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(08/05/20 7:00pm)
Throughout the history of cinema, there’s always been an obsession with attempting to recapture the past. Whether it’s films like Ben-Hur, All the President’s Men, or even movies that twist history like Inglorious Basterds, these movies often try to contextualize their stories as being more than just the “true” stories they’re based on in order to draw eyes. They sometimes claim accuracy despite drastically altering history in the name of entertainment. However, in a time when we are actively reckoning with our history, it begs the question: how do we channel our feelings about this history and how do we react to what has come before?
(07/21/20 4:00pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
Throughout the history of cinema, there’s always been an obsession with attempting to recapture the past. Whether it’s films like Ben-Hur, All the President’s Men, or even movies that twist history like Inglorious Basterds, these movies often try to contextualize their stories as being more than just the “true” stories they’re based on in order to draw eyes. They sometimes claim accuracy despite drastically altering history in the name of entertainment. However, in a time when we are actively reckoning with our history, it begs the question: how do we channel our feelings about this history and how do we react to what has come before?
The subject in question is Hamilton, released this July 3rd on Disney+ (after initially being slated for a theatrical release in October 2021). Hamilton is a 2016 recording of the Broadway musical phenomenon written by Lin-Manuel Miranda, following the life and demise of the titular Alexander Hamilton (Lin-Manuel Miranda). Taking place during the American Revolution and continuing through Hamilton’s final fatal duel with Aaron Burr (Leslie Odom Jr.), we see the orphaned Alexander cross paths with George Washington (Christopher Jackson), make enemies with Thomas Jefferson (Daveed Diggs), and fall in love with Angelica Schulyer (Renée Elise Goldsberry) but marry her sister Eliza (Phillipa Soo), all the while contemplating his own legacy and reckoning with death itself. Liberty, hot rhymes, and shenanigans ensue.
How the Sausage Gets Made
Going into Hamilton on Disney+, the most experience I had had with the musical (aside from seeing Miranda perform cuts from the original concept album at a presidential dinner and watching the infamous “Hamilton Polka” later on) were a few of the big numbers from the show. In the immediate wake of Hamilton’s success on Broadway, I admit that my interest in the show was somewhat shallow, partially due to a relative lack of interest in the theater beyond high school productions I had participated in (and my own clearly unrefined tastes). Regardless of this, I can now say without hesitation that it lives up to all the hype. Every aspect of Hamilton, including the music, the performances, and the overall style of the show, absolutely works. Directed for the stage by Thomas Kail (who collaborated with Miranda prior to this on the musical In the Heights), the story is staged in such a way that the action feels up-close and personal to the audience along with the folks at home. The cinematography used to capture the show blurs the line between theater and film, often juxtaposing shots of the entire stage with close-up shots of the actors during the show’s more emotionally resonant moments. Speaking of the actors, the sheer amount of talent the cast displays is awe-inspiring. While Miranda does an excellent job as the titular character, the two performances that absolutely steal the show are Odom’s and Diggs’s. With Diggs as Jefferson, you get an enjoyably cartoonish foil to Alexander’s hubris. In turn, you get Odom as Burr, whose pseudo-narrator role elevates every single sequence he’s in. It’s hard to explain without giving away the highlights, but Hamilton goes to great lengths in giving depth to “the damn fool that shot him.” Ultimately, what ties the piece together is the sheer humanity on display, through numbers like “Satisfied” and (in the case of the aforementioned Burr) “Wait for It.” The ensemble cast is also incredible, managing to not only flesh out the interior world of the piece through movement and interaction with the main cast, but bring to it all a sense of life that is palpable throughout the show’s runtime.
Saying No to This
However, despite the piece’s dedication to portraying the key figures in play as flawed, human characters, there’s undoubtedly some blind spots that are especially apparent given the current national situation. The biggest issue at play here is ultimately in how Hamilton tries to humanize its core cast. Throughout the show, the biggest flaws these characters display concern things like pride, selfishness, and even adultery (I’m not lying when I say that The Greatest Showman, another historical musical that came after Hamilton, shares a practically identical turning point regarding the main character cheating on his wife). However, like the aforementioned Showman, Hamilton chooses to largely ignore arguably the biggest issue surrounding its entire cast of historical figures: slavery.
Now, I’m not saying that Hamilton made this choice out of a place of malice (Miranda recently addressed this issue via Twitter, and the Disney+ release includes a roundtable discussion with the cast that touches on the racial aspect of the show), but speaking from a historical context, the choice to shy away from truly acknowledging it beyond a few barbs Hamilton spits at Thomas Jefferson mid-rap battle just feels off. It’s not so much a matter of negligence in that case, but rather a sense of willful side-stepping that comes off as the show trying to have its cake and eat it too—being able to tell the stories of “complicated” men without requiring the audience to truly question the irony of their complicity in slavery when conducting the American experiment. This is especially so considering the piece’s sense of patriotism and belief in the greater morals of the Founding Fathers. Overall, these portrayals are concerning in that they could be (given the show’s prominence in popular culture) used to brush off or otherwise ignore the genuinely terrible things some of these historical figures did, and justify it based on the show’s historical “accuracy.”
Living, Dying, and Telling Stories
All things considered, Hamilton is two things. On one hand, it’s an utterly astounding and ambitious piece of musical theater that attempts to reframe the kindling of our country in the voice of the then-voiceless. It’s an actively engaging piece whose greatest triumphs lie in its lyrics and performance, as well as the fact that it is willing to be more open about the faults of the figures metaphorically taking center stage.
On the other hand, despite the problems it does acknowledge, it largely presents a rosy picture of the Founding Fathers, all but ignoring the issue of their relationship to slavery. Again, I wouldn’t claim this to be willful denial or ignorance on part of Mr. Miranda’s writing. However, it’s undeniable how people could see the show’s attitude toward our country’s founders (especially in 2020) as being almost naively optimistic toward the characters and intents of those in “The Room Where it Happens.”
With that being said, I still wholly recommend giving Hamilton your time. Regardless of the rose-colored glasses it may wear regarding history, the musical is still a genuinely engrossing masterpiece of music and choreography that feels impossibly solid, presented in one of the best filmed theatrical pieces I’ve ever seen, if not the best. As historical theater, it is by no means perfect. However, as a musical, it is downright historic.
Featured Image: IMDb
Images: IMDb
Sources: Bustle, YouTube
(03/17/20 5:00pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
In the modern pop culture landscape, it would be a boldfaced lie to claim people aren’t obsessed with the fantastical. Whether it’s the longevity of the Lord of the Rings saga, the intense care people have for Harry Potter, or the many, many, many, shows on the Internet centered around the evergreen, tabletop favorite Dungeons & Dragons (or DnD), we live in an age where people care greatly about worlds of mirth and magicks, perhaps now more than ever.
However, this raises a thought: for all our modern world likes to pay tribute to days of swords and sorcery, what would happen if the two planes were to meet? It looks like Pixar may have found the answer.
(03/13/20 7:53pm)
Once upon a time in 1991, the world was introduced to Sonic the Hedgehog. Created by Japanese video game developer Sega and debuting with a self-titled game on the Sega Genesis console, he was created to embody everything “cool” at the time. Through an extensive ad campaign promoting this radical new character and the mythical power of “Blast Processing,” Sonic made people go wild. He came to dominate the 90s, with multiple successful games, cartoons, merchandising opportunities, and even theme parks.
(02/20/20 8:00pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
Once upon a time in 1991, the world was introduced to Sonic the Hedgehog. Created by Japanese video game developer Sega and debuting with a self-titled game on the Sega Genesis console, he was created to embody everything “cool” at the time. Through an extensive ad campaign promoting this radical new character and the mythical power of “Blast Processing,” Sonic made people go wild. He came to dominate the 90s, with multiple successful games, cartoons, merchandising opportunities, and even theme parks.
Then came the new millennium, and it all went to Hell. In the aftermath of the franchise’s jump to 3D gameplay, the 2006 release of Sonic the Hedgehog (dubbed Sonic ‘06) sent the entire series back leaps and bounds both in terms of gameplay and in the eyes of the general public. Since then, the Sonic franchise has carried a massive chip on its shoulder, playing off its repeatedly low critical reception largely through making fun of itself, if the brand’s infamous Twitter account is anything to go by.
With a hotly anticipated feature adaption on our hands, one must ask: Can Sonic still leave an impact with modern audiences, even in an age where the franchise’s legacy is seemingly built upon irony and its own missteps?
(01/06/20 7:30pm)
Disclaimer: The following review of Cats is of the original release of the film. Current Cats screenings contain “enhanced special effects” which are not reflected upon in this review.
(12/24/19 11:31pm)
With 2019 starting to wind down and some of its final films coming to the big screen, it’s worth noting the various accomplishments mainstream cinema has managed to achieve over the course of these last few months. Disney and Marvel released Avengers: Endgame, which went on to become the highest grossing film of all time. Disney and Pixar released Toy Story 4 to great critical acclaim and capped off the Toy Story saga (for now). Perhaps most importantly, Disney acquired 20th Century Fox and all of its entertainment assets, assimilating studios like Blue Sky and Fox Searchlight into the fold. This also brought the not-so-quiet cracking down of repeat screenings of older Fox films to give more space to things like The Lion King (2019) and Aladdin (2019), to the detriment of non-chain theaters across the country.
(12/24/19 4:30pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
Disclaimer: The following review of Cats is of the original release of the film. Current Cats screenings contain “enhanced special effects” which are not reflected upon in this review.
In 1982, a man named Andrew Lloyd Webber opened a musical called Cats on Broadway. Based on author T.S. Eliot’s poetry collection entitled Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, the show follows a gaggle of audacious felines as they effectively debate over who deserves reincarnation. It’s gone on to completely revolutionize musical theater as we know it, and became Webber’s most iconic work, which lives on in infamy to this day.
In 2019, a man named Tom Hooper (of Les Misérables “fame”) directed a film adaptation of Mr. Webber’s production, and I’d dare argue that it is the single-most horrifying film this year has to offer—and it doesn’t even have a body count.
(12/22/19 7:00pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
With 2019 starting to wind down and some of its final films coming to the big screen, it’s worth noting the various accomplishments mainstream cinema has managed to achieve over the course of these last few months. Disney and Marvel released Avengers: Endgame, which went on to become the highest grossing film of all time. Disney and Pixar released Toy Story 4 to great critical acclaim and capped off the Toy Story saga (for now). Perhaps most importantly, Disney acquired 20th Century Fox and all of its entertainment assets, assimilating studios like Blue Sky and Fox Searchlight into the fold. This also brought the not-so-quiet cracking down of repeat screenings of older Fox films to give more space to things like The Lion King (2019) and Aladdin (2019), to the detriment of non-chain theaters across the country.
But for all the morally-questionable victories won this year, there’s another side of the coin. 2019 made itself home to four of the biggest bombs in cinematic history: Laika’s Missing Link, STX’s Uglydolls, and AMBI’s Arctic Dogs all made headlines for flopping in their widespread theatrical releases, each progressively worse than the last.
At least their U.S. releases weren’t delayed as a result of distributors going bankrupt, only for it to hit American theaters six months after being released overseas—at half the ticket price of their competitors. If I had to encapsulate everything wrong with the films I’ve seen this year into one neat, convenient package, it would be— without a doubt—Playmobil: The Movie.
(12/18/19 2:00pm)
Disclaimer: This review is of the PS4 version of the game and was played on an original PS4.
(12/12/19 9:49pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
Disclaimer: This review is of the PS4 version of the game and was played on an original PS4.
Arguably, one of the greatest losses the video game industry has suffered after Disney’s wholesale acquisition of the Star Wars franchise and George Lucas’ Lucasfilm was that of Lucasarts. Known for being the breeding ground for oddball adventure games like The Secret of Monkey Island, the Sam & Max series, and Tim Schafer’s Grim Fandango, the company also worked on a bevy of titles based on Lucas' works, from Star Wars to Indiana Jones… and mostly just those two. After Lucasarts was unceremoniously shut down in 2013, lingering only as a licensor with all staff fired and multiple in-development games stuck in Development Hell, Disney sought out third-party publishers to bring a galaxy far, far away to home consoles and ultimately gave the keys to a most unexpected successor.
Enter Electronic Arts (EA), a game distribution company known for two things: their heavy reliance on microtransactions and forcing developers to hit unreasonable deadlines, along with being voted one of the worst companies in America multiple times. Their first whack at Star Wars came in the form of DICE’s Star Wars Battlefront (a revival of Lucasarts’ own multiplayer shooter), where fans at launch derided the game’s severe lack of content. The second go-around, Star Wars Battlefront II, suffered the exact opposite problem. The game relied extensively (at launch) on microtransactions and glorified gambling through loot box mechanics to better oneself in the game or even unlock franchise mainstays like Darth Vader without needing to play for over 40 hours first. The situation was so extreme that it literally forced the hand of legislators across the globe to examine loot boxes as a whole and famously decry Battlefront II as a “Star Wars-themed online casino.”
With a new Star Wars game having recently fallen into our laps, all of this begs the question: given EA’s exclusive rights to produce Star Wars games and the shadowy board of investors and stockholders that force EA’s hand into meddling with projects to “maximize” profits, is it possible for a Star Wars game in 2019 to avoid these missteps? Is there hope that it can actually be good?
(11/07/19 9:07pm)
(11/03/19 2:00pm)
In the ever-shifting landscape of modern indie cinema, no distributor has left a greater mark on the landscape than the infamous A24. It struck out the box office with titles ranging from mind-benders like Swiss Army Man and this past summer’s Midsommar, to deep psychological horror like It Comes at Night and the infamous Hereditary. It even goes on to Oscar contenders like The Florida Project and 2016 Best Picture Winner Moonlight, which shows the bench of hits under this no-longer-fledgling studio’s belt are insane achievements.
(11/02/19 11:00pm)
In my history of covering film, I’ve sometimes had to confront a prominent subject of my past endeavors that always seems to catch up with me: the theatre. Sure, I did my fair share of high school drama (I was even a tree!), and in a way, that experience led me down the path to where I am today. I’ve always had a sincere respect for the medium, if only by the effort required to properly do it. However, we live in a complicated age for the medium, where the internet and bootlegging make it easier to actually see these shows… and harder for said shows to actually make money on seats. Compound that with an increased presence by licensed works and acts intending to capitalize on an emerging teen market to get that sweet Hamilton/Be More Chill virality, and it could cause one to question: in 2019, what does it mean to make true theatre, let alone art?
(10/27/19 7:35pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
In my history of covering film, I’ve sometimes had to confront a prominent subject of my past endeavors that always seems to catch up with me: the theatre. Sure, I did my fair share of high school drama (I was even a tree!), and in a way, that experience led me down the path to where I am today. I’ve always had a sincere respect for the medium, if only by the effort required to properly do it. However, we live in a complicated age for the medium, where the internet and bootlegging make it easier to actually see these shows… and harder for said shows to actually make money on seats. Compound that with an increased presence by licensed works and acts intending to capitalize on an emerging teen market to get that sweet Hamilton/Be More Chill virality, and it could cause one to question: in 2019, what does it mean to make true theatre, let alone art?
Enter stage right, Guest Artist. Directed by Timothy Busfield and based off a true “incident,” it's an odd couple story taking place in a train station late one Christmas Eve. Joseph Harris (Jeff Daniels) is a has-been playwright, coasting off his own legacy and finding solace at the bottom of a flask. Kenneth Waters (Thomas Marcias, in his feature debut) is an overeager writer’s apprentice hoping to literally write the next great American play… and idolizes Joseph to no end. When Joseph begrudgingly decides to write a play for a no-name theatre company in the quaint town of Lima, Kenneth finally gets an opportunity to meet his hero. Getting off on the wrong foot, Kenneth now has to confront the real Joseph and convince him not to take the first train back to New York. Shenanigans and the ultimate debate as to what “art” and “theatre” ensue in the modern day.
Except, it’s none of that. While the premise I have just described to you may come off as a breeding ground for a unique back-and-forth between the old and new, filtered through a medium potentially as old as humanity itself, it simply isn’t. What Guest Artist truly amounts to is a needlessly cliche redemption story, scored entirely by public domain Christmas music and featuring two main performances that seemingly set out to create the gritty, “real” Rick and Morty episode no one wanted. Daniels’ performance is the best of the entire film, even if his character is all but entirely one note.
Meanwhile, Marcias, bless his heart, is stuck working with a script that casts him as a practically incompetent fanboy, doing a perpetual “Russel from Up” impression. He sucks up almost nothing but abuse from his counterpart’s drunken raging against how the people of today don’t understand true art. Speaking of, anybody in this film who doesn’t qualify for an AARP card is seemingly depicted as stoner-like and ignorant, either totally obsessed with their phones or being spooked at the very thought of theatre. In fact, the film’s only character of color literally remarks at how musicals “aren’t natural”, and Kenneth’s perfunctory love interest literally asks him if theatre is something she can get on her phone. I could tear further into some of the rather “ambitious” leaps in logic it takes when trying to accurately depict the current generation, but it’d take all day.
All of that said, the most reprehensible moment of the film comes at the very end, where Kennith confronts Joseph about the secret play Joseph somehow conveniently had in his luggage the entire time, and Ken reads from it to inspire Joseph to not duck and run. Now, under normal circumstances, a moment like this could be a genuine culmination of narrative tension, allowing our characters to finally reconcile their thoughts in order to finally achieve enlightenment.
However, this is Guest Artist, and therefore the climax must include the reveal that Joseph’s greatest work was a play about how we deserved 9/11. As a sadly triumphant piano rendition of “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas” plinks along, Joseph cries as Kennith reads the elder’s thoughts threadbare, saying that he didn’t cry because of all the death and destruction that went down on that day but “because of how beautiful the art coming out of it would be.” So much could be said for the moral reprehensibility involved when we’re expected to sympathize with a drunken, morally questionable man who can’t get his play about how 9/11 was good for our country published because people would surely be so triggered at such a thought. Yet, this film was based on a true story, and if the end title cards are anything to go by, this godlike theatrical work was eventually published and staged regardless. So, effectively, all of this melodrama and raging against the dying of the cell phone battery was pointless.
If I haven’t made it painfully obvious enough, I wouldn’t recommend this film to anybody below the age of fifty, let alone anyone with a pulse. Guest Artist is a wholly unwelcome visitor, selling you the inane ramblings of that one uncle at Thanksgiving dressed up like an issue of The New Yorker. It thinks that it knows what it means and what it takes to be a true artist, to create true “theatre,” but it just simply doesn’t. There is nothing here of value that hasn’t been done better elsewhere, from My Dinner with André to The Dead Poets Society to even the lightly incompetent technophobia of Jerry Bruckheimer’s G-Force. You know that when the flipping guinea pig spy movie somehow manages to do an arguably better job at critiquing modern society than your prestige drama, you’ve screwed the film beyond the point of no return.
(10/27/19 6:41pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
In the ever-shifting landscape of modern indie cinema, no distributor has left a greater mark on the landscape than the infamous A24. It struck out the box office with titles ranging from mind-benders like Swiss Army Man and this past summer’s Midsommar, to deep psychological horror like It Comes at Night and the infamous Hereditary. It even goes on to Oscar contenders like The Florida Project and 2016 Best Picture Winner Moonlight, which shows the bench of hits under this no-longer-fledgling studio’s belt are insane achievements.
Now enter another one surely for the record books — Waves, directed by Trey Edward Shults, follows the Williams family: the headstrong Tyler (Kelvin Harrison, Jr.), self-reliant Emily (Taylor Russel), their stepmother Catharine (Renée Elise Goldsberry), and the patriarchal Ronald (Sterling K. Brown) as they live their way through the American Dream in South Florida. Tyler is fighting desperately to live up to his father’s growing expectations for his wrestling career. Emily is still trying to cope with the death of her mother… and the antics of the family cat. However, after a catastrophic series of events throws the family’s unity into peril, they’re forced to confront their worst fears about not just the people around them, but themselves.
Coming into my screening of the movie, a common descriptor I heard from members of the House was that Waves was effectively the cinematic equivalent to This is Us. For clarification, This is Us is an NBC dramedy series known for two things: soap opera-esque melodrama, and the ability to turn people into sobbing puddles of fleshy emotions. While this comparison isn’t entirely wrong, the devil lies in the fact that Waves has a sense of sincere pathos that I feel wholly surpasses the show by the guy who unleashed the dreaded Life Itself upon humanity. You genuinely root for and sympathize with the family at the core of this narrative, even as things escalate to an extreme degree.
Harrison and Russel make for charming leads whose characters go to interesting depths (if Harrison doesn’t get any awards for his work as Tyler in this movie, it’ll be the crime of the century), and Brown gives a knock-out performance in what is, at its core, a very reactionary role. Everything in this film oozes some level of humanity, from the score to the movie’s trademark 360-degree car shots, to even the aspect ratio. Much like the film’s namesake, everything in this movie has some level of motion and some level of life running independent of everything else around it. It’s utterly trance inducing.
When it comes to any cracks in the proverbial armor, it brings us back to the This is Us comparison. While I personally didn’t mind how the film plays out (largely due to its shifting forms of presentation and the performances on display), I can very easily see how that brand of storytelling could turn off some viewers, especially near the end. However, from my perspective, Waves manages to overcome that hurdle in such a manner that, melodramatic or not, still feels true to not only the characters, but the overall narrative as a whole.
Waves is a cinematic balancing act that just as easily confronts you with the psychological terrors of the modern day as much as it proves that life is worth living again. While it isn’t hard to see how some could interpret the movie’s twists and turns as melodrama, it just as easily accounts for that with a cast firing on all cylinders and a unique visual language that stands out from all the dramas we’ve gotten this year. Without any hesitation, I’d say that this movie stands to become a shiny new jewel in A24’s crown, a surefire hit when it releases worldwide on November 30, and a total achievement for all parties involved in putting this wonderful film together. It’s an utter tsunami of palpable passion.
(10/24/19 8:10pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
Directed by first-timer Simon Fink, Where We Disappear is an intriguing character piece with more tension than a wire fence. After knifing her husband to protect her son, the soft-handed Anastasia (Georgina Haig) is shipped off to a Soviet prison camp for a grueling twelve-year term. Justifiably wanting to get out as soon as possible, she inevitably butts heads with her newfound bunkmates, who have resigned themselves to their fate: the maternal-yet-struggling Svetlana (Osa Wallander), the shy, relatively kind-hearted Prushka (Vera Cherny), the injured Lubov (Katharine Isabelle), and at the top of the totem pole, the cold and hardened Masha (Jolene Andersen). With impossible odds, everybody at each others’ throats, and suffering around every corner, Anastasia ultimately fights to find a way to survive her new turmoil without letting it break her.
While I won’t give away the film’s full narrative for the sake of spoilers, the best way I can describe this film is if Zach Snyder’s Sucker Punch put as much effort into actual characterization and story as it did CG smash-'em-ups and needless fanservice. All of the actresses are absolutely fantastic in their parts, with Andersen’s Masha stealing the show. Her performance gives what is effectively your “biggest guy in the yard” character a genuine sense of sinister depth and a cracked, rough facade hiding emotional trauma. Everything else in the film manages to work in turn, from the cinematography to the music, all accentuating the sheer discomfort of the prison camp and how Anastasia’s wounded psyche is trying to process this absolute nightmare.
When it comes to negatives regarding the film, there are really only a few minor points and nitpicks, largely with the film’s proverbial pace in the third act. As mentioned prior, I will not divulge any specifics regarding what occurs; however, the actual reveal in execution could be confusing to first-time watchers who haven’t noticed key details throughout the movie. That isn’t to say that Where We Disappear doesn’t explain what is going on at that point, but it does call into question the subtlety of certain matters of foreshadowing from earlier in the picture.
All in all, for a first-time effort from a filmmaker, Where We Disappear is a genuinely solid piece. For its weight class, it punches with the force of a much bigger feature, and largely manages to make its impact known. The cast is absolutely impeccable, the cinematography easily reinforces the rigid claustrophobia of the film’s setting, and while there are some issues with the third act’s big reveal, it still remains effective. While it may seem as if I’m going easy on this film in comparison to other first go-arounds I’ve covered prior, it is undeniable how much time and effort was put towards making this film look and feel desolate, hopeless, and yet somehow hopeful at the same time. I have a good feeling we’ll be seeing more of Mr. Fink’s work in the future.
(10/23/19 9:00pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
With the return of the annual Heartland Film Festival comes the return of its traditional shorts showcases, where attendees get to see prize-winning, pint-sized programming voted upon the summer prior to that year’s fest. For 2019, we at Byte have already covered the first bushel of stand-outs, but the second course of shorts is nothing to skip out on.
(10/21/19 8:52pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
When it comes to getting a point across quickly in film, there’s no better medium than the short. Whether it’s to make you cry, to make you think, or to just make you feel, period, it gives storytellers, animators, and documentary filmmakers the opportunity to leave a lasting impression in the least amount of time possible. The Heartland Film Festival has come again, and audiences have the opportunity to see some of the heights of short filmmaking as voted upon this past Summer. Of the selections made for this year’s showcases, it’s undeniable that these films break the mold.
(10/21/19 4:00pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
For more than 30 years, one of the tenant genres in modern filmmaking has been the high school movie. From American Pie to Superbad, movies in this paradigm expose the glories of late-night parties, wild underaged drinking benders, and how none of the aforementioned acts have any consequences whatsoever for anybody who isn’t a square. The American cinematic landscape has more than its fair share of these debaucherous adventures, but it begs the question: How do people from other countries around the world (and in this case, from across the pond) interpret this endless cycle of super-senior soirées?
Philophobia, directed and written by Guy Davies, presents an English take on the high school shenanigans genre that, while clearly reminiscent at times of American contemporaries like Superbad or The Breakfast Club, feels wholly original. Set against a backdrop of densely-wooded greens and small-town English pleasantries, an aspiring writer named Kai (Joshua Glenister) is gearing up for his last week of high school alongside his buddies. He studies for exams, plots his future, and jots down poetry in his head. When he’s not doing that, he’s slinging back beers and blunts with old chums like Megsy (Jack Gouldbourne) on the library roof, plotting the ultimate leavers’ prank, and staring at the girl living across the curb like a deer in headlights. After a fateful encounter with one of the most beautiful girls at school throws our pedantic poet into the hot-seat of romance and intrigue, Kai struggles to keep himself and his love life in one piece.
Without a doubt, the effort put into Philophobia is utterly palpable from an audience’s perspective. The lighting in the film is absolutely impeccable, with some sequences casting an eerie, almost dreamlike ambiance over the quaint, honest world our characters live in. Speaking of these characters, their performances display a genuine sense of camaraderie among the main cast, with Glenister as Kai giving a contemplative yet still emotional take on an ultimately troubled teen. Outside of that, the music (largely comprised of proper score and licensed work) excellently sets the tone for the whole affair, and the use of abstract imagery, in conjunction with the lighting usage, leads to moments that wouldn’t feel out of place in some of the A24 catalog’s brightest gems.
That said, for all the praise I’ve given the film, there are a few snags that, while not being dealbreakers in the slightest, are still worth noting. The film is heavily entrenched in the male gaze (literally so when it comes to Kai’s occasional long-stare sessions) and doesn’t really give the core female characters of the story much to do outside of being objects of affection for Kai and his peers. It’s somewhat justified, given how closely we follow Kai throughout the story and the overall laissez-faire attitude the film has towards sex for the most part. Outside of that, Philophobia’s third act has some fairly rough pacing issues, largely due to how much the film sets up and tries to pay off in full over the course of its runtime. That isn’t to say that the movie decides to pay full homage to Return of the King and comes to a conventional ending multiple times before starting back up again, but with the amount of closure the movie is intent on providing to its plot threads, it does start to wear out some.
What else is there to say of Philophobia? The film is a unique take on your typical high school drama, blending together the likes of thrillers like Rear Window with shenanigans that echo movies like American Pie and The Dead Poets Society. However, it still manages to make the whole thing come together as a fairly cohesive and frank look at the uncertainties of growing up, both good and bad. Aside from some slight issues with pacing and characterization, it’s a movie with a spellbinding sense of sincerity in every nook and cranny. If you get the opportunity to catch this one on the big screen, seize it.