In lieu of longer reviews, here's some shorter critiques of the films and television series I watched in the past week. This week: Atomic Blonde, A Ghost Story, Detroit, and Archer: Dreamland.
Atomic Blonde
dir. by David Leitch
written by Kurt Johnstadd
Adapted from Antony Johnston and Sam Hart's graphic novel "The Coldest City," Atomic Blonde is a heavily stylized spy thriller from John Wick co-director David Leitch. Starring Charlize Theron, the film features MI-6 agent Lorraine (Theron) attempting to recover a list of double agents and assassinate a traitor known as Satchel. Also involved are David Percival (James McAvoy) and Delphine Lasalle (Sofia Boutella).
Frankly, following the narrative of Atomic Blonde is something of a chore, as not only is it deeply convoluted, it's also full of so many cliches that actually unravelling what's happening isn't very rewarding. Any time people are talking is profoundly uninteresting, as the dialogue consists overwhelmingly of trite spy movie bullet points between fairly dull characters. All the shifting alliances, all the plot twists and unexpected attacks, and even the romance between Lorraine and Lasalle are all predictable and uninvolving.
Thankfully, the actual scenes of action are riveting, including the much-lauded staircase sequence. As with the John Wick films, the choreography and cinematography of every single action scene is astounding, although compared to those films, the fights in Atomic Blonde are less balletic and more visceral, emphasizing impacts over movement, although it does a solid job with the latter as well. Theron is also a very charismatic action star, and even out of battle, the camera gorgeously frames her face to underline her already-palpable confidence.
Visually, the film is less consistent. It features several onscreen titles in a spray paint motif, but this story about a government agent feels far removed from the counterculture which is usually involved in graffiti. Similarly, the film appropriates the coloured rooms and neon lights of rave culture, and both cases come across as empty stylistic flourishes which don't fit the film's mood or subject matter. All the same, this cheaply appropriated iconography does lend the film a distinct colour palette, and it serves to break up the dreary blues and greys which make up the rest of the palette. Atomic Blonde can be gorgeous sometimes, and its breezy flow is occasionally mesmerizing, but these moments are less common than one might hope for.
Like Baby Driver, the film attempts to incorporate its licensed soundtrack into the onscreen action, but it does so in the most distracting and obvious of ways. Every song is just the most obvious 80s dance pop, which adds to the cheap emptiness of the film's style, and almost every single song follows the formula of playing on a speaker, cutting out after an action beat, then resuming louder and clearer. Other scenes, like the aforementioned stairwell sequence, lack any music whatsoever, which makes the soundscape feel empty.
Theron's performance and all the cool action just barely keeps Atomic Blonde afloat, as otherwise you're left with a dull narrative and a lot of empty style. That style can be visually striking at times, but most of its motifs are hollowly appropriated, and as good as the soundtrack is, the song selection is lazy and the implementation of those songs is obnoxious and predictable. Theron can definitely carry an action film, but she deserves a better movie than this disappointment.
6/10
+ Often pretty.
+ Theron is charismatic.
+ Action scenes are rock solid.
- Obvious, obnoxiously integrated soundtrack.
- Trite storyline.
- Stylistic choices are mostly shallow.
THROND'S CHOICE
A Ghost Story
dir. by David Lowery
written by David Lowery
A Ghost Story doesn't name its characters. In the credits, Casey Affleck is listed as "C" and Rooney Mara as "M." Affleck spends most of the film covered in a white hospital shroud, invisible to everyone except for another ghost next door, watching as M goes through all the steps of grief in accelerated time. From there, A Ghost Story takes so many significant turns that further plot summary would constitute a spoiler, but it all starts from this moment of death and grief.
I'd be lying if I said I understood everything which A Ghost Story is attempting to express. It's filled with striking images: doors to heaven, towering construction, decomposing corpses, even shots of the ever-expanding cosmos, and widely varied subject matter: worldy attachments, physical manifestations of grief, history and legacy, the ultimate smallness of humanity. Above all else, I think the main theme is the inexorable march of time. Early scenes, first depicting C and M's relationship and later the stages of M's grief, are long and languid, but many other scenes are truncated. We see a family moving in, then settling, then moving back out. We see the house being dismantled, then built over. To C, everything is going fast - he's aware of just how small his own place in existence is, and he's forced to come to terms with it.
Affleck really isn't called upon to do much, and he spends most of the film shuffling around in that sheet and staring blankly at something else happening onscreen. Every time the camera reminds us of his presence, however, it's a crushing reminder of the world moving on without him. He's not always sympathetic - he's shown to be overly attached to his house, to the point that he shows hostility to anyone else who inhabits it and despair at its destruction and replacement. Maybe A Ghost Story is also about coming to terms with the impermanence of material possessions, and how we must accept that what is ours cannot always be.
At times, A Ghost Story feels self-indulgent, such as when it spends several minutes simply observing C and M in bed, or when it focuses on some guy at a party rambling about how all attempts to preserve some legacy are futile. In addition, some of its shifts through time come across as trying too hard to affect grandeur. But even these tie back to the main themes, and the film's sheer audacity in taking such unexpected turns is truly thrilling. It's never clear where A Ghost Story will go next, and as dense and nuanced as it is, it also develops more and more superficial pleasure as its pace picks up.
I still don't feel equipped to fully unpack everything going on here. The film has a thin, squarish aspect ratio with rounded edges, almost akin to an old television screen, and this adds to a voyeuristic feeling which is already invoked by a camera which is always positioned in a way which makes the events onscreen feel vaguely distant, like something we're seeing unfold from afar. Like C, we're a passive observer, only seen by each other. And for as ambitious and singular a work as this, everyone should have the opportunity to observe it.
8/10
+ Filled to the brim with striking imagery.
+ Powerful themes about the passage of time.
+ Haunting, voyeuristic photography.
- One or two shots are held for too long.
- Some plot twists have a whiff of self-importance.
- If you don't like dense, strange art films, this isn't for you.
dir. by Kathryn Bigelow
written by Mark Boal
Detroit dramatizes the events at the Algiers Motel on July 25-26, 1967, using this incident as a microcosm of the riots occurring at that same time. Prior to the incident, several people (including Dramatics singers Larry Reed, played by Algee Smith, and Fred Temple, played by Jacob Latimore) congregated in the aforementioned Motel to get away from the riots, only to wind up in the middle of it when a prank pulled by a man named Carl (Jason Mitchell) drew the attention of the police, including racist cop Krauss (Will Poulter). It turns out about as well as one would expect.
Early on, Detroit so rapidly switches between perspectives that it creates a sense of disorientation mirroring the chaos erupting in the city streets. Although the film eventually settles on a handful of focus characters, it's initially difficult to sort out which people we're following and what their place in the riot is. Later, when the film's leads become clear, it still takes some time to understand why we're seeing these specific perspectives; those of the Dramatics, in particular, come across as not being directly related to the riots until the actual incident at the motel occurs.
As it turns out, all of that was just setup for the main setpiece, which puts everything preceding into context and ratchets up the horrific violence with a long, harrowing showcase of police brutality. The majority of the film's second act takes place in the Motel, and Bigelow directs the violence with the grammar of a horror film, complete with constant looming threats, tense situations, and even a few people trying to escape. Tight closeups are accompanied with sudden outbursts of violence, and the whole scene in the hotel is elevated by Poulter's terrifying performance as the most abusive of the cops.
However, while this scene comprises the meat of the film, it occasionally comes across as overlong. At 2.5 hours, Detroit is able to capture the incident in great detail, but while Bigelow should be commended for truly capturing the horror of police brutality, the violence eventually grows numbing. Once Krauss gets angry, the film sticks with that stressful tone for the rest of the act, and at times the endless acts of violence and bigotry just become unproductively exhausting. There are several moments which break up the monotony, such as State Troopers deciding to leave the incident to the police despite being disgusted with their conduct, but for the most part it's a barrage of nastiness which belabours a relatively simple point.
There are a lot of films about racial profiling, and while few capture it as horrifically as this one, it's still treading familiar ground. The final act attempts to put the events at the Algiers Motel in a greater context by showing the court proceedings, which had an all-white jury and ended with the accused being declared not guilty, but only a brief, oversimplified animation at the very start presents the historical events leading up to the Detroit riots, and only a few bullet points in the denouement depict the effect of the events on those involved.
Detroit isn't the most incisive portrait of race relations in the United States, and its excessive length leads to some repetition, but it's still valuable for how it emphasizes the horror of police brutality. It's better at the nuances of police misconduct than those of racial strife, but it's a harrowing experience nonetheless, and if many of its conclusions are familiar, there's still power in seeing them represented so vividly and shockingly.
7/10
+ Tense and harrowing at best.
+ Emphasizes horror of police brutality.
+ Evokes the disorientation of a riot.
- Long and occasionally numbing.
- Lacks a fresh perspective.
- Struggles to put its events in greater context.
Todd Throndson
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