A quick overview of the stuff I’ve been watching.
The Revenant: I’ve avoided Leo’s big breakthrough for six years because… well, I’m not sure I had a good reason. It didn’t help that the mauling scene became a meme that trivialized the whole thing in my mind, but that doesn’t really explain my disinterest. And while I considered Birdman to be overrated, Alejandro Iñárritu directed one of my favorite films of the 21st century —21 Grams— and thus deserved the benefit of my doubt. It was an odd movie to skip.
(Another one I should have watched and haven’t: The Shape of Water.)
Whatever the reason for taking so long to watch it, I won’t be forgetting The Revenant any time soon. The combination of unrelenting brutality and bleak, frigid beauty is clinging to my brain a week after seeing it, and while there are times it feels more like Tom Hardy’s movie than DiCaprio’s, the intensity of the latter’s work more than earned that long-delayed Oscar.
Minari: Is it as significant a work as its collection of awards and nominations would suggest? No. It’s a small film, set in a forgettable corner of the world, about modest dreams that are still somehow eternally out of reach, not a crowd-pleaser or Major Work of Art. But it still feels special thanks to the performances, particularly from Youn Yuh-jung and the cherubic, cranky Alan Kim.
Invincible: Meanwhile, I feel like this is Steven Yeun’s real starring vehicle of the year. I was already fond of Invincible from reading the first few volumes of the comic years ago, and while the show is moving a little too quickly for my taste —some character motivations are glossed over, and some plot twists aren’t given the setup time they deserve— the voice work is excellent across the board. Yeun’s Mark Grayson manages to sound youthful and idealistic without becoming annoying, and while I can’t say I ever imagined JK Simmons as the voice of Nolan, the old man nails it.
It’s important to note that —like fellow Amazon show The Boys— Invincible is a product of early 21st-century comics’ attempt to take a “realistic” look at super-heroic violence, so virtually every episode of the show is just about as bloody and jolting as The Revenant. But unlike The Boys, Robert Kirkman’s creation isn’t fixated on cataloging the endless depravities of a world full of morally vacuous demigods, and seems more interested in horrifying the audience than winking at them through a hailstorm of viscera.
The Empty Man: For fifteen or twenty minutes, it’s a watchable, engaging bit of supernatural creepiness. Then the plot kicks in and everything falls apart.
Blade Runner 2049: Prepare yourself for some heresy… I am not a fan of Blade Runner. (Worse, I’m not even a fan of Ridley Scott.) So I approached BR2049 with no real expectations… which is handy, ’cause this moody, overlong, and ultimately pointless movie would have disappointed me if I had. As it is, I was able to enjoy it for the frequently gorgeous cinematography and an Ana de Armas performance that is both figuratively and literally shimmering.
At least it gives me some bit of hope for Villeneuve’s version of Dune.
The Mosquito Coast: This one was a re-watch of a film I first saw in 1986; I was inspired to return to it by the imminent release of the (dramatically reimagined and expanded) Apple TV series of the same name. And while I’m 35 years older today, my view of it hasn’t changed much.
It’s actually a pretty ballsy effort, from Harrison Ford’s perspective; the biggest movie star in the world plays a character that the audience cannot help but hate. Every time Ford’s undeniable screen charisma starts to seduce you, the character says or does something so problematic or detestable that it can’t be overlooked. Allie Fox is a disaster of a father who didn’t have the imagination to be a cult leader.
Sadly, Helen Mirren’s Mother —seriously, that’s the only name she’s given— is a paper-thin doormat of a character who enables her husband’s madness until the plot decides her acquiescence is no longer convenient. And while there are flashes of the brilliant young actor River Phoenix would become, his Charlie Fox is reduced to little more than a muted narration track and a mix of admiring and/or worried looks.
In the end, director Peter Weir delivered a work that is just as frustrating and infuriating and watchable as its lead character.
Married At First Sight (Australia): I’ve never watched any iteration of MAFS before now, but this menagerie of weirdos, fuck-ups, and social rejects is a sight to behold. We’re only halfway through the season, but right now, I’m cheering for the so-awkward-they-could-be-siblings Patrick & Belinda, and am cautiously optimistic about Booka & Brett… the rest are trainwrecks with varying body counts.
With that said, as I discovered with their version of Love Island, Australian sensibilities seem well-suited to this sort of thing. They’re slightly prettier and sluttier than their British counterparts, while being a little less competitive and narcissistic than the Americans who typically populate these shows. It’s a nice balance.