Stowaway: Unauthorized Admission to Mars

Anna Kendrick in Stowaway

The minimalist space movie seems like a contradiction, but it’s actually an elegant solution to a familiar problem. The cosmos is so incomprehensibly vast, it’s impossible for cinema to convey its full breadth on screen; that’s doubly true for films released by Netflix, where said screen is attached to a television rather than a multiplex auditorium. And so Stowaway, the streaming giant’s new sci-fi feature, conceives of interstellar travel not as the launching pad for an epic adventure, but as the vehicle for a taut and constrained thriller. It’s a horror movie without a boogeyman; the inky enormity of outer space is plenty scary enough.

This particular vintage of stargazing picture has experienced a relative boom of late; recent examples include Geore Clooney’s The Midnight Sky, Claire Denis’ High Life, and Morten Tyldum’s unduly maligned Passengers. In terms of scale, Stowaway is smaller than all of those; it only features four characters, and its unnamed vessel is unremarkable, except maybe for being so cramped (the better to underline the setting’s claustrophobia). And while its final act includes its share of perilous derring-do in zero gravity, its main preoccupations are moral and philosophical rather than dynamic or kinetic. Read More

Is Promising Young Woman’s Ending a Vindication, or a Betrayal?

Carey Mulligan in Promising Young Woman

Endings are overrated. Or at least, the importance we attach to them tends to outstrip their actual significance. Quantitatively speaking, the typical ending constitutes less than 10% of a film’s runtime, so it seems peculiar that we factor their quality so heavily into our overall appreciation of a movie. At the same time, endings matter, if only as a simple matter of recency bias; it makes sense that our brains prioritize the last few scenes that we just watched as we leave the theater (or, sigh, exit the streaming service). That’s why a lousy ending can tarnish an otherwise enjoyable picture; by way of example, Danny Boyle’s mostly terrific Sunshine could have been a modern classic if it hadn’t so badly flubbed its finale. (The converse scenario, where a forgettable film is redeemed by a strong finish, is far more rare, though I’d submit for consideration Avengers: Infinity War.)

Promising Young Woman, which was just nominated for five Oscars, features an ending that is undeniably memorable—unusually so, given that it doesn’t rely on a big reveal à la The Sixth Sense or Planet of the Apes. I still don’t know whether its culmination is spectacular or terrible; what I do know is that it doesn’t change my opinion of the movie as a whole, which is largely fantastic. A modern jolt to the classic rape-revenge genre, Emerald Fennell’s debut feature is an exhilarating cocktail that blends provocative messaging with slow-building suspense and sure-handed craft. It’s a statement picture, both in that it has something to say and in that it announces the arrival of Fennell—heretofore best known as playing Camilla Parker Bowles on The Crown—as a hugely talented filmmaker. She could have wrapped up Promising Young Woman with aliens suddenly enacting a (ninth) plan from outer space, and the movie would remain a major achievement. Read More

I Care a Lot: Lies of the Guardians

Rosamund Pike in I Care a Lot

Even before you see her blond bob, you know instantly that Rosamund Pike’s newest star vehicle will find her working in the same vein of coolly ruthless savagery that she mined so brilliantly in Gone Girl. That much is clear from her opening voiceover, which finds the crisply talented actor once again ditching her British lilt for a capable American accent, and which concludes with her declaring, “I am a fucking lioness.” It’s an accurate if unnecessary introduction; one glare from her cold-blue eyes or one puff from her vape pen, and it’s plain that Pike’s Marla Grayson is a lethal predator. She plays for keeps, even when the game is other people’s lives.

This description might sounds like the template for a dark and provocative study of sociopathy, but I Care a Lot isn’t especially interested in digging into the pathologies of its protagonist. It isn’t interested in much of anything, really, beyond treating viewers to a rollicking good time with bad people. And this, it mostly does. Written and directed with slick snap by J. Blakeson, it coasts amiably on the gifts of its cast and the jolts of its pulp, untroubled by its own vacuity. Small wonder Marla is its hero. Read More

New Streamers: Judas and the Black Messiah, Saint Maud, and The Little Things

Jared Leto in The Little Things; Morfydd Clark in Saint Maud; Daniel Kaluuya in Judas and the Black Messiah

Ordinarily, early February is a cinematic dumping ground. But among the million other things that the COVID-19 pandemic affected, it caused the Oscars to expand their eligibility window by two months, meaning that some high-profile titles just landed on your favorite streaming services. Let’s take a quick run through this past weekend’s newest releases.

Judas and the Black Messiah (HBO Max). The second feature from Shaka King, Judas and the Black Messiah is a contemporary political text that’s also a classical spy thriller. It tells the story of Bill O’Neal (a very fine Lakeith Stanfield), the small-time car thief who became a big-league FBI informant in the late ’60s and infiltrated the Chicago chapter of the Black Panthers, led by Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya). It isn’t subtle about its allegiance; you don’t need a degree in Christian theology to discern which character corresponds to which half of the title. Read More

Streaming Roundup: Hillbilly Elegy, Happiest Season, Run

Sarah Paulson in "Run"; Kristen Stewart in "Happiest Season"; Amy Adams in "Hillbilly Elegy"

To paraphrase a seven-time Oscar nominee: There are bad terminators—like, say, the COVID-19 pandemic—and there are good terminators—like the streaming services that keep pumping out new movies. Let’s focus on the good, shall we? Here’s a quick look at three recent releases:

Hillbilly Elegy (Netflix). Early in Hillbilly Elegy, Ron Howard’s diverting and facile adaptation of J.D. Vance’s memoir, a promising student at Yale Law attends a soirée, hoping to impress firm recruiters. He’s a smart and sympathetic kid, but he’s quickly overwhelmed by the trappings of luxury—calling his girlfriend in a panic, he asks, “Why are there so many fucking forks?”—and his charm offensive stalls. Then someone refers to West Virginians as rednecks, he bristles in response, and suddenly an evening of schmoozing has disintegrated into a sullen and awkward standoff between rich and poor. Read More