'Elvis' - Baz Luhrmann

Before sitting down at The Ritzy cinema in Brixton I thought to myself: “Austin Butler? The blonde, shaggy-haired, surfer-type Californian? Playing Elvis? Surely not.” I’ve grown up with Elvis's music thanks to my dad. Every holiday he’d bring a CD of Elvis's greatest hits to accompany our rental car road trips and we’ve spent countless evenings as a family scrolling through live performances on YouTube; admiring the voice and charisma of this iconic performer. So like many people, I was unsure if Butler was the right casting choice. But I mean… who am I to question Mr Baz Luhrmann really - I am more than happy to eat my own words. Austin Butler completely and utterly lived and breathed this role. He became Elvis.

For nearly three years he worked incredibly hard, studying Presley so meticulously and so intently; not just as a performer but as a human - a son, a father, a husband and friend. Butler never once stepped foot into the realm of impersonation or caricature (where it’s potential is so high) - instead he showed us Elvis as a person rather than the enigmatic icon we all know. He allowed us, as the audience, to connect with him and understand who Elvis really was. All the work that went into developing his role as Elvis continues to show as he still can’t quite shake the deep vocal reach and Southern accent long after wrapping. 

Now, if anyone is going to direct a biopic about Elvis - a man whose name instantly triggers images of sparkling bright lights, eccentricity, iconic outfits, a life full of soul, passion, colour and tragedy - it has to be Baz Luhrmann. Fast-paced action, swift camera movements, news soundbites and sharp cuts spin us through years of Elvis Presley history in such a short space of time, while the emotional moments completely slow down the pace and encourage us to really pay attention. 

One scene that I particularly connected with takes place in a dark suite at the International Hotel as Elvis and his father come to terms with a cancelled world tour. Their conversation is poignantly accompanied by the haunting echo of ‘Suspicious Minds’ floating eerily through the atmosphere. Moments like this connect the audience to the characters on a personal level because the scenes juxtapose, stand out and take their own place away from the eccentricity and fast-paced rhythm of the film. You can’t help but feel true human empathy for Elvis and his dream to “fly away”, a desire that has been crushed by the overbearing weight of his manager’s selfishness and gambling addiction. It’s an incredible balance that allows the film to whisk its audience through what we think we know about this man’s life just to delve deeper into the truth of himself as a person and the abuse he suffered at the hands of his manager.

To begin an Elvis biopic not with Elvis himself but with his manager, Colonel Tom Parker (Tom Hanks), is incredibly powerful. In this opening sequence he claims that “people think I killed Elvis… but I made Elvis”, and just like that you are invested, you want to know more. Why are we listening to his side of the story? Is he trustworthy? Will his actions be reasoned? Hanks plays this extremely slimy, selfish, yet genius of a businessman with so much conviction, you can’t help but hate him (as hard as it is to hate Tom Hanks). With every decision affecting Elvis, there is a benefit for him; for every audience wowed by Elvis, it’s because it was his idea; and with each dollar Elvis makes, there’s one for him. One quote that I feel sums his character up pretty well is: “It doesn’t matter if you make ten bad decisions, as long as you make one good one.”

Throughout the film, Luhrmann and his co-writers; Sam Bromell, Craig Pearce and Jeremy Doner, consciously celebrate Black music - particularly in the 50s when segregation laws remained in place and Black artists were not paid in the least the way white artists were. B.B King (Kelvin Harrison, Jr.), Little Richard (Alton Mason), and Sister Rosetta Tharpe (Yola) stand out in the film through their tremendous talent and pure passion for music and performing. Elvis’s initial inspiration is beautifully imagined in a scene where, as a child, he is entranced by a lonesome singer, belting out an original rendition of ‘That’s All Right’ combined with the distant voices of gospel singers in church. Elvis becomes swept up and practically taken to another realm - for Luhrmann, this is his realisation of when it all clicked for Presley. In some ways I do wish we saw more of the influence Elvis took from Black musicians, but in a film of this scale, with the broad history it covers in a short amount of time, its unsurprising that this aspect; along with other areas (including his drug-use and unfaithfulness to Pricilla), while mentioned, are still slightly skimmed over.

There is so much to say about this film. The casting is brilliant, the writing is incredible, locations, camera, sound, editing, GFX, all these separate areas play their part in the film as a whole and make it so special. It is very much a film that needs to be seen on the big screen. I couldn’t bear the thought of my dad watching this high-budget movie about one of his icons on our old TV with an outdated sound system - so I treated the parents to a trip to the cinema. And of course, it was worth it, the man loved it, and so did my mother who often welled up at scenes in admiration of the filmmaking. In fact, after my first viewing I felt a strong sensation to applaud as the credits faded in, but I stopped myself - would that be weird? Second time around as the credits began to roll, one person in the audience started to clap, encouraging the whole room to join in and applaud the brilliant filmmaking we had all witnessed together. 

As a side note to this review I would like to add that while I write about a film I like to sit in the cinematic space of the film for a few days. Gather my thoughts, assess what scenes, moments or quotes flash back to me, but I will also read and absorb other reviews. One morning on my commute to work I discovered a podcast show called River Cafe Table 4 which had an episode with Austin Butler. I don’t know if it was just the early-morning, sun-shining, summery feeling of inspiration that got to me but this is one of the most beautiful conversations I’ve ever heard. Butler speaks so eloquently about his childhood, memories he associates with food, wild travel experiences, and also shares many uplifting, inspiring, sweet stories of his time on set and his relationship with Luhrmann. At one point he describes how after wrapping the film, he and Baz played records, danced all night and then ran into the sea in the Gold Coast as the sun rose. He described how he took some time to himself in the ocean just to appreciate the moment and process the project he had been a part of. He’s an incredibly articulate man with a beautiful view of life and that’s a conversation I’m sure I’ll come back to for many reasons. I highly recommend listening to it - along, of course, with seeing Elvis on the big screen while you can!

'Normal People' - When Two Art Forms Bring Us Together

Book-to-Film/Television adaptations provide an incredible collaborative space for art to mediate in-between different forms - all while portraying the same themes and evoking the same feelings to an audience so personally connected. When a Film/TV adaptation does not live up to the expectations of the book's devoted readers, a division is formed. We hear the same ubiquitous sentence incessantly echo throughout the air: "it's not as good as the book". Ultimately, the film or TV show is no longer taken seriously and faith in adaptations is knocked back down and somewhat considered to be the inferior art-form once again. However, when it is done right, the readers and the watchers join together in their shared admiration for the story and its characters. A camaraderie is formed. Watchers become readers and readers become watchers. The environment around the story is filled with love and appreciation for both art-forms and what they have both been able to portray. This sense of community (especially in these physically separated times) is very much omnipresent in the atmosphere surrounding Normal People. 

As Sally Rooney's book of the same name has been so widely acclaimed throughout the world, to produce a TV series that could so accurately portray the palpable emotions experienced by reading the book would seem quite a challenge. Not to mention how much pressure that would put on its creators. But from what I am seeing in the abundance of 5-star reviews and ever-growing supporters and fans, it looks like they've done pretty well! I was so infatuated by the story of Marianne and Connell that I wanted to either rewatch the series straight away or read the book - I am currently on page 45. So although I cannot say much about how the series compares to the book, I do have some thoughts and gushing words I wish to spill about Normal People.

This series feels so real. They've shown that young people do have real feelings and real experiences. Often teenage romance is belittled and labelled to be just that: teenage romance. It's as if having feelings at a young age has less value to a person than having those same feelings a few years later in life. Not only that but there is an expiry date on it. It's just young love. Nothing more. Normal People argues against this. What makes the initial teenage setting for these two characters so interesting is how the school environment can manipulate a person's true feelings. In this case the quiet but popular, Connell (played by Paul Mescal), fears judgement from his group of friends if they knew of his passion for English or even his deep feelings for the unusual outcast, Marianne (Daisy Edgar-Jones). The pressure of living up to his friends' expectations of him is a common adolescent experience, one that he acknowledges later in his life. Ultimately, young people do have strong feelings but the social pressure that is heightened in a school environment along with the patronising attitudes that older generations force upon us can create a cluster of confusion and insecurity.

This story is about a relationship of two young people as they mature from school kids to university graduates, constantly being pulled apart by life only to find a way back to each other. However, looking past the romance, it is not solely about this relationship and whether it will survive. It is about the two people involved - separately, not together. Both Marianne and Connell are such intricately detailed characters. They are intelligent and curious but flawed and imperfect which makes them normal. As humans they have their struggles, whether that be with insecurity, abuse, anxiety or depression and I think it is so important to address the show's portrayal of mental health. It is incredible to see so many writers and production companies making an effort to include mental health and the real hardships that come along with it in their stories. The conversation has started and the world is now openly reading and watching and talking about it. In Normal People, Connell, once a reserved and laconic young man, talks so vulnerably and openly to a therapist, then immediately experiences a small sense of catharsis in his first step outside the therapy room. There is strength in those moving moments which is so important for people (especially young men) to witness. There is even a beautiful scene within Connell's blank four walls where he connects with Marianne over Skype - a situation so emotionally relatable in our distancing society today. They talk but don't say anything, while being together but so far apart. This shows how simple checking in on and being there for someone (physically or not) can be so beneficial to both parties.

The directors (Lenny Abrahamson and Hettie Macdonald) and writers (Sally Rooney and Alice Birch) have been able to show so many different aspects to an authentic, modern day relationship: the communication, the fear of judgement and the sex is portrayed in such a brilliantly realistic but also beautiful and artistic way. They have presented through dialogue, location, delicate action, quiet pauses and lingering shots that there is poetry in the everyday. In fact, 'poignant' tends to be a word I use a lot to describe a film or TV series that emotionally connects to its audience, but it is a word that is so incredibly relevant when expressing or trying to interpret my feelings for this show.

Also bonus points for including the incredible Billie Marten on its soundtrack.

'1917' - Sam Mendes

1917 - a story of friendship, brotherhood, family, determination and hope.

I came out of this screening feeling quite patriotic and proud to be English. Not because I am pro-war or have a strong connection or understanding of World War I, but because I felt like I knew the boys - Schofield (George Mackay) and Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman). Perhaps this connection I felt was due to the fact that I watched this film, on my own in a cinema in Canberra having lived here for 6 months now. For me, it was comforting to see and hear the voices of so many young English men, not just performing but becoming the British soldiers of over one hundred years ago. Director Sam Mendes and writer Krysty Wilson-Cairns brilliantly displayed the youth of these boys through their dialogue and interaction with others with all these facetious remarks and comments I am used to hearing (in much different and less serious circumstances) such as, "Welcome aboard the night bus to fuck-knows-where" or even simply, "You got a fag?". This is a very small thing to pick up on but I definitely feel it had a powerful outcome as it allowed me and I'm sure many other audience members to relate on a deeper level to the characters.

The friendship between Blake and Schofield is truly more of a brotherhood. Schofield throughout the first part of their journey together is the one making sure Blake is ok, and in doing so injures himself in the process when he didn't even ask to be there. However this switches once Blake saves his life in the rubble of a German trench. Where one is, the other must be. But it is the association of this mission with Blake's determination to get to his brother that is a main factor in pushing Schofield further. His determination and desperation to deliver the General's message (with 1600 lives depending on it) is strengthened, causing him to become a leader when he was previously a follower of Blake. This is portrayed when at one point he demands all men to come together to lift a truck out of the mud so they can continue their journey. The cherry blossom petals and their connection to Blake are also a beautiful reminder as to why he must keep going.

As I was watching this film I literally wrote down 'Roger Deakins - you GOD' - and I think that says it all really. Not only did the two long shots allow for the audience to quite literally stay with the characters on this journey allowing for a deeper level of connection, but the actors too were experiencing similar conditions as WWI soldiers as they got wet and muddy and trekked up large hills and crumbling slopes. There were also so many beautiful, lingering shots I wanted to pause on to look at for longer. One that stays in my mind is a shot of Schofield as a silhouette, alone, looking out from under an archway at the remains of a building on fire. It really is incredible. I also want to mention the matching first and last shots and how meaningful this is for the story. Schofield's life changed in less than 24 hours. Not only is this a beautiful connection to the beginning of the film but we also find out the deeper meanings behind his actions - especially the decision to stay with the French woman and baby for so long. It is at this final moment as he observes the photographs in his bandaged hand that we truly understand just how much he had a stake when picked for this mission. Here we are left with a sense of sadness, appreciation and also hope for him. Even when it seems "hope is a dangerous thing".

'And Then We Danced' - Levan Akin | Cannes 2019

This film...

You know when you watch something and time becomes irrelevant and forgotten? This is that. I was so engrossed that I forgot films end, so when this did I was left stunned and lost in my thoughts for a while.

This film is like a warm, comforting, well-needed hug. It captures and encapsulates being young and free in the most realistic, effective and stunning way as it explores what tradition means for the modern youth.

Our main character, Merab (Levan Gelbakhiani), is sweet, soft and full of hope. The world of modern Tbilisi, Georgia is not made for him and yet he lives freely without being chained down by restrictions or ostracised by tradition. In fact, he embraces this world as it is his world. The historic and highly regarded tradition of Georgian Dance attempts to break him down, claiming he is 'too soft', but he proves (mainly and most importantly to himself) that he is indeed strong. Being 'soft' is perceived as vulnerable and weak - something not 'masculine' - when really it is what makes a person stronger. It makes a person a person! The final dance scene captures this notion and portrays it beautifully. Merab becomes so incredibly passionate and fiery that you become absorbed in the smooth sways and sudden strikes of his movements. His energy throughout the film - but most noticeably in this scene - has the ability to spark a feeling of adrenaline in its audience to love life as much as he does. An incredible and inspiring scene to end with.

The on-screen chemistry between Levan Gelbakhiani (Merab) and Bachi Valishvili (Irakli) is powerful and poignant. You innately develop a love for the characters with every facial expression and minute movements they make from timid twitches to grand, strong passionate dance. The actors - that Akin commemorates as being 'brave' - allowed themselves to freely explore the notion of saying everything while saying nothing at all. Many scenes had no dialogue which could elude to the fact that Georgian society does not address same-sex relationships in a positive light or even at all. But I just think: how can you accurately articulate feelings into words? It's more effective to show what a character is thinking rather than explicitly state it. One dialogue-less moment which I have been unable to stop thinking about is filled instead with music. The song 'Honey' by Robyn is the perfect accompaniment for Merab as he communicates his love to Irakli by dancing around shirtless. The lighting is especially powerful and in combination with the strong bass and beats of the song, this scene has an incredible indescribable feeling of freedom and happiness that seems infinite. Akin has encapsulated what is feels like to love life and be completely comfortable with who you are in a visually beautiful and deeply palpable way. I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

Young-adult relationships are portrayed impressively realistically. Many films are tempted by adult-created stereotypes of teenagers, but not here. To delve deeper, Merab's dance partner, Mary (Ana Javakhishvili), whom he has known since the age of ten is especially well-defined. I particularly want to point out her fascination towards her beloved fancy English cigarettes and how this is somewhat a metaphor for her character. On the outside she is seemingly rich, privileged and stuck up (I can stereotype because I'm English...), when in fact on the inside she is simply a normal Georgian girl. One that is flawed but also unconditionally loving and accepting. This is particularly evident in two extremely powerful long shots that start with Merab at a wedding party surrounded by people, yet so alone. Towards the end of this shot the camera looks down from a window at the physically minuscule and almost insignificant Merab stood by himself. It is in this moment of his extreme solitude that Mary appears and embraces him, allowing him to feel everything he's feeling and release it within her safe solace.

Levan Akin has successfully made the film self-aware and avoided stereotypes gracefully and with innovation. When a scene could potentially lean towards being 'cliché' (even if it is highly emotional and dramatic like tearing posters off a bedroom wall when giving up on dreams that feel unreachable), he adds a playful sprinkle of humour which ultimately keeps the film fresh and unique. This is an exciting and well-established professional trait for a director/auteur and I am so intrigued and excited for what Akin can do following this film.

'And Then We Danced' is a soft, playful but heartbreaking mirror on youth and how disapproving, condemnatory and ignorant past attitudes towards homosexuality remain present in modern culture.

Watch the trailer here!

'If Beale Street Could Talk' - Barry Jenkins

Jenkins visually creates an equilibrium of humanity and inhumanity by telling a beautiful young love story that is tangled in the brutal, poignant, political racism and police misconduct in the 1970's.

Adapted from James Baldwin's novel; the story - which is presented from the perspective of Tish (Kiki Layne) - follows a young couple (Tish and Fonny) at the start of their lives together. That is until Fonny (Stephan James) is set up by a police officer for a crime he did not commit.

The film follows its characters in the past and the present, creating both the main plot and the sub-plot, respectively. The flashbacks beautifully encapsulate and portray the couple's relationship prior to the arrest, while inherently proving Fonny's innocence to the audience by expressing his lovable, kind and caring disposition. The flashbacks also hint at and foreshadow his unjust arrest which makes it heartbreaking to watch as we know what is imminent, and yet, we are helpless. In the present, the characters desperately try to fight for vindication and justice for Fonny, all while attempting to live their lives and stay strong together. 

The film is visually and emotionally beautiful. Jenkins captures the heart of the young couple's hopeful relationship through fresh, bright primary colours. They are initially introduced wearing coordinating blue and yellow outfits (goals) and then, while Fonny is in prison, greens are prominent in Tish's world, serving a strong purpose to suggest their togetherness and inability to be separated even when physically apart. 

There is a particular scene that stands out to me due to its strong exploration into character relationships - I'm tempted to call it the 'Cream Soda Scene' - the scene in which Tish (Kiki Layne) shares the news to Fonny's family that she is carrying his child - to his mothers extreme dismay. This scene is so powerful, tense, shocking, humorous, heartbreaking and dramatic. As I was watching, the audience and I were so engaged and involved with the scene that there was literally a scream when Tish's sister, Ernestine (Teyonah Parris) brutally insults Fonny's sister, Adrienne, (Ebony Obsidian) with extremely strong language and passion - ugh, it is so great. Acting and writing completely intertwine and push the scene into a new dimension, making it so powerful and unforgettable. I can only wish to create a scene that impressive. Utterly Oscar-worthy. 

Jenkins made a point in his Q&A after the screening, that he felt it essential to remain true to the perspective of a 19-year-old girl while also depicting the use of the 'female gaze'. He credited his editor, Joi McMillon for encouraging him to use shots that incorporated the female gaze effectively. For example, she convinced him in the edit room to include a close-up shot of the topless Fonny in order to portray how this young woman would see her lover whom she utterly adores and desires. Furthermore, it is so refreshing to experience a film that delves into the 'female gaze' when the 'male gaze' has become ubiquitous in cinema for decades.

Jenkins also expressed his intentions to convincingly tell this story through a 19-year-old girl's eyes. And fittingly, as a 19-year-old girl myself, I believe he has achieved this as I felt completely connected to Tish and her life even though we are literally worlds apart. The use of 'down the barrel' shots (when characters are looking straight into the camera) also enhanced this feeling for me as I could vividly see Tish's point of view, allowing me to feel, think and reminisce in nostalgia as she does. Her character is extremely well written. She is presented as timid and strong, childish and independent, a girl and a woman. I feel she is the perfect encapsulation of what being nineteen is: no longer a girl but also not yet quite a woman. It is a freeing age that Jenkins has captured extremely beautifully.

'If Beale Street Could Talk' powerfully explores the political and social injustices towards black people in the 1970s (and also importantly parallels to our modern day). Yet its focus predominantly lies on a truly potent and intimate love story between two people and the heartbreaking, impenetrable pane of glass that separates them. 

'Capernaum' - Nadine Labaki

After leaving the movie theatre, quiet and stunned, my initial reaction and instinct was to let the movie settle in my mind for a few days. I needed time to fully grasp it's message and to also introspect my life and how I live. 'Capernaum' is gripping, sensitive and simply incredible. The first sentence I spoke to my parents after seeing this film was: 'WE ARE SO LUCKY'. It is difficult to watch a film that focusses on poverty in such a brutal and honest way because in our western world we - as harsh but true it is to say - choose to ignore it. But this is why it is important to see this film.

Zain (Zain Al Rafeea) is a precocious, twelve-year-old boy with a young, vulnerable and innocent facade. However, he is feisty, decisive and determined as he swears aggressively to the disingenuous adults in this world - blaming them for the unfairness and mistreatment he has been forced to experience by simply being born. Living and growing up in poverty forces this young boy to be independent as he makes difficult choices for himself and other children in the film. Zain has developed an instinct to protect not only his sister, Sahar (Cedra Izam) but also the son of Rahil (Yordanos Shifera), an Ethiopian refugee. As breathtaking as it is to watch a young boy use his innovative mind to care for those he loves; we have to be reminded that he is still a child. It is in these moments (such as when he meets Spiderman's "cousin" or when he exposes the breasts of a large statue) that the viewer is overcome with a great, unexplainable feeling of sadness and shock. These reminders give the film it's heavy, emotional density. Perhaps because of the knowledge that for so many children, this is their reality.

It is tricky to incorporate humour in a film so distressing and thoughtful, however the little pockets of warm amusement we receive, balance our emotions while juxtaposing them to make us understand the hardcore severity in the reality of contemporary Lebanon. Both the upsetting and humorous scenes are intensified and as much as they contrast with each other, they also go hand-in-hand in an effortless equilibrium. When there is light comedy we let it linger, let out a sigh, and then continue to focus on Zain's devastatingly raw and realistic journey.

Nadine Labaki is knocking at our Western window to show us, first hand, what is happening to our neighbours in the world that we share. We question how can we help? What can we do? How did it get to this? We are reminded to never take for granted the fact that we have a home, a bed, food and clean water literally at our fingertips. What we consider as simply 'home comforts' are luxuries to millions of people who risk their lives every day for something as vital, yet simple as a cup of water or a sheltered place to sleep. It is becoming far too easy to say "the world is unfair", as if there is nothing we can do. But we can, the world is just inhumane.

Lebanon has been struggling for years to recover from its civil war that took place across 1975 - 1990. A simple Google search led me to a few articles about Lebanon so that I can understand their situation better. Please take the time to read it too and be more aware of the world outside our own. 
https://borgenproject.org/top-10-crucial-to-know-facts-about-poverty-in-lebanon/ 

'Capernaum' is a beautiful piece of cinema that I urge you to watch. In addition, please understand that I am not trying to be cavalier at all because I do not have the knowledge to educate people on this subject, I simply want to share my thoughts and hopefully encourage more people to watch the film.

My Thoughts on Felix Van Groeningen's 'Beautiful Boy'

To make a film that covers such an important, yet, taboo subject is incredibly difficult. But for the story to have been based on the memoirs of real people who experienced it first hand; that is exceedingly harder. 

In this film, I found it difficult to label one character as the protagonist, but now as I revisit my thoughts; I believe there is not one; at least singularly. It is true that our main characters are David and Nic Sheff, however, this film delves more into the richness of relationships and love within a family as a whole rather than focussing purely on the father-son relationship. There is an important message about expressing the ability to support a loved one, while knowing when you need to stop. Is it even possible to love someone so much, when at the same time, accept that you can no longer help them? In terms of the Sheff family, they are forced to deal with the immense, distressing effects that addiction has caused to all their relationships - not just one of a paternal nature. This is extremely powerful and is often undeservingly forgotten in the discussion of the addiction crisis. Watching the rise and loss of hope within the Sheff family - and of Nic himself as he succumbs and overcomes his urges - was so heartbreaking and poignant. The reality of addiction is beautifully portrayed. Furthermore, the unique format of the film does not follow the traditional three-act structure or smooth character arcs. Instead, it allows Nic to experience the cycle of sobriety and relapse, which ultimately creates an incredibly raw and real film that encapsulates the realities of this disease.

Timothée Chalamet has such an immense, otherworldly talent that was completely enhanced through his real-life and onscreen connection with the unfathomable, Steve Carell. The pair really were father and son to me and it was so spectacular and emotional to watch these incredible performances bounce off each other. I was immersed the entire time. 

Felix Van Groeningen has the ability to take each and every audience member out of their lives, forget who they are, and become completely involved with the story, even if they have no experiences with the rough reality of drug addiction. 

It is a disease, one that is rarely spoken about or portrayed on screen but it is something that America and many other countries, including ours, struggles with. By educating and allowing people to understand this epidemic in an intense, emotional and sensitive way, this film will change a lot of the assumptions, opinions and stereotypes of drug addiction. And that is the most powerful thing a film can do. 

'Beautiful Boy' could not have come at a more relevant time in our world.