2023 was yet another year for the loud and independent voices in cinema to be overshadowed by the typical Hollywood affair. That said, it appears that the usual slew of superhero flicks and personality-less remakes and sequels to older films are starting to wear thin. People just don’t seem to want these emotionless, cynical cash-grabs anymore.
That last point is worth the focus. While many are starting to grow tired of the industry, these same people will also complain about the lack of more inspired work. But I assure you that these films are very much out there; you just have to look a little harder. Sadly, the reality is that the world is suffering through quite the recession, and this writer has also struggled to section which films are worth visiting. Some notable choices are missing like Saltburn and Killers of the Flower Moon, while others have seen more detailed reviews-which you can find on this very blog.
For this list, I wanted to showcase a few of the films I never got around to reviewing last year. There will be a fair mixture of smaller films and the usual extravagant products, but the reviews won’t be as long as my more extensive pieces. With a mixture of plastic dolls, plasticine figures and plastic noses, here are just a handful of films I missed out on or didn’t feel I could review at the time, ordered from worst to best. Here’s hoping for a more eventful year of movie watching…
Renfield
We all know the story of Dracula by now. No horror icon can come as close to matching the universal knowledge of the vampiric count. And with countless reimaginations of Bram Stoker’s original novel, you may feel that the well of creativity would’ve been heartily rummaged at this point. Sadly, that statement feels correct in the face of Chris McKay’s Renfield. A film that takes two of the more recognisable characters from said novel and brings them into the modern day with a more comedic and satirical approach. While not the most unique idea, the potential for this to be entertaining was right there, especially with Nicolas Cage helming the role of our favourite count.
Obviously, the film isn’t so much about Count Dracula as it is his psychotic, mind-controlled slave, Renfield (Nicholas Hoult), who has served his master through two centuries. Renfield finds unwitting victims, brings them to the count and has them brutally harvested. But Renfield has had enough, joining a support group for people in abusive relationships. Finally putting aside his controlling abuser, things seem to be going alright. That is, until Dracula catches on to this, and employs the help of local gangster, Lobo (Ben Schwartz). Renfield then teams up with police officer Rebecca (Awkwafina), who has a score to settle with the Lobo family for the death of her father. It’s about as entertaining as a buddy-cop movie can be, just without any of that vampiric edge you could want from a Dracula movie.
It is worth noting that while the concept isn’t executed all too poorly, it feels as though it veers away too much from the main appeal: the relationship between Dracula and Renfield. What this film should’ve kept the focus on was Renfield being abused and gaslighted by Cage’s wonderfully hammy count. Renfield’s decision to leave Dracula’s side happens too briskly, and we’re left subject to a rather flat dynamic with the ever-irritating Awkwafina (and actress of which has had only one good role behind her-figure that one out for yourself).
While there is a fair amount of entertaining gags and an excessive amount of gore that fits the film nicely, it never takes full advantage of the novelty of this allegorical abusive relationship dynamic. The gang stuff is horribly forgettable and makes the film feel needlessly cluttered. If you are going to go down the root of having an odd couple story about Dracula and Renfield, you should really commit to the idea. For every solid joke there’s another equally bad one that rips away the fun that could’ve been had. It sucks every bit of excitement out of you.
Maestro
Leonard Bernstein was a revolutionary composer. A man who may not be instantly recognisable to the average person, but one of whom has composed some of the classic musicals of the earlier days of cinema. Films like On the Town and West Side Story simply wouldn’t exist the way they had if it weren’t for his immaculate compositions. So a biopic in the same vein as those we have been so drowned in would only make perfect sense. Bradley Cooper, still riding the high of his A Star is Born remake, directs what is mostly a cry for an Oscar. Skimming along the surface, this Netflix original is pretty forgettable.
Cooper stars as the eponymous Maestro, wearing a prosthetic nose that many complained was anti-Semitic. Trust me when I say that Cooper’s fake nose is the least of the film’s problems. It charts the composer’s life from the first crowded concert he performed, of which he only did because the original composer was unavailable. It shows the turbulent life of Bernstein from his theatre compositions to his Hollywood fame, while also detailing his life with his wife Felicia Montealegre (Carey Mulligan) and his frequent affairs with other men. You better believe this is hitting all the standard biopic beats.
Most may be enticed to believe this would be a biopic of a different calibre. Leonard Bernstein is not exactly a Freddie Mercury or Elvis Presley, so some fine tuning could stop it from falling into those expectations. The problem is that Cooper plays it very safe. There is a certain artistic merit to this one. The pacing is rather seamless and the more important events in Bernstein’s life are given those moments to breathe. It never glorifies Bernstein to the point of trying to excuse every little behaviour quirk, but it does celebrate the genuine achievements the musician accomplished.
What really elevates this film is Bernstein’s relationship with Felicia. Carey Mulligan continuing to prove herself as one of the greatest modern actresses really steals the show. You feel every bit of conflict going on in her brain; her need to keep a hold of her husband without denying his homosexual instincts. Even that aspect is handled delicately and rather matter-of-fact. But it’s the relationship between the two that the film is relying on. The problems arise whenever Cooper feels the need to fall back into those obvious clichés of the innocent guy corrupted by his own fame; his struggling rise to his eventual fall; his damaging lifestyle. Everything is so formulaic that it becomes too bland to watch.
While certainly not a bad film, Maestro feels too soulless to really judge it in any unique way that couldn’t be applied to other films like it. It does have some fun moments of flourish like the choice to film in black and white during the earlier years, then transition to colour to show the evolution of where cinema was going. But it also suffers from bizarre editing choices, like the constant freeze-framing that made me think my internet was lagging. With some moments of composed bliss, Maestro suffers from a tenor too high for its own good.
Ferrari
Unless you have dedicated much of your life to NASCAR and its various contributors, I doubt many have genuinely pondered the life of Enzo Ferrari, the man who created the car company synonymous with the sport. That said, there is still much to unearth. Well, Michael Mann, who has brought us sly successes during the eighties and nineties, felt it appropriate to bring to life just a fraction of Ferrari’s life. And while the Collateral director does manage to skew away from the typical biopic formula, it still feels just as barren and uncreative as anything else.
While we do get a snippet of the young Enzo Ferrari’s (Adam Driver) life, the film is mostly centred around a troubled event in 1957. We see the aged mogul preparing himself for the Mille Miglia, a racing event across Italy. But Ferrari’s history of drivers who have lost their lives to faults in his cars’ manufacturing has led his reputation down a diminishing path. We also peer into Ferrari’s personal life, with his bitter marriage to his wife, Laura (Penelope Cruz), put into question after Ferrari suffers possible bankruptcy, a company of which Laura has stock in. We also see that Ferrari has been juggling a second life, secretly having fathered a child with Lina Lardi (Shailene Woodley). The affair distracts Ferrari from the death of his first son, but the charade can only persist for so long.
So often have I, and many, complained about biopics feeling too derivative. With the musician biopic in particular starting to peter out, we’ve seen a rise in corporate biopics like Tetris and Blackberry. Ferrari is no different from those, in essence. It’s admirable to see Mann divert from the encompassing career; a choice to not spend too much time on the less interesting parts of Ferrari’s life. But unless you really know your history with the man, there feels like a gaping hole missing in the plot.
Driver and Cruz give us excellent performances, something that one would expect from such esteemed actors. But even this is not enough to forgive the lack of context for most things. The drama starts to feel monotonous and the family tensions are only so intriguing. The focus on Ferrari’s professional and personal life are nicely split, with some great examples of intense driving and compelling domestic drama. But that only goes so far, with little done to really develop these “characters.” You get those pretty visuals and Mann’s trademark penchant for contrasting visual representation, but there’s too much lacking in the plot department.
Ferrari is too forgettable for me to rank any higher. It has its moments, but there’s such a stock feeling to it. Michael Mann has given us more than enough films to really employ some faith in him, but this is not one of those films. Adam Driver is drifting this movie through an acceptable territory.
Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget
Who asked for a sequel to Chicken Run? I mean, seriously, did people really want them to make a sequel to what is ultimately a very enjoyable but singular movie from twenty-three years ago? Aardman’s feature debut has certainly stood the test of time, wreathing in charming animation and jokes that toe the line of being overtly sadistic. The studio has evolved so much since then that a sequel just felt unnecessary. Well, that wouldn’t stop Sam Fell from bringing us back to the world of these escaped chickens.
While the first film was largely a fun little take on The Great Escape with chickens, this one opts for a more Mission: Impossibleesque tone. Years after the fowls flew from their farm, Ginger (now played by Thandiwe Newton) and Rocky (now played by Zachary Levi) have settled on an island with the other chickens-and Fowler-away from any harm. But Ginger and Rocky’s daughter, Molly (Bella Ramsey) wants to explore the rest of the world. She does, but is caught up in a heavily guarded chicken farm that seems like heaven for the poultry. But far more sinister forces seem to be lurking. It’s up to the rest of the crew to save Molly.
Complaining about the repetitive nature that many kid’s sequels go through, what with the offspring of the first film’s character wanting to rebel and go off on their own, only to find danger, is pretty pointless. As tired as the concept is, you can certainly have fun with it. And while it certainly isn’t as entertaining or as memorable as the first film, Dawn of the Nugget does still manage to be pretty fun. The stakes are upped, with a fun reverse of the first film, where the chickens are now breaking in. The film also doesn’t try to replicate the jokes of the first, allowing these new set-pieces to thrive on their own, and to let Molly be just as enjoyable as the veterans.
I suppose there’s not much to the film. There are some neat little unexpected moments that were somewhat ruined by the trailer, and that darker, more sadistic edge is still here, though it does feel more underwhelming. Even in comparison to Aardman’s other feature films, this just feels very generic. There’s plenty of good gags, and the quintessential Britishness of the studio is present as ever, but it feels so bottom of the barrel. The animation style is still stunning all these years later, with the style hardly changing outside of a few modern technical improvements and a charm that reminds us of what Aardman is. I just wish it had more personality than its feather-light plot beckons.
Asteroid City
Wes Anderson makes another movie that feels like every other movie he’s made…but this one’s actually not that great. The director has managed to craft a specific niche that very few directors have been able to replicate. Some have come damn close, but they always fail to capture the perfection of Anderson’s pinpoint symmetry. This latest film, only two years after the overlooked The French Dispatch, sadly takes the spot for what I consider to be his weakest one yet.
Like any other Wes Anderson film in the last ten years, this oddly quirky film boasts an all-star cast in an outlandish idea. Narrated by Bryan Cranston, he introduces us to a in-universe play written by Conrad Earp (Edward Norton). At the centre of this is Anderson regular Jason Schwartzman as Augie Steenbeck, who is taking his kids across the desert after the death of his wife. While staying at a motel, Augie meets several characters. Midge (Scarlett Johansson) is a talented actress looking for her next role; June (Maya Hawke) is a teacher taking her students through all the usual teachings of the world; J.J. Kellogg (Liev Schreiber) is dealing with his always daring child. This plethora of characters is subject to a major area lockdown after the arrival of a strange, stop-motion alien.
You can’t very well judge this film without the weight of Anderson’s previous films. With great classics like The Grand Budapest Hotel and more underrated gems like Moonrise Kingdom, the man has an identity that would feel repetitive anywhere else, but is handled with such care each time that you feel like each experience is as much a treat as the last. Asteroid City is an example of how this style Anderson has so carefully nurtured can veer too far off the opposite end. Yes, it’s beautifully shot and edited, and the characters are pretty memorable with their own distinct conflicts. But much of this is overshadowed by the ludicrousness of the atmosphere.
The play within a film is a nice idea. You don’t really question the whole legitimacy of it because of how already fantastical the tone is. It captures this fifties setting, using the alien panic of the time, and contextualises it into a analogue for our own lockdown crisis. There’s plenty of obvious parallels to the pandemic, with each set of characters reacting to this lockdown in different ways, from sheer panic to complete rebellion. As fun as all that is, the characters suffer as a result. It’s hard to care about the characters outside of their few quirks when none of them feel fully realised.
This film really feels like an endurance test for those who can’t quite get into Anderson’s films. There were a lot of elements I thoroughly enjoyed, but they were almost all stylistic choices. It tiptoes too heavily in the direction of weirdness that it makes it feel more like a parody of a Wes Anderson movie than anything. Though hardcore fans may enjoy this, casuals are going to feel alienated.
The Old Oak
One of my greatest regrets is never getting the chance to review this when it came out. Ken Loach’s final film is here. After nearly sixty years of film making, the British director is hanging his hat with one last furious bow. The Old Oak is also the last of a thematic trilogy of films, after I, Daniel Blake and Sorry We Missed You, centred around Loach’s despising of the Tory government. It feels appropriate to follow up a political film with another. A director that puts a spotlight on the northern part of England, one that typically struggles the most, this one also tackles the issue of Syrian immigration.
This third tale of woe follows that of TJ Ballantyne (Dave Turner), the owner of the titular pub. The Old Oak is on its last legs, only raking in the regular patrons. But TJ’s life is suddenly flipped upon the arrival of Syrian refugees, housed in estates next to those of the English-bred. Naturally, the refugees suffer terrible racism, but one particular refugee, Yara (Ebla Mari), stands up to the abuse. The kindly TJ decides to help her, trying to promote a more friendly environment. After Yara’s camera is broken, the two bond over their respective pasts, TJ being brought up to fight for his rights, Yara immigrating from a war-torn country where her father is imprisoned. The patrons of the pub don’t like this, seeing TJ as betraying his own kind. TJ, with the help of kinder residents, decides to put on a charitable event for the whole village, welcoming all walks of life.
If you’ve ever seen a Ken Loach film, or simply just the aforementioned preceding two before this, then you know that subtlety is not his forte. That overt anger and frustration can sometimes be grating in a film handled by anyone else, but Loach’s passion for what he believes in is so strongly conveyed that you’re willing to throw subtlety out of the window. England still has a racism problem. We can pretend there isn’t, but you see this same issue every time a new set of immigrants makes their way to the country. Loach is trying to unite us, not to villainise those who are ignorant.
The film gives us a very simple and honest message of banding together in the face of recession. We see this in TJ, one of the few residents of this village that still believes in the idea of unity. Even when his pub is that close from suffering closure, he still keeps his head high and tries not to let those frustrations bleed out into unnecessary hate. His connection to Yara is powerfully shown, with the two being the heart of the film. The oppression and hardships the two overcome, in spite of how horribly transparent much of it is, is so gratifying to watch.
The way the film handles its message can be a little too comical. Characters can act overtly and cartoonish-ly racist, never conveying that same reserved attitude most Brits have when confronting a race they don’t care for. That said, racist bigots like this, who speak before they think, do exist, and many of the comments are quite true to what you might hear in more xenophobic communities. There is a certain silliness to much of the film, with dialogue that feels like it was written on a first draft-Ken Loach venting in the form of mad scribblings. But the tiredness is there. Not a bad, lazy tiredness. But a fed-up tiredness.
What keeps this film raised on its legs is the overall point being put across. The Tory government, regardless of where you sit on the fence, has made several mistakes in regards to both immigration and how it treats its own people. This is a man that has shouted time and time again about his frustrations. And since 2016, when this film is set and when I, Daniel Blake came out, nothing has changed. It’s that feeling of unity that this film portrays that makes this such a strong film. Don’t fall into the habit of racism; we need to stand united.
El Conde
We’ve talked about vampires and we’ve talked about real-life figures. So why not combine the two? Well, apparently director Pablo Larrain couldn’t help but combine these two things in a not-so-subtle jab at the controversial Chilean dictator known as Augusto Pinochet. This strange foreign language film is not your simple biopic, instead opting to use the mythology of vampires to add a comical twist on the usual biopic formula. Larrain previously directed other, more genuine biopics with Jackie and Spencer (based on Jackie Kennedy and Princess Diana respectively), but this one is far more fantastical.
Set during the final days of the Chilean dictator (played here by Jaime Vadell), we learn that Pinochet has actually lived his life as an immortal vampire. Now, however, Pinochet is ready to die, with the possibility that he will leave a fortune to his various, selfish children. Pinochet’s wife, Lucia (Gloria Munchmeyer), has never been given the luxury of the same immortality, and so desperately wants that life. But Pinochet has other plans. When he meets the nun sent to make his final moments peaceful-Carmencita (Paula Luchsinger)-he suddenly finds a new lease on life. Carmencita’s goal is to destroy the vamp, but to also end his bloodline.
El Conde is one of the more bizarre films. To us non-Chileans, the figure depicted isn’t exactly in our consciousness. To Larrain-a Chilean himself-I can imagine that much of this comes from a long-standing resentment. The vampiric angle is what sets this apart. It isn’t simply done to provide a fun little novelty, but instead works to symbolise how many Chilean people felt about Pinochet. We have this narration that spells out Pinochet’s long, insufferable life. The revelation of who that narrator is will surely make a certain subset of viewers cheer in hysterics. From a political angle, you can enjoy the jovial jabbing, even if you don’t understand the person behind the film.
Seperating the film from its political identity is when you start to see the cracks. While the story surrounding the nun sent to kill Pinochet is enjoyable, going in a direction I wouldn’t have expected, everything surrounding Pinochet’s family is rather bland. It’s fun to see Larrain tear apart everyone in the Pinochet family, but many of them simply don’t have an interesting enough personality for one to care. The film is honestly at its best when it becomes a mindless slasher-the kills of which are wonderfully beautiful.
The film certainly feels on the nose with its political statement, and sometimes it loses itself in the violence. But the film is still pretty enjoyable. It’s worth the watch simply for how unique it feels. It sure was a better vampire movie than Renfield.
Barbie
If you had told me even a year ago that a movie about Barbie coming to life, based on one of the most successful brands, would end up being an amazing film about female empowerment, I would’ve probably…hoped so. Because I’ve been anticipating this since the announcement that Greta Gerwig would be taking the helm. We’re so used to the presence of this film now that it’s easy to forget that, at one point, many were ready to brush this off as a corporate product with no substance. But with the creative mind behind Lady Bird being able to turn this into a meta commentary on not only Barbie but modern society as a whole, you know there’s something special about this one.
Gerwig’s vision for Barbie is just as meta as you might expect. Set in the dreamscape that is Barbieland, where every Barbie is called Barbie and every Ken is called Ken, one particular Barbie (Margot Robbie) begins to question her existence. The world very much operates on toy logic, with everything being made of plastic. The main Ken of the movie (Ryan Gosling) desperately wants Barbie’s affection, but she’s stuck in an existential crisis. Upon the advice of Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon), Barbie (and Ken) decide to travel to the real world, where they meet the head of Mattel and one of their key workers (America Ferrara). Barbie discovers her reputation in the real world, and Ken discovers the joys of the patriarchy.
I should start by talking about the discourse this film has had. The hilarious fact that so many insecure men have been complaining that the Barbie film is woke propaganda will never not be humorous. The film is very tongue-in-cheek, understanding that it was made with a cynical mindset and even jokes about Hollywood’s obsession with cleansing everything. Mattel and Warner Bros. happily accept a handful of jabs, with one of the villains literally being the head of Mattel. But it doesn’t shy away from addressing those insecurities so many men feel. Ken is not supposed to be this terrible person, and he’s not any more airheaded than Barbie. The idea is that these are characters who are so easily influenced by the outside world and how people perceive them that they go down their own paths of destructive behaviour.
Even aside from whatever socio-political message the film is putting across, it ultimately remains an entertaining and expertly-crafted film that always manages to get some hearty laughs out of its audience. The way each Barbie and Ken follow their roles to a tee, only being good at one thing, is such an entertaining concept. We get an array of doll-accurate costumes and sets that any kid who grew up with a Barbie is sure to get a little high from that glorious nostalgia. It’s difficult not to love a film that is so intent on trying to be everything but a corporate product. And it almost entirely never feels like such a thing.
Though not everything about it works, with the real-world mother and daughter that come along for the ride just not being very interesting, and some jokes feeling a little too immature for my liking, Barbie still manages to be a thoroughly entertaining meta piece about the state of society. That sentence doesn’t feel right attached to a Barbie film, but it sure as hell applies.
Passages
Love is love, no matter what way you define it. In this age of constant progression, with the eve of inclusivity being more integrated in societal norm, it’s pretty expected for movie studios to want to make more LGBTQ+-friendly material. But this compelling romantic drama is not one of those cynical attempts at trying to come across as allied. Ira Sachs understands that those fears and blatant xenophobia haven’t gone away completely. With Sachs’ latest film, Passages, he opts to flip the perspective on its head in one of the most poignant pieces about discovering yourself in the storm of change.
A seemingly happy marriage between film director Tomas (Franz Rogowski) and artist Martin (Ben Whishaw) is thrown in to dismay when Tomas meets a young woman and teacher, Agathe (Adele Exarchopoulos). The very feminine Tomas, who has never experienced a sexual relationship with a woman, finds himself slowly falling in love with the passionate teacher. Tomas abandons Martin, leaving behind their loving relationship with little care. As Martin moves on, finding a new romantic partner, and Tomas has gotten Agathe pregnant, he starts to yearn for his old lover. Without even a second thought, he barges his way back in. And as much as Martin knows he has to let Tomas go, he can’t help but fall under his spell.
Typically, those of us who live in the majority of heterosexual existence will turn our heads at the idea of a gay relationship. It isn’t strictly homophobic; we simply aren’t used to it. Ira Sachs understands that and tries to contextualise it through the guise of a heterosexual affair. It’s a testament to Rogowski and Whishaw’s performances that they tell such a compelling romance from the first ten minutes. There’s tension there, for sure, but you understand they have had a long and (supposedly) loving relationship. When Agathe comes into play, it disrupts everything. Suddenly, the idea of a gay man hooking up with a woman feels entirely taboo. In a moment of recognition, you start to realise Sachs’ intent.
The homosexual angle isn’t all the film is. It’s largely a tale of egoism and manipulation. It’s a destructive path caused by one man who only wants happiness for himself. Tomas is so wonderfully arrogant, only seeing his two lovers as a means for his self-satisfaction. This isn’t going against Sachs’ intention, it’s simply elevating the story to being something more than just a gay romance story. Whether it’s through a romantic strife or just a relationship that’s been held down by a single person, many can relate to the idea of someone you care about so much destroying your life. It’s a far more nuanced approach that I can’t help but admire.
Passages doesn’t care for modesty. To be exposed to other walks of life is so important for us. But whereas a major film studio may do this with cynical methods, Sachs gives us an intimate and passionate voyeurism. The sex in the movie, both from a straight and gay angle, is presented graphically. Done in such a way that forces you to accept what’s going on, that gung-ho attitude is simply a part of life. It’s a universal language that speaks to the varied cultures that are represented: from French to British to German.
Passages has had quite the divisive reaction. The film has generally been well-accepted, but others have felt that the film does more damage than good. As someone who ticks the typical cis-gendered box, it’s difficult for me to fully understand that perspective. But from what I took away, I found this to be deeply fascinating and enjoyable. It’s sadistic, charming and passionate all the same, and I think the passage of time will only be kinder to it.
Past Lives
I lamented last year the fact that I hadn’t seen as many films as I wanted to. There were many universally beloved films that I simply didn’t have the time for, whether it was because of work, my recent studies or the depressing fact that cinema prices have become way more expensive. But I knew that there was one film I would be forever mad with myself for not seeing: Past Lives.
We’ve all sat there one fine day, thinking about those big choices we’ve made in life, wondering how different our world would be if we had chosen a different path. In some cases, there never was a choice, and we ponder what would’ve happened if life hadn’t steered us in that direction. For director Celine Song, her path in life will be forever immortalised in this directorial debut. A story of being ripped from her homeland in South Korea, whisked away to Canada then America, her past catches up with her.
In this semi-autobiographical film, we follow Nora (Greta Lee), a Korean woman who is taken away to America after her parents secure immigration. But for the young Nora, she’s leaving behind a childhood sweetheart right before they have the chance to be together. Advancing twelve years, we see Nora studying at university in New York. Meanwhile, her childhood friend, Hae Sung (Teo Yoo), remains in Korea, finding new love and joining the army. The two reconnect through social media, communicating frequently through Skype. But after the frustration of not being able to physically see each other, they stop talking.
Another twelve years advance, and Hae Sung is finally travelling to New York. While there, he arranges to meet with Nora, who is now happily married. Old wounds are opened and Nora questions what her life might’ve been like had she stayed in Korea.
We can’t help but turn our heads back to the past, ruminating on ‘what if’ scenarios. What I loved about Celine Song’s approach is just how emotionally exact most of Past Lives is. Seeing these two characters at different points of their lives really drives the point home. We see these monumental marks in their lives take hold, and we want to see them evolve into the best versions of themselves. But we also feel this well of sadness fill up as we think about how strong their connection is. The film invokes the strongest feelings of melancholy, knowing that no matter how hard these two try to stay connected, distance, career and ultimately life is going to tear them apart. That is so heart-breaking in of itself.
The relationship between Nora and Hae Sung is both sweet and purposely distanced. In a lot of ways, they’re perfect for each other, but the differences in culture and life paths makes the outcome feel more agreeable. Even Nora’s husband acknowledges the chemistry the two share, feeling insecure but never cruel. It’s powerfully conveyed by simple conversation and small signs of body language that indicate a deeper thought process. It requires the audience’s undivided attention and rewards it with such powerful emotion.
I think the core reason this film has been so well-received is how undeniably organic much of it feels. As much as we tell ourselves not to revisit the past, our minds will always wander back. The idea of having someone just waltz back into your life after years of no contact is a frightening thought, but one that I have had myself. It leaves your mind racing; you’re filled with all these different emotions fighting for dominance. You mostly can’t make sense of how to feel, and the answer is often not clear. That struggle and restrained indifference Nora feels was so poignant. Our minds are so fragile, so something like this can leave you in a protective cocoon.
I’m a story-centred person. Nice visuals and stylistic choices have made up many of the films leading up to this one. But a narrative will always take precedence. Past Lives is a dialogue-heavy reflection on life and the choices we make to get to the point we’re at. It’s important not to live life with regret and embrace the decisions that narrate our lives, good and bad. I’m at a point in my life where a film like this perfectly reflects how I feel. While perhaps not being the objectively best film to come out of last year, it was the one that spoke to me the most. There is no clear path for life, you simply have to enjoy the one you have, in spite of the broken branches that you may have trodden on.
Written by Conor Johnson.