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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 15 February 2023

Belgian filmmaker Lukas Dhont (Girl) was looking for script ideas when he came across the research of Dr. Niobe Way, a Professor of Developmental Psychology at New York University, who had interviewed hundreds of boys over a period of two decades.  Way’s analysis showed that friendships during early adolescence can be deeply intimate but, once they enter their mid-to-late teenage years, they become less emotionally expressive and less trustful with male friends.  There’s also a fear of getting too close to someone and being labelled a homosexual.

This idea is at the heart of Close, a gut-wrenching drama which took the runner-up honours at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival (Triangle of Sadness won the top prize).  It’s the tale of two 13-year-old boys, Léo (Dambrine) and Rémi (de Waele), who have been childhood friends for as long as they can remember.  They sleep over at each other’s house, chill with their respective parents, and talk about working together one day – Rémi is a talented oboe player and Léo playfully jokes about becoming his tour manager.

Their first days of high school begin with blissful ignorance.  They sit next to each other class, play at lunchtime, and ride their bikes home together.  It’s in the school’s cafeteria where a female classmate finally voices what others have been thinking – are the two of them a “couple”?  The question takes them a second to answer (“no”) but the ramifications will linger for much longer.  With an increasing level of self-consciousness, Léo looks for reasons to pull away and spend less time with Rémi.  Some are valid (playing competitive ice hockey with new friends) while others are not (lying about reasons why they can’t catch up).  A confused Rémi can’t reconcile their declining connection and at one point, he lashes out with violence in front of others in the school playground. 

Nominated at the upcoming Academy Awards for best international feature film, Close is devastatingly authentic.  Dhont creates this vibe by using handheld cameras, sometimes close-up and sometimes at a long distance, to give it a documentary-like feel.  Dialogue is used sparingly and it’s amazing just how much can be gleaned from a close-up on an actor’s face – whether it be a tear down the cheek, or eyes quickly shifting direction.

The cinematography of Frank van den Eeden is stunning, and the music of composer Valentin Hadjadj is haunting.  They may come across as minor plot points but Dhont and co-writer Angelo Tijssens throw in other interesting elements dealing with masculinity including the connection between two brothers (Igor van Dessel is faultless as Léo’s older sibling), and locker room antics after sporting games.

Above all else though, Close achieves its emotional power because of the incredible performances offered up by teenage stars Eden Dambrine and Gustav de Waele.  They’re two of the finest performances I’ve ever seen from child actors with the now 16-year-old Dambrine nominated at the European Film Awards for best actor.  Dhont cast them six months prior to the shoot and that provided the time to build a legitimate friendship between the pair and allow them to craft their own dialogue and subplots to best fit the characters.

If I see a better film this year, I’ll be surprised.

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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 05 February 2023

In February 2015, 41-year-old American photographer Kit Cowan died after an 11-month battle with Neuroendocrine cancer.  Just prior to his passing, he made a gut-wrenching comment to his best friend, Jen, which she’s never forgotten – “please don’t forget me.”  She relayed that comment to Kit’s partner of 14 years, Michael Ausiello, who was equally devastated.

That moment, coupled with the suggestion of a book editor not longer after, helped serve as motivation for Michael to write a memoir about Kit and their time together.  It was published in 2018 and, not long after, the film rights were snapped up by Focus Features.  Jim Parsons (The Big Bang Theory) would star and produce while Michael Showalter (The Big Sick) would direct.

Spoiler Alert is a film of two tonally different halves.  The first hour is a quirky rom-com about two guys who fall in love in the late 1990s.  Michael is a self-described “hopeless romantic” who works for TV Guide and developed a love for television after watching soapies with his mum.  He’s a little shy, a little nerdish, and little unusual (particularly when it comes to interior design at home).  It’s at a gay nightclub where he meets Kit, a handsome man working as an advertising guru for local restaurants.  The film delves into their introduction, first date, and early hook-ups.

The second hour takes us forward roughly 14 years and we learn from a dinner party that their relationship has been through a few rocky ups and downs.  It’s at this point where Kit visits the doctor, discovers a growth in his rectum, and is diagnosed with a stage 4 cancerous tumour.  As you’d expect, the film’s atmosphere is much more dramatic by this point.  Knowing you only have a few months left to live can provide an unexpected clarity.  Michael and Kit forget about previous squabbles and the focus is on maximising their remaining time together.

It’s not telling us anything new… but Spoiler Alert is still a sweet, heartfelt movie.  It devotes ample time towards character development in the early stages and, given we now have an affection for the two protagonists, this helps create a genuine emotional response in the later stages.  The screenplay of David Marshall Grant and Dan Savage doesn’t shy away from the brutality of cancer.  The most affecting scene in the film is one where Michael visits Kit one final time in hospital knowing he has just hours left to live.  It’s hard not to be moved.

Yes, it’s slightly Hollywood-ised (as you’d expect) but Spoiler Alert will help ensure the life of Kit Cowan is not soon forgotten.  It’s also a nice reminder that when it comes to tragedy and dealing with grief, we’re far from alone.

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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 13 February 2023

Ten films have been nominated at this year’s Oscars for best picture of those, Women Talking is the last to be released in Australian cinemas.  It’s the latest from the accomplished actor-turned-filmmaker Sarah Polley (Away from Her, Take This Waltz) who has adapted the 2018 novel authored by Canadian Miriam Towes.  It is based on actual events that took place in Bolivia in the early 21^st century but is aptly described in the opening credits as “an act of female imagination.”

Narration is required in the first act to set the scene.  A group of women from a remote, heavily religious community have learned a truly horrific detail about their existence.  The male leaders have been drugging women with a tranquilizer spray and then raping them on a nightly basis while unconscious.  The victims have long suspected the crimes but not until recently did they capture a man in the act and verify their claims.

The women believe there are three choices.  They can “do nothing”, forgive the men, and carry on as if nothing had happened.  They can stay in the community, fight their male oppressors, and create a more respectful world.  Or they can pack up their belongings, leave the town, and find somewhere better to live.  A formal vote takes place but, as it does not produce a clear result, a small group of women gather to debate the alternatives and agree on a course of action.

It might not be the most glamorous of titles but Women Talking is exactly that.  The violent men are deliberately kept off screen and the film’s focus is solely on these women, their often heated discussions, and the important decision they must make.  The cast includes Rooney Mara (Carol), Claire Foy (The Crown), Jessie Buckley (The Lost Daughter), Judith Ivey (What the Deaf Man Heard), and Frances McDormand (Nomadland).  Each character has a distinctive personality which provides value to the broader conversation.

This is a strong film.  It has something to say about topics such as community, family, power, gender imbalance, adolescence, groupthink, religion, and forgiveness.  It also offers strong production values – from the disorientating nature of the setting (it’s part current, part period piece), to the moving music score of Oscar winning composer Hildur Guðnadóttir (Joker), to the outstanding actors who have been nominated for best ensemble at the Screen Actors Guild Awards for their passionate performances.

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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 30 January 2023

Since its premiere at the Venice Film Festival last September, the buzz for The Whale has been focused on its leading man, Brendan Fraser.  He’s best known for his work in The Mummy franchise but roles in films such as Gods & Monsters, my second favourite release of 1999 behind Being John Malkovich, illustrated his dramatic versatility.  It’s been a tough decade though.  This is the first time Fraser has starred in a live-action movie which has grossed more than $10 million since the forgettable Furry Vengeance in 2010.

The same industry that collectively turned its back on Fraser has now welcomed him back with open arms.  Hollywood loves a comeback (well, every now again).  It’s reminiscent of the defibrillator applied to the career of Mickey Rourke in 2008 with his incredible, award-winning performance in The Wrestler.  It’s a film which springs to mind as both it and The Whale were directed by Darren Aronofsky (Requiem for a Dream, Black Swan).  His films tend to be divisive but it’s hard to argue with his ability to find great actors and extract greater performances.

Set entirely within a rundown apartment, The Whale is a two-hour drama centred on a morbidly obese man named Charlie (Fraser) diagnosed with congestive heart failure.  He struggles to breathe, experiences chest pains, and isn’t sleeping well.  His blood pressure is an alarming 238 over 134!  Instead of addressing his health issues, Charlie’s focus is on reconciling with his estranged teenage daughter, Ellie (Sink), who is on the verge of flunking out of high school.  The pair haven’t been close since Charlie walked out on the family when Ellie was an impressionable 8-year-old.

The structure of the film is repetitive.  Charlie interacts, to varying extents, with five key characters who visit over several days – his aforementioned daughter, his ex-wife (Morton), his caregiver (Chau), a young missionary (Simpkins), and a pizza delivery driver (Sridharan).  The conversations he shares with these folk offer partial insight into his messy past (how did he lose contact with his daughter?), his current state (why is he so fat?), and his plans for the future (why doesn’t he seek medical treatment?).

The revolving door nature of these visits (someone leaves, someone enters) give it the feeling of a play. That’s no surprise given the source material is a 2012 stage show authored by Samuel D. Hunter who then adapted it a movie.  It’s that script which is the problem here.  The worthy performances, headlined by Fraser and Chau who both earned their first Oscar nominations, mask the very limited character development.

There’s not much to this story at all when you break it down.  The missionary adds next-to-nothing, the caregiver’s complicity is barely questioned, and Charlie’s “I suddenly decided to put my daughter first” attitude is difficult to reconcile.  Having a sad, lonely, overweight protagonist might earn the sympathies of some audience members but I didn’t know enough about these people to care.

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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 05 February 2023

17-year-old Nicholas Miller (McGrath) is struggling with depression.  There are glimpses of what’s going on inside, like when he confides in a therapist that he doesn’t feel close with people his own age, but Nicholas refuses to fully open-up.  He speaks vaguely that “life is weighing me down” and “I don’t know how to describe it.”  Every time his mum (Dern) asks a question, Nicholas’ answers are short, defensive, and unemotive.

Academy Award winning writer-director Florian Zeller (The Father), in adapting this from his own stage play, doesn’t delve into the cause of mental illness.  In interviews for the film, he describes depression as a “mystery” where there’s often “no clear explanation” for what’s behind it.  I’m fine with his interpretation but the lack of clarity behind Nicholas’ troubles may frustrate some viewers.

What Zeller does illustrate is the impact of depression on those around us, particularly our close family.  Nicholas’ parents are divorced and having spent several years living with his birth mother, he asks to move in his dad (Jackman) and step-mum (Kirby) for reasons that don’t always make sense.  Their differing reactions to the circumstances are the film’s most thought-provoking elements.  Do these characters deserve any negative judgement?

The dad wants to genuinely help but his approach is to come up with easy answers (e.g. his son probably just got rejected by a girl) as opposed to understanding the deeper complexities of depression.  He’s also struggling to find the balance between his already busy work life and his now semi-upended home life.  The step-mum, busy with a newborn baby of her own, admits to being “unsettled” by Nicholas’ arrival and the new living arrangements.  However, she doesn’t want to push back too strongly so as not to be seen as insensitive.

The Son is scrappy in places.  Two-time Oscar winner Anthony Hopkins appears in a scene which is more of a “cameo” to help boost advertising potential as opposed to something necessary to the film’s narrative.  It’s a trivial subplot which wasn’t even in the play.  Another minor storyline involving the dad possibly working with a U.S. Senator also comes across as a time-filling distraction.  Did we really need a close-up of an obviously distracted Hugh Jackman sitting around a boardroom table?

Qualms aside, I was interested by the interaction between the four leads.  20-year-old Australian newcomer Zen McGrath is up to the challenge of the tricky role and working alongside his experienced co-stars.  I also enjoyed the way in which Zeller slowly builds tension and keeps audiences unsure about whether a happy resolution is possible.  This is highlighted in a great scene where a babysitter cancels and other options are then debated.

Unable to match the awards season love of The Father, The Son reaffirms Zeller’s talents as a great storyteller.