Eavesdropping At The Movies

We talk swoony visuals, alcoholism, a femme fatale pastiche, moral descent, Bradley Cooper's sexual presence and more in our discussion of Nightmare Alley, Guillermo del Toro's adaptation of William Lindsay Gresham's 1946 novel of the same name. Recorded on 21st January 2022.

José gives Mike a history lesson on the Spanish Civil War, the scars it left on Spanish culture and society, and filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar's own relationship to it and the dictatorship to which it led, under which he grew up and which fell in the few years prior to his ascent to prominence. His new film, Parallel Mothers, inspires this review of the past, embroiled as it is in confronting Spain's modern history and, José argues, adapting elements of it to the melodrama of motherhood that forms its primary plot - a plot which is used to explore questions of lies, psychic violence, and instrumentality that are part of the film’s critique of Spain’s Pact of Forgetting, its political and cultural agreement to avoid confronting the legacy of the Civil War and Franco's dictatorship, which the itch to scratch historical memory is seen to disturb. It's a film with serious flaws, and a disappointment given Almodóvar's estimable body of work, especially the masterpiece that was his most recent film, Pain and Glory, bu

We talk feminism, body horror, monsters, trans tropes, masculinity and more in our discussion of writer-director Julia Ducournau's shocking, transgressive, and surprising Titane. Recorded on 13th January 2022.

We're remotely joined by filmmaker, previous guest, and, crucially, Mike's brother, Stephen Glass, for a discussion of Paul Thomas Anderson's period romance, Licorice Pizza. Stephen last helped us explore Anderson's previous film, Phantom Thread, and again brings his knowledge of and passion for the director's work to our discussion. We consider the efficiency with which Anderson creates rich portraits of characters and their lives from few details; how the blossoming love between the protagonists, a boy of 15 and woman of 25, avoids feeling exploitative or uneasy as the age difference suggests it might; how the film is able to feel loose and free despite conforming to its genre; the likability, or otherwise, of the setting and era; Anderson's focus on faces and use of reflective surfaces; and whether one particular running joke that begins as hilariously, stunningly outrageous, overplays its hand and ends up in the realm of the unacceptable. Licorice Pizza is a sweet romance draped in a loving portrait of

Maggie Gyllenhaal's debut feature as a director, The Lost Daughter, paints a powerful portrait of Leda, a middle-aged woman for whom motherhood never came naturally, and whose exposure to a young family on holiday ferociously reminds her of her experience of raising two daughters. It's a film that bravely and forcefully repudiates the notion that motherhood should be natural to women, the key expectation of them, and joyful. We discuss Olivia Colman's performance and the appealing ordinariness she's conveyed on television and in film for two decades, and Gyllenhaal's direction of a script she wrote, which arguably omits too much context for some of what we see, but which is at its core devoted to telling its story visually, taking opportunities to spend time exploring Leda's state of mind - although it could work through some of Leda's behaviour more convincingly. Nonetheless, The Lost Daughter is a striking, expressive film that tells a story we don't often hear, about a kind of person we don't often see.

We talk subverted expectations, how an artificial performance makes sense on a character who's pretending to be something he's not, the way in which forty years of oppression eats into a person's soul, rejection of familial expectations and the performance of unspoken fraternal duty, and more, in our discussion of Jane Campion's fascinating, complex, and beautiful drama, The Power of the Dog. Recorded on 4th January 2022.

We've enjoyed Adam McKay's previous couple of films, The Big Short and Vice, in which he dramatises real events in a pointed, opinionated, satirical manner. He now brings the same attitude to the apocalypse, painting a picture of a world in which an asteroid is headed on a collision course with Earth, poised to end the human race's existence unless something is done... and nobody cares. We debate its merits and failures, agreeing that it's a comedy with few laughs, but José arguing for its place in the national theatre of ideas that cinema has always been in America, and as a response to that question we've been hearing asked for several years now - how can you satirise a reality that's this absurd to begin with? Mike asks why McKay's previous films worked where this fails, and suggests that it's an inability to be indirect, to work in poetic ways - something that's effective when being openly sarcastic, as in The Big Short and Vice, but that falls short in Don't Look Up's appeal for earnestness and depth of

Paolo Sorrentino reaches into his childhood to tell a story that's in equal parts comic and tragic, with access to the off-kilter and fabulistic, in The Hand of God - whose title references that infamous goal scored by Diego Maradona, who Sorrentino semi-seriously credits with saving his life - as he dramatises here. We discuss the imagery, the familial banter, the curious opening scene, choosing Naples over Rome, and an oddball friendship with a happy-go-lucky smuggler. Recorded on 28th December 2021.

After eighteen years away and vast changes in the blockbuster landscape in which it once broke incredible new ground, the Matrix series is back with a fourth film, The Matrix Resurrections. Keanu Reeves' Neo is once again plugged into the Matrix as Thomas Anderson, but having trouble separating reality from dreams of events that happened twenty years ago... if dreams are what they are. We discuss Resurrections' endless self-reflexivity, how it uses motifs and themes of the previous films, updating them where necessary and bringing more out of them (Mike is glad of the much improved use of mirrors). We also consider the film's inclusivity, which is key to the Wachowskis' work, and an uncomplicated joy here - it's not difficult for people from a range of ethnic backgrounds and situated in different places along sexual and gender spectra to coexist in a blockbuster with no particular importance placed upon their identities, as Resurrections proves. You just have to want to do it, and the world that results is b

Steven Spielberg's remake of West Side Story is here at last. The obvious question it raises is just why such a well-regarded film needs a remake - and the answer quickly becomes clear. Robert Wise's 1961 adaptation of the 1957 stage musical is indeed a classic, but this new version comes from and enters a different America, one in which its message, José argues, is more urgently needed but faces a more difficult challenge to be heard. And on top of that, it's just a really good film. We discuss the film's use of colour and lighting, the brutality of the violence and believability of the gangs and particularly Riff, the Jets' leader, the purpose and effects of having a lot of dialogue spoken in entirely unsubtitled Spanish, and much more. The songs are timeless, the romance heartfelt, the imagery beautiful. West Side Story is a great success. Recorded on 13th December 2021.

In 1975, caring for her infant son and unable to spend much time away from home, Agnès Varda turned her camera on her neighbours on her street, Rue Daguerre in Paris. In Daguerréotypes - the title a pun on the photographic process for whose inventor the road is named - she both observes them at work, running their shops and providing their services, and asks them questions about their lives, discovering where they're originally from (most are not Paris natives) and how they met their husbands and wives. It's a gentle, relaxed form of portraiture, one that combines imagery of the practicalities of daily work with the subjects' descriptions of dreams and histories - although the use of a travelling magician's show is arguably a little too precious. We discuss the different ways in which we respond to their stories, José commenting on Varda's clear affection for the subjects, Mike arguing that there's a tragic dimension that overhangs the film, with talk of dreams and escape. Daguerréotypes is a sensitive portr

A true story of love, ambition, passion, betrayal, and retribution, House of Gucci is entertaining, interesting, and beautifully played... so why isn't it good enough? We discuss its lack of seriousness of purpose, its failure to express itself with visual flair and use the camera to show us things we really need to see, and how it would have benefitted from giving Lady Gaga's Patrizia the unambiguous spotlight, rather than making her part of an ensemble. House of Gucci is a film that we have no problem recommending, but given everything it could have been, to come away feeling like it's a trifle is disappointing. Recorded on 5th December 2021.

As he did with 2016's Jackie, director Pablo Larraín explores the life, image, and legacy of a woman publicly struck by tragedy in Spencer, a fabulistic biopic that imagines a Christmas holiday spent with the royal family at Sandringham, during which Princess Diana struggles with the knowledge of her husband's affair and the watchful eyes of both the royals and the paparazzi. We discuss our own relationships to both Larraín and Diana, and consider how the film draws on various aspects of the princess's public image in painting a portrait of a woman losing her mind. The film is set squarely within that mind, and Mike argues that it uses several tropes and techniques common to horror in order to dramatise Diana's fracturing mental state. José expresses his love for Kristen Stewart's outstanding lead performance, one that doesn't impersonate but evokes, and conveys differing stages of psychosis with subtlety. We don't agree on everything, and the film isn't perfect, but Spencer is a really remarkable, expressi

A film of surprising delights - certainly for Mike, who hates anything that looks like it could appear on ITV - Mothering Sunday tells the story of one key 1924 day in the life of a young maid. It's a film filled with grief and lust, beautifully shot and featuring the best of British acting, Colin Firth and Olivia Colman's performances subtly modulated and multifaceted. It's imperfect, failing to engage with race as it perhaps should, and a framing device feels rather unnecessary - but it's a moving and sensitive film. Recorded on 14th November 2021.

The French Dispatch, Wes Anderson's love letter to The New Yorker, is, as you might expect, a charming way to pass a couple of hours - but not as funny or as tight as we might like, and certainly a disappointment in the light of his last two films, The Grand Budapest Hotel and Isle of Dogs (although, in fairness, reaching those heights even twice, let alone a third time consecutively, would be a big ask for anybody). Still, despite The French Dispatch's pleasures, some gorgeous imagery and a terrific, star-packed cast, we're left asking what it's all about, really - is it more than a vaguely diverting trifle based on Anderson's favourite publication? And why can't an ode to an icon of American sophistication be set in America? Recorded on 31st October 2021.

Edgar Wright's highly anticipated psychological horror, Last Night in Soho, reaches cinemas, and we dive into its themes, its visual magnificence, its relationship to the era and environment it portrays... and its problems. It's impossible not to admire this film for its lush cinematography, impressive special effects, and the best of its performances, but its screenplay leaves a huge amount to be desired, not just in how it conceptualises the world and people it portrays, but also, more simply, how clumsy it is in telling its story, bafflingly dropping entire character threads that seem like they obviously have places to go, and handling at least one secondary character's entire subplot very poorly. We discuss the film's dream logic, or lack thereof; its fear of the very lure of the grimy world it needs to show us, and the moralism that accompanies it; how it trades in nostalgia of Sixties Soho, despite being keen to exhibit is dark side; and the thematic simplicity of almost everything - things are good or

In a chilly outdoor screening at the Coffin Works in Birmingham, we indulge in Nosferatu, F. W. Murnau's 1922 German Expressionist classic. José's seen it many times, Mike never in its entirety. We discuss how this 100-year-old film holds up today and still entertains a general audience, its differences from and similarities to Dracula, its source material, and more. Including how cold it was. Mike only wore a t-shirt. Recorded on 22nd October 2021.

Don't believe the trailer, which gives a poor impression of what's in store: Ridley Scott's latest historical epic is lighter on the action than you'd expect, and, for a blockbuster, formally adventurous. Based on true events that took place in 14th century France, The Last Duel tells the story of a lifelong feud and a sexual assault... then it tells it again, and then once more. Three perspectives are brought to bear on the events, those of Jean (Matt Damon), a soldier and vassal; Marguerite (Jodie Comer), his wife and the daughter of a treacherous lord; and Jacques (Adam Driver), his oldest friend, and squire to a count - each controls a third of the film, shaping the story as they understand it. It's an ambitious project, drawing consciously on narratives and discourses around patriarchy and sexual assault whose importance to our cultural conversation have become increasingly established in recent years - but does it work? Richard Brody's review of the film in the New Yorker helps to shape our discussion,

Venom returns after his surprisingly enjoyable, if trashy, 2018 solo debut, but we don't find much of a way to have fun with this sequel. Its cast is underserved by both the direction and screenplay, Tom Hardy appears to want to be seen as a slob, there's not a memorable shot throughout, and most of the comedy, while promising in principle, falls flat. Mike asks where the real carnage even is, the film scared to show anything even cartoonishly gory, while José decries the carnage generally present in American cinema in general, this film, like so many, unable to conceive of a way to generate excitement without blowing things up and causing destruction. Recorded on 17th October 2021.

Daniel Craig's Bond bids us goodbye in No Time to Die, the culmination of his fifteen-year tenure as the gentleman's spy - but is it really Bond? The character, and the films in which he appears, have changed in tone and attitude in recent years, in response to several factors, including criticisms of misogyny and the cinematic influence of the Bourne series, all of which results, for José, in a film that while good, just isn't Bond any more. We consider what makes No Time to Die's Bond different, discussing his clothing, the intensity of serialisation from one film to the next, and the Bond girl - and, as Mike suggests, the character's key change in attitude: Craig's Bond takes things seriously and is capable of being outraged. Although we pick at these things, the film is easy to recommend. The action is well-executed, Rami Malek's villain beautifully played (if lazily written), and the entire affair is hugely enjoyable. Where Bond goes from here, who knows, but No Time to Die is a good send-off for Craig'