[Overlook 2024] ALL YOU NEED IS DEATH -- Beguiling Irish Folk Horror Frustrates Narratively4/5/2024
Review by Sean Boelman
For better or worse, Paul Duane’s All You Need Is Death is an incredibly strange and esoteric film. Although it will win over some fans, and it’s hard to deny the movie’s atmospheric strengths, this folk horror suffers from an aimless narrative and many inconsistencies undermining any of Duane's stylistic flourishes.
The film follows a couple who specialize in collecting rare folk ballads as they unintentionally release an ancient evil after discovering a long-forgotten, ancient taboo song. It’s a unique premise, but it’s not fully fleshed out and Duane’s script lacks the narrative drive to keep the viewer invested after this initial hook. Those familiar with this style of horror will not be surprised to find that the pacing is incredibly slow. The first two-thirds of the movie is spent building an eerie atmosphere, only for the final act to go off the rails. Unfortunately, the film doesn’t earn this unhinged finale, nor does it feel particularly satisfying. However, All You Need Is Death stands out from a lot of other movies in the folk horror genre because of how incredibly culturally specific it is, which ends up being a bit of a double-edged sword. While it does mean that the film does not fall back on the generic symbolism of the genre, it also causes some of the symbolism to not resonate as well with audiences who are not well-read on this culture.
The most intriguing thing about All You Need Is Death is how it uses its Irish folk music motifs. It should come as no surprise that Duane is so interested in the musicality of the movie, considering that much of his background is in music videos and music documentaries. Nonetheless, it’s impressive how Duane strikes the balance between beguiling and unsettling when it comes to the atmosphere. It uses these songs in a way that’s uncanny but not disrespectful to the culture they represent.
One can only wish that Duane exerted the same level of control and mastery over the rest of his style. Of course, some of the film’s problems, like its occasionally cheesy-looking effects or lackluster sound mixing, can be forgiven due to its independent nature and low budget. Others, like questionable framing, are more deliberate aesthetic choices that simply don’t work. The performances are also wildly inconsistent. Although some in the supporting cast turn in performances like they are acting in a campy B-movie, the leads take themselves too seriously. It doesn’t help that the characters they play are so peculiar that it’s hard to buy into anything they do. All You Need Is Death deserves praise for going to some of the weirder lengths it traverses and its incredible use of folk music, but this does not amount to a compelling watch as a whole. Still, it’s an auspicious narrative feature debut that suggests a bright future for Duane if he is able to work within the confines of a more traditional script. All You Need Is Death is screening at the 2024 Overlook Film Festival, which runs April 4-7 in New Orleans, LA. Rating: 2.5/5
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Review by Cole Groth Brittany Snow’s led a great, varied career as an actress, and as the latest actor-turned-director, she’s proved to be amazingly capable of directing. In Parachute, her debut feature, she carefully and confidently navigates the struggle of having an eating disorder. With a compelling script and good technical style, Snow masterfully weaves a dramatic story with the help of perfect performances from its stars. Parachute navigates the hard-to-talk-about world of eating disorders. Snow’s script, penned alongside Becca Gleason, tells the story of Riley (Courtney Eaton), a woman recently discharged from rehab for her struggles with an eating disorder. Once out, she meets Ethan (Thomas Mann), a charming young man with whom she instantly finds a connection. Throughout the film, the two grow together on a romantic journey of self-discovery for Riley. It’s incredibly important that films about eating disorders handle them with grace and carefulness, which Snow is fully able to do. Snow and Gleason’s script is an amazing drama because it never feels overbearing, even when the circumstances of the story are overbearing for the characters. It’s dramatic without being overly so, incredibly romantic and charming. Snow struggled with an eating disorder in the past and uses her past experiences to subtly fill in the horrors of going through one. It’s painful to watch but important. Beyond the tender way Parachute’s script handles addiction and eating disorders, it also excels with its dialogue. It’s little things like Riley referring to her eating disorder as an “eating thing” that sound like they were written from the perspective of somebody who understands what having an eating disorder is like. It’s authentic and never once degrading. Each conversation between Riley and Ethan sounds natural and up-to-date, with modern lingo that does not sound like it’s trying too hard to be relatable. It’s a romantic, funny, and dramatic script that perfectly handles each subgenre.
With a terrific story and great dialogue, the last thing this film needed to succeed was a good pair of actors with chemistry. Courtney Eaton and Thomas Mann are that pair. The two feel like a real couple, burdened with the trauma of their pasts and moving together like two perfectly intertwined souls. They’re joined by a terrific supporting cast of Gina Rodriguez, Kid Cudi, Francesa Reale, Dave Bautista, and Joel McHale. In a cast where the two leads are already such knockouts, it’s nice to see the supporting cast pull their weight just as well. Dramas about sensitive subjects like eating disorders can often struggle with feeling too intense or boring, something that Brittany Snow can handle very well in Parachute. Her first directorial effort is a compelling watch on all fronts, showcasing the best of everybody involved. It’s clear that Snow has a bright future in writing and directing and that Courtney Eaton is an up-and-coming star. By all accounts, this is worthy of a watch. Parachute is now in theater. Rating: 4/5 Review by Joseph Fayed One of the biggest news stories of 2019 was the arrest of Jeffrey Epstein for sex trafficking minors. Once his downfall became public, scrutiny grew onto his ultra-wealthy and/or famous associates who had spent a great deal of time with Epstein. One such friend was Prince Andrew. Scoop follows a team of producers who tried to get ahead of the developing story and land an exclusive interview with the Duke of York, who is unsure of how to rehabilitate his image. This biopic has many gotcha moments but gets too stuck in its format to make this dramatic retelling any more captivating. The film follows the crew of the BBC news program Newsnight, who, amidst the ongoing scandal with Jeffrey Epstein, decide to shift their focus onto Prince Andrew's ties to Epstein. Previously, their affiliation with each other had been nothing more than tabloid filler. However, upon accuser Virginia Roberts coming forward to share her story, news producer Sam McAlister (Billie Piper) and anchor Emily Maitlis (Gillian Anderson) race to be the first to get the Prince's thoughts on the allegations. In the meantime, those working for the Prince question if speaking out is really the right move for him. The characterization of Sam McAlister feels a tad bit like she is trying to Girlboss up the ranks of British television. She makes it her top priority to secure this interview, and we see her in action pursuing that, but it is very tame. Sam isn't written to be so ruthless that it's comical, like this archetype typically is. Instead, she's too reserved to have much focus on her. In what's arguably the greatest highlight of her career, she is reduced to essentially saying, "This is your reputation now, Andrew; let us know if you want to chat by Monday." It's not the mic drop moment it was intended to be, and once the interview actually takes place towards the end of the film, Sam is not much else besides background noise despite her crucial role in making it all possible. Gillian Anderson's ability to not make herself appear complacent regarding her big Prince Andrew interview is a warm welcome. For a film about a team of people working in the media, the journalist asking the tough questions is the only one less interested in the sensational elements of the story. There is a particular line of dialogue about another associate of Epstein that Emily says that I would have liked to see be explored further. Emily's reputation as a soft but hard interviewer is touched upon when she speaks to Prince Andrew and his staff beforehand. Still, in a story about abuse, it should be explained why she was perceived that way by someone who has such a high profile.
The sheer details about the accusations against Epstein don't receive too much focus here, which I could understand because it is not a story about his victims ultimately. While these allegations were not breaking news at the time of the Newsnight interview, a closer examination of how the Royal Palace would have reacted would have helped expand the story. You can't convince me that the only person around Prince Andrew regularly who is worried for him is his secretary. Not showing more of the palace in full-on crisis mode leading up to the interview was an inaccurate look at how an institution handles itself. Even seeing direct communications from Queen Elizabeth — an unseen character in this — would have better reflected the reality of the PR nightmare Prince Andrew landed himself in than what we were shown. In Scoop, we hear from the man at the center of a sensationalized story whose behavior during an interview became worldwide news. The reenactment of that interview is done very well, but those storylines behind the scenes of Newsnight and the Royal Palace go nowhere. What we are left with is that this highly anticipated expose came together like a fluff piece in a matter of days. The BBC and the Royal Palace get too much of a pass here, and it's disappointing because this was a groundbreaking moment for investigative journalism and the monarchy that was heavily underutilized. Scoop streams on Netflix beginning April 5. Rating: 2.5/5
Review by Sean Boelman
French filmmaker Quentin Dupieux has reached a point in his career where he’s able to crank out multiple films a year, surprisingly without suffering from diminishing returns. The first of his two 2023 pictures to make its debut stateside, Yannick, is a brief but potent satire that sees him straying away from his recent maximalist tendencies without losing sight of what makes his voice so distinctive.
The movie follows a jaded construction worker who decides to see a play on a rare night off. However, when the performance is not to his standards, he decides to take matters into his own hands and demand a more entertaining evening. Shot quickly and quietly, Dupieux’s latest is the type of film that doesn’t feel subversive until you start peeling back its layers. As is the case with most of Dupieux’s output, Yannick is delightfully brief, clocking in at a mere 67 minutes in total. However, Yannick is minimalist in even more ways than that. The entire movie is set in the confines of a single location — a small theatre — and has a much more grounded plot than his usual repertoire. The absurdity comes not from whimsy and fantasy but from the frankness with which Dupieux approaches this topic. It will come as no surprise that Yannick is Dupieux’s most meta film since Reality and perhaps even exceeds it in terms of self-referential commentary. Dupieux is clearly reflecting on the criticisms that have been levied against him in the past, with the end message being that, above all else, he just wants to give people a good time. He succeeds in that goal with flying colors.
Although this lacks the laugh-out-loud humor of Dupieux’s past work, its incredibly sharp observations are often quite funny. It’s definitely a lot more esoteric than most of the French filmmaker’s comedy, but those who have been following Dupieux’s work for a while, or are at least attuned to the idiosyncrasies of French comedy, will be able to get on the movie’s sardonic wavelength.
Part of what makes Yannick work so much better than other satires exploring the relationship between artist and audience is that Dupieux does not feel like he is asking for pity or even sympathy. He doesn’t villainize the stand-in for critics — in fact, he’s the most sympathetic character of the bunch. But as an artist, he also shines a light on the artists’ perspective and the effort and passion they put into their craft, even if it doesn’t turn out as expected. Raphaël Quenard is hilarious and unexpectedly charming as the eponymous interruptor. For a character who spends most of the runtime shouting and complaining, Quenard manages to not come across as whiny. The rest of the ensemble is also good, mostly functioning to bounce off Quenard. Yannick puts up a low-key guise, but if you really engage with the film on its own level, it’s one of Dupieux’s most nuanced works. Although its focus on meta-commentary makes this a mostly fans-only affair, those accustomed to the absurdist filmmaker’s ways have another delight on their hands. Yannick streams on Mubi beginning April 5. Rating: 4/5
Review by Sean Boelman
British filmmaker Ken Loach is perhaps one of the most well-known social realism filmmakers of today and all time, commenting on real issues with hard-hitting stories. Thus, it comes as a bit of a surprise that The Old Oak, Loach’s last film before he is set to retire, feels so quaint. Although it deals with some weighty themes, this drama fails to leave much of a lasting impression.
The Old Oak tells the story of the owner and patrons of a bar in a small village in England as the arrival of a group of Syrian refugees rocks their tight-knit community. This is hardly the most precarious topic Loach has bitten off in the past, but Paul Laverty’s script fails to truly differentiate its commentary from that of the many films discussing the refugee crisis in the past. One of The Old Oak's most significant flaws is its need to tell this story from the white perspective. Although Laverty clearly means well with his message, encouraging people to treat one another with empathy, it verges on pandering. At a certain point, one also has to wonder who this movie is serving. Those who need to hear the message most aren’t going to seek a movie like this out anyway, and the audience it will attract may feel condescended to. The film also struggles to reconcile Loach’s signature intimacy with the broader strokes he is painting with here. The way the story is structured, it feels like there is about to be an explosive climax, and there isn’t. In typical Loach style, The Old Oak eschews flashy melodrama in favor of a more low-key, realistic exploration of the mundanity of hate. Loach is clearly more interested in exploring the microaggressions of racist society than he is in the more outwardly dangerous expressions of hate.
This conversation is certainly an interesting one and offers a somewhat fresh perspective on a topic that many filmmakers have commented on in the past, but coming from one of the world’s greatest social filmmakers, it all feels a bit too soft. Although the movie’s suggestion of “get with the times or get out of the way” is certainly admirable, it’s not nearly condemning enough of the bigotry we see on screen.
And while the characters they play are sometimes frustratingly archetypal, the cast does a respectable job. Dave Turner, whose only past acting experience was minor roles in Loach’s last two films, brings a lovable charm to his role, and Ebla Mari — a complete newcomer — exudes an astounding amount of confidence. However, what is missing from these characters is a believable interplay. Laverty is seemingly trying to set up an “odd couple” dynamic between the duo, an unlikely alliance that forms between them because they see the innate goodness within one another. Yet — and it’s hard to tell if the responsibility lies on the writer or the performers — it never feels like these two people would be friends in real life. This spoils the feeling of realism that Loach painstakingly tries to create. The Old Oak is hardly a bad movie, but seeing one of the world’s greatest filmmakers go out on a note that’s so familiar, comfortable, and safe is disappointing. Perhaps the most damning thing that can be said about Ken Loach’s swan song is that it’s pretty forgettable, which should absolutely not be the case. The Old Oak opens in theaters on April 5. Rating: 3.5/5 Review by Daniel Lima If the powers that be refuse to allow intellectual property to die, if the media franchises of days past must be cyclically brought back and obviate any breathing room for anything new, at the very least, they should be allowed to provide a platform for fresh voices to be heard. Fortunately, that is the case with The First Omen, the debut feature of Arkasha Stevenson. While it cannot escape the gravitational pull of the studio-enforced expectation to mimic the familiar, there is an energy, audacity, and artistry that shows a filmmaker fighting to leave a personal stamp and make something exciting. Set some years before the events of the 1978 original, the film follows a young novitiate, played by Nell Tiger Free, who has recently arrived in Rome. Having spent her entire life in the Church, even growing up in a Catholic orphanage, the bright-eyed young woman prepares to take her vows and serve in an orphanage herself. She quickly finds, however, that things are amiss and that a conspiracy may seek to bring unfathomable evil into the world. The original film series is, quite infamously, about the birth and life of the Antichrist. This film is a prequel, as the many visual and textual allusions make clear. Yet the script is structured as a mystery, with Free's innocent nun growing more frayed and manic as she circles closer to the truth. Considering none of the other movies — even the first — make any real attempt to subvert or misdirect the viewer, it is strange that what any reasonable person would assume was the basic premise of a prequel is positioned as a twist. Whatever The First Omen does right, it does without any sense of intrigue. And there is plenty that it does get right. The opening scene perfectly evokes the sense of dread and constant threat of infernal violence that runs through the first movie, even embracing the visual language of Donner's work: methodical long takes, slow zooms from far-off distances, heightening the sense of powerlessness of the characters in the current of biblical forces. The rest of the film follows suit, employing visual and dynamic lighting to nail the feel of a film out of time, to the point that I am convinced that parts of this were actually shot on celluloid. If not, it's an exquisite facsimile, almost certainly a testament to Stevenson's past as a photojournalist.
It's a rote story, particularly in the expository scenes, yet it never feels like a chore. This is due in large part to the ensemble — an impressive array of established character actors give life to roles that don't have much to them as written. From Sônia Braga's effortless aura of authority to Ralph Ineson's nervous paranoia (an intoxicating presence coupled with his booming voice), each character feels wholly self-possessed, with an entire history behind them. In particular, Nell Tiger Free turns in one of the best performances of the year so far, utterly committed physically and emotionally to the turmoil and anguish of a young woman struggling against infernal machinations. Most laudable is Stevenson's command of the craft within the horror set pieces. It is clear that she has a fondness for the genre, particularly with grisly body horror. There are a number of shameless visual references to landmark films — most notably Possession — that would come across as lazy were they not so seamlessly incorporated into the narrative and so expertly realized. There is such care in how sound reverberates through each space, the rhythm of each space, how much the audience sees and how much they do not, that these go beyond simple homage. This is an announcement of a new talent capable of delivering genuinely disturbing and disgusting imagery, the likes of which are sure to delight anyone with a genuine appreciation of the art. As invigorating as those scenes are and as accomplished as the film is as a whole, it is unfortunate that The First Omen ends on a reminder of the limitations of a project like this. At the end of the day, this is an attempt to keep corporate property alive within the popular consciousness, and so there is a natural ceiling to how far filmmakers are allowed to push things. Stevenson does her best to work within those confines, pushing things to the very brink of what would be allowed under such conservative boundaries, but ultimately cannot go any further. It's a sour note to bow out to, but hopefully, this is merely the first entry in a prolific career. The First Omen arrives in theaters April 4. Rating: 3.5/5
Review by Sean Boelman
Created and directed in its entirety by Steven Zaillian (Oscar-winning screenwriter of Schindler’s List), the new miniseries Ripley is unquestionably indulgent but fittingly so for its source material. From the lead performance to the astounding cinematography, this psychological thriller has a lot to like.
Adapted from Patricia Highsmith’s novel The Talented Mr. Ripley, this new series follows a man who is hired by the father of a wealthy socialite to bring his son back home, kicking off a dangerous web of lies and murder. Although many of the main beats will be known to audiences who have read Highsmith’s work or seen previous adaptations (including Anthony Minghella’s 1998 film), Ripley remains fresh thanks to incredible execution. One would hope that the eight-episode miniseries format would give writer-director Steven Zaillian more opportunity to explore the characters and themes of Highsmith’s work. For the most part, the added runtime instead goes to indulgence, but Zaillian has such an incredible grasp of the cinematic language that he draws viewers into the longer scenes, whether they’re dialogue-heavy or nearly free of speech. This slower pacing is sure to put off viewers who are not willing to be patient. It takes until about the third episode for anything explosive to happen, which is certainly abnormal for a thriller like this. Still, so many of the show’s sequences are incredible at capturing the essence of Highsmith’s character and writing that it’s hard to deny its effectiveness.
Zaillian has also succeeded in making one of the most visually delicious series in streaming history. Of course, it certainly helps that the show is essentially a travelogue across the most beautiful vistas in Europe, but the pristine black-and-white cinematography was a brilliant decision, creating both atmosphere and beauty.
However, if there’s one person responsible for most of the success of this new adaptation, it’s Andrew Scott. The actor yet again proves that he’s one of the most gifted working today, bringing the suave yet deceitful charm necessary for this role. Ripley is a character that many actors have tried their hand at, and Scott really manages to make it his own, thriving in the nuance of the audience’s shifting perception of the eponymous fraudster. One of the main areas where Ripley departs from the earlier adaptation of Highsmith’s novel is that the supporting cast does not hold their own against the lead. Johnny Flynn and Dakota Fanning are fine but forgettable — especially when compared to Jude Law and Gwyneth Paltrow. However, there are a few performances that stand out beyond Scott’s. The main one that comes to mind is Eliot Sumner, who only gets one episode but absolutely devours their part. Ripley may be a bit slow to start, but there are many gripping episodes and sequences that make this adaptation worthy of your time, even if you know the story. And with Andrew Scott bringing such an incredible version of the iconic character to the small screen, one can only hope that this mini-series becomes an anthology, as Highsmith wrote plenty more of these adventures that could be adapted. Ripley is now streaming on Netflix. All eight episodes reviewed. Rating: 4/5 Review by Camden Ferrell If one were to look at the most recent slate of Academy Award nominees for Animated Feature, one would find films about multiversal threats, existential fantasy with complex elements, and a shapeshifter on a city-saving quest among others. In the midst of the limitless imagination and high stakes of animation, it’s also nice to find some more subtle and low-stakes journeys such as Robot Dreams, another Oscar-nominee from this past year. Chicken for Linda! is another example of simple animated storytelling that strips down its storytelling to its bare bones and finds beauty regardless. This French film from directors Chiara Malta and Sébastien Laudenbach uses beautiful hand-painted imagery to give audiences a short, simple, and sweet film that is low-stakes, relaxing, and enjoyable. Linda is a young French girl who gets accused of giving away her mother’s prized ring. After unfairly punishing her, Linda’s mother Paulette discovers that Linda was not guilty of the act for which she had been disciplined. Feeling guilty for her unjust actions, Paulette agrees to fulfill a request from her daughter, a meal of chicken and peppers. Paulette, despite not knowing how to cook, sets forth to make this meal for her daughter in spite of ongoing labor strikes and other obstacles. This is a very simple premise that almost feels too bare at first, but the filmmaking team does a great job of making the most of its setup. Written by Malta and Laudenbach, the movie’s dialogue is straightforward and undemanding yet does a fantastic job of characterizing its players. The movie is able to effectively convey the characteristics of both Linda and Paullette while communicating their relationships and unique mother-daughter dynamic. From a story standpoint, it does a lot with little. With such a simple jumping off point, the movie is able to creatively tell its story in a way that is unique but doesn’t sacrifice its charming simplicity. One of the most distinctive aspects of this movie is its animation. It has a gorgeous and unique style that pops out to the viewer. It uses color-blocked characters in an engaging and visually impressive way that helps tell its story more effectively. There are also a handful of sequences in the movie that enter into a realm of fantasy that is fun and vibrant.
While it’s a cute and charming story with great animation, its main flaw can sometimes come from its occasional moments of convolution. As events spiral out of control for Paulette, certain narrative beats can feel like they briefly abandon the film’s simplicity, and the story suffers as a result. However, these flaws are far and few between, and the story recovers nicely. An adorable animated feature that both adults and kids will enjoy, Chicken for Linda! is yet another example of the joy and beauty that can be found in low-stakes storytelling. It makes the most of its simple premise and manages to be visually dazzling as well. It’s not perfect, but at seventy minutes, there’s no reason not to watch it. Chicken for Linda! is in theaters April 5. Rating: 4/5 Review by Jonathan Berk Rob in High Fidelity is organizing his record collection autobiographically, and he states that if he wants to find a specific song, he has to remember the event he associates with it. Marty in Back to the Future II travels through time, hoping to change something in the past to fix something in the future. Imagine if those two stories crossed, and it was placed into a romantic comedy of sorts. If that interests you, then director Ned Benson’s new film, The Greatest Hits, is for you. Harriet (Lucy Boynton) is approaching the two-year mark of the death of her former boyfriend, Max (David Corenswet), whom she revisits by listening to certain songs that transport her back in time. Her mission to figure out if she can change the past is jeopardized when a surprise collision with David (Justin H. Min) sparks a potential new love interest. The film utilizes this conceit in impactful ways as Harriet and David try to figure out how they fit into each other’s world. Boynton hasn’t been given too many chances to lead a film since her breakout performance in Sing Street. She does not waste the opportunity with this film. Her charm is on full display, and she easily wins over the audience. She is singularly focused now after being utterly destroyed by the loss of Max. Her performance feels genuine and so sincere. One of the biggest challenges with a film like this is establishing the status quo of the world. Benson’s script does a great job of initiating the rules and subsequently adhering to them. The records are sorted by “tested” and “untested,” and we see that she has a lot of earplugs and noise-canceling headphones. We also notice that her car radio is ripped out. It becomes clear after the first time we witness her time travel that she doesn’t know for sure what songs can send her back. Benson plays with a few other ideas in the script centered around this element, making it as intriguing as it is heartfelt. Grief is at the center of the story. It’s an emotion that works quite well with this metaphor. What if you could do something to save the one you loved? Most of the time, we simply wish for the possibility, but Harriet may actually be able to do something about it. She meets David at a grief counseling session, and through their shared grief, something new begins to grow. The possibility of finding happiness after all the pain creates feelings of hope and guilt. It makes what could just be an interesting premise resonate all the more.
Of course, what could be more ripe for this metaphor than music? Songs — and art in general — often send us back to that moment when we had a shared experience with it. A few lines from a song may send you back to that summer BBQ or the awful school dance. Music has the power to transport us back to when we were children or when our heart was split in twain. Benson’s film simply takes this concept most people are intimately familiar with and says, “What if it literally sent your back?” It works wonders for storytelling. The Greatest Hits is full of love and music. Fans of John Carney’s films Once or Sing Street will likely enjoy the sentiment found here. Benson’s only directed a couple of films with a decade between them, but he appears to have something impactful to say about grief. His latest is one to watch. The Greatest Hits will be in theaters on April 5. Rating: 4/5 Review by Daniel Lima It's a rare thing for a modern film set in an urban environment to evoke the gritty, lived-in feel of decades past. This is as much an indication of how the world has changed, with city centers rapidly gentrifying and pricing out working-class residents, as it is a testament to how this brand of filmmaking has gone out of fashion. Asphalt City strikes that note like nails on a chalkboard, abrasive and unpleasant, and impossible to ignore. It is a galvanizing, engrossing work... up to the point that it isn't. Tye Sheridan plays a young EMT in Brooklyn, working the overnight shift as he prepares for a medical school entrance exam. Human misery and pain become his everyday reality, and as he struggles to perform his duties, he finds himself beginning to lose his grip on right and wrong. The film presents a cynical, misanthropic vision of the world, where suffering is a constant, and the momentary reprieves only come from laughing through that suffering. A constant barrage of horrific scenes of domestic abuse, violent confrontations, physical illness, and death make up the majority of the runtime, each as taxing on the audience as it is on Sheridan's increasingly frayed newbie. Nights are filled with the screams of people and sirens, the stench of blood, sweat, and filth, and any effort to make a difference is met with indifference, contempt, and a gnawing sense of futility. This can make for an alienating watch, as the film offers little insight in staring into this abyss beyond merely making clear the depths it can reach. However, The lengths it takes to present this jaundiced worldview are truly impressive. The sound design cultivates a constantly busy and frenetic atmosphere where too much is happening at all times. Beautifully textured, high-contrast cinematography captures the city in all its ignoble glory, painting a portrait of urban life as desperate and harried as anything from the '70s and '80s. The editing reflects Sheridan's mental state, which is tense and always holding the promise of an explosive outburst. Whatever its narrative failings, Asphalt City never fails to be gripping. And it certainly has narrative failings. While the craft does an impressive job of bringing the audience into Sheridan's head, there isn't enough to the character to make his deteriorating sense of self feel particularly tragic. Similarly, while every single performance is incredibly natural and does much to give the film a sense of realism, the characters themselves never go beyond an archetype. This is especially notable for the women; while Mike Tyson gets to be the hard-nosed chief, and Sean Penn gets to play the grizzled veteran, the women are relegated to being defined solely by the men in their lives. Then, of course, is the interesting fact that just about every Black or brown character in the film is portrayed in a thoroughly negative light: violent, verbally abusive, ungrateful, dirty, disheveled, and nasty in every way one could imagine.
It could be argued that this is a consequence of seeing the world from the perspective of a young man who increasingly cannot help but see the world in the worst possible light. Beyond that, it could merely be the result of seeing these people in their worst moments, as they find themselves completely helpless and at the mercy of strangers. Even if this was actually director Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire's perspective, is there something to be said about getting this unadulterated, unsanitized vision of ugliness? Those arguments may hold sway if it were not for the note on which Asphalt City ends. After such an unflinching and uncompromising trek through urban grime, the film ultimately leaves out the possibility of hope, serenity, and change. The manner in which this is done feels disingenuous and artificial, giving everything that came before it a similarly fabricated air that undermines everything it did right. It's hard not to wonder if this ending was mandated in the face of producers nervous about the film's reception. If so, the wrong call was made. It's better to wallow in that muck than pretend it's a swimming pool. Asphalt City arrives in theaters March 29. Rating: 3.5/5 |
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