“Charming style and notable ambition.”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars

Here is a film with charming style and notable ambition, if a few roughshod elements, which fits together well and features some seriously impressive acting. Set in the late 1970s and early 1980s, Driven takes its time building up to the central intrigue, and it it time well spent. Director Nick Hamm makes good use of his excellent cast, including the endlessly charismatic Jason Sudeikis, an amusingly dour Corey Stoll, a very game-faced Judy Greer, and the standout Lee Pace, who turns in a masterful performance as the legendary figure John DeLorean.

As a fictional piece, this film might face some criticism that its plot is busy and potentially too odd for its own good. But as writer Colin Bateman’s script is based on a series of very real, yet hard-to-believe events, Driven ends up earning an air of true-crime intrigue that holds the audience’s interest well. We follow James Hoffman (Sudeikis), a pilot and family man who may or may not have engaged in drug smuggling in Bolivia as the film begins; he is nabbed by a stone-faced special agent, played by Stoll, who sets up a deal with Hoffman to bring down some big-name drug lords in exchange for a cushy life in California. By chance, the house to which the Hoffmans are relocated is across the street from the man, the myth, the legend John DeLorean, so smoothly masculine that he easily charms all he meets. Hoffman quickly grows close to DeLorean, a relationship which the car designer appreciates more and more as his ambitious dream of crafting “the perfect car” becomes less and less straightforward. There are many winking references to how well-known his DeLorean design would eventually become, but the film regularly reminds us that DeLorean himself endured some serious difficulty in getting it completed. Indeed, though functional as a charming throwback to 70s-style crime thriller stories of intrigue and duplicity, Driven also serves as an intriguing biography of a man who faced remarkably disparate reputations, as both a gifted businessman and possibly a criminal. If story of DeLorean’s mired reputation is news to you, as it was to me, then check this film out if only for the fascinating story behind this stranger-than-fiction series of events. 

This story is well-told, with the various strands of details and developments never confusing and often entertaining. Sudeikis does well portraying Hoffman’s increasingly scattershot decisions, as the pressure mounts from the FBI and his friendship with DeLorean grows more complicated. Greer is good as Hoffman’s wife Ellen, and Stoll turns in some very enjoyable mugging and long-arm-of-the-law self-importance into his special agent role. But it is Pace, who, ahem, outpaces everyone else by far, and imbues his DeLorean with a deeply engaging mixture of performance, ambition, self-doubt, and force of will. Perhaps it is the result of that well-documented tendency for actors performing as real people to seem especially gifted, but Pace nevertheless earns his accolades in this part. It is truly an outstanding performance.

Certain elements of the direction could use more liveliness in a number of scenes, and a few punchlines could certainly use more work. Bateman’s script is very funny in places, but noticeably off the mark comedy-wise in others. However, the story has enough straight dramatic elements that are compelling and engaging that the comedic burnouts do not stick in the mind very long. 

What does come to mind often, especially towards the end, is the striking similarity between the structure of this story and of David O. Russell’s American Hustle. That film, the superior mainly for its richer story, more daring direction, and truly outstanding cast, strikes similar notes in plot, setting, and tone. The 70s glamor, intrigue and distrust between friends and confidantes, manipulative authority figures and comedic undertones all match, but thankfully Driven has enough of its own charms that it feels more like an homage and a partner project than a derivative spin-off. 

Much of this charm, of course, comes from the real-life gravity of it all, and the genuinely fascinating performance by Pace. This is an oddly grounded film at times, which both shows its maturity and keeps it from feeling truly outstanding. But the story is very interesting, the style rather entertainingly retro, and the performances collectively very good. A well-done film, and a good selection by the EIFF. 

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Reviewer: Nathaniel Brimmer-Beller

“Bright moments.”

Editorial Rating: 2 Stars

“STATURE, JOHN! STATURE!”

Pardon me. While this We Have Always Lived in the Castle is a slight, rather limp feature that leaves little impact, the way Crispin Glover delivers this line during one of this film’s emotional outbursts may be the most quotable moment of the festival for me. So that is definitely a plus.

Directed by Stacie Passon, from a script by Mark Kruger based off Shirley Jackson’s 1962 novel, this film earnestly attempts to capture the eerie Gothic aesthetics of big-empty-house-filled-with-tragic-memories stories, but comes up with not much exciting or original to do with it. Sisters Constance and Merricat Blackwood (Alexandra Daddario and Taissa Farmiga), and their uncle Julian (Glover) live in the ominous Blackwood manor, near a small town filled with citizens who hate their guts. The film never really clarifies why the animosity has arisen, except general resentment of their wealth and oddness. To be fair, as Daddario, Farmiga and Glover play them, the Blackwoods are certainly wealthy and undoubtedly odd.

Constance is rarely found without an unnaturally wide smile and a disingenuously kind word for everything, though past tragedy seems to have instilled in her a crippling fear of leaving the manor (a fear which is conspicuously unexplored beyond a passing reference). Daddario plays Constance with a certain recognizable glint of 1950s maddened-housewife mania, which suggests some truly sinister effects of their upbringing, but is also cloyingly one-note. Farmiga is much more irritating as Merricat, who glowers and stomps around leaving bizarre mystical offerings and trinkets around, believing herself a kind of sorceress able to protect the house and her sister with hexes and magic. Julian, his mind gone after the same tragedy that took the sisters’ parents’ lives, is mostly portrayed as an annoyance, though Glover does well to conjure a level of pathos to his sad situation. 

The result of these characterizations is mainly a simple dispassion for whatever happens next. Each character is thinly developed, quirky often to the point of being aggravating, and generally just an uninteresting figure. The most interesting character, then, becomes Sebastian Stan’s intrusive Cousin Charles, who appears suddenly and suspiciously in their lives to “help,” and presumably collect a share of their fortune. Passon’s direction almost immediately clarifies that he is bad! and not to be trusted!, which is initially fun, but continues with so little nuance that one can essentially predict every development between the family members from then on. Charles manipulates the soft Constance, antagonizes the more suspicious Merricat, and disrespects the puzzled Julian, particularly when Julian mistakes Charles for his brother, the girls’ father, and yells at him about “STATURE!” This moment really makes the film.

Stan is impressive, and the standout performer, though that may be unfair given how thinly the other characters are written. Charles does not ever quite have a clear goal or intention, but the predatory way he installs himself in the family and imitates the archetypal patriarch are fun to watch, and he is certainly made fun to hate. If only Passon had made more in this film as fun to watch, it might feel less hollow. But as it stands, We Have Always Lived in the Castle cannot maintain its occasionally bright moments of weirdness and character conflict, instead listing into drab, predictable tales of male aggression, female weakness, and societal disquietude. There are richer, scarier, more engaging tales of a similar aesthetic to be found elsewhere. 

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Reviewer: Nathaniel Brimmer-Beller

“A remarkably powerful film.”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars

Perhaps it’s the bone-chilling speeches I’ve seen Christian scientists deliver to a classroom; perhaps it’s the infuriating conflicts arising lately from the morally bankrupt practice of parents not vaccinating their children; perhaps it’s the intensity of the filmmaking. Likely all three. Whatever the reason, Them That Follow struck me as a remarkably powerful film which, whilst leaving little to the imagination, shines a profoundly necessary light on a real, complicated problem – enough so that its less intelligent elements can be overlooked. What writer/directors Britt Poulton and Dan Madison Savage have made may not be perfect, but it is certainly a standout at this festival. 

Them That Follow delves deep into an Appalachian Pentecostal community that populate an eerie mountain and practice an illegal and profoundly dangerous ritual of serpents. That is, they routinely trap and keep deadly cottonmouth snakes, which they believe can channel the will of the Divine, and drape them over their congregants’ necks. If the snake remains calm, the person must be properly serving the will of the Lord; if it bites and poisons them, they must be somehow astray from His path. The absurdity of this logic is well-addressed in some outstandingly intense, spine-tingling sequences in which various parishioners are put through the ritual throughout the film. 

The local pastor, the de facto leader of the area, is played with electrifying fire-and-brimstone passion by Walton Goggins, while the townsfolk who follow him are played with commendable depth and lived-in realism by the likes of Olivia Colman, Jim Gaffigan, Kaitlyn Dever, and Lewis Pullman. Sparking the narrative are Alice Englert, as Mara, the pastor’s daughter, and Thomas Mann as Augie, a young man who has come to reject the church, but remains in love with Mara. Through some unsettling developments, their relationship becomes a warped rural iteration of Romeo and Juliet’s terrible journey, though somehow even bleaker at points than that story of teenage tragedy. Suffice it to say, the community is capable of some serious self-denial, resentment, betrayal, and ungodliness. 

It would be easy to dismiss Them That Follow as heavy-handed, unrealistic, too twisted for the good of the story and character development. But the directors explore the absurdity of their practices with considerable depth; to anyone moored in reality, this community is harrowingly rife with irresponsibility and endangerment, but to these individuals, it is their only connection to community, salvation, and acceptance. The fiery expressions of desperation, passion, and anguish that brim just below the surface of many a congregate are well-established and engaging to watch unfold. 

World-building aside, however, unfortunately, elements of the filmmaking leave something to be desired, including some unresolved threads and a lamentably abrupt ending that could have benefitted greatly from only a few more minutes, even seconds, of development. In addition, Poulton and Savage’s reliance on extreme close-ups and moody, austere cinematography occasionally smacks of fresh-out-of-film-school ingenuity, yet it rarely detracts seriously from the strength of the setting and performances. 

And the cast turns in some truly special performances. From top to bottom, the acting is sharp, uncompromising, and above all, convincing. More so than most in this festival, the performers disappear into their roles entirely. Goggins gets a refreshingly powerful role, for although he has turned in delightful work as clumsy and cocksure jerks in Tarantino’s last two features, he has always clearly been ready for a meatier material, and he does not disappoint. I certainly had to blink a few times to remind myself I was watching gifted comedians like Colman and Gaffigan, (and even Dever, gaining traction recently for her turn in Olivia Wilde’s Booksmart, and Pullman, who commendably held his own in Drew Goddard’s Bad Times at El Royale last year against a positively stacked cast) who so effortlessly can make viewers guffaw and giggle, but here bury that mirth under an impressive amount of characterization. I should not patronize, of course — many a brilliant dramatic performance can be found when a comedian decides to turn their knack for timing and delivery on serious subject matter. Credit to the directors for coaxing so many impressive performances to the screen. 

Credit as well to those responsible for the unforgettable visuals and editing surrounding the truly terrifying snakes. If an award exists for Best Ensemble Reptile Performance, Them That Follow is a sure bet. Ophidiophobes, steer clear. Even as a fan of our slithery friends, I was squirming in my seat. Poulton and Savage have not made a horror movie in a traditional sense, rather an unsettling religious ensemble drama, but they make a real meal of the scarier elements; if you are looking to be disturbed by eerie reptilian menace, and vile human behavior,  — or even if you want to argue about the perils of true religious freedom — look no further.

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Reviewer: Nathaniel Brimmer-Beller

“A bombastically good time”

Editorial Rating: 2 Stars

More like Bodies under extreme physical exertion. This film has everything. Guns, fistfights, Christmas, air ducts, maniacal villains, walkie talkies, white tank tops, glass smashing, metal crunching, bones squelching, bodies flinging, explosions exploding — well, I should say it has everything from a description of Die Hard. 

This is not entirely a surprise, considering it’s helmed by Renny Harlin, the director of the impeccably named Die Hard 2: Die Harder. And its references do not stop with John McTiernan’s genre redefining classic; everyone from John Woo (with a shot-perfect recreation of Hard Boiled) to Tarantino to Jackie Chan gets their action-packed work borrowed from here and there. Though to its credit, Bodies at Rest has a commendably original setup.

The film takes place on one very intense Christmas Eve, when a record-breaking rainstorm forces the citizens of Hong Kong to stay indoors overnight. At the city hospital, a stoic and assured doctor (Nick Cheung) and cheerful young nurse (Zi Yang) stay after hours, swapping stories about their aspirations and day-to-day work in the hospital morgue. Suddenly, they find they must defend themselves and their workplace when a mysterious trio of brutes breaks in to retrieve an incriminating bullet from one of the morgue’s recently received stiffs. From there, Harlin directs the action with clear talent, with high-flying camerawork and eye-popping choreography coming at the audience from every angle. The camera flips, turns, swerves, and lurches as Cheung and Yang fight their way through the thugs’ various attacks. These initially mild-mannered workers prove remarkably adept at flinging fists and bodies around and against things, even as the criminal ringleader (Richie Jen) comes up with dastardly ways of trying to bend the doctors to his will. Some moments of breakneck intensity might make one wonder where these medical professionals learned all this fight choreography, but realism is quite clearly not Harlin’s intention. 

One wonders, then, after an hour of body-flinging, metal crunching and line-screaming, what Harlin’s intention actually is. The film has action and bombastic combat to spare, but it all just happens without much reason or tension. The doctors fight, they get away, they get caught, they fight again, they come up with plans, they get away, they get caught — it goes on in this manner for essentially the whole time. Some amusing uses of the hospital facilities are highlights of this otherwise fairly monotonous story — especially when the doctors use various chemical reactions to fight off the baddies with the power of science. Additionally, one sequence in particular, involving some of the most insane action editing I’ve seen, had the audience not only gasping but laughing out loud and on the edge of their seat at once. The script, written by David Lesser, shows a real knack for action storytelling in this moment and precious few others — unfortunately this spark of inventiveness rarely returns to the screen. 

This film simply packs in too much cheesy extravagance and not enough variety or intrigue. While it is a bombastically good time if you are into smash-em-ups, Bodies at Rest achieves little outside of a few good moments, and for your time, you are likely better off seeking out a different Hong Kong action flick that handles its style and substance better. Maybe feast your eyes on an all-time great of the genre like Hard Boiled, if you haven’t already. 

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Reviewer: Nathaniel Brimmer-Beller

“Exceeds the boundaries of ‘music films’ in impressive and unforgettable ways.”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars

Here is a surprise. A few months ago, when the trailer for Yesterday was released, reactions stretched from sheer enthusiasm to sheer contempt. Perhaps the fantasy of it all gave some people pause, while the Beatle-worship appealed to the millions who are still steadfastly dedicated to their work. Either way, the project and the talent involved, from Danny Boyle to Richard Curtis to Ed Sheeran, were sure to cause some division. And I am happy to report, though division will likely still occur, Yesterday is both exactly what so many were hoping for, and a remarkably bold move in an unexpected and exciting direction. I recommend it to all.

As high concepts go, this one is quite a stretch. But although Curtis’ approach often suffers from major issues of overly sweet fluff and trite material, he threads the needle here with commendable grace and ingenuity. The plot follows Jack Malik, played with a hugely impressive sense of urgency and personality by Himesh Patel, an untalented songwriter who pushes himself to become a rockstar, even though he knows he probably doesn’t have what it takes. His dedicated best friend, manager, and confidante, Ellie, played by Lily James with her usual charm and magnetism, has much more belief in his talent and future career, and though Curtis is a little heavy-handed in her depiction as so deeply devoted to his success, their relationship is intriguing enough to provide a good setup for the film’s personal side. It quickly becomes something else, however, when the plot kicks in. For reasons unknown, Earth as we know it suddenly has a lapse in reality, and suddenly, the band we all know and love as The Beatles never existed. Only Jack remembers them, which, coupled with his now desperate desire to have some sort of success, quickly leads him to pass their songs off as his own. 

The premise, though a little daft-sounding at first, quickly proves two delightful things. Firstly, and most straightforwardly, The Beatles are just brilliant. Boyle, Curtis, and Patel clearly have a blast during the scenes where Jack is frantically trying to remember the lyrics to their immense number of genius songs, which naturally causes the audience to reach into our own memories, because odds are we know the lyrics too. Perhaps Marc Maron was actually spot-on when he said we all have a part of our brains that is preternaturally full of Beatles songs; when we hear them, it’s like we have known them our entire lives, and even semi-fans know the words to a great deal of their work. Yesterday works incredibly well as a heartfelt, loving celebration of these songs, and each performance will likely make you reconnect with The Beatles more and more each time. And yet, this was already clear from the trailer; just hearing a few bars of “Hey Jude” or “Help” or indeed “Yesterday,” no matter the plot, would remind you how great they were. Where Curtis’ script and Boyle’s crafty direction elevate the premise, however, is in the way they explore the wider implications.

This is the second of the film’s proposals: we are remarkably connected by our knowledge of The Beatles. There really is no comparable group that can claim the influence they have; to depict a world without the single most unifying musicians in history is a frankly inspired way to remind us what true cultural connection means. Sure, as is often the case with Curtis, there are a few overtly saccharine elements to Yesterday that elicit more eye-rolls than inspiration. Jack’s endlessly supportive friends and the relative ease with which he ascends to pop stardom is all played so neatly it feels too squeaky-clean at times. But I was impressed with the edge Curtis works in as well, and how subtly he does it; there is some remarkably bold criticism and brutal ribbing of modern culture to be found here. 

For while Yesterday celebrates the inimitable genius of these past masters, the film also considers the modern state of the music industry. Many of the film’s most hilarious (and rather poignant) jabs come when a predatory manager, played with comic ferocity by Kate McKinnon, callously orders Jack around, telling him what he has to do to become a star these days. Of course it’s all soulless, horrifically shallow things, that completely ignore and debase the charm and depth of the music to make money (which shouldn’t be a surprise to those who follow our biggest pop stars’ lives) but here Boyle and Curtis deliver a fascinating argument for why the dominance of this approach is so sad. The most puzzling element of this argument is the involvement of one of the worst offenders in this regard: Ed Sheeran. Sheeran, playing himself with an impressively game attitude, befriends Jack but also clearly resents that the music Jack plays is infinitely better than what he can do, and what he has made millions doing. When “Shape of You” comes on a few minutes after Jack sings one of the most beautiful songs of all time, “In My Life,” the effect is not just amusing but also rather revolting. How could such a dithering song be so popular when we used to have it so much better? 

My one serious criticism of the musical approach is that the film shies away from this very argument when it is in danger of becoming too critical. In one rather serious sequence late on, as Lily and Jack have more serious conversations about their attraction to one another, a Sheeran song that sounds like burning garbage plays, seemingly as if it is a genuinely sensual or compelling song. This is a bizarre moment that lets down the film’s otherwise convincing dedication to exalting music that clearly means something — every other music cue has a wealth of interpretations that will likely exceed your expectations of what could have been a staid and obvious love-in of a movie. Indeed altogether, Yesterday does not feel like it gets finished saying what it was trying to say about music, culture, fame, and honesty, and privileges Jack’s storyline with Ellie over the wider issues slightly too much. Thankfully, Patel and James are lovely to watch; with lesser actors, the romance between Jack and Ellie could easily become an infuriatingly distracting side plot that detracts from the more fascinating elements of cultural criticism; as it stands, their chemistry makes up for the distraction for the most part. 

Though such elements and a few other stylistic oddities keep the film from being truly great, there are some moments that prove this film is a cut above what its critics expected. I will not spoil a thing, as during one of these exemplary scenes in particular, I instantly felt deeply grateful I had not known what would come next, then incredibly moved. This is certainly the most moving moment of the EIFF for me so far, and I applaud the team behind this film for including it and dwelling in it with such grace and bravery. Let’s just say the legacy of The Beatles is explored in mature, intelligent, and unpredictable ways, and I found even more appreciation for their impact on the world as a result.

This is a delightful film, and though it is not perfect, and could have been improved with a little more bombast here and there and a little less Curtis cuteness, it is undoubtedly an entertaining and outstandingly crafted piece. When it was announced, I myself was more enthusiastic about this than I was skeptical; I have always loved and admired The Beatles, and expected a fun but light jukebox trip to celebrate how funky they were. But Boyle and Curtis, helped along by deft performances by Patel and James, as well as some other assorted cameos and surprises, have produced a wonderful thing that exceeds the boundaries of ‘music films’ in impressive and unforgettable ways. I was very impressed; see it, and I hope you will be too. If you’ll pardon the saccharine conclusion: remember to let it into your heart.

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Reviewer: Nathaniel Brimmer-Beller