spotlight with others. In their activism, they have frequently partnered with activist Winona LaDuke, and there is an entire section of the film dedicated to how LaDuke has shaped their environmental advocacy. What really makes It’s Only Life After All stand out from other music documentaries is its level of transparency and honesty. Plenty of music documentaries claim to offer “unprecedented” behind-the-scenes access or a “no-holds-barred” look at their subject(s), but Ray and Sailers are unflinching in their willingness to speak with Bombach — and the audience — because they know that sharing their story is what will inspire good in the world. In the movie, Bombach makes extensive use of the archive materials that were given to her by the duo, including home movies and other footage, and that’s part of what gives the film its extremely insightful feeling. And, of course, the movie features plenty of great performance footage showcasing the duo’s many wonderful songs. It’s Only Life After All is one of the best music documentaries in recent years because of the intimate level of access provided to the filmmaker by the subjects. Fans of the Indigo Girls will love this personal portrait, and those who are less familiar with the duo will walk away with a tremendous respect for them. It’s Only Life After All screened at the 2023 SXSW Film Festival, which ran March 10-18 in Austin, TX. Rating: 4.5/5
Review by Sean Boelman
Credit: Brennan Vance
There is a tricky line to tread for filmmakers who want to make a movie about their own story, but Cecilia Aldarondo has managed to do so wonderfully with her sophomore feature You Were My First Boyfriend. Hilarious and profound, You Were My First Boyfriend keeps developing in a way that challenges the viewer to reflect on their own past and emotions.
In the movie, filmmaker Cecilia Aldarondo’s trip to her high school reunion causes her to go on an internal journey in which she reflects on her adolescence and all of the pain and joy she experienced within it. It’s equal parts funny, sad, and contemplative in a way that feels entirely natural and surprisingly necessary. There are plenty of comparisons that can be made in terms of documentaries in which the filmmaker is reflecting on their childhood, but Aldarondo’s approach is more creative than any of them. In the tradition of so many movies that have experimented with the nonfiction form in the past decade, Aldarondo has created a film that blurs the lines between reality and fiction. Aldarondo explores her trauma in a way that is unflinchingly personal and intimate. It’s the type of movie that is likely to be triggering for many viewers, not because it is offensive, but because it explores things that many of us will have experienced in our own lives. In her own journey, Aldarondo encourages viewers to engage with their pasts in a way that allows us to have a more healthy relationship with who we are. One of the most impressive things about Aldarndo’s approach is how she avoids pointing fingers. Although many films about these themes would normally point fingers at bullies or be overly self-loathing, Aldarondo avoids these pitfalls. Instead, she interrogates the social structure that enabled these toxic personalities to thrive in a setting that should be safe and nurturing. While movies that heavily utilize reenactments can be hit-or-miss, Aldarondo and Sarah Enid Hagey’s approach is so innovative that it avoids feeling gimmicky. Young actors are hired to play Aldarondo’s classmates, but Aldarondo plays herself, creating an interesting dynamic that makes it feel like Aldarondo is not only reflecting upon but genuinely engaging with her past. There are also some stylistic quirks throughout the film that are very ambitious and pay off quite well. For example, there is a sequence in which Aldarondo and her sister recreate the music video for Tori Amos’s song “Crucify.” Although it may not be *necessary* for the narrative, it’s quite well-done and creates a very playful tone. You Were My First Boyfriend tells an extremely personal story, but the universality of its emotion allows the movie to stand out and be extraordinarily compelling. Cecilia Aldarondo’s vision of her past is hilarious and meaningful, making this an early contender for best documentary of the year. You Were My First Boyfriend screened at the 2023 SXSW Film Festival, which runs March 10-18 in Austin, TX. Rating: 5/5 |
