Luca Guadagnino's A Bigger Splash is superficially as distant as it could get from Danny Boyle's Sunshine, but they both share a structural problem. The former is about an Italian vacation and the latter is about a last-ditch space expedition, but each are near-perfect films until a bout of violence is introduced and their perfection ebbs. The feeling of a masterpiece slipping away always hurts, but with A Bigger Splash, at least what comes before the slide is brilliant and memorable. Adapted from an earlier Italian film spoken in Italian, this Italian film spoken in English contains the boisterousness of the country's great directors and the beautifully-sketched characters of a director like Richard Linklater.
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Jackie Kennedy gets the biopic treatment in Pablo Larrain's fascinating film Jackie, but the film wisely focuses only on the weeks after her husband was assassinated. As she (Natalie Portman) gives an interview to a reporter (Billy Crudup), discussing the seismic event and how she's dealing with the aftermath, Larrain flashes back to moments scattered throughout JFK's presidency, sketching out the first lady's philosophy and her ultimate goal of mythologizing her husband's memory. Larrain and his editor Sebastian Sepulveda weave the film's varied time periods together, and include a tense and visceral assassination scene, punctuated with gruesome sound design, that loses nothing from the viewer knowing how it ends. Anchored by a brilliant script by Noah Oppenheim and Portman's all-encompassing performance, Jackie is as multi-faceted as its protagonist, finding each of her personas and only catching a fleeting glimpse of her true one.
Early in Kenneth Lonergan’s latest opus, Manchester By the Sea, tortured protagonist Lee Chandler (Casey Affleck) is shown in happier times, fishing with his young nephew Patrick and his brother Joe (Kyle Chandler). While Joe steers, Lee teaches Patrick how to hold the line and what to do if he gets a bite. Lee describes the moment of catching a fish as pure happiness, but Lonergan withholds an image of this moment, because this isn’t that kind of film. There are pure emotions in Lonergan’s shattering film, but happiness isn’t one of them. The kind of film that sits on one’s chest long after the end credits roll, Manchester By the Sea is nigh-unrecommendable for any but the emotionally prepared. Its earnest and successful attempts at humor only serve to make the grief stand out that much more in relief. For those willing to tough it out through a veil of tears, the reward is one of 2016’s very best films, a slice of life drama that is familiar with despair but unwilling to wallow in it, that knows what misery is but is not miserable.
In Born to Be Blue, Ethan Hawke gets away from the philosophical and the verbose characters he plays in Richard Linklater's Before trilogy or Boyhood. By stepping into the shoes of jazz musician Chet Baker, Hawke is a series of desires, whether those desires be for credibility amongst his peers, companionship with women, or the crystal-clear need for more heroin. He doesn't question and he doesn't interrogate. He knows he's been given certain gifts, like a preternatural ability with the trumpet and an effortless cool, and he's going to make the most he can out of those advantages, if not for that other chemical dependence thing he's been saddled with. Robert Budreau's film came out in a year where Hank Williams, Miles Davis (who appears here as one of those peers), and Nina Simone all got biopics, and having only seen this one, it's likely the best of the four. Budrow and Hawke combine for a startlingly fresh take on the biographical genre, one that surprises at the end instead of trailing off with the perfunctory standing ovation and epilogue text. Hawke isn't waxing poetic about love and destiny, like he's done so well before, but his Baker creates one of 2016's most indelible characters and one of its best performances.
Antonio Campos depicts the rare female anti-hero in Christine, the adaptation of the tragic end of Christine Chubbock. The last few months of Chubbock's life are depicted in nervy, brittle fashion, culminating in her infamous on-air suicide during the evening news. The second of two films about Chubbock released in 2016, the other, an experimental documentary called Kate Plays Christine, has high expectations set for it based on the strength of Campos' entry.
The over-the-top nature of the films of Korean director Park Chan-wook meets his granular attention to detail in The Handmaiden. He merges the high of immaculately-dressed costume dramas with the low of a gritty heist film, a melding of genres that wildly succeeds. Park's filmography, with its oft-repeated themes of sexual taboos, vengeance, and pathetic yet deadly men, feels like its reaching a climax here, like this is the film he's always been supposed to make. The Handmaiden, drowning in sensuality and subterfuge, is at the level of the best this auteur has ever done, if not his best work to date.
A coming-of-age two-hander set amongst the mountains of southwestern France, Being 17 gives its two protagonists emotional peaks and valleys that mirror the geography outside their windows. August French director Andre Techine infuses chaotic life into his film, while co-writer Celine Sciamma contributes the perceptive inner lives of children that she's also brought to Tomboy and My Life As a Zucchini. Their combined effort supports a film simmering in heated feelings barely contained beneath the surface, giving Being 17 a primal urgency and an emotional momentum that lasts all the way to the end credits.
It seems every famous actress now eligible for Social Security is getting their indie showpiece. Lily Tomlin had Grandma, Sally Field had Hello, My Name is Doris, and Blythe Danner had I'll See You in My Dreams. While I haven't seen Danner's entry, Grandma and Doris both were excellent showpieces for their protagonists, and Susan Sarandon gets her turn with The Meddler, the only of the aforementioned films to be directed by a woman in addition to starring one. Lorene Scafaria and Sarandon team up for a low-key, sweet film, proving that Sarandon is still deserving of lead roles and that Scafaria deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as other female indie directors like Lynne Ramsay and Nicole Holofcener.
At a brief 72 minutes, The Fits squeezes a great deal of impressionistic and impactful imagery into a runtime shorter than a TV drama premiere. Anna Rose Holmer's exceptional feature debut is a dense package with no wasted scenes, an enthralling paean to growing up and finding one's passion.
By Jon Kissel
Despite a mostly dreadful summer for big-budget blockbusters, 2016 proved to be a strong year at the cinema. Far away from CGI-fests, actresses over 60 had a fantastic year, headlining four of the below 20 films. Exceptional talents like Barry Jenkins (Moonlight) and Anna Rose Holmer (The Fits) broke out as exciting filmmakers, intermittent masters like Kenneth Lonergan (Manchester By the Sea) and Paul Verhoeven (Elle) reemerged to great success, and productive stalwarts Richard Linklater (Everybody Wants Some!!), Park Chan-wook (The Handmaiden), and Martin Scorsese (Silence) stuck to what they're great at, namely the casual, the weird, and the grueling. Who needs $200 million cash sucks when Robert Eggers (The Witch) can transport the viewer hundreds of years in the past for a measly $3 million? For those that know where to look, the state of cinema is strong. |
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