The Seven Faces of Jane is an experimental film made using the technique of “exquisite corpse,” an approach developed by surrealist artists in which a piece is made by multiple people. Each artist contributes a part of the whole without knowing what the other artists are doing.
Here, eight directors collaborated to make a film in which most scenes were created by directors largely ignorant of what the other directors were contributing. Each director knew where their scene would appear in the timeline of the film and was given instructions as to the setting and major event to take place. Otherwise, they were given total creative freedom.
It’s a bit like the restaurant wars part of Top Chef, where contestants try to create a pop-up restaurant with a cohesive concept but each is responsible for one dish and must use it to articulate their entire cooking philosophy—to attempt to stand out and “put themselves on the plate.” This is usually fun and dramatic and results in some…inconstancies in the diners’ experience. Stuff happens like three chefs will collaborate to make a soul food restaurant while the fourth serves up an Asian dish with a chiffonade of collard greens on the top as a superficial nod to the overall concept.
The Seven Faces of Jane generally works in the same manner. It’s fun to go if you are in on the concept and like seeing what professionals can do when faced with a novel challenge. But if you were just a hungry person looking for a good meal, you might lack the patience for this sort of thing.
Gillian Jacobs stars as the titular Jane and directs both the opening and closing frames of the story in which Jane drops her daughter off/picks her up at sleepaway camp. The other pieces explore, with varying degrees of success, who Jane is outside of her role as “mom.” Jacobs’s presence does a lot to maintain a generally melancholy throughline.
The outlier, the General Tso amongst the mac and cheese, is the first scene inside the frame, “Jane2”, by Gia Coppola. This one reads as an homage to Guy Ritchie films like Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, but with more surrealist elements. It’s weird and makes you think that the movie is heading off in a certain direction, which in the next scene, it just…doesn’t. But, as “Jane2” occurs so early in the film and is so different from the rest, the jarring nature of it helps establish the kind of Frankenstein’s creation that is being brought to life. To place it elsewhere in the movie’s timeline would have been a mistake.
Not that there aren’t other weird scenes. There’s one where Jane is called in by her agent to audition for a role in a mausoleum where the casting directors mostly seem interested in what her uvula looks like and how she bleeds. There’s another scene that features a lengthy modern dance sequence. It’s just that these scenes kinda flow better.
Ken Jeong makes his directorial debut in “The One Who Got Away.” Here Jacobs stars opposite Joe McHale and they get to reprise the chemistry and sharp banter that made them so fun to watch in Community. Overall, The Seven Faces of Jane is a fun experiment, and a great way for Jacobs to show her range, but something that a very small audience will likely be into. If you are just looking for a cohesive story to take you out of yourself for a couple of hours, you are probably better served elsewhere.
Neither hero worship nor maudlin tale of objectification, Corsage delivers a daring reimagining of the life of Empress Elisabeth of Hungary, played with mischievous relish by Vicky Krieps.
This is hardly the first fanciful reworking of a historical biopic. Director Pablo Larraín has reconsidered two such lives as tragic cinematic poems – 2021’s Spencer and 2016’s Jackie. Just last year, Andrew Dominik turned America’s most recognizable icon into the object of punishment porn (Blonde). While two of those films are lovely and one is unwatchable, it took filmmaker Marie Kreutzer to reimagine one iconic life without simplifying the tale’s heroine to a tragic beauty to pity.
Kreutzer’s year-in-the-life is fictional, though Empress Elisabeth was certainly real. Her presence clearly influences this picture, but Kreutzer’s fantasy – replete with the most gloriously misplaced modern songs – looks askew at the renowned and misunderstood beauty.
As Sofia Coppola did with her empathetic and under-appreciated portrait Marie Antoinette, Kreutzer and Krieps establish the startling aloneness facing a royal woman, particularly a foreign sovereign married into royalty abroad. Krieps excels in particular during scenes where Elisabeth struggles to leverage what power is available to her. The audacity of Elisabeth’s behavior unveils a fiery joy and brittle vulnerability in Krieps’s performance.
Wonderfully refreshing are the vanity and selfishness that are allowed to creep into the portrait. Corsage’s hero is no saint. She’s a free spirit to be admired, as well as a self-centered brat willing to require the sacrifice from others she’s disinterested in making herself.
Here again, Krieps is a superstar. Elisabeth’s flaws are outrageous, her strengths enviable, her oppression great. In Krieps’s hands, the composite is an endlessly compelling conundrum, as frustrating as she is fascinating.
The film sees power as freedom and acknowledges how little of it there is for women, even women who seem to have it all. In the end, it’s the film’s and Krieps’s humanity that make the final moment of freedom feel earned and victorious rather than fraught with compromise.
Candy Land is a surprise, and it’s not for everyone. This is grim stuff, but writer/director John Swab’s truck stop horror also delivers an unusual story hiding inside some same old, same old.
Remy (Olivia Luccardi) catches the eye of Sadie (Sam Quartin), one of the “lot lizards” selling their carnal wares at a bible belt truck stop. Remy’s part of a religious group here to help Sadie, Riley (Eden Brolin), Liv (Virginia Rand) and Levi (Owen Campbell) find salvation. Instead, Remy – cast out from the cult – finds Sadie, eventually deciding to learn the trade in exchange for a place to live.
Hard-right evangelicals rarely make a positive impression in a horror movie, and sex workers tend to become either heart-tugging martyrs or naked corpses (often both). To his credit, Swab has something else in mind, and while you would not call it pleasant, it’s almost refreshing.
Candy Land avoids preachiness, finding depth and humanity without condescension, both for the evangelicals and the lot lizards. There’s a sense of camaraderie among those on the job, and the naturalistic, terribly human performances sell that.
Campbell (X, My Heart Can’t Beat Unless You Tell It To), in particular, shines with a turn so full of tenderness, playfulness and optimism that you hold your breath every time he’s onscreen- lest something awful happens to him.
It does. In fact, at the risk of spoiling anything but in favor of helping viewers avoid triggers, Campbell’s Levi is subjected to an especially brutal and troubling rape sequence that’s part and parcel of a film loaded with graphic sexuality and violence, often side by side. But never once is the victimization filmed to titillate, if that helps.
For its many successes, the film often feels like a rather superficial exercise in brutality if only because none of the characters have real arcs. Things end for each character essentially where they began. A provocative but undercooked B-story involving a perversely paternal police officer (William Baldwin, with his most interesting performance in years) doesn’t help.
Candy Land is a tough film to recommend for a number of reasons, but it’s worthwhile viewing if only because Swab upends every expectation, instead taking us inside a horror grounded in something surprisingly human.
The latest drama from Brazilian filmmaker Gabriel Martins, Mars One, lays out the story of a family’s trials and tribulations, set against the backdrop of a fascist right-wing leader being elected to power in 2018. The Martins are a lower-middle-class family, struggling to make ends meet. Their wants, needs, and beliefs are all running in separate directions, which is a tense thing to be occurring amidst such political upheaval.
Matriarch Tercia (Rejane Faria) has become overwhelmed by the supernatural fear that she is cursed. Patriarch Wellington (Carlos Francisco) sees that, given their skin color, their only salvation for future financial security can come in the form of son Deivinho’s (Cicero Lucas) soccer skills. After all, raw sports talent often glosses over any issues with social and/or cultural standing. Problem there is that Deivinho isn’t too keen on becoming a professional athlete. His personal dreams lie not in the clouds, but above them: he wants to become an astronaut and help colonize Mars as part of the (then-)planned Mars One mission.
Then there’s daughter Eunice (Camilla Damião), who longs to leave and live elsewhere with her girlfriend, out from under the influences of her parents. All of this makes for a rather tense and chaotic environment for the family, especially when it comes to understanding one another’s differences, but it’s not a situation devoid of love. Because of this, there’s a very tender and emotional undercurrent flowing deeply through the film amidst all of the familial strife on display. The performances are all touching, even those that hail from non-professional actors.
Where Mars One trips up is when it tries to focus on each family member’s arc equally. By serving no master, the film comes up short on delivering the goods as well as it might have had one family member been the primary focus. After all, there’s only so much story that can fit into a two-hour runtime. Still, this is a moving and often relatable family drama. It’s not hard to see why it has garnered such acclaim on the festival circuit. If down-to-earth familial drama is your thing, you’ll want to check this one out.
Writer/director Paul Owens delivers a meditation on past and present with his ambitious, slow-burn debut, LandLocked.
Blending fiction and reality, Owens’s film is a combination of his own family’s home movies and performances of himself, his brothers, and his father portraying fictional versions of themselves. It’s an intriguing set-up, and unlike other family affairs on camera, the Owens family has its share of talent.
Mason (Mason Owens) is the film’s primary focus. Upon returning to his childhood home after the death of his father, he discovers a camcorder that opens a window to the past. In addition, Mason discovers scores of VHS tapes containing all the moments his father chose to record. Watching these videos, as they comprise much of the film’s short runtime, is about as interesting as watching home movies of a family you don’t know. That is to say, not very.
Sure, the family seems happy. There are several scenes that move Mason to laughter. Yet, there is no solid foundation, no reason for the audience to feel connected to the Owens family. Without this connection, anytime a new home movie appears on screen, you can’t help but wish to move forward to the next scene.
LandLocked doesn’t pick up steam until we near its end. When Mason’s grasp on reality starts to blur, as he delves further into his memories, the audience is treated to imagery that provokes confusion as well as suspense. This is when the film truly excels at blurring the line between past and present – when curiosity becomes obsession.
The film is technically competent, and Owens does a great job crafting his low-budget family affair. Mason manages to provide some solid moments of intrigue and interest with minimal dialogue. This is one of the more unique takes on the found-footage genre, so it’s unfortunate the story doesn’t quite carry the weight necessary to create a truly interesting meditation on memory.
The choice to cast his family as his on-screen talent brings naturalism to Owens’s film, though some family members have more talent than others. Choosing Mason to carry the film was a solid decision. Paul Owens proves he has talent as a director, though his writing chops need a little more polish. However, there’s enough quality material on display in LandLocked that it’ll be worth seeing what Owens comes up with next.
Much has been made of how animals impact the lives of their humans. For a lot of people, many of the fondest memories they have are of a dog or cat that brought an enormous amount of joy to their lives. Of course, these stories usually revolve around domesticated pets and not wild animals. Wildcat deviates from your standard nature documentary and instead focuses on the deep bond between an emotionally fragile man and the wildcat that relies on him for survival.
Harry Turner is a twenty-something Englishman who deployed to Afghanistan when he was 18 years old. As Harry’s time in the armed forces comes to an end, he’s left with scars both physical and emotional. Looking for a fresh start, Harry travels to the remote Peruvian portion of the Amazon and links up with a Ph.D. student and her animal sanctuary. As Harry continues to struggle with the effects of debilitating depression and PTSD, fate drops an orphaned ocelot (ironically named Keanu) into his care and into his life.
There’s a breeziness to Wildcat that helps it feel more personal than most nature docs. A huge swath of footage is shot by Harry himself and helps the audience understand his state of mind much more quickly than a series of talking heads might have. When Harry’s doing well, there’s a tight focus to the footage of Keanu and of his testimonials. As his mental health deteriorates, so does the shooting style of the film. Entire scenes take place with participants off-screen or in the background – at times leaving us just as disoriented as Harry.
So much of the film begins to feel voyeuristic as Harry spirals. Not in a gratuitous or exploitative way, but in that Harry’s deep emotional connection to Keanu’s well-being feels like an exposed nerve. Seeing this vulnerable wildcat rely on an equally vulnerable human being is a beautiful juxtaposition that forms the core of the film.
Wildcat isn’t the kind of film that gives one a better understanding of nature and its fragility. Instead, this is a film that seeks to better understand the delicate connection that can exist between humanity and the animals that co-exist with us.
What a treat we have for this episode! Producer Alok Mishra and actor Naomi Grossman join us to talk about the ghost of Peter Lawford, grand theft auto, Jessica Lange, the obstacles facing independent filming and the best apartment-based horror movies. Let’s hit it!
5. 1BR (2019)
Written and directed by David Marmor and clearly inspired by Polanski’s “Apartment Trilogy,” this film is an unnerving experiment in neighborliness. And that’s even without post-lockdown trauma.
Sarah (Nicole Brydon Bloom) just wants to strike out on her own. Yes, she’s nervous, but maybe that’s why this new apartment building feels so right. It’s a real community where people look out for each other.
But they are not keen on pets.
Marmor and a sharp cast move through one surprising door after another. Shifting tones never throw the film off-kilter. Rather, each widens the ripple effect of horror.
4. Rec (2007)
[Rec] shares one cameraman’s footage of the night he and a reporter tagged along with a local fire department. The small news crew and two firefighters respond to a call from an urban apartment building. An elderly woman, locked inside her flat, has been screaming. Two officers are already on the scene. Bad, bad things will happen.
Just about the time the first responders realize they’re screwed, the building is completely sealed off from the outside by government forces. Power to the building is cut, leaving everyone without cell reception, cable, and finally, light. Suddenly we’re trapped inside the building with about fifteen people, some of them ill, some of them bleeding, some of them biting.
Filmmakers Jaume Balaguero and Paco Plaza make excellent use of their found footage approach, first by way of the news report, then because of the need to use the camera to see once power’s been cut. They play the claustrophobic nature of the quarantine to excellent effect, creating a kind of funhouse of horror that refuses to let you relax. The American reboot Quarantine is another excellent choice, but our vote has to go with the original.
3. Candyman (2021)
We return to Chicago’s now-gentrified Cabrini Green housing project with up-and-coming artist Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), whose works have taken a very dark turn since he learned of the Candyman legend from laundromat manager William Burke (Colman Domingo).
DaCosta’s savvy storytelling is angry without being self-righteous. Great horror often holds a mirror to society, and DaCosta works mirrors into nearly every single scene in the film. Her grasp of the visual here is stunning—macabre, horrifying, and elegant. She takes cues from the art world her tale populates, unveiling truly artful bloodletting and framing sequences with grotesque but undeniable beauty.
2. Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
Rosemary’s Baby remains a disturbing, elegant, and fascinating tale, and Mia Farrow’s embodiment of defenselessness joins forces with William Fraker’s skillful camerawork to cast a spell. Along with Repulsion (1965) and The Tenant (1976), Rosemary’s Baby is part of Polanski’s “apartment trilogy” – disturbing films of tension and horror in which metropolitan life and nosey neighbors conspire to drive a person mad.
Working from Ira Levin’s novel, Polanski takes all the glamour out of Satanism – with a huge assist from Ruth Gordon, who won an Oscar for her turn as the highly rouged busybody Minnie Castevet. By now we all know what happens to poor Rosemary Woodhouse, but back in’69, thanks much to Mia Farrow’s vulnerable performance, the film boiled over with paranoid tension. Was Rosemary losing it, or was she utterly helpless and in evil hands?
1. Under the Shadow (2016)
First-time feature filmmaker, Iranian Babak Anvari, treads familiar ground yet manages to shift focus entirely and create the profound and unsettling Under the Shadow.
The tale is set in Tehran circa 1988, at the height of the Iran/Iraq war and just a few years into the “Cultural Revolution” that enforced fundamentalist ideologies. Shideh (Narges Rashidi) and her young daughter Dorsa (Avin Manshadi) shelter in their apartment as missiles rain on Tehran.
Frazzled, impatient, judged and constrained from all sides, Shideh’s nerve is hit with this threat. And as external and internal anxieties build, she’s no longer sure what she’s seeing, what she’s thinking, or what the hell to do about it. The fact that this menacing presence – a djinn, or wind spirit – takes the shape of a flapping, floating burka is no random choice. Shideh’s failure in this moment will determine her daughter’s entire future.
Good lord, 2022 is over. How on earth…? Well, we guess that means it’s time to think back on all the many big, small, emotional, hilarious, terrifying, gorgeous, honest, bleak, hopeful, remarkable movies of the year and winnow down a list of our favorites. Here goes…
1. Tár
At Gateway Film Center or premium Prime rental
It took writer/director Todd Field 16 years to bounce back from his experience with Miramax, but it was worth the wait. Tár, a searing character study of art, arrogance, obsession and power that’s propelled by the towering presence of (surprised face) Cate Blanchett. And, as is her way, Blanchett needs mere moments to define Lydia with sharp, unforgettable edges.
It’s when Lydia dismisses ideas of gender inequality or coyly celebrates the history of patriarchy in her own profession that Field and Blanchett best expose the insidious nature of power. The storytelling is striking in its intimacy, gripping in its universal scope. Tár is a showcase for two maestros working at the top of their game.
All the severity of Beckett with the dark comedy lightened just a few shades, Banshees asks: What if the erosive accrual of daily life is the only way for us to find grace—and what if the dumbest person you know accidentally figured that out? You’d probably have a spiritual crisis too.
-Matt Weiner
2. The Banshees of Inisherin
On HBO Max and VOD
Existential dread picks up a brogue and a fiddle full of longing at JJ Devine’s Public House on an island off the West coast of Ireland in 1923. It’s a microcosm, simultaneously intimate and universal. It’s also the single finest ensemble you will find onscreen in 2022. More than that, it’s a breathing example of the mournful humor and heritage of the Irish.
The Banshees of Inisherin mines a kind of pain uncommon on a big screen. In Martin McDonaugh fashion, the mining is done with wit, insight, humanity and absolutely world-class acting. It must not be missed.
At times both brutally funny and heartbreakingly sad, The Banshees of Inisherin is a profound look at how even the best relationships in life reach their eventual end.
Brandon Thomas
3. Nope
On Peacock and VOD
There are some truly frightening moments in Nope. Some revolve around things you may think you know based on the trailer. Others feature a bloody monkey in a party hat. And writer/director/producer Jordan Peele’s third feature has plenty to say about Black cowboys, the arrogance of spectacle, and getting that elusive perfect shot.
Peele’s direction and writing effortlessly mine comedic moments, but Nope is no comedy. He unravels a mystery before your eyes, and his shot-making has never been so on point. Peele’s direction and writing effortlessly mine comedic moments, but Nope is no comedy. He unravels a mystery before your eyes, and his shot-making has never been so on point.
4. Moonage Daydream
Prime Rental
Longtime David Bowie fans know of his early fondness for the “cut up” method to writing songs – literally cutting up lines of written lyrics and then shifting them around in search of more enigmatic creations. Director Brett Morgen takes a similar approach to telling Bowie’s story in Moonage Daydream, a completely intoxicating documentary that immerses you in the legendary artist’s iconic mystique and ambitious creative process.
Moonage Daydream is like no music biography that you’ve ever seen. It’s a risky, daring and defiant experience, which is exactly the kind of film David Bowie deserves. Expect two hours and fifteen minutes of head-spinning fascination, and a sense that you’ve gotten closer to one Starman than you ever felt possible.
5. Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio
On Netflix
Guillermo del Toro’s script film establishes itself immediately as a very different story than Disney’s. The 1940 film – and, to a degree, the live-action remake Disney launched earlier this year – offers a cautionary tale about obedience. So does del Toro’s, although, in true GDT fashion, he’s warning against it.
Co-director Mark Gustafson’s animation itself is breathtaking, and perfectly suited to the content, as if we’ve caught an artist in the act of giving his all to bring his creation to life. Everything about the film is so tenderly del Toro, whose work mingles wonder with melancholy, historical insight with childlike playfulness as no other’s does.
BEST ANIMATED FILMS
1. Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio
2. Turning Red
3. Marcel the Shell with Shoes On
4. Mad God
5. Puss In Boots: The Last Wish
6. Everything Everywhere All at Once
On Showtime and Prime
Directors Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert are back with their brand of sweet-natured lunacy for Everything Everywhere All at Once. The result is an endlessly engaging, funny, tender, surprising, touching maelstrom of activity and emotion. This is a hard movie not to love.
Never have I been so richly rewarded by going in to see a movie knowing absolutely nothing about it.
Christie Robb
7. The Fabelmans
At Drexel Theatre or premium Prime rental
For 2+ hours, Steven Spielberg uses all the tools of his trade to beguile you with his own origin story. In those moments, you will find everything Spielbergian – tech wizardry, cinematic wonder, artistry, sentimentality, family, loss – dance to life across the screen. The Fabelmans is no Jaws, no Raiders of the Lost Ark or E.T. Instead, it’s an exceptional movie about how those other movies could have ever happened.
8. Women Talking
In theaters January 6
With nuanced writing and one of 2022’s finest ensemble, Women Talking, the latest from filmmaker Sarah Polley, delivers quiet, necessary insight. Polley shows respect for the women in this tale – not just for their bodies, their agency, their humanity. She shows uncommon respect for their faith. This is what every faith-based film should look like.
MOVIES THAT UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT
1. Top Gun: Maverick
2. RRR
3. Top Gun: Maverick
4. RRR
5. Top Gun: Maverick
9. Decision to Leave
On MUBI and Prime
Decision to Leave (Heojil kyolshim) unveils a playful, seductive mystery of longing and obsession, masterfully layered and gorgeously framed by acclaimed director and co-writer Park Chan-wook (Oldboy, The Handmaiden, Thirst).
10. Aftersun
Premium Prime rental
Writer/director Charlotte Wells’s first feature film moves at a languid pace, but she repays your patience with a rich and melancholy experience. Like Sophia Coppola with her similar Somewhere, Wells and cinematographer Gregory Oke capture palpable longing, nostalgia and heartbreak. And while the loose narrative may frustrate some, as a work of remembrance, Aftersun film delivers something powerful and powerfully impressive.
BEST DOCUMENTARIES
1. Moonage Daydream
2. Fire of Love
3. All the Beauty and the Bloodshed
4. The Territory
5. Gabby Giffords Won’t Back Down
11. The Menu
In theaters
Darkly hilarious, bold, insightful, and an absolute fantasy come to life for anyone who’s ever worked in food service.
12. Marcel the Shell with Shoes On
On Prime
Absolutely the most charming film since Paddington 2.
13. X
On Showtime or premium Prime rental
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre meets Boogie Nights. Yes, please.
14. Turning Red
On Disney+
Pixar filmmaker Domee Shi navigates the world of female adolescence with an allegorical tale as charming and adorable as a red panda.
BEST INTERNATIONAL FILMS
1. Decision to Leave
2. All Quiet on the Western Front
3. Holy Spider
4. Piggy
5. Both Sides of the Blade
15. The Northman
On Prime
Classic is exactly how The Northman feels. The story is gritty and grand, the action brutal and the storytelling majestic.
16. The Woman King
On Prime
In many ways, the film is an exceptionally well-made, old-fashioned historical epic. But as soon as you try to string together a list of similar films, you realize that there are none.
17. She Said
Premium rental on Prime
Frustrating, powerful and intelligently told – another highlight in cinema’s esteemed tradition of investigative journalism films.
18. God’s Country
On Prime
Measured and often visual storytelling is at work here, in a compelling look at what divides us that’s carried on the shoulders of a sensational lead performance from Thandiwe Newton.
BEST UNDERSEEN FILMS
1. God’s Country
2. A Love Song
3. Breaking
4. The Inspection
5. Dinner in America
19. Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery
On Netflix
Rian Johnson’s script is funny, smart and intricate, always staying one step ahead of your questions while he builds the layers of whos and dunnits, only to tear them down and build anew.
20. Mad God
On Shudder
Thirty years in the making, Phil Tippet’s stop-motion nightmare is like a Bosch painting and a Tool video accusing each other of being too lighthearted.
21. Bones and All
In theaters
Luca Guadagnino embraces the strength of the solid YA theme that you have to be who you are, no matter how ugly the world may tell you that is.
Like a warped Stephen King riff on Terrence Malick’s Badlands, Luca Guadagnino’s Bones and All is a hauntingly beautiful and achingly savage slice of arthouse horror filmmaking.
Daniel Baldwin
22. All Quiet on the Western Front
On Netflix
Grim, powerful reimagining of the timeless truth: war is hell.
Quiet and precise as if always listening and careful not to disturb, Tilda Swinton once again disappears wholly into a role in Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s meditative wonder of a film.
24. Vengeance
On Peacock and VOD
Writer/director B.J. Novak’s feature debut delivers a funny and entertaining mystery caper, self-effacing but not afraid to wander into some dark places, with a social conscience revealed in organic and endearing ways.
25. Poser
On Showtime and Prime
A mysterious trip inside a local music scene, Poser never fails to surprise.
Villains and heroes, pigs and wolves, Aik Karapetian’s Latvian fairy tale
Squeal is populated with many things strange and unusual, and it’s all the better for it.
