SICK OF MYSELF - London Film Festival 2022

Plunged into an existential dilemma after she witnesses a woman mauled by a dog outside the cafe where she works, Signe (Thorp) finds herself indulging in the attention she suddenly receives from her friends, making sure she's okay after such a traumatic experience. But when the spotlight shifts to her artist boyfriend Thomas (Eirik Sæther) - a kleptomaniac whose work consists of furniture stolen from public buildings - Signe finds a way to regain the sympathy of her friends by buying a supply of dangerous pills on the black market that count ghastly skin growths among their side effects. Arriving hot on the heels of The Worst Person in the World and last year's Ninjababy (which also starred Kristine Kujath Thorp), Sick of Myself is the latest example of Norwegian cinema's exploration of narcissism.

Once Signe ingests the dangerous pills - increasing the dose when it doesn't have the immediately gratifying effect she desires - and finds herself hospitalised, the film's darkly comic tone goes into overdrive, with Signe, bandaged head to toe, in orgasmic pleasure at the thought of queues lining up at her funeral to mourn her. A symptom of her narcissism, she has flights of fancy - some comedic, some horrific - that either way see the focus put on her and taken away from her equally self-indulgent boyfriend, just as his career as an artist/provocateur is on the rise. It's when the bandages come off that Signe's plan really comes together. Lying about the pills and claiming her appearance is the result of an undiagnosable illness, the patterns the lesions form on her face are oddly beautiful, turning her into something of an unconventional beauty icon, with photo shoots and modelling contracts on the horizon. Everything Signe could have wished for, but not without consequences.

Written and directed by Kristoffer Borgli, Sick of Myself is an entertainingly cynical comedy that dissects the idea of celebrity and performative sympathy in the modern social media age. Is Signe a bad person for wanting to indulge in her fifteen minutes of fame, and exploit the attention she's given due to her physical appearance? In short, yes. But, Sick of Myself goes some way to show she's not the only one, with the industry behind this exploitation using her "unconventional" look to sell a fashion line also coming under fire. It's bitingly funny, equally cruel, pushing us as an audience to ask if Signe is someone who should be sympathised with or laughed at for the lengths she feels she has to go to to be relevant. As a pretty young blonde woman, superficially she could have it all and has traditional society on her side. Her only failing is her personality - flaws, warts and all. But she can't bear to be average and is prepared to sacrifice her health to give her an edge.

As the shallow Signe, Kristine Kujath Thorp's performance is strong enough to let the audience switch between empathy and disgust as the inevitable monkey's paw aspects of the plot kicks in. Also great in 2021's Ninjababy as a reluctantly pregnant young woman (if you haven't seen that film, you'll want to after seeing her performance here), Thorp is an absolute star on the rise. Stomach churning make up effects or not, you can't take your eyes off her for a second.

After The Worst Person in the World and Ninjababy looked at modern women's relationships to love, men, and having children, Sick of Myself is a refreshingly acerbic against their more sombre tones, but is equally successful at probing these topics on a more fantastical stage than its Norwegian cinema counterparts. At once a critique of the fashion & beauty industry and celebrity status hunters, and a nauseating real world body horror, Sick of Myself is the most grotesque black comedy since Death Becomes Her, delivering a timely warning to the influencer generation of the perils of grasping for fame.

Verdict

4/5

Sick of Myself was part of this year's London Film Festival. It will be released in the UK early next year.

LINOLEUM - London Film Festival 2022

When Cameron, the host of a TV science show and wannabe astronaut meets his more successful doppelgänger, he's sent into an existential crisis that will affect his whole family. With his career and personal life in a mess, his only response is to build a rocket of his own and fulfilling his dream of journeying into space. A suburban sci-fi fantasy, Colin West's Linoleum was part of the cult strand at this year's London Film Festival.

Comedian and actor Jim Gaffigan stars as Cameron, the host of Above and Beyond, a Bill Nye the Science Guy-style local TV show that asks questions about the universe, relegated to a late night slot where none of his core audience can see it. His wife Erin (Rhea Seahorn) is unhappy in the marriage and wants a divorce, his teenage daughter (Katelyn Nacon) barely talks to him, and worst of all, a car has seemingly fallen from the sky carrying Cameron's more debonair, successful, astronaut lookalike. All of this serves to send him into an existential crisis that he might not recover from.

It's not unheard of that twisty-turny, timey-wimey sci-fi films end up sharing basic story elements. The biggest problem that Linoleum has is that, despite its attempts to offer something new, it all feels familiar. Sometimes uncomfortably so. The suburban dad mid-life crisis has been seen in everything from Kevin Spacey in American Beauty to Chevy Chase as Clark Griswold in the Vacation films, grimacing through the pain in order to maintain the air of normality in their life. That's forgivable to a point. What is less easy to forgive and, frankly, impossible to ignore is Linoleum's biggest problem... the Donnie Darko problem.

Wilfully poaching characters, story beats and entire scenes from Richard Kelly's 2001sci-fi classic, one of Linoleum's early scenes sees Darko's slo-mo arrival at school sequence (indelibly set to Tears for Fears' Head Over Heels) cloned almost shot for shot, with askew camera angles and staccato frame speeds. The film also features a Grandma Death-esque figure, mysteriously standing off in the distance observing the main characters without any real interaction. On the more egregiously blatant side of thievery (we're way beyond homage here), the main characters even have an unidentifiable jet engine land on their house. It's unthinkable that writer/director Colin West thought the comparisons could exist without comment.

The saving grace of this Darko mirroring is The Walking Dead's Katelyn Nacon as Gaffigan's daughter Nora, who takes on a sort of gender-swapped Donnie role, crossed with his girlfriend Gretchen. With respect to Gaffigan who gives his dual roles his all, Nacon is absolutely the shining star of this often baffling film, providing a confident, charming, yet still weird character who's easy to root for as she builds an unconventional relationship with new neighbour boy and son of Cameron's rival, Marc (Gabriel Rush). In what could have easily been a stock Manic Pixie character, she gives the film real heart in among the doppelgänger/time paradox shenanigans.

With a concept stretched to its absolute limit (it's no surprise to learn West expanded this from an earlier short film), despite first appearances as a semi-generic sci-fi brain muddler with obvious filmic influences, come the finale and a big reveal, Linoleum manages to impressively knit itself together to deliver something truly surprising and actually moving. It's just a shame that for the bulk of the film, Linoleum feels disappointingly derivative, like West fell asleep in front of an old cathode ray TV showing Donnie Darko, American Beauty and Bill Nye, and this is the script they wrote when they woke up.

Verdict

2.5/5

Linoleum was part of this year's London Film Festival. It does not currently have a UK release date.

AFTERSUN - London Film Festival 2022

Starring Paul Mescal and newcomer Frankie Corio as a father and daughter on holiday in Turkey, Aftersun is director Charlotte Wells's nostalgic ode to the special bond that exists between parent and child, and how memories of our past stay with us. Taking place sometime in the late '90s (the soundtrack - Bran Van 3000's Drinking in L.A., Los Del Rio's Macarena - and fashions quickly establishing that to anyone who remembers the era) over the course of a summer holiday at a resort in Turkey, Aftersun arrives at this year's LFF with huge festival hype after its debut at Cannes earlier this year.

Unlike his Normal People co-star Daisy Edgar-Jones who was quickly snapped up to star in everything from cannibal comedy horror Fresh to winsome literary adaptation Where the Crawdads Sing, aside from his appearance in the ensemble of last year's The Lost Daughter audiences have so far been kept waiting for the big screen bow of Mescal. Here, as 30 year old Calum, young father to 11 year old girl Sophie, he takes on a similarly brooding, almost tragically emotionally distant character. There's clearly some shared DNA between this and Connell in Normal People, but as much as that role showed us how nuanced and capable he was as a performer, Aftersun expands on that further, making Calum one of the most relatable and troubled father figures in recent memory.

The strength of the film undoubtedly lies in the bond between Calum and Sophie, so close in age that they're mistaken for sister and older brother by other holidaymakers. Amicably separated from Sophie's mother who has moved on to have a family with someone else, this holiday is Calum's opportunity to spend quality time with his daughter over the summer break before she returns to the normality of her life in Scotland, as well as find the serenity he desperately needs in his life. Despite the pent up issues he struggles to hide - presented through undisclosed injuries and disappearances that he can't explain to his daughter - Calum is immensely proud to have Sophie and wants to steer her in the right way in life, having honest discussions with her about drugs and the experiences she may have ahead of her as she grows up, but also giving plenty of room for her to be a kid (playing with the older teens, having a holiday romance with a boy from the arcades - solely based around their shared appreciation for a motorbike racing game), alongside the bonding sightseeing experiences they have together. Even then, when departing a tour bus, rather than following the crowd of tourists they break away from the pack for a momentary dance/tai chi break to cleanse their minds.

But it's with Sophie, the central character of the film played by Frankie Corio, that the film shows its true heart. With flashes of a modern day Sophie (the film is framed by the replaying of an old camcorded holiday video) suggesting how the memories of this formative experience has shaped her life, the younger iteration is a delight to be around. Curious and confident, she's full of childlike wonder at the world ahead of her, glimpsed through the lives of the teens at the resort and the father she adores. She's grown-up in the way 11 year old girls are in comparison to boys, but not opposed to doing kid stuff like getting a braid in her hair (a holiday institution, of course) or performing karaoke in front of the rest of the resort. Corio is excellent as the charming, adorably precocious Sophie, watching and reaching out to her father as the age difference between them seems to shrink as the story progresses and she understands more about life. And Mescal emerges as one of the most exciting actors of his generation, using his now trademark restraint to speak volumes.

Filled with so many flashes of sun-drenched joy and bittersweet moments, anchored by a beautifully melodic score from cellist/composer Oliver Coates, this is a fantastic debut for writer/director Charlotte Wells, that clearly draws from her own memories of the era. Aftersun is a deeply moving experience that will have you nostalgic for an easier, simpler time, asking you to pause and think back on your own experiences and how they've shaped your life.

This is something special.

Verdict

5/5

Aftersun was part of this year's London Film Festival. It will be released in cinemas by Mubi on November 18th.

MASS - London Film Festival 2021

After a school shooting, the parents of one of the victims and those of the student who killed him meet to try and make sense of the tragedy.

One table, four chairs, four grieving parents and an insurmountable weight of trauma to reckon with - the premise and presentation of Mass is simple enough, but this new drama from writer/director Fran Kranz makes the most of its talented cast to tackle a cavalcade of issues America is currently dealing with, but without offering any easy answers. On opposite sides of the table are Jay and Gail (Jason Isaacs and Martha Plimpton), mourning the loss of their child at the hands of a school shooter; and Richard and Linda (Reed Birney and Ann Dowd), the parents of the shooter. From the moment the four main characters enter the same room, Mass offers a complex array of emotional beats, both individually and by each pairing. Forced to reckon with their parenting choices and what they missed in their son's behaviour prior to the tragedy, Richard and Linda have to fend off accusations of negligent parenting whilst also hoping to use the meeting to find some way to move forward with their own lives.

The cast are all on superb form, with a reliably understated performance by Ann Dowd, in particular. What's most apparent though is that we've been starved of the talents of Martha Plimpton for too long. It's no criticism that she's spent the last two decades mostly working on television, particularly in the era of peak TV, but her roles have skewed towards comedy and procedurals, robbing us of the dramatic clout she offers here. Likewise, Reed Birney and Jason Isaacs as two very different father figures deliver fine performances, but the real gold is in the conflicting and often accusatory dichotomy between the two mothers. Plimpton's Gail states "Why do I want to know about your son? Because he killed mine", met with equally heartbreaking contrast by Dowd's Linda, "The world mourned ten. We mourned eleven".

With its chamber piece set-up (the action is mostly confined to their meeting room in the back of an Episcopalian church), Mass is unavoidably stagey, with four characters delivering monologues with occasional bursts of cross-table back and forth, to the point that it's surprising to learn this isn't based on stage work, but is instead an original script from Kranz. The stage-like tendencies are not a distraction per se, and the stripped back focus on the script and the performances even add weight to the subject matter.

Kranz - best known as an actor for his appearances in a number of Joss Whedon productions, most notably as slacker turned hero Marty in Drew Goddard's Cabin in the Woods - makes his directorial debut here, based on his own script, and it's a fantastic debut. Avoiding cliché and with vital commentary on the "thoughts and prayers" culture that has pervaded American culture in the wake of any tragedy, the film tackles gun control, the influence of violent video games, mental health and parental culpability, without portioning blame solely at anyone's feet. It's also capably directed without being showy, the camera only making slow, deliberate tracking moves around the table as the conversation flows back and forth.

A delicately handled, thought-provoking drama, full of remorse and regret, Mass makes a powerful statement on many core societal issues without relying on bombast. Kranz's smart script is expertly utilised by its talented cast to deliver a heartbreakingly vital drama for modern America.

Verdict

4/5

Mass screened as part of the 2021 London Film Festival. More information about the festival can be found here.

CANNON ARM AND THE ARCADE QUEST - London Film Festival 2021

One of the highlights among the documentaries at this year's London Film Festival was Mads Hedegaard's joyful Cannon Arm and the Arcade Quest, fresh from its debut at CPH:DOX and Hot Docs. Following in the footsteps of the almighty retro arcade doc King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, Cannon Arm and the Arcade Quest charts another plucky contender hoping to make gaming history by playing his favourite arcade game for 100 hours straight.

The gamer is question is the brilliantly named Kim "Kanonarm" Köbke - a nickname he's had since he first starting playing games in Danish diners in the 1980s - a mulleted Danish grandfather who loves listening to Iron Maiden and playing the classic arcade game Gyruss surrounded by his friends at Copenhagen's Bip Bip Bar. Already the holder of the impressive record of playing Gyruss (an outer space set shooter that sees you manouvre a space craft around the screen as you blast away patterns of stars) for 49 hours on one coin, his aim is to beat that record in honour of Thomas, a friend of the Bip Bip Bar who they lost to suicide.

The record attempt is not without its health risks, and although Kim is in decent shape for a man his age, people have died attempting similar endurance records, so his team of supporters have tailored a complicated score tracking system to make sure the game - much like the famed Donkey Kong kill screen - doesn't crap out on him and bring his record attempt to an abrupt halt. Starting off with 5 lives, the problem is he can technically accrue around 250 extra before the game errors, so he must keep track of how many he wins so he doesn't hit the top limit, but also, building up those extra lives so he can grab some much needed sleep for ten minutes or so is a crucial part of the plan. With his team monitoring the ever changing cache of lives, all Kim has to concentrate on is his scoring, keeping his eyes open, and hastily run to the garden whenever he needs to take a leak.

The comparisons to Seth Gordon's King of Kong are unavoidable, with its use of flash graphics and retro 8-bit sounds a major part of the fabric of both films, but director Mads Hedegaard doesn't shy away from acknowledging the existence of the former, even going as far as featuring a couple of the big names from that film and the world of arcade gaming. Both Walter Day from official video game scorekeepers Twin Galaxies, and the self-proclaimed "greatest arcade machine player" Billy Mitchell (who talks to Kim and his friends via telephone ahead of their record attempt, and before a cheating scandal sees him fall from grace in the eyes of his fans) appear briefly. But prior viewing of King of Kong isn't necessary to enjoy Cannon Arm and the Arcade Quest's own underdog story, with Hedegaard going some way to show why the quiet, unassuming Kim is such an unlikely but perfect subject for a documentary, and how his mind works when he's playing the game. If you do know your arcade gamers, needless to say that Kim is definitely more of a Steve Wiebe than a Billy Mitchell, and gains more of our support for it. As for Kim's team, they're a similarly unique group of gamers, more vocal and outgoing than Kim, doubling up as experts in the fields of music theory, physics and poetry in their every day lives.

The documentary spends its first hour detailing the prep and training needed for Kim's big record attempt, before switching into its final act as Kim settles down in front of the Gyruss machine and gives us the kind of one man against the odds battle not seen since the finale of Rocky. It could be easy to dismiss the film and his record attempt as frivolous or unimportant, but as we hear the game play on and Kim's accumulation of lives fall away as he attempts to rest his brain for a few precious minutes, it's one of the tensest moments in cinema I can recall. Without spoiling the outcome of his record attempt, what I will say is that if you've ever had your own life-engulfing obsession that seems completely alien to most people, you'll find so much to relate to in Kim and his friends. Touching on mental health and finding the support you need from your friends, ultimately all these guys want is for their efforts to have a lasting impact in the world they call their own.

A gloriously fun journey into this outsider lifestyle anchored by a loveable group of misfits you can't help but root for, Cannon Arm and The Arcade Quest is undoubtedly the best snapshot of this subculture since King of Kong and a truly captivating underdog story. A strong recommend.

Verdict

4/5

BOILING POINT - London Film Festival 2021

As a head chef having the worst dinner service of his career, Stephen Graham stars in Philip Barantini's one shot wonder, Boiling Point.

Set over the course (or is that three courses?) of one disastrous dinner service and filmed in one, continuous unbroken take, Philip Barantini's tense thriller - expanded from his short film that also starred Graham as head chef Andy - is a masterclass in stacking problems on the shoulders of its main character and then waiting for him to buckle. As Andy's problems go from bad to worse, with family issues giving way to a bad EHO visit and then him finding out that celebrity chef and former mentor Alistair Skye (a delightfully weaselly Jason Flemyng) will be dining that night, it's like watching a pile of plates getting progressively higher, knowing that when it comes down it's going to be with an almighty crash.

The camera glides around the kitchen and between the tables in the restaurant, eavesdropping on the kitchen and front of house teams, quickly laying bare all the micro-aggressions and rivalries that exist between them - and that's before we get to the rude, demanding customers whose snobberies and prejudices are presented as an amuse-bouche for the waiting staff to enjoy with a smile, waiting to see what demands they'll serve as a main course. Barantini's script (co-written with James Cummings) contains so many delicious morsels of nightmare fuel that anyone who's ever worked with serving the general public will find all too familiar - even when it reaches its dramatic extremes. It's absolutely recognisable that a customer will be passive aggressively racist to a member of staff, and when they send their food back to the kitchen for the member of staff to be told by the kitchen that it's their fault; or for the front of house staff to promise more (in this case, a group of influencers who want to order steak and chips that aren't on the menu) than the kitchen is able to deliver. It's in these wince-inducing moments that the film is at its heart-pounding best.

It's near impossible to take your eyes of Stephen Graham as he gets increasingly worn down, but all the main cast (Ray Panthaki, Jason Flemyng, Hannah Walters, and especially Vinette Robinson as sous chef Carly) give fantastic performances in a film that packs an almost unbearable amount of tension into its 92 minutes runtime. Even when there's brief interludes that focus on the side characters (presumably to allow the main cast to take deep breaths before diving back into the story), we're never far from the chaos and heat of the kitchen.

Filmed at Jones & Sons, a real restaurant in Dalston, it's an impressive technical achievement that steers clear of the flashier camera work of other one shot films (Gasper Noe's Irreversible and Climax, for example) to deliver something more raw, frenzied and real world. And even if it's pretty clear early on where some of the plot threads are headed, that only adds to the feeling of impending doom. Like working a shift from hell where you hit the ground running and don't stop for two hours, knowing that you have no choice but to soldier on regardless, Boiling Point is tense, dramatic and all too relatable.

Verdict

4/5

DEERSKIN review

Starring Oscar winner Jean Dujardin and Portrait of a Lady On Fire's Adele Haenel, Quentin Dupieux's latest film sees middle-aged man in a crisis Georges (Dujardin) slowly become obsessed with his new Deerskin jacket, posing as a filmmaker in a small town and turning to crime in order to complete his new look.

Dupieux - also known as Mr Oizo to fans of 90s Levi's ads - returns to behind the camera with this pairing with The Artist's Jean Dujardin to tell the story of a man who, following his separation from his wife, becomes obsessed with his new Deerskin jacket. While staying in a small French village Georges, posing as a filmmaker, meets Denise (Haenel), a bartender and aspiring film editor who sees Georges as her ticket out of there. Unaware of Georges's precarious mental state, together they collaborate on his "avant garde" video diary as he forces strangers to give up their outerwear, with the aim that his jacket will be the only one left in existence, turning to murder to make sure the job is done.

Dujardin is fantastic as the pompous, preening Georges, forever enthusiastic about adding gloves, a hat, or another deerskin piece to his outfit and looking ever more laughable along the way. The jacket, even with all its tassels intact (a very important measure in fashion) is a horrible looking garment, but Georges's cocksure belief that he's standing out from the crowd as a new fashion icon is never undersold by Dujardin, delivering a great comic performance that's tapping into the rich vein of ridiculousness that exists in the easily mockable fashion for men of a certain age. Admittedly, dressing head to toe in deerskin isn't a fashion choice you often see, but is it really so different to mid-life crisis leather pants or wearing a James May-esque bold print shirt?

There was perhaps an expectation that Dujardin would make a leap to Hollywood films after his, some would say, surprising Best Actor Oscar win for The Artist, but as fans of his work in the OSS 117 series will attest, he's completely at home and in his element here in this smaller, bizarre film that plays up to his charming doofus-like strengths. Dujardin plays Georges with an un-earned confidence in himself, portraying such a clueless, self-important lunatic who's convinced everyone around him is jealous of his cutting edge fashion, or as Georges would put it, his "killer style". Fans of Dupieux's previous work, in particular his sentient killer tyre film Rubber, will know what sort of humour to expect from him. This is a dark, often ghoulish comedy that revels in its unpredictability and shock value, generating lots of laughs from the sheer boldness of its character choices. As Georges falls deeper and deeper under the spell of the jacket which may slowly be exerting some sort of psychic power over him (it may all be a figment of his imagination), the film delights in delivering the horror beneath, as Georges efficiently (and hilariously) crafts a disturbingly effective murder weapon out of a ceiling fan.

There's a lot in Dupieux's work that goes far beyond the surface thrills, and Deerskin is no different. Not only is the dynamic between Dujardin's deluded killer and the much younger Denise (the always excellent Haenel) mocking that stereotype of a man who has hit a certain age and then found himself a younger woman, the choice of Dupieux to have Georges wait outside a cinema to kill off its patrons as they leave is a comic assault on his audience. If you think you're going to be safe and free from his pervasive ideas when you leave the cinema, think again. A delightful new addition to the "killer clothing" sub-genre, Deerskin is In Fabric for men in the throes of a mid-life crisis. Less off the rack as it is off the wall, it's an absolute gem of a film.

Verdict
4/5

NEW ORDER/NUEVO ORDEN - London Film Festival 2020

On the day of Marian's high society wedding, local dignitaries and politicians arrive at her parents house for the ceremony, despite the civil unrest and rioting that is happening on the neighbouring streets. Further complicating things, the registrar is running late and an ex-employee, Rolando, has arrived pleading with the family for money to fund the urgent surgery his wife needs. As Marian tries to get some cash together to help him, the violence in the streets threatens to penetrate the comfortable surroundings the assembled guests are in.

New Order begins with a brief montage... a threat of what's to come... showing violence, degradation, and the sight of a naked, blood soaked Marian (Naian Gonzalez Nervind) for us to interpret as we please. It then takes us back to the morning of Marian's wedding, where wealthy, important people arrive for her wedding at the grand, high walled house of her parents, each offering a financial gift to start off married life comfortably. So far, so Parasite. What follows flips the entire structure and driving narrative of the film on its head, instead demanding its audience take part in a disturbing, hard to stomach depiction of a world on fire, figuratively and literally.

Without wanting to spoil how much a rug pull the film employs at its halfway point, I'll just say that the scenes that take place in the ten minutes after the inciting incident are some of the most violent and graphic I've seen committed to film, and even after the pace of the film and the action slows down, New Order gleefully shocks you with more disgusting acts of violence. The social and political commentary subtext is clear, and the punishments delivered will be all too familiar to some regions of the world, and all too close to becoming a reality to others. However, I find that the filmmakers have taken a misstep along the way, as although I cannot fault the performances of the core cast, nor the impact it has had, New Order is a film I find difficult to recommend.

The world we live in is increasingly on a knife edge, and although I am sure that the aim of director Michel Franco is to show that we live in a fragile society, and all people are fallible and capable of the worst things imaginable when pushed, he needed to take a stronger standpoint against the fascists to offer any sort of entertainment value, instead offering no discernible delineation between privilege, greed, and full-on nazism. This is extreme cinema that wants you to question what form of dehumanising violence is more stomach churning than the other, asking you to account for your own complicity when you change the channel if footage of war torn countries appears on the nightly news.

A powerful, troubling indictment of society's worst impulses it may be, but the despicable lack of regard for human life means New Order will stay with you like a stain on your memory. An incredibly difficult watch that you won't want to repeat again.

Verdict

2/5

ROSE: A LOVE STORY - London Film Festival 2020

Living a secluded life out in the woods with his wife Rose (Sophie Rundle), the isolated world Sam (writer Matt Stokoe) has created is put into jeopardy when his delivery of fuel fails to arrive on schedule. Forced to head into town to confront the people who've taken his money and not supplied the goods, the stability of their lives is tested and the reason for their seclusion may be revealed. Sam is prepared to protect Rose at all costs, but is he protecting her from the outside world, or is it the opposite?

A low budget British indie with no notable stars, I went into Rose: A Love Story pretty cold, knowing only that there was some festival buzz around it, and it's turned out to be one of my favourites of this year's LFF. A curious mix of survival horror and sweet romance, it's a film that keeps its mysteries close to its chest, laying down plenty of intriguing ideas, visual clues (leeches in masonry jars) and genre motifs in its first half, before the introduction of a new character upends Sam and Rose's world and we start to see the harsh reality behind their choice to shut themselves off from everyone else.

The opening scenes, where Sam goes to confront the young man who's stolen from him, ratchet up the tension that's already at a respectable height after the dark woodlands setting has been established. Dangerously low on fuel to power their generator, Rose, working away on her typewriter, is plunged into a darkness that she seems welcome in, her adverse reaction to the sight of a small cut already showing us signs that she's no normal shut-in. When Sam returns to their home in the woods he's clearly scared of what he might be facing, but with a lockable safe room within their house, he has planned for all eventualities to make sure Rose is protected. Well, almost all. The second half of the film switches the set-up drastically, as the quiet, unsteady balance of their marital bliss is upset by the arrival of Olive Grey's Amber, caught in one of Sam's rabbit traps and in urgent need of medical attention. Reluctantly allowed into the home by Sam, he must weigh up if helping Amber is worth the risk to Rose's safety.

Rose: A Love Story succeeds in establishing the convincing coupling of Sam and Rose, in no small part due to the natural chemistry between Stokoe and Rundle that comes from their real life relationship. Both on board as producers and with a script by Stokoe, this is clearly a passion project of theirs, brought to life brilliantly by first time feature director Jennifer Sheridan. Having mostly worked in short films and TV as an editor, director and writer, this is an impressively assured debut by Sheridan, presenting an ominous mood that suggests the horror genre may be something she should explore again in the future. Likewise Stokoe, who's crafted a gruff, brooding calling card for himself as a writer and actor that will certainly serve him well.

Making the most of of its remote, snowy surroundings (the snow apparently not by choice, but just the result of unexpected weather at the time of shooting), Rose: A Love Story taps into a feeling of isolation and fear of the outside world that feels all too relevant right now. And although the restricted focus of the film might leave some hoping for a grander finale than it's able to offer, there's plenty of simple, effective scares to enjoy in the preceding 90 minutes to make this a stand out offering for recent British horror filmmaking.

Verdict

4/5

STRAY - London Film Festival 2020

Switching gears to be a virtual festival, with screenings taking place at home on the BFI Player and some select films also receiving screenings at venues up and down the country, the BFI London Film Festival 2020 is now underway. One of the first films I was able to catch at the festival was Elizabeth Lo's documentary Stray, following the life of Zeytin, a stray dog living on the streets of Istanbul. With a camera always close by, Zeytin shows us a typical day in her life, weaving in between traffic on busy roads, drinking from fountains and crossing paths with other dog friends and adversaries along the way. Her closest allies are a group of teenage Syrian refugees who live on the streets and in derelict buildings, sharing a lot of similar problems and treated the same way by the authorities. The film doesn't present this as a heavy handed allegory, but the subtext is plain to see. When the stray dog population grew out of hand, the Turkish government enacted a controversial plan to cull most of the dogs, leading to protests that saw them change the country's law, making it illegal to "euthanise or hold captive any stray dog". This has lead to an uneasy truce that sees the dogs roam the streets as they please, almost as if it is their city and they are the ones allowing the human population to be there.

The concept of Stray is a simple but powerful one, telling a larger story via Zeytin's life. This could have quite easily been a documentary charting the refugee crisis and focussing on the homeless children that occupy the streets, but the choice to home in on a stray dog, and Zeytin in particular, has provided a richer world to explore and capture on film. There are other dogs in the story, namely her best friend Nazar and a Kartal, a puppy who has caught the eye of the teenagers; but for the most part the camera is never more than a few feet away from Zeytin, often racing to keep up with her lawless antics. The closest thing I can compare it too is Larry Clark's Kids meets that episode of The Simpsons where Santa's Little Helper runs away, although rather than fighting bears or saving babies from burning buildings, these dogs show off their freedom by digging through trash for food and humping in the middle of a women's rights march. A documentary with a clear message behind it, using Diogenes quotes to equate the respect that is shown to the dogs in contrast to the treatment of the refugees sleeping on the streets, it has to be said that if the message somehow falls flat, Stray also works as a hang-out movie, so engrossing it is to watch the different behaviours of the dogs and how they interact with one another. Even if you're not a dog person, you'll soon be completely enthralled by Zeytin's journey.

The camera is positioned no higher than dog head height at all times, giving a unique perspective on the world and a true sense of what it must be like to feel like to be ignored by society. The people around them are literally higher-uppers. We hear the sounds of the streets and eavesdrop on the conversations of passers-by and people the dogs choose to sit down next to, their words carrying like an echo, and for the dogs just another source of noise in their city. What's surprising is that even though the camera stays about 3 feet off the ground and shows the dogs facing a forest of human legs before them, what we do see of the city paints it as a vibrant, bustling place to be, full of visitors, workers, traffic and nightlife. It's unlikely to be used by the Turkish tourism industry, but this film captures the beauty of the area, as well as the uglier side in the treatment of the young boys sleeping rough on the streets.

Showing a daily routine like no other, Stray is an impactful, moving documentary that is expertly captured by debut feature director (also producer, cinematographer and editor), Elizabeth Lo. Tinged with a sense of sadness but also playfulness, it's hard not to be moved by the whole experience.

Verdict

4/5

EMA - London Film Festival review

From Pablo Larrain, the acclaimed director of Tony Manero, No and Jackie, Ema follows a young dancer forced to give up her adopted son after a tragic fire. Deciding she wants to be with him over anything else she has in her life, Ema (Mariana Di Girolamo) is willing to give up her husband Gaston (Gael Garcia Bernal), and do whatever is needed to track Polo down and be his mother again, no matter how many lives she has to burn to ashes along the way.

Ema opens with a searingly indelible image, as Ema, decked in protective gear and wielding a flamethrower, looks on at the traffic signal she has just set fire to. It's this flair for pyromania that has caused her world to fall apart, following a fire caused by her son Polo that has burnt and scarred her sister's face and seen him re-enter the care system to be adopted by someone else. The film starts in the wake of this event, and tries to fill in as many of the blanks as it can with an early montage sequence, intercut with a pulsating, modern expressive dance sequence choreographed by Ema's husband Gaston (Gael Garcia Bernal), the video screen behind them bathing the dancers in the light of an ever changing sun. It's beautiful and its vibrant, but in what is a common occurrence in the film, the visual display outweighs the reveal of the main story points, leaving us starting on the back foot.

As is quickly revealed, the separation of Ema, Gaston and Polo is one Ema aims to be as temporary as possible, as she hassles Child Protective Services for information on his whereabouts and then unleashes a calculated, often dastardly and cruel plan in order to get back into his life. Using the help of her dance troupe, your feelings towards this masterplan may differ wildly from a display of a mother's unconditional love to unquestionably sociopathic behaviour. What is indisputable is that Ema's methods are morally complex, to say the least.

Personally, I found a whole lot to enjoy in Mariana Di Girolano's performance as Ema as she plays with the lives of others, namely Raquel (Paola Giannini), the divorce lawyer she hires but can only afford to pay in dance, and a firefighter named Anibal (Santiago Cabrera), both of whom Ema has sexually charged relationships with. Her actions are cold, calculated and self-serving for sure, but there's a propulsive drive to the film that doesn't allow you to question her morality plays too much, until her well choreographed plan reaches its crescendo and the true depth of her plan is revealed.

Di Girolamo has a youthful, innocent face that allows her character to get away with the many manipulations she has at work, but along with her selfish behaviour, this counteracts against her standing as an obvious mother figure and can make her seem like a spiteful brat. It doesn't help that Polo isn't much of a presence for a large majority of the film, and seems to be in far safer hands with his new family. It's also surprising that Larrain regular Gael Garcia Bernal's Gaston is such a secondary character in the film and in Ema's life, as the power dynamic between them says a lot in the short time we see them together. There's an argument to be made that Ema is drawn as a modern, unstoppable feminist superhero figure (wielding a flamethrower will do that), using her sexuality to get herself the family she thinks she's entitled to, but the film stops short of tipping too far into pulp territory.

Character flaws aside, what you definitely come away from this film with is how beautiful it is. The dance sequences in warehouses, basketball courts and on rooftops lit by the Chilean hillsides behind them are often breathtaking, and you don't have to come to this film with an appreciation for modern dance to see how visually arresting the movement is. In that respect, Ema, with her shock of slicked back blonde hair, is the perfect centre-point for the film and its exquisitely lit, bold, vibrant colour palette. The dancers, her lovers, the lights, the camera... the whole world literally revolves around her as she moves through it with shark like intensity.

Larrain's films are always well crafted and executed, but to my mind his films have never moved along with such rhythm before, thanks to the infectious reggaeton music that accompanies most of the dances. By the end of this film you may not be a fan of Ema's character, or in fact most of the key characters who will leave you will many moral quandaries. There's a pervasive nature to the film's erotic thriller leanings that are shocking, but after the dust has settled it's the rhythm and the visual flair that will be the enduring elements of the film.

Verdict

4/5

DEERSKIN - London Film Festival review

Part of the cult strand at this year's London Film Festival, Quentin Dupieux's latest film sees Jean Dujardin's Georges become obsessed with his new Deerskin jacket, posing as a filmmaker and turning to crime in order to complete his outfit.

Dupieux, also known as Mr Oizo to fans of 90s Levi's ads, returns to behind the camera with this pairing with The Artist's Jean Dujardin to tell the story of a man who, following his separation from his wife, becomes obsessed with his new Deerskin jacket. While staying in a small French village Georges meets Denise (Celine Sciamma regular Adele Haenel), a bartender and aspiring film editor. Together they collaborate on Georges video diary that shows him forcing strangers to give up their outerwear so that his deerskin jacket is the only jacket left in existence, with Georges turning to murder to make sure the job is done.

Dujardin is fantastic as the pompous, preening Georges, forever enthusiastic about adding another deerskin piece to his outfit and looking ever more laughable along the way. The jacket in itself is a horrible looking garment, even if it does have all of its tassels intact. But Georges's cocksure belief that he's standing out from the crowd as a new fashion icon is never undersold by Dujardin, delivering a great comic performance that's tapping into the rich vein of ridiculousness that exists in fashion for men of a certain age, always ripe for parody. Admittedly, dressing head to toe in deerskin isn't a fashion choice you often see, but is it really so different than wearing a James May-esque bold print shirt?

There was perhaps an expectation that Dujardin would make a leap to Hollywood films after his, some would say, surprising Best Actor Oscar win for The Artist, but as fans of his work in the OSS 117 series will attest, he's completely at home and in his element here in this smaller, bizarre film that plays up to his charming doofus-like strengths. Dujardin plays Georges with so much un-earned confidence in himself, portraying such a clueless, self-important lunatic who's so sure that everyone is jealous of his jacket, or as Georges would put it, his "killer style".

Fans of Dupieux's previous work, in particular his sentient killer tyre film Rubber, will know what sort of humour to expect from him. This is a dark, often ghoulish comedy that revels in its unpredictability and shock value, generating lots of laughs from the sheer boldness of its character choices. As Georges falls deeper and deeper under the spell of the jacket which may slowly be exerting some sort of psychic power over him (or it may all be a figment of his imagination), with murder seeming to be the only logical next step, the weapon Georges crafts from a ceiling fan is disturbingly efficient in its creation and delivery.

There's a lot in Dupieux's work that goes far beyond the surface thrills, and Deerskin is no different. Not only is the dynamic between Dujardin's deluded killer and the much younger Denise mocking that stereotype of a man who has hit a certain age and then found himself a younger woman, the choice of Dupieux to have Georges wait outside a cinema to kill off its patrons as they leave is a comic assault on his audience, saying that if you think you're going to be safe and free from his pervasive ideas when you leave the cinema, think again.

A delightful new addition to the "killer clothing" sub-genre, Deerskin is In Fabric for men in the throes of a mid-life crisis. Less off the rack as it is off the wall, it's an absolute gem of a film.

Verdict
4/5

PAPI CHULO - London Film Festival review

One of the sweetest and most peculiar films of the festival, Papi Chulo stars Matt Bomer as Sean, a local weather man who, when forced to take some time off work by his employers to deal with his emotional issues, befriends Ernesto (Alejandro Patino), the Mexican day worker he hires to help repaint his deck. Deciding to leave the work till another time, Sean takes Ernesto on day trips, rowing across a lake or hiking in the hills, much to the befuddlement of Ernesto.

A simple man looking to provide for his family, Ernesto's story is a familiar one. An immigrant, he waits outside the hardware stores along with other workers, waiting to be picked up and used by the upper middle classes as cheap manual labour. It's here that after an on air sobbing fit that required him to take a leave of absence, Sean picks up some paint from the store and Ernesto to help do the work, and either due to his desire to be liked or white liberal guilt, he over-compensates by offering Ernesto drinks and buying him lunch in a manner that makes Ernesto uncomfortable. Sean, a successful gay man with a good career, on the surface lives a drastically different life to Ernesto, but they eventually find some sort of bond despite their different lifestyles.

Matt Bomer has always been a likeable actor, clearly born to play Superman on screen but never given the chance to do so (although he did voice him in the animated Superman: Unbound). Playing man going through an emotional breakdown and mourning the loss of his relationship with boyfriend Carlos, he tries to hold on to the things he holds dearly, calling Carlos's cellphone to leave him messages. It's a bold, moving, deeply tragic but comedic performance from Bomer.

There's a whole heap of things this film comments on. Firstly, the use of cheap labour from across the border by successful white urbanites is nothing new, but here, as Sean uses Ernesto as his sounding board and stand-in therapist he takes things to a whole new arena. After all, $20 an hour is cheaper than hiring an actual therapist. There's also something deeply psychological about Sean hiring a Mexican worker to essentially act as a stand in boyfriend in place of his former beau, Carlos. Freud would have a field day with Sean's psyche. Although it appears that social companionship is Sean's aim, there is something about the curb-side appropriation of a worker that has echoes of prostitution, and this does seem to be a particular commentary on a familiar LA tradition. Just a reminder that this is a comedy at heart, but one that knows there is an inherent issue in it subject matter.

Alejandro Patino is fantastic of Ernesto, finding the balance between grateful employee and passive acceptance that, despite the odd scenarios he keeps finding himself in with Sean, at least he's earning money. As the story goes on, it's also clear that Ernesto is starting to enjoy himself in this bizarre Pretty Woman arrangement, without the sex, of course. There's a comedy of awkwardness between this new odd couple that doesn't go unnoticed by onlookers, pointing out that they have "a Driving Miss Daisy thing going on", which only makes Sean's over-compensation spike more. In one particular scene, Ernesto's wife gets to meet the strange American man that's been paying for her husband's company, and although the set up is one born of tragic desperation, at least she's able to see the funny side of things.

The success of this film rests solely on the charm of Matt Bomer and his interactions with Ernesto. As an unlikely pairing as they may be, the friendship they develop is incredibly sweet. One of the film's standout scenes sees Sean and Ernesto break the language barrier, riding in a taxi home singing along to Madonna's Borderline, the joy of the song and the relevance of the title not lost on either of them.

An unconventional bromance with terrific performances from Bomer and Patino, Papi Chulo is a film that may have been made on a low budget, but manages to succeed by getting its characters right, surpassing any budgetary limitations with genuine heart.

Verdict
3.5/5

London Film Festival: LAURENCE ANYWAYS review

Screened at last month's London Film Festival, Xavier Dolan's third directorial outing is now in cinemas.

London Film Festival: LORE review

Screened at this year's London Film Festival, this is director Cate Shortland's long awaited follow up to Somersault, Lore.

Set in the days after Hitler's death and the end of World War II, Lore sees the eponymous teenager take her younger siblings across treacherous ground as they aim for safety away from the downfall of what they thought was true about the war and the involvement of their father, a high ranking officer in Hitler's army.