Greta: Come for Dinner, Stay Forever

Chloë Grace Moretz and Isabelle Huppert in "Greta".

It would be unfair to accuse Greta of jumping the rails, because it’s never on the rails in the first place. Deeply silly and persistently entertaining, this campy thriller would be laughable if it were remotely interested in being taken seriously. Thankfully, the director Neil Jordan, working from a script he wrote with Ray Wright, seems to have recognized the material’s inherent kitsch; he abandons logic and nuance in favor of cheesy suspense. He wants to give you goose bumps, not dig under your skin.

It’s a smart decision, if not as smart as casting Isabelle Huppert in the title role. One of the most intuitive actors in the world, Huppert often flashes a steely sternness, a rigidity that she wields to mask her characters’ inner pain and longing. The logline of Greta—elderly immigrant widow befriends bereaved Manhattan twentysomething—feints at a sober exploration of maternal isolation and compassion, and if you enter the film with no knowledge of its premise, you might expect the title character to be another of Huppert’s keenly intelligent, emotionally fraught women. But while she may be quick-witted and determined, Greta is not especially humane. In fact, she isn’t even human, because she’s actually a vampire. Read More

Velvet Buzzsaw: Killer Painting. What’s It Worth?

Rene Russo and Jake Gyllenhaal in "Velvet Buzzsaw"

The emperor’s clothes get ripped to shreds in Velvet Buzzsaw, an asinine satire of the modern art scene that paints its targets and its characters in crude, bloody strokes. Written and directed by Dan Gilroy (and distributed by Netflix), it imagines a world full of rubes and sharks, a corrupt ecosystem in which artists, dealers, and critics conspire and compete in their feverish efforts to defraud you, the guileless consumer. It’s a tale of sickly glamour; most of the people we meet in this ugly little movie are extremely wealthy, though their morals are as bankrupt as Gilroy’s themes.

As a satire, Velvet Buzzsaw is profoundly idiotic, but as a halfway-intentional comedy, it is not without its diversions. Chief among those is Jake Gyllenhaal, who in Gilroy’s Nightcrawler delivered the performance of his career as a gaunt, wild-eyed videographer who crept from TV newsrooms into your nightmares. His work here is less unsettling but no less entertaining, full of rococo flourishes that underline his zany commitment. His mania holds your attention even as the film around him burns to the ground. Read More

Oscars 2018: The Academy Goes with Green Book, and the World Sees Red

Mahershala Ali and Viggo Mortensen in "Green Book"

I don’t hate Green Book.

I want to lead with that, because over the next few days, weeks, and maybe decades, you’re going to be hearing a lot about how bad Green Book is, and how the members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences made a dreadful error when they awarded it the Oscar for Best Picture. I’m by no means a fan of the film, but I also don’t think that it’s completely irredeemable. (When I ranked every movie that I watched in 2018, it came in at #113 out of 135, but you could bump it as high as #70 and I wouldn’t put up a huge fight.) It’s very well-acted, it’s paced appropriately, its production values are impressive, and—if you can set aside its regressive politics and simplistic themes—it’s largely enjoyable. I’ve seen worse.

But “I’ve seen worse” is not exactly the type of ringing endorsement that should greet the Best Picture winner at the Oscars. And Green Book, as superficially pleasing as it can be, is not a very good movie. (Regrettably, I never formally reviewed it, though I did register my thoughts on Twitter.) Its screenplay is clunky and predictable, while its message—essentially a childish plea of “Can’t we all just get along?”—is hopelessly crude. Instead of grappling with the complexity and causticity of American race relations, it peddles a fairy tale of white decency and mutual growth. It is sappy, trite, and self-congratulatory. It does not resemble anything close to the best movie of the year. Read More

Oscars 2018: Prediction Roundup

Michael B. Jordan in "Black Panther"

We’ve spent the past six posts analyzing the 21 feature awards to be handed out at this year’s Oscars. Now, in a selfless exercise of service journalism, this post synthesizes all of our predictions and preferences in one handy, annotated location. (Sorry, I ignore the shorts.)


Best Actor
Will win: Rami Malek—Bohemian Rhapsody (confidence: 4/5)
Should win: Viggo Mortensen—Green Book
Worst omission: Jonathan Pryce—The Wife

Best Actress
Will win: Glenn Close—The Wife (confidence: 3/5)
Should win: Olivia Colman—The Favourite
Worst omission: Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie—Leave No Trace Read More

Oscars 2018: Best Picture and Best Director

A scene from Alfonso Cuarón's "Roma".

And here we are. Having previously analyzed the other 19 feature categories at this year’s Oscars, we’ve finally arrived at the big guns. For our prior posts, check out the following links:

The lead actors
The supporting actors
The screenplays
The big techies
The odds and ends


BEST DIRECTOR

NOMINEES
Alfonso Cuarón—Roma
Yorgos Lanthimos—The Favourite
Spike Lee—BlacKkKlansman
Adam McKay—Vice
Pawel Pawlikowski—Cold War

WILL WIN
Cuarón. There’s a swelling narrative suggesting that Lee will finally avenge his 29-year-old loss to Driving Miss Daisy by defeating the director of Driving Miss Daisy: Bizarro Edition, aka Green Book. But given that Green Book’s director isn’t even nominated here, that theory doesn’t exactly make a ton of sense. Besides, while Driving Miss Daisy did win Best Picture, Lee didn’t really lose the Best Director race to it in 1989, as neither he nor Bruce Beresford was even nominated (Oliver Stone won for Born on the Fourth of July). So, yeah, that narrative is dumb. Besides, Cuarón won at the guild, and Roma is a technical marvel, so there’s no reason to bet against him here. Read More