DINNER IN AMERICA review

On the run from law enforcement, arsonist Simon (Kyle Gallner) tries to raise some quick cash for his secret punk band PsyOps, for whom he adopts the persona of the mysterious balaclava-clad frontman, John Q. After befriending the socially awkward Patty (Emily Skeggs), the pair begin to stir things up in their boring, suburban town like a pair of outlaws, with Patty unaware that Simon leads a double life as the punk singer she's been sending love poems and sexy polaroids too. Directed by Adam Rehmeier and produced by Ben Stiller, Dinner in America is available from June 1st on the Arrow Player.

A dependable screen presence but perhaps lacking a signature role, Gallner, with his borderline neo-nazi haircut and permanent "fuck you" attitude, chews up every scene here with a sneer on his face and a cigarette in his mouth and enjoying every second of it. Simon is abrasive, sociopathic, an affront to traditional suburban American values and precisely the sort of agent of chaos the meek, shy Patty needs injecting into her drab life, cleaning the cages in a pet store. Apart from her supporting role in The Miseducation of Cameron Post, I was unfamiliar with Skeggs's previous roles, and although her Patty might start the film as something of a black canvas, she has fun taking her to where she ends up.

The film is interspersed with a series of traditional polite family dinners (hence the title), with Simon the inciting influence that the topic of conversation tends to veer away from what you'd expect over the dinner table and most often no-one's sticking around for dessert. It's at these moments where the film's rich vein of black humour comes to the front, with Simon unafraid of being outright hostile towards his hosts, whether it's revealing to one young boy that he's adopted or accepting the sexual advances of a bored housewife (Lea Thompson in a brief cameo, adding to the great supporting cast of Mary Lynn Rajskub and Pat Healy as Patty's parents). 

Wearing its 'young couple on the run' movie influences on its sleeve, it's Badlands meets Buffalo '66 with the comic sensibilities of David Cross's directorial debut, HITS (an under-seen gem). Although certainly not conventional, in many ways it's a true romance, with Simon and Patty moving from animosity to unsteady friendship to pure renegade lust for each other, once they reveal their true selves and then can't bear to be apart from one another. Dinner in America may have a cold, black heart, but for sure it's still beating. Right up there with the best f-ed up love stories, Dinner in America offers so many great moments that make you want to cheer Simon and Patty on, like getting revenge on not one, but two pairs of locals who routinely call Patty a "retard", a surprisingly fruitful musical collaboration that will still be playing in your head once the credits have rolled, and fun details like a license plate that says "69URMOM" and lines like "you fucks just made my shit list".

But what's most impressive is how director/writer/editor Adam Rehmeier has managed to deliver a story with a real, anarchic punk attitude - something other films claim to offer, but that Dinner in America does with ease. That's in no small part thanks to Gallner and Skeggs, who have a real combustable energy whenever they're on screen together in a film that's fiery, funny and kinda fucked up in the best possible way.

Verdict

4/5

Dinner In America is available on:

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£5.49 to rent

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DISINTEGRATION LOOPS - CPH:DOX 2021 review

Released after the tragic events of 9/11, composer William Basinski's The Disintegration Loops albums came to speak for those lost for words when mourning the lives of so many in New York City. Now, nearly 20 years later, David Wexler's documentary uses interviews with Basinski and a selection of music aficionados to assess the impact of the ambient albums and reframe them against the context of the Covid-19 pandemic.

Created using a 12 inch piece of audio tape passing through a recording device on a short loop (roughly two seconds), Basinski noticed that as the quality of the tape quickly degraded, aspects of the audio changed as "drop-outs" occurred, creating a truly unique piece of sound that would in time destroy itself when played. Working on them during 2001, in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, Basinski - who was due to go for a job interview at the World Trade Center and watched the towers fall from the roof of his building - merged his new music with footage of the giant smoke cloud drifting over the New York skyline, creating a poignant elegy to the city and becoming an instant hit.

This film starts with this music, now placed over black and white footage of deserted New York streets and Central Park, signs of closure and social distancing immediately making us aware this was filmed in recent times. Such is the unescapable harmonious beauty of Basinski's most famous work that there's a compelling argument that, had director David Wexler created an artistic extension to the music of Disintegration Loop 1.1 and allowed all 63 minutes to play out over images of a pandemic hit NYC, the parallels between the two most troubling times the city has had to face this millennium could have made for a powerful re-contextualising of the music, whilst also paying respects to those lost in 2001.

But, this isn't that kind of documentary. Instead Wexler's 45 minute film provides us with a potted history of Basinski and his career, from his beginnings in high school bands to moving to NYC in the 80s, playing at CBGB's and launching his Arcadia club in a trendy NY loft space (where the cover photo for Jeff Buckley's Grace album was shot). The frank and open Basinski appears via numerous Zoom-style calls to Wexler to talk about his early life, struggles as a musician, creative process and experience recording and releasing his best known work around 9/11. Framed within the pandemic, there's a worry that although these Zoom interviews help establish the context for the time this film was made - and are a necessary evil to have any sort of contact with interviewees - they lack a certain visual flare or cinematic language that help avoid giving the film an inbuilt expiry date. It's a quibble over something I do realise Wexler was cornered into when this film went into production mid-pandemic, but it's to the detriment of the lasting impact it may have that it's an often uninspiring watch, particularly when the early shots of a deserted New York work so well against Basinski's music. 

With the 20th anniversary of 9/11 later in the year, it's an appropriate time to look back on The Disintegration Loops, and although the film purports to use the music as a soundtrack for a city in lockdown, it doesn't manage to convincingly do this barring some bookended sequences, instead functioning more as a promotional film for William Basinski. Whilst rightly appreciating the truly beautiful pieces of ambient music that has brought Basinski fame and recognition in the years since, although the pandemic production may have hamstrung a more visually memorable film, the impact of his music certainly won't just fade away.

Verdict

3/5

A SONG CALLED HATE - CPH:DOX 2021 review

Now in full swing and launching a selection of cinema screenings today is this year's Copenhagen International Documentary Film Festival, better and more succinctly known as CPH:DOX. Among this year's selection is A Song Called Hate, following the Icelandic rockers Hatari as they enter Eurovision.

Known for their outlandish performances that blend performance art, bondage gear, leather and growled lyrics over pulsating electronic rhythms, Hatari aren't exactly the first band you'd have in mind for the traditionally 'bubblegum pop', family friendly institution that is the Eurovision Song Contest. Chosen as their country's entry in 2019 with their song Hatrið mun sigra (AKA Hate Will Prevail), although the title is as provocative as the fascistic imagery the band uses, they're nice boys really and want to warn about the rise of nationalism across Europe, including their native Iceland. With the expectation that the Enfant terrible band will use the global platform of potentially 200 million Eurovision viewers to deliver a political message that others daren't, the staging of that year's contest in Tel Aviv provokes the opportunity for them to comment (or as they put it "uphold a critical discussion") on Israeli-Palestinian relations in some way.

A collective that expands to over 10 members in the run up to the contest, in reality the band is largely the work of two cousins, Klemens Hannigan and Matti Haraldsson, who have performed together since childhood and who launched the band along with drummer Einar Steffanson in 2015. The frontmen of the band and the focus of this film, Icelandic director Anna Hildur's documentary follows them in the weeks before the concert in Tel Aviv as they embark on a promotional tour of Europe and meet and collaborate with Palestinian musician Bashar for a tour of Israeli-Palestinian borders and camps to see the problems for themselves.

It might sound odd for a film ostensibly about Eurovision - best known for its bright, hopeful outlook on the world - to wade in on the Israel/Palestine conflict, and yes, it is a bizarre amalgam of tones that you have to allow yourself to be taken in by, but to be frank, the Eurovision stage has seen stranger things happen in its time. Matti and Klemens remaining stoic and monosyllabic in interviews with press about what their plans are, but the documentary does capture a slight slipping of the mask as the group collectively ponders what their protest should be, and what potentially career ending repercussions they might face from the power of the European broadcasters. It's clear that they've backed themselves into a corner of staging a protest but with no actual idea of how to pull it off in a meaningful way that will be seen, with a Eurovision imposed 15 second time delay in place to make sure none of the acts attempt to slip anything too outrageous in during their 'live' performances.

In fairness to Hatari, despite the infamy they are courting and the unavoidable feeling that their protest is simply another part of their act, their desire to use their platform to deliver a meaningful message to create social change seems genuine enough, if somewhat naive. For all their pomp and composure, Hildur's camera captures some real moments of truth from the band, such as the Matti's anxiety that leads to tears before their performance, the sharp intake of breath after the loosening of a girdle worn by one member to walk the red carpet, and their collective panic once their small, but effective (and crucially, televised) protest finally takes place during the Eurovision broadcast.

Like 2006's Dixie Chicks documentary Shut Up & Sing, that saw the band deal with the fallout from their comments on George W. Bush's Iraq War with unsteady support from some and virulent distain from others, A Song Called Hate never fully explores all the issues surrounding the Israel/Palestine divide, nor does it have the time to do so. Instead it works best as a document on how artists can use their platform and visibility to engage in political activism in a meaningful way and provoke wider discussion on the topic. As to whether they should, that remains open to debate. Whether Eurovision wanted to or not, they gave Hatari a stage and the opportunity to use their performance to send a message to the world, and isn't that really what Eurovision should be about, anyway? A lively, engaging mix of performance and politics, A Song Called Hate is one to enjoy.

Verdict

4/5

CANNON ARM AND THE ARCADE QUEST - CPH:DOX 2021 review

Following in the footsteps of the almighty retro arcade doc King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, Mads Hedegaard's 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. Hoping to achieve the feat 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 among his friends at Copenhagen's Bip Bip Bar. An outer space-set shooter that sees you manoeuvre a space craft around the screen as you blast away patterns of stars, Kim once set a Gyruss record by playing for 49 hours on one coin, but with the help of his friends his new goal is to beat that record in honour of Thomas, a friend they lost to suicide.

Attempting this record 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. And so his team of supporters have tailored a complicated score tracking system to help in his efforts and make sure the game - much like the famed Donkey Kong kill screen - doesn't crap out on him and bring his record attempt to a halt. Starting off with 5 lives and only ever showing a maximum of 5 on screen, 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. Conversely, he can allow the game to play on without him so he can grab some much needed sleep for ten minutes or so, but someone must count the lost lives to make sure he doesn't lose them all. All Kim has to do is concentrate on his scoring, keep his eyes open, and hastily run to the garden whenever he needs to take a leak.

The comparisons to King of Kong are unavoidable with its use of flash graphics and retro 8-bit sounds, but Mads Hedegaard's film doesn't shy away from acknowledging the existence of the former, going as far as featuring a couple of the big names from that film and the world of arcade gaming, Walter Day from official 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. 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 in the way that his mind works when he's paying 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, thankfully a lot more vocal and outgoing than Kim, who double as experts in the fields of music theory, physics and poetry.

The documentary spends its first hour detailing the prep and training needed for the 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, but as we hear the game play on and Kim's cache 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. Not wanting to reveal the result of his record attempt, what I will say is that for anyone who's ever experienced one of these life-engulfing obsessions that seem completely alien to most other people, there's so much to relate to in Kim and his friends and their collective 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

Cannon Arm and the Arcade Quest is now showing as part of this year's CPH:DOX festival. Tickets for its cinema screenings can be purchased here.

RAW - LIMITED EDITION BLU-RAY review

Newly released on blu-ray this week is Julia Ducournau's French cannibalistic horror Raw. As young student Justine (Garance Marillier) attends her first week of veterinary school, she encounters a series of cruel initiations enacted by the older students - including her older sister, Alexia (Ella Rumpf) - from having their dormitories raided and mattresses tossed out of the windows to being doused in blood for their class photo and forced to eat raw meat in the form of a piece of rabbit kidney. A lifelong vegetarian, this first taste of flesh opens up an unexpected hunger in Justine she hasn't felt before, nor does she know how to control.

If you missed Raw's original cinematic run or are just eager for a second bite, now is the time to invest in one of the most original, shocking and memorable horror debuts of the last decade. A sublime mix of gruesome body horror and a dry commentary on a whole host of topics, from female sexuality, vegetarianism and complicated family dynamics, Julia Ducournau's film stars Garance Marillier as the unassuming veterinary student Justine, away from home for the first time to study at the same institution her sister attends and where her parents first met. Along with her gay roommate Adrien (Rabah Nait Oufella) she must contend with the cruel, demeaning initiations that come with 'rush week', made all the worse that one of the main instigators is the one person she thought would be looking out for her, her older sister Alexia.

It's this unstable bond between Justine and Alexia, as well as Justine's reckoning with her newfound desire for meat, that drives the film's story. Given the easy parallel with the teen werewolf classic Ginger Snaps, it might surprise you that Raw steers clear of the monster movie leanings of lycanthropes and vampires, instead delivering a story of hunger that - although hopefully unlikely - could be set in our world. As she and her fellow newbies are treated like lower class citizens by the year above (if they dare to make eye contact with them, they could be punished into wearing a diaper to class), it's an endless week of cattle dissections and all-night partying at the local morgue, but still disconcertingly recognisable to anyone who's been through a university freshers week.

There are many outstanding moments in Raw that have an incredible ability to shock the audience, even on a re-watch. For example, a brutal bikini waxing scene starts off uncomfortably enough, but then delivers a graphic slice of nerve-tightening horror before capping it off with one of the most jaw-dropping moments in modern horror cinema. Even seeing it a second time, I felt my stomach begin to churn. It's gross, it's hilarious, it's brilliantly directed with a fantastically gothic music sting... it truly needs to be seen to be believed. As the attempted bikini wax scene will prove, Raw is at its strongest when it leans into the horrors of being a young woman. Justine is guided into a more sexualised version of herself by her sister Alexia, who wants to show her a way to survive by giving her dresses, plucking her eyebrows, telling her to shave her armpits and (regretfully) offering to give her her first waxing. Justine's insatiable appetite for meat is closely tied to her sexuality, and as she stares at the back of roommate Adrien's neck, you're not sure whether she wants to devour him, sleep with him, or both. 

The latest of Second Sight's special edition releases to come in a display worthy boxset (or 'rigid slipcase', if you prefer) following hot on the heels of the incredible Dawn of the Dead boxset and the new editions of World on a Wire and Revenge, it's a great package that gives the film the attention it deserves with plenty to sink your teeth into. Some of the special features feature the work of horror scholar Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, who's contributed a video essay dissecting some of the themes of the film and features in an interview segment with director Julia Ducournau, and there's also new essays from Emma Westwood (who also has a commentary alongside Ducournau) and Little White Lies' Hannah Woodhead.

Shocking but with a pitch black sense of humour, Julia Ducournau's Raw is an easy film to whole-spleengutsandheartedly recommend to those with a strong constitution. The three core cast members (Marillier, Rumpf and Oufella) deliver great performances, with Marillier in particular standing out as one to watch out for in the future. Its gorier moments won't be for everyone, but if you have a refined cinematic palate and can appreciate how truly great horror cinema can push boundaries, Raw is a film you should feast your eyes on.

Verdict

5/5

SPECIAL FEATURES

- The Girl Can't Help It: a new interview with Actor Garance Marillier

- Making Ends Meat: a new interview with Producer Jean des Forets

- New audio commentary by film critic Alexandra West

- Audio Commentary with Julia Ducournau and film critic Emma Westwood

- In the Name of Raw: an interview with Director Julia Ducournau

- A Family Affair: a new video essay by film critic Alexandra Heller-Nicholas

- Raw À Votre Goût featurette with Julia Ducournau & film critic Emma Westwood 

- Quick Bites with Julia Ducournau & film critic Alexandra Heller-Nicholas 

- Genre Matters Panel Discussion

- Australian Premiere Introduction

- Australian Premiere Q&A with Julia Ducournau and Kier-La Janisse

- Alternative opening, deleted scenes, trailers

LIMITED EDITION CONTENTS

- Rigid slipcase 

- Perfect-bound booklet with new essays by Hannah Woodhead and Emma Westwood plus interview with Julia Ducournau by Lou Thomas

- 3 collectors' art cards

BLACK BEAR review

Successful indie filmmaker Allison (Aubrey Plaza), visits a lakeside cabin owned by married couple Gabe and Blair (Sarah Gadon and Christopher Abbott) for some relaxation whilst she works on her latest script. As they all sit down for dinner together and the tensions between musician Gabe and his pregnant wife Blair start to flare up, heated conversation turns into bitter accusations of infidelity, and a shift in their dynamics reveals the full extent of who is lying to us and their motivations for doing so.

The second feature film of Lawrence Michael Levine (after his 2014 debut Wild Canaries, starring Alia Shawkat, Jason Ritter and himself), Black Bear arrives with some fanfare after its debut at last year's Sundance, and not without justification. A sexually charged mystery with layers of intrigue and a 180 turn you won't predict, what stands out most in need of praise are the performances, in particular Plaza as the manipulative and - at least on some level - deceitful Allison. She is the most forthright and abrasive character of the core trio, seemingly unconcerned about how her actions would effect the pregnant Blair, holding information back to toy with her host and paint a different picture of herself, before the second portion of the film shows that Allison's not the only one who's capable of plotting a story for her own amusement.

In a cast that comes pre-loaded with indie cred, alongside Plaza is Christopher Abbott, increasingly headed towards major stardom after impressive turns in It Comes At Night, Piercing and this year's Possessor. His character is selfish, obnoxious and manipulative of the two women he shares the cabin with, failing to hide his misogyny and true personality (plus defects) to them, and us, blaming feminism for the decline of the traditional American family and the rise of nationalism. It's these ideas of duplicity and performance that are at the heart of the film, none more so in the stand-out performance of Plaza as a woman pushed to her emotional limits by the cruel, callous, deceptive acts of an other. 

Once the power structure in the film flips on its head and destructive domestic disputes suddenly spill out for all present to see, both Plaza and writer/director Levine are on record that this takes inspiration from real life experiences both have faced when working on film sets with respective partners, asking important questions about how far boundaries can be pushed in the creation of art, and the emotional toil actors - willingly or not - will go through in the pursuit of a believable performance. If you're aware of the cruel treatment of Shelley Duvall on the set of Stanley Kubrick's The Shining that lead to her abandoning her acting career, think along those lines.

To say much more about the film's second mode would be a spoiler for what is a genuinely surprising and intriguing set-up, but I will say that the way Black Bear shifts the direction of its story after the conclusion of the first chapter brings to mind David Lynch's Mulholland Drive and Lost Highway, whilst also staying more grounded in reality than those two. It's a film that ably injects real tension between its characters in its first half via a flirty foxtrot, then twists the narrative into something that is recognisable but different from before in order to allow its cast to show what they're capable of in a world that is both more farcical but troubling. It's an often tough, harrowing watch, but given the layer of artifice that's built into the film's narrative there's an ever-present distance as an audience that's hard to shake. As such, it's near impossible to provide a wholly satisfying narrative conclusion, but it's the performances (chiefly that of Plaza) that will stay with you long after the film has wrapped.

Verdict

4/5

AIDS DIVA: THE LEGEND OF CONNIE NORMAN - BFI Flare Film Festival 2021 review

Telling the story of Connie Norman, the HIV-positive, transgender former sex-worker who became a leading voice in ACT UP's political activism to fight the AIDS epidemic in the late 80s, director Dante Alencastre's AIDS Diva hopes to acknowledge the contribution this forgotten figurehead had to the movement and establish her legacy for a new generation.

Connie lead quite the remarkable life, having once worked as a drag queen in San Francisco before turning tricks and doing time in prison, then transitioning and becoming one of the most visible (and vocal) transgender people of the era through her work with the direct action group ACT UP/LA upon the outbreak of AIDS. Leading marches and making powerful statements from the podium about the "genocidal neglect of Reagan and Bush", she gained a level of notoriety that lead to appearances on radio and TV as a reliably opinionated firebrand. As a transgender woman, this step into the forefront of political activism was something Connie was hesitant to do at first, having faced negativity towards her trans status from some areas of the gay community and within AIDS activism, but following her own diagnosis of HIV-positive in 1987 she felt she needed to be a part of the fight.

A natural leader who people listened to, the way Connie is portrayed in the wealth of archive video footage that's in AIDS Diva - of week long vigils outside hospitals demanding more beds for patients and marching on the streets - could be used as a guide on how to become an activist. At a time where we have hoards of people campaigning across the world over social, racial and healthcare issues, AIDS Diva is incredibly timely in its portrayal of how to make change through the power of making your collective voice heard. Although Norman passed away many years ago, there's plenty of her contemporaries eager to offer anecdotes of the ferocious nature of Connie, and help tell her story in the early years of the HIV/AIDS crisis, along with more personal expressions from her "Tribal Writes" newspaper column.

Within the footage of Connie is her appearances on right-wing "moral panic" lead talk shows like Wally George, knowing her presence would push a few buttons in the audience but also hopefully nudge a few people in the right direction. There's a great term Connie uses during an interview, talking about "GOB-ism", referring to the small minded "Good Ol' Boys" she had to deal with growing up as a queer kid in Texas, who she now saw as the same people running the country and neglecting some of its citizens. Although some things might have changed recently in the leadership of America, it's hard not to wonder how Connie would have reacted to the upheaval of the Trump era and the health crisis brought on by the pandemic.

What will also resonate for a modern audience is Connie's evolving definition of gender, describing it in 1993 as a "fluid spectrum". This film serves as a snapshot of a less sympathetic time for the trans community (talking heads using terms like nelly and sissy), when transgender women were forced to come off medication and either present as their assigned at birth gender in order to receive treatment for AIDS or hide themselves from the public. That's why having Connie's voice was such an important one to include in the fight against AIDS, and this film should allow a new generation to appreciate her contribution to the cause.

With an acknowledgement that they weren't just fighting for themselves but for future generations, AIDS Diva: The Legend of Connie Norman is a document of a time of fear and change, and a compelling, powerful account of political activism at work.

Verdict

4/5

AIDS DIVA: The Legend of Connie Norman is screening as part of the BFI Flare LGBTIQ+ Film Festival. The full line-up can be found on the BFI Player here.

JUMP, DARLING - BFI Flare Film Festival 2021 review

Starring the legendary Cloris Leachman in her final role, Jump, Darling follows drag queen Russell, AKA Fishy Falters (Thomas Duplessie), who after splitting up with his boyfriend, decides to go and stay with his ageing grandmother, Margaret (Leachman). As Russell adapts to the pace of small town life and finds a possible new love connection at a local bar, it becomes increasingly obvious that his elderly grandmother, suffering from memory issues and unable to bathe herself, may need him to stick around for a while longer.

Originally planning on just stopping by to collect his deceased grandfather's car that Margaret has promised to her grandson, upon seeing how frail she is and also in need of some recovery time for himself, Russell moves in with Margaret whilst he plans his next move. Finding a local gay bar that he can inject some of his glamour into, Russell introduces the locals to his drag alter ego, Fishy Falters, drawing the attention of barman Zach (Kwaku Adu-Poku) and the possibility of a new romance. As Russell focuses on his career prospects, his mother Ene (Linda Kash) arrives on the scene, surprised to find that her son has moved his wigs, make-up and mirrors into his grandmother's attic and is selling some of her belongings to finance himself.

A mixture of traditional family drama with the vibrant possibilities of the world of drag, the absolute gem that Jump, Darling has is the presence of Cloris Leachman. Leachman, who won an Oscar 50 years ago for her role in The Last Picture Show but then sadly passed away this January at the age of 94, is noticeably frail but still on fine form here, and the interactions she has with Duplessie - of which more would have been welcome - are the understated beating heart of the film. Russell's re-integration into Margaret's life lies somewhere between him caring for and taking advantage of her, and the narrative works to find the wavering balance between his self-serving nature and sense of familial duty. This is something Margaret is seemingly aware of, but as long as she gets to stay in her house, she's happy. An expansion of this conflict could have lead to a stronger dramatic arc, particularly after the introduction of Russell's mother who cannot devote herself to caring for her mother and sees putting her into a care home as the only option.

Instead, the main narrative drive of Jump, Darling is Russell's reckoning with his status as a performer. Once with high hopes to be a successful dramatic actor (he bumps into an old school friend who recalls the expectation he was going to become "the next Andrew Garfield"), his career has instead lead him to drag, something his businessman ex-boyfriend snobbishly dismisses as"gay, variety show shit". But despite their jibes, Russell (and Duplessie) is clearly having fun performing as Fishy Falters, and some of the stand-out scenes are those where he performs lip-syncs at the local bar, including a fantastic 'kiss off' to a once potential suitor who reveals things Russell wasn't expecting.

Although certainly not a deep dive into the art of drag - that has, barring a couple of book-ending nightclub scenes Fishy as the only performer we follow - Jump, Darling convincingly sells us on why Russell has chosen this method of self-expression, within it finding a stronger connection to his grandmother who once had dreams in her youth of being an elegant ice skater. Some plot threads and characters are underdeveloped - the love story with barman Zach promises more than it delivers - but when Jump, Darling puts its focus on the cross-generational connection between Russell and Margaret, it works as a subtle, thoughtful drama, and as a tender farewell to the talents of Cloris Leachman.

Verdict

3/5

Jump, Darling is screening as part of the BFI Flare LGBTIQ+ Film Festival. The full line-up can be found on the BFI Player here.

SWEETHEART - BFI Flare Film Festival 2021 review

Dragged on a seaside family holiday against her will, mardy 17 year old AJ (Nell Barlow) is determined to have a terrible time until she meets Isla (Ella-Rae Smith), a beautiful lifeguard at the park and the girl of her dreams. Seeing her burgeoning friendship with Isla as an opportunity to re-invent herself and spend as much time away from her family as possible, AJ parties with the young staff of the holiday park, starts to have fun and just maybe falls in love.

Much like the understated humour of last year's Days of the Bagnold Summer, coupled with AJ's dry voice-over that brings to mind Richard Ayoade's Submarine, Sweetheart, writer/director Marley Morrison's debut feature, is a well-observed teen drama with so many lovely family details that make it seem oh so relatable to anyone who's holidayed with family under protest. AJ's mother Tina (This is England's Jo Hartley, on fantastic form) is the kind of woman who point blank refuses to call her daughter anything but the name she gave her, April (in fact, the whole family do apart from her pregnant sister's supportive partner, Steve); who says "ooh, cows" when passing a field in the vain attempt to muster some enthusiasm from her teenage daughter, and who takes her washing on holiday because the machine at home has stopped working. Despite her constant battles with AJ/April, Tina never feels like the villain, and as the story progresses and we learn more about why AJ's father wasn't asked to join them, she becomes an increasingly likeable character.

But it's completely Nell Barlow's film from start to finish. Dressed like Liam Gallagher in a bucket hat and tinted shades (Sweetheart feels so much like a throwback to the 90s that it could well have been set then), her AJ is an introvert who's exploring her sexual identity - and possibly her gender identity too - almost afraid to reveal how smart she is to the kids at the caravan park, worried - a la Lisa Simpson in the Summer of 4 ft 2 - that signs of her intelligence will be a turn off. Instead it draws in the ray of summer sunshine that is Isla, a free-spirited young woman who's able to guide the sullen AJ into realising how cool they actually are and encourage her to be herself. Their scenes together have the desired flush of teen holiday romance, albeit with the backdrop of a drab, mundane English caravan park to them.

With a fun, sprightly teen pop soundtrack and a couple of knowing nods to Dirty Dancing (inevitable, really), Sweetheart is a fun holiday romance that anyone who was ever an awkward teenager will find cringingly familiar. 

Verdict

3.5/5

Sweetheart is screening as part of the BFI Flare LGBTIQ+ Film Festival. The full line-up can be found on the BFI Player here.

REUNION review

Returning to her family home after separating from her abusive partner, pregnant author Ellie (Emma Draper) must contend with the presence of her overbearing mother, Ivy (Julia Ormond), who's clearing the house out in preparation of selling it. Hoping to complete her latest academic book - a study of the links between modern medicine and the dark arts of the middle ages - whilst also dealing with the pains of pregnancy, Ellie starts to have visions of her half-sister Cara (Ava Keane), whose death as a child Ellie still carries feelings of guilt over.

Set in a fantasically grand old house in New Zealand, writer/director Jake Mahaffy's gothic thriller sets up a litany of ideas across its runtime, borrowing elements from ghost stories, Lynchian body horror and even J-Horror to varying degrees of effectiveness. If any one of these elements had been focused on this might be a reunion that would be easier to accept the invitation to, but unfortunately Reunion has packed in too many concepts for its own good, numbing the moments it gets right. The most effective sequences occur early on, with Ellie seeing strange, ghostly goings on in the house like twisting doorknobs and pale limbs reaching out for her from a spectral image of Cara, but it continues to pile on more and more on until whatever tension it builds is buried under a pile of moving boxes and bizarre plot turns. There's a mystery at its core that Ellie literally holds the last piece of the puzzle to over the death of Cara, but boy there's a lot to process before we get there.

The artefacts and iconography of horror are all present, with flashbacks (or are they dreams?) showing the younger Ellie peering through the keyhole to her father's office, a mysterious ornate glass vase she hopes to find in amongst the boxed up debris of the house, black goop coming out of the taps, and an oddly edited VHS tape of Ellie and Cara playing together as children. These are all deployed to creep us out, and whilst the effect is more unsettling than scary, they're nothing compared to an extended dream sequence Ellie has about her impending motherhood that involves breastfeeding a child the likes of which haven't been seen since Eraserhead. It's a disturbing addition, and one that fans of certain sub-genres of horror will enjoy, but is it in keeping with the rest of the film? I'll leave that to you to decide.

Ormond is undoubtedly the big draw for the film, but it's Draper who impresses most as a grounding influence on some of the more outlandish moments. The best scenes involve both of them as bickering mother and daughter - Ormond's oddball Ivy nonchalantly wandering around the house carrying an axe by her feet, locking doors behind her as she goes - and their fractured bond is played well from both sides, slowly revealing the trauma that has caused their emotional distance. It's a positive that they share so many scenes together, but this does render the other key cast members (John Bach as Ellie's elderly bedridden father, and Taika Waititi regular Cohen Holloway as her ex-boyfriend/handyman) largely redundant until they're needed to bring the story to a close.

Despite Reunion throwing too many things at the screen in the hope that some of them will stick, I can't fault the performances of the two leads. With its single interior location and mother/daughter dynamic, Reunion is bound to draw comparisons to last year's Australian horror Relic, but it is very much its own beast, as evidenced by a finale that is so confounding (and confusing), it genuinely defies categorisation.

Verdict

2.5/5

Reunion is now available on digital platforms from 101 films.