Strange Darling a nonlinear thriller
When Stephen King refers to a film as “a clever
masterpiece,” I can’t help but be a bit curious if he’s on to something
or if this is just hyperbole, wisely placed on the respective promotional
materials. Such is the case with J.T.
Mollner’s Strange Darling, an independent thriller that has built strong
word-of-mouth after being warmly received at a series of film festivals. While
I wouldn’t refer to Mollner’s film as a “masterpiece,” it is one of the
cleverest films I’ve seen in sometime, taking one horror trope after another
and turning them on their heads to great effect. Essentially a two-hander, the
fierce approach by its two leads, paired with the movie’s relentless pace, makes
for a story that sweeps you away before too many questions can be asked.
Darling is best appreciated by going in with as
little information as possible, so forgive the vague nature of this summary.
Things begin in a truck outside a neon-soaked hotel, where a man (Kyle Gallner)
is reveling in his good fortune. He’s managed to pick up the kind of woman
(Willa Fitzgerald) many hope to find in a bar but rarely do. Sexy and
flirtatious, she openly tells him what she expects from him once they check in,
leaving no doubt this will be a night he’ll remember. However, the mood is broken
when she asks, in all seriousness, if he is a serial killer. He’s taken aback
by this, but she goes on to explain she must be cautious, as she’s aware of the
risks she takes when “she decides to have a little fun.”
This is how the film starts, but not really. Mollner informs
us from the beginning that this is “a thriller in six chapters.” Then he
promptly starts the film with chapter three. It’s a bold, invigorating approach
that upends the context and perspective of the story. This device causes the viewer to see
everything with different eyes with each new chapter and allows Mollner to
frame his story in a way that brings a fresh approach to genre conventions.
As the film slides up and down the narrative timeline, from
chapter three to five to one etc., we’re forced to adjust our perceptions of the
characters and their motives. I don’t mind being manipulated as long as there’s
a consistency in the logic of the story. Mollner plays fair throughout, as none
of the revelations we get along the way come out of left field. Without question, this is a very smart,
well-calibrated film that, much like The Sixth Sense, invites multiple
viewings to marvel at and confirm that all the narrative pieces fit together.
What becomes apparent as the story unfolds in its nonlinear
manner is that so much of how someone perceives a story is dictated by the
person telling it. And while Mollner is manipulating us, the two principals are
doing the same, framing what has happened to each of them in ways that benefit
them respectively. It’s an intelligent approach that not only keeps the viewers
on their heels but speaks to greater concerns regarding perception and consent.
While the sexual content is explicit, it’s vital to the story as at the core of
the film are the issues of sexual politics and gender expectations. Not only
are our assumptions regarding the horror genre thrown into question but those
dealing with these vital issues as well.
There’s far more at play in Darling than meets the
eye, Mollner following in the long tradition of examining controversial, timely
issues within the context of the horror film. This is what elevates it above
the usual slasher trash and reminds us of the necessity and importance of the
genre. And while a scene of a breakfast
for the ages and those of graphic violence may initially come to mind when
thinking of the movie, it’s the conversations regarding its theme that will
continue to resonate. In theaters.
Poignancy in inconsistent Temples remains
One night, drunk and in need of help, he crosses paths with
his high school music teacher, Carla Kessler (Carol Kane), who brings him home
and finds out about the tragic death of Gottlieb’s wife. Apropos of nothing,
she mentions to him that she’s regretted never having gone through with her Bat
Mitzvah and, on a whim, suggests he take her through the process and complete
the ceremony with her. A radical notion, to be sure, but one that proves
cathartic and healing for them both.
However, the journey they take is not without confusion from outsiders,
unexpected complications and muddled emotions from all involved.
Schwartzman is hardly a reserved performer, which makes
Gottlieb’s initial depression all the more effective. The sense of desperation
and searching in his eyes effectively underscores not only his despair but his
longing for understanding concerning his wife’s death. A scene in which he
visits a Catholic church and the conversation his has with the resident priest
is the film’s most powerful sequence, due to the actor's reserved approach.
Equally effective are moments between Schwartzman and Kane as she shares with
him her regrets and hopes, all of which gives him a sense of hope that slowly
blossoms over the course of the film.
Unfortunately, some of the power of these fine moments is muted
due to C. Mason Wells and Silver’s sometimes flabby screenplay. Excising a
redundant scene here and there would have increased the urgency of Gottlieb’s
plight and provide a more solid emotional context. Also, Silver’s mixture of
styles proves distracting. A needless scene in which our hero accidentally gets
high and confronts his younger self is filmed at an increased speed that proves
jarring, while the finale is done with a constantly jittery handheld camera,
the director using extreme closeups that are uncomfortable and do nothing but
call attention to themselves.
However, when everything comes together, the film’s genuine
poignancy comes to the fore. Two dinner scenes are exceptional, one with
Kessler’s family, whose son mercilessly belittles her, and later during the
conclusion in which everyone comes together and unexpected revelations are
made. There’s an intimacy in these moments that stands out among the pedestrian
sequences that drag the movie down. In the end, Temples is an
occasionally effective testament to the power of human interaction and how a
simple helping hand can pull a lost soul from the abyss. In theaters.
Greedy: Overdone, yet incomplete
The theme of Potsy Ponciroli’s Greedy People has been covered before. Many filmmakers have used the premise of having a sudden largesse fall into the collective laps of a diverse group and examining the results from again and again. Far too complicated for its own good, People suffers greatly from a disparate shift in tone that proves far too jarring, so much so the entire thing ends with a thud.
A disturbance call answered by Terry (Joseph Gordon-Levitt),
a blow-hard cop who’s his own biggest fan, and Will (Hamish Patel), his timid,
rookie partner, goes horribly wrong when Virginia Chelto (Traci Lords), the
lady of the house, winds up dead. Deciding to cover their tracks and make it
look as if she was killed by an intruder, they stumble upon $1 million in cash while scurrying around the crime scene. Deciding to keep it, they hide
the loot with the understanding they’ll split it up later, telling no one what
has occurred.
Problem is, Will tells his very pregnant wife (Lily James)
all that’s happened, while Chelto (Tim Blake Nelson) is confused when the
hitman (Jose Maria Yazpik) he hired to kill his wife claims it wasn’t him that
did the deed. Also in the mix is the prime suspect, Virginia’s masseur (Simon
Rex), the inquisitive police chief (Uzo Aduba), Chleto’s mistress (Nina
Arianda) and yet another hitman (Jim Gaffigan), whose presence seems to be
known and accepted by all in town.
The film vacillates between broad and dark comedy before
shifting to film noir, none of the transitions done smoothly. Balancing a
variety of tones is tricky business, something even veteran directors struggle
with at times. Needless to say, this is not in Ponciroli’s skill set. Equally
troubling is the overcomplicated nature of the script and the too-large cast of
characters in play. The story is not hard to follow but so much of what occurs
and those involved is unnecessary. A more streamlined story would have
contributed to a sense of urgency the film sorely lacks.
Too long by a half hour, there’s a taut story somewhere in
Vukadinovich’s script, a brisk film noir or perhaps a ribald over-the-top
comedy. Unfortunately, Ponciroli tries
to shoehorn elements from both genres in People, never fully committing
to either. The result is the most
frustrating type of movie – one that moves in fits and starts, giving us
occasional flashes of what might have been. Available through
Video-On-Demand.
