When one watches a Yorgos Lanthimos film, one must be prepared for a bit of nastiness. Or rather, an orgy of nastiness. Whatever cynical pessimism one feels towards one’s fellow man, or woman, as in the case of his latest film, The Favorite, set in the English royal court of Queen Anne (reigning 1702-1714), one leaves the theater with that cynicism turned to loathing.
One must also be prepared to see this slide into misanthropy executed with brilliant and courageous artistic flare. The writing, directing, art direction, music, cinematography, and most particularly, the acting, is all of such a high caliber that one almost forgets that the end goal is degradation.
Stanley Kubrick, of course, is the grand master of films that speak to man’s brutality in the most beautiful and inspiring of ways, creating a tension between the subject matter and the execution. Lanthimos snaps that tension by pushing both the subject matter and the style to such an extreme that we enter the realm of emotional and interpersonal Grand Guignol.
Where Kubrick, in all his films but Barry Lyndon is the obvious comparison here, prefers a wide angle lens, Lanthimos widens the lens to a fisheye so that rococo walls bend and swirl in dizzying loops. It’s not constant, but it always feels as if the film and the action is bursting to be free all restraints. Similarly, the characters in Barry Lyndon carry themselves like cultured paradigms, often self-deluded, while the only self-delusion in The Favorite is in the Queen herself. Though she is slowly rotting away with gout, she maintains the delusion that she is a woman in total control. In fact, the principle parties beneath her are engaged in a feral battle beneath the wigs and waistcoats. And finally, where sexual adventurism and power plays were an undercurrent in Kubrick, in Lanthimos they are a flood.
What keeps it afloat? What holds it all together? What makes his films as appealing as they are repellent?
The quick and easy answer are the performances.
Lanthimos casts his films with the finest actors and gets from them performances that ground the action, humanize the grotesqueries, and make the madness bearable. Olivia Colman’s performance as Queen Anne is one of the finest I’ve seen this year. One of the most appealing of actresses, most appealing because of her normality and relatability (Broadchurch), Colman’s Queen is played delicately on the edge of gross incompetency, tragedy (she suffered 17 miscarriages and substituted each lost child with a bunny in and out of a cage), physical decay, sexual hunger, insecurity, and royal privilege. Colman makes every eye twitch, every pout and furrowed brow, limp and laugh charged with ironic significance.
Rachel Weisz, an actress who with good material (The Deep Blue Sea, The Constant Gardener) brings an intelligence, fire, and guarded vulnerability to the screen and makes her one of finest actresses working, plays the role of Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough, the Queen’s close friend and advisor, with such simmering bravado and confidence that she makes for a formidable opponent. And her opponent in this story is her cousin, Abigail Masham, the favorite of the title, played with a feral impishness by Emma Stone. Stone is at a point in her career, it strikes me, where the question is where to place her. Not in terms of box office, but in terms of level of talent. Is she a peer of Weisz, Colman and Nicole Kidman, all Lanthimos favorites? For many, myself included, this films provides that question with at least the potential of an affirmative. She excels here, and hope she’ll be offered suitably challenging roles in the future.
As for the men in this film, it doesn’t matter. They are support and background, narrative architecture, just as all the servants are near silent framing for the lives of the powerful. It’s the women who count. It’s the women who are holding the palace up. It’s the women who are at battle. It’s the women who connive and scheme. It’s the women who bring humanity slouching towards the edge. Welcome to the Enlightenment. Welcome to the world of Yorgos Lanthimos.
“Mufasa: The Lion King” is a visually stunning addition to the beloved Lion King franchise, offering a fresh and emotionally resonant take on the origins of one of Disney’s most iconic characters. The film beautifully explores Mufasa’s journey, balancing heartfelt moments with touches of comedy that lighten the mood and make the story accessible to audiences of all ages. The animation is breathtaking, capturing the vibrant landscapes and lush environments of the Pride Lands, adding depth to Mufasa’s character and his relationships.
The storytelling is compelling, effectively pulling at the heartstrings while providing insights into Mufasa’s character before he becomes the legendary king. However, the setup for Scar’s betrayal feels somewhat underdeveloped, lacking the deeper motivation that could have enriched their complex brotherly relationship. This missed opportunity leaves a slight gap in understanding Scar’s actions, which could have elevated the dramatic stakes.
The musical score is impressive, featuring memorable songs that enhance the emotional impact of pivotal scenes. While there are several standout tracks, one song, in particular, resonates deeply and is sure to linger in viewers’ minds long after the credits roll. Overall, “Mufasa: The Lion King” is an amazing film and a worthy addition to the Lion King lore that manages to deliver both laughter and tears, offering a rich tapestry of storytelling that fans will appreciate.
“Kraven the Hunter,” directed by J.C. Chandor, aims to introduce a beloved Spider-Man villain to the big screen, but unfortunately, it falls short of expectations. The film suffers from noticeable issues, notably an overuse of ADR (Automated Dialogue Replacement), which detracts from the authenticity of the characters’ interactions and contributes to an uneven audio experience. This technical flaw is compounded by rough storytelling that feels disjointed and lacking in coherence, leaving viewers struggling to connect with the narrative.
Aaron Taylor-Johnson delivers a commendable performance as Kraven, showcasing the character’s gritty nature and complex motivations. His portrayal has potential, and it’s evident that he could elevate the character far beyond what is presented with a stronger script and direction. However, the absence of Spider-Man, a central figure in Kraven’s lore, leaves a void that the film struggles to fill. Without this critical connection, the plot meanders and fails to create the tension or stakes that fans of the superhero genre crave.
Additionally, including Rhino as a villain feels like a missed opportunity; he is presented more as a gag character with limited screen time, undermining any sense of threat or depth. For the average moviegoer, “Kraven the Hunter” might entertain but ultimately feels like a mediocre viewing experience. Comic book fans, however, may find disappointment in this lackluster attempt to create a solo character film. Instead of an exhilarating dive into Kraven’s world, the film presents a watered-down version, leaving audiences wishing for a more cohesive vision that honors its comic book roots.
A Year Without a Santa Claus, the 1974 stop-motion holiday classic produced by Rankin/Bass, is a heartwarming and whimsical tale that has cemented its place in holiday traditions. Based on Phyllis McGinley’s 1956 book, the story revolves around a disheartened Santa Claus who, feeling unappreciated, decides to take a year off from his Christmas duties. It’s up to Mrs. Claus and a pair of well-meaning elves, Jingle and Jangle, to reignite the Christmas spirit and show Santa the world’s unwavering belief in him.
The movie is beloved for its unforgettable characters, especially the bickering Miser Brothers, Snow Miser and Heat Miser. Their catchy, vaudeville-style musical numbers, “Snow Miser Song” and “Heat Miser Song”, are so iconic they’ve become cultural touchstones, often parodied and celebrated decades later.
Directed by Arthur Rankin Jr. and Jules Bass, the film continues the duo’s tradition of stop-motion magic, blending heartfelt storytelling with quirky humor. The voice cast, featuring Mickey Rooney as Santa and Shirley Booth as Mrs. Claus, delivers standout performances. Booth’s warm narration was her final acting role before retirement, adding a layer of poignancy to the film.
Initially released on December 10, 1974, on ABC, the special didn’t immediately achieve the legendary status of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. However, it gained a dedicated following through annual holiday airings, nostalgic appeal, and its distinct charm.
The film’s themes of hope, unity, and rekindling joy remain timeless, making it a perennial favorite for audiences of all ages. Its blend of humor, catchy songs, and a touching message about believing in magic and goodwill ensures its enduring legacy during the holiday season.
For fans of holiday classics, A Year Without a Santa Claus is a must-watch that never fails to warm hearts and spread cheer.
‘Mufasa: The Lion King’ Will Leave You Breathless
Is ‘Kraven the Hunter’ a Total Letdown?
A Brief Review and History of A Year Without a Santa Claus
Review: Pushpa: The Rise (2021)
KGF: Chapter 2
Kyle Gallner May I?
A Review of Krampus: A Horror Fan’s Ultimate Christmas Treat
SDAFF 2024 presents ‘Dead Talents Society’: I hate this world!
Review of Black and White Spoon on Netflix
Y2K: Get up and Break Stuff!
Comic-Con 2024: Arthur C Clarke’s Venus Prime TV series
Comic-Con 2024: Max Collins’s TRUE NOIR
Comic-Con 2024: Will Wight’s Cradle
Interview With Heroes & Villains Creative Director Doug Johnson
Thatsmye Interviews: Les Weiler on Henchin’: the Series
