Sometimes I think on the nature of memories and this recent MCU addition, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, conjured up an interesting thought. When I think about what a Big Mac from McDonalds tastes like, do I remember what the last what tasted like or do I recall some particularly average or even above average taste from years and year ago?
I don’t think indie films are a place for experimental filmmakers anymore. Maybe it never was. I still think there was a time some 15 years ago when indie film was a medium for new filmmakers to experiment with unique and new forms of storytelling. That’s what I loved about that niche of filmmaking.
Life is what we make of it. We’re all bound to experience the strange, the wonderful, the fear-inducing, and breathtaking moments of brevity that redefine our persona, characteristics, and outlook for the next few million breaths we take.
Whenever a series comes to an end, emotions and energies are always aflutter. There’s bound to be the mix of nostalgia as the show’s stars poetically reminisce on how they’ve changed and grown over the course of the production as well as the reveal of long held feelings and anecdotes about the experience.
I’m sure we’ve all seen this story before. A beloved child’s plaything takes on a life of its own and in an effort to preserve its own self and way of life, it sees murder as the most viable option. No? Haven’t seen this concept before? Well, maybe you’ve seen the story where the artificial intelligence breakthrough that was initially deemed as a step into a new and brighter future backfired as a rushed and dangerous experiment with lethal consequences.
Cinema is dying. It’s hard to believe given the glut of options we have being released every week on the myriad of streaming services that lay themselves at our feet for a mere pittance, but it’s something I ungraciously believe. A body without a soul is nothing more than a corpse and a movie without a point is no different. A lot of the movies I’ve seen in the past couple of years have had nothing to say and if a movie has no voice, then it has very little point in existing. But every so often, there is a flicker of life in the midst of every ashen pile that reminds you even embers may burn again. Babylon is one such flicker and Damien Chazelle is the perpetrator of this.
First and foremost, this film is not a love story or even a drama as Chazelle has done in the past. Rather, it’s an epic, which I would categorize as a genre all on its own. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself seeing one being made today after I, along with the other great film writers at the Knockturnal, discussed this topic on one of our more recent podcast episodes. An epic is an old style of making movies, filled with grand shots and numerous plot lines, but with an overarching theme. These are films that have incredible scope and often span years, acting like literal novels come to life. Each scene is less a fluid story and more a highly connected and interrelated series of vignettes that epitomizes the central theme and often time period. Babylon is very much so an epic which follows the lives of different characters during the late 1920s in Hollywood as the industry moved from silent films and the raucous age of the roaring 20s into the slowly sterilized but pioneering golden age of film which began with the onset of “talkies”, films with sound.
Babylon essentially opens on a large, off the rails party filled with every form of debauchery you could imagine, as well as you few you didn’t. The music is bombastic, the setting is ostentatious, the attire of the party goers is shocking to say the least, and their behavior is purely a degeneration of social norms. In fact, the scene itself is loud in every single way you can imagine, aside from the dialogue, which is almost unintelligible. At first, I thought this was a shortcoming of the sound mixing team when I realized that this was the point. Drowning out the sound of dialogue is the pure spectacle of the moment. Not to mention the fact that Chazelle is such an adept storyteller that even without understanding what’s being said at all moments, it’s clear what’s taking place. This opening act spans the first thirty or so minutes of the runtime but it perfectly exemplifies the spirit of the film and the silent era: it’s one large party that’s hit its peak, but it’s on its way to a downturn.
It’s beautiful and is not unlike the rest of the film which carries on for another 150 minutes to a total runtime of three hours, which sounds like a lot, but it’s not. Most movies I find myself watching today are so slow and poorly placed that I’d rather repeat a year of high school than finish the sleepy mess I was watching. I’ve seen movies this year with the usual 120-minute runtime that were 90 minutes too long. And yet, Babylon almost feels rushed at 3 hours. I actually wish it was 4 hours. The only flaw I could find in this movie is that because it tells the stories of so many different characters, there are scenes which aren’t given enough time to breathe and there are no scenes that I would cut. That and the fact that writing dialogue has never been Chazelle’s strong suit.
This is an interesting review to write. I’ve been a writer for nearly seven years and in that time I don’t believe I’ve reviewed a single epic. It takes me back to my days in film class and learning why John Ford’s How Green Was My Valleywas a masterpiece, even though it never really quite clicked for me. Looking back, I was too young and unbothered to understand the depth of that movie, but today I can appreciate the beauty of it. Babylon is much the same in that I don’t believe this film will receive the audience reaction it deserves. Honestly, I’m not even sure it’ll receive the critical praise it’s rightly owed. It’s a bold step that seeks to revive something from the past that most have decided to leave in the grave it found itself in. However, Chazelle has shown that once again in this film that he has in the past, anything old and underappreciated, like the genre of musicals, can still work if under the watchful hand of an extremely talented auteur. That is what Chazelle is now, by the way. With this film, I feel the argument is more than clear cut than ever that he is a true auteur, one who can tackle and navigate the choppy waters of the most under-appreciated and overlooked genres. Looking at this film as a standalone piece of work may seem like an almost experimental test of what a movie can be. A take on an old format. However, consider this in the work of everything Chazelle has done and it makes for an incredibly interesting piece to the creative psyche he portrays so well in his work.
I believe it was the director Howard Hawkes that once said that a good movie is one with a few good scenes and no bad ones. By that definition, Chazelle has certainly made a good movie and I feel it’s the best scale to grade this product by. It’s a piece of cinema for cinema lovers, but sadly, I’m not sure a regular audience member would enjoy this. I certainly don’t see a regular movie goer like my Dad going to a theater and saying it was time well spent. Movies of this style are ones that require an acquired taste, made specifically for the movie goer with a developed palate in the pursuit of something more that regular run of the mill production won’t provide. It saddens me to say that. I remember hearing people laugh at what may be one of the most tragic and heartfelt scenes of the film and thinking to myself that this is not going to be appreciated by movie goers and probably not even by critics. In time this film will get the critical praise it deserves, but it may go as a misunderstood masterpiece from an era where Hollywood had a creative drought.
Babylon will be in theaters on December 23rd, 2022, and I sincerely hope that against all odds that it’s a smash hit.
I love desserts. I never thought that that would be a statement that was needed to be said but as I venture further and further into adulthood and my dreaded thirties, I have noticed and unsettling trend: desserts are as unfashionable as cowboy hats in Times Square. I mention this because Netflix’s recent forays into animation have very much struck me with a sinfully sweet aftertaste. Let’s think about Arcane. Much like the tiramisu at Pecora Bianca, it’s not the reason you showed up but it’s the keynote to end off a great experience. Very few subscribe to Netflix for its animated content but it proved that it’s more than just a cherry on top, it’s a palpable final note.
Now not all desserts are great. For example, much to the chagrin of many fall lovers, I can’t stand pumpkin pie. But Wendell & Wild, the most recent Netflix animated film, is not quite that. It’s something like Paris Baguette – it’s like and fluffy and slightly sweet, but not quite the sugary punch you’d expect. You know dessert would be a satisfying meal, but you at least expect something that could excite your senses without destroying too many teeth. You don’t need it to fill you with nutrients. In the film world, that’s what Nolan and Tarantino are here for. Wendell & Wild, especially given the creative minds behind it, left me feeling a bit disappointed and bored while altogether remembering “right, this is a movie for children, after all”.
The strongest part about this film is the creative mind behind it all: Henry Selick. His animated art style is by far one of the most inventive visual experiences in the world of film today. He manages to push the boundaries of his iconic clay style animation to the limits and just when you think he’s exhausted the limits of his medium, he goes even further and creates something entirely new. He wasn’t the only creative talent at play here. In fact, there were many incredibly talented voice actors who were able to help bring this film to life, for example, Jordan Peele and Keegan Michael-Key. Their performances helped to carry the movie and it’s hard to imagine this movie working without them.
Back to talking about desserts. The reason why animated children’s movies and especially Wendell & Wild instantly brought my mind to think of dessert was because like many of the overpriced bakeries that are speckled across Manhattan, they look better than they taste. Every detail is precise, prim, and pretty but leaves me longing for the unassuming masterpiece that is my mother’s baked goods. The one thing Wendell & Wild has is that polish. It is an incredibly inventive and beautiful movie and it’s a joy to watch. It is a quintessential exemplar of the phrase “every frame a painting”. However the themes are explored at a surface level, character development is so rushed as to feel overlooked, and the plot can best be described at simplistic. Pixar showed that animated films can explore deeper themes in a real way nearly thirty years ago, but to compare the two even with Pixar’s weak recent releases would be a disservice. In the end, Wendell & Wild is a beautiful mediocre pastry in a world where Michelin starred outputs has been the established bar for years.
I oftentimes compare films to food because each experience leaves me with a phantom taste that settles ever so abruptly on my tongue. With Silent Twins, I remember that feeling distinctly: gummy worms. It’s something of a treat in that it was mesmerizingly beautiful and yet altogether tough to digest after a two-hour sitting. However, it’s the first film I’ve seen in a while that accomplished its primary role as an indie film, which is to do something new and altogether inventive. The story follows twins who almost inexplicably refuse to talk to anyone else save for each other. It then follows the two as they grow up, fall in love, become writers, and so much more. At the end of the day, it’s a film about mental health that is delicately told and certainly worth a watch.
The woman who helped tell that story was Agnieszka Smoczynska, the director of the film. She’s spent the past few years working to adapt this story to film and her efforts were clear. She beautifully weaved scenes of joy with bleak depictions of sadness, and strategically used stop motion animation to tell an alternate story that paralleled the one which the sisters experienced. This isn’t exactly a new phenomenon but especially considering the nature of the film and the subject matter, this method of storytelling carried this film from another batch in the bin to something worth studying and taking a look at. In fact, without these interwoven animated features, this film would altogether lose any semblance of meaning. Additionally, the film delves highly into surrealism when it comes to conveying sensations and emotions. These scenes are both beautifully shot and incredibly well done.
The other woman who made this something of a standout film is Letitia Wright who was both the star and one of the producers of the film. To say she delivered a great performance would be a disservice to her craft. Her performance, along with that of Tamara Lawrance, carried this film as they occupied more than the majority of the screen time. Each possessed the type of magnetic personality needed to keep an audience entertained when the backdrop of each scene is bleak, dark, or more often than not, harrowing.
In the end, there isn’t much to lay fault to this film but there is a great deal of room to give credit to its inventive storytelling. I felt the film was too long and had a few scenes that were over the top in their presenting. For example, there is a surreal scene late in the movie that exists to convey the message that those committed in an asylum are essentially just dead bodies waiting to expire. While the message is poignant, the scene was not and altogether felt jarring compared to the overall narrative. This is a fairly minor gripe considering the overall body of work. For those looking for an interesting movie going experience, this is certainly one to keep on your list.
It’s hard to believe but it seems the pandemic may be finally coming to a close, at least in the world of cinema. Nothing indicated this more so than the New York Premiere of “The Batman”.
I often get asked about my thought process on writing a film review because from the outside, it can seem rather opaque or very intuitive.