Cool Barbenheimer Shirt I Look Forward to Seeing It in a Landfill

hot takes on Past Lives and a July movie diary

You know what you are here for! There aren’t spoilers so just scroll to the bottom already!

Mission: Impossible VII — Dead Reckoning Part One, Christopher McQuarrie (in theaters)

Of all the franchise projects to nosedive this year, this is the least deserving. I loved Dead Reckoning, the terrifically exciting return of IMF superspy Ethan Hunt. I wrote about how the film changes Hunt’s backstory to reflect contemporary questions of redemption and how the series happily bucks continuity. In fact, Dead Reckoning is so detached from the lore standard that I wonder if naming it both “Part Seven” and “Part One” scared away audience members who would have otherwise fully enjoyed it but instead went to see Jim Caviezel foam at the mouth in Sound of Freedom.

Highlights for me are Pom Klementieff, who updates the nonspecifically-goth-themed action femme trope (see Ruby Rose in John Wick or Sylvia Hoeks in Blade Runner 2049) and actually makes it fun, and Esai Morales, who is so convincing as Ethan’s old nemesis that I’ve repeatedly looked up whether he appeared in previous films. It’s unclear to me why we need an invented dead woman backstory since Ethan has like ten different brunettes who died before he had to make an excuse to avoid consummating their relationship, and Grace (Haley Atwell) feels like a downgrade from the last few who have sat in the token girl seat. I will still be there opening night for part two.

Shout out for the only good non-Barbie press appearance

Insidious: The Red Door, Patrick Wilson (in theaters)

I was pleasantly surprised by my first foray into the wildly popular Insidious series. Patrick Wilson stars in, directs, and performs the closing song in what must be his Albert Nobbs. I can’t help but feel seeing this with no prior knowledge of the franchise actually works in its favor: it creates a mystery b-plot as I piece together who the hell these people are. Still, I am forever charmed by the throwbackiness of a never-ending horror series that receives no critical acclaim but reliable box office numbers. It even taps into that genre nostalgia by creating possibly the single worst Black character I have seen on screen since Destiny Child’s Kelly Rowland called Freddy Krueger the f-slur in Freddy Vs. Jason (2003). 

Not pictured: Patrick Wilson’s incredible cargo shorts I assume he picked out himself

Cobweb, Samuel Bodin (in theaters)

Somehow neither Insidious: The Red Door nor The Boogeyman, Cobweb is frustratingly close to being a glorious B-movie. I assumed no one would be in the theater and arrived a full twenty minutes into the movie, only to be met with a packed theater of viewers who also could not get Barbie tickets in time.

Has there been an investigation of how many teeth this man has

Lizzy Caplan and a wolfish Antony Starr (The Boys) play the overprotective weirdo parents of a boy experiencing supernatural oddities. The pair are divinely freaky; Caplan’s quasi-transatlantic accent and Stepfordian affect feels directly inspired by the iconic Aunt Martha in Sleepaway Camp (1983). But it quickly became clear that most of the audience was there to see Starr play a toned-down version of Homelander, if Homelander was obsessed with having a really big pumpkin patch. Unfortunately both are underused, and the rest of the movie is standard troubled child in a creepy house fare.

Sick Of Myself, Kristoffer Borgli (in theaters and available to rent)

Movie of the year territory. Signe is a bored server whose competitive pursuit of attention and adoration leads her to increasingly disturbing acts of self-sabotage. She and her boyfriend, a thief who makes sculpture out of the furniture he steals, are the types of people who think that they’re smarter than everyone else because they get away with things no decent person would ever do. Kristine Kujath Thorp’s Signe makes The Other Two’s Drew Tarver seem grounded in her full embodiment of what Lena Dunham once described as a “delusional girl persona.” That is all to say, this is a movie about social media and narcissism, but it’s not a lecture. Monitor your screen time all you want: Signe’s wants are pretty universal. Her actions are just the result of following through on one’s most self-destructive intrusive thoughts.  

Buying a mile of bandages for my Halloween costume

Past Lives, Celine Song (in theaters)

A few times a year, a movie comes out that asks whether “indie movie” is a category of feature film or a devised aesthetic genre. This year it was Celine Song’s debut, Past Lives. When Nora (Greta Lee), a married playwright living in New York, reunites with her childhood friend (Teo Yoo) twenty-four years after leaving Korea, she begins to think about what might have been. Told through long pauses, gestures at existential lingering, and meta-commentary on writing, the indie drama beats are met with precision and little interesting camerawork. 

A .gif of this would’ve ate on Tumblr

The central problem is that nothing about Nora is specifically interesting. Her character feels straight out of a game of MASH if each category came from other A24 films: she is a working artist that is comfortably successful but not famous, has a husband that is kind and beige, and lives in a fashionably small apartment with a curated wardrobe of neutrals. Who she is, or what she wants, or what she fears, outside of these superficialities, is never felt realized. For a comedian as vivacious and spiky as Lee, Nora feels like a thinly conceived bore. 

There are some moments where the film’s quiet tenderness worked for me: the long shot of Nora’s family walking through their airport, where she and her sister trail together behind their parents, and the quick cuts from young Nora and Hae Sung to them as adults. But I never bought the longing or the connections that I’m told exist within this unusual triad. Perhaps I’m just feeling contradictory because of this movie’s universal critical acclaim, but surely there is more to heartache than walking slowly down tree-lined streets in Manhattan. Or maybe I’m just not a romantic.

No Hard Feelings, Gene Stupnitsky (in theaters)

There’s some great physical comedy in this Jennifer Lawrence sex romp about a woman who agrees to date the wealthy son of Montauk vacationers in order to pay off her debt. I loved the culture clash between Lawrence and the pool of Gen-Zs she finds herself plunged into—her lament that nobody fucks anymore when she crashes a house party and finds that couples have snuck off to the bedrooms to fool around only on their phones. Lawrence shows why she’s remained an A-lister for a decade even though few of the jokes came together for me.

The image I actually want to include is Eastern Promises levels of NSFW so you’re welcome

Asteroid City, Wes Anderson (in theaters)

I took too much cold medicine and fell asleep for about fifteen minutes of this movie. I have absolutely no opinion of it.

Oppenheimer, Christopher Nolan (in theaters)

Both far too fast and far too dull, Oppenheimer was a weird, long, and boring disappointment for this Tenet stan. I went in hoping for Tár—a compelling character psychodrama about destructive obsession—and instead got Mank—a cinematized Wikipedia page about someone the movie tells us is an unimpeachable genius with an awesome nickname and b) the most unthoughtful man alive. It was enjoyable to watch on the big screen and the scene where they test the a-bomb at Los Alamos will probably be an all timer for the year, but the stylish choices are too few and far between amidst a green glass sea of exposition. I highly recommend Cillian Murphy’s other movie about a tortured physicist and the bomb he builds at the end of the world, Sunshine (2007).

Doesn’t this look so much better?

Barbie, Greta Gerwig (in theaters)

It was so good! What do you want me to say? Margot Robbie, who has made a career out of bringing pathos to various wife and girlfriend roles, gives another completely irresistible performance. I liked Ryan Gosling so much I am considering finally watching La La Land. I wish I wasn’t so excited by a two hour toy commercial but maybe other filmmakers should make better movies so that this isn’t the cinematic highlight of the year!

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