Tag Archives: Rachel Willis

Write What You Know

Sebastian

by Rachel Willis

Sebastian is the alter-ego for Max (Ruaridh Mollica), an up-and-coming young writer in writer/director Mikko Mäkelä’s film, Sebastian.

A journalist and short story writer by day, Max spends his nights as “Sebastian,” working as an escort and researching for a novel in progress. Though writing about sex workers is apparently tired, the aspect of hustling in the digital age perks up the ears of a publisher.

The film does a good job of examining the question of how deeply writers live their own stories. Interviews with writers peppered throughout the film contradict Max’s lived experience: most of the writers insist their fiction is completely separate from their lives.

This makes it interesting when Max receives criticism for his work, especially when he’s told it’s not realistic enough or that the emotions of the character negate what others have heard. To be told his work is repetitive or unbelievable makes the criticism harder for Max to bear.

The film doesn’t always follow its own advice. Some of the scenes become repetitive. This mirrors the progress of Max’s novel, but that doesn’t make it any more interesting to watch. However, this is minor, and the film quickly shifts to widen Max’s experiences. As he delves deeper into sex work, his ability to maintain two lives–that of Max and that of Sebastian–starts to break down.

As interesting as it is to examine the realism and lived experiences of writers and their work, the film leaves several ethical dilemmas unexamined. Since Max is writing about Sebastian’s experiences, he runs the real risk of “outing” his clients, something untouched in the film. While the film has its own story to tell, it would have been interesting to show more of what’s at stake for Max’s “characters.”

On the whole, Sebastian is a well-written and well-acted look at how far a writer will go in pursuit of a good story.

Demanding Acknowledgment

Sugarcane

by Rachel Willis

The history of residential schools, not just in North America but around the world, is one of insidious genocide. Children stolen from their families and communities, forbidden to speak their language or practice their religion – endorsed by governments in an attempt to “kill the Indian, save the man.”

Directors Julian Brave Noisecat and Emily Kasie examine the legacy of one such Canadian school in their documentary, Sugarcane.

Noisecat has a personal connection to the St. Joseph Mission residential school, which was in operation until 1981. His father, Ed Archie Noisecat, was born there. Ed’s story, along with his mother’s, centers the film on Julian and Ed’s attempt to examine the past and the impact of St. Joseph’s, not only on the Noisecat family, but on the communities affected.

Interviews with the survivors of St. Joseph’s speak to terrible cruelty inflicted on them at the hands of priests. Documents reveal that many of those working at the school knew of the abuse but either stood aside or simply asked that offending priests be moved to another school. A nun pleads with the Church to remove a priest, as she cannot continue to “guard the children’s morality.”

The documentary delves deeply into the continued impact of the school on the community. Many of the survivors cannot talk about their experiences, others speak to their experience as if they were simply observers of the crimes committed against them.

Peppered throughout the film is archival footage of the schools. One impactful scene shows a nun presiding over dozens of young girls, kneeling beside their beds and reciting the Lord’s Prayer. Another shows a priest leading his “flock” of children, painting a picture of serenity and love. It’s a deceptive picture – one made to hide the true nature of these schools.

Sugarcane is hard to watch. A content warning at the beginning of the film only prepares the viewer for some of the atrocities spoken of. The stories told speak to an almost unthinkable level of viciousness. The unfortunate truth is that too many turned a blind eye to the crimes as they happened. Only now is a reckoning occurring in which there is a level of acknowledgement to the horror to which so many children were subjected.

However, the film is not without hope. Several scenes show that the religion and language of the culture survives. Sugarcane is a crucial piece of our history, one that demands acknowledgment.

Blame It on the Fame

Girl You Know It’s True

by Rachel Willis

Simon Verhoeven’s biopic on Milli Vanilli’s meteoric rise and devastating fall is the subject of his latest film, Girl You Know It’s True. The film opens by stating that this is not only based on a true story but on several true stories. As much as we want our truth to be objective, we’re reminded that the retelling of events is often based on memory—a faulty, frequently contradictory, wholly subjective experience.

Of course, certain parts of the story are not in dispute. The duo that put the face to the group were Rob Pilatus (Tijan Njie) and Fab Morvan (Elan Ben Ali). Both were recruited by producer Frank Farian (Matthias Schweighöfer) after they were seen dancing by his live-in business partner, Milli (Bella Dayne).

After the initial agreement to work together, this is where the story gets interesting. Even those who know the tale will be drawn into the elaborate ruse Farian puts together – fusing vocals and performers, stealing songs from other artists to use as singles for his newest “project.”

While Farian’s role in Milli Vanilli’s story is critical, it’s Ali and Njie who tie it all together. Both embody the characters they play with naivety and enthusiasm – often in equal measure. Their deal with the devil is understandable. And anyone paying attention to music at the time is aware that while this arrangement may have been the most egregious in terms of deception, there were plenty of shady deals going around in record studios.

And while there’s no sympathy for Frank Farian, Schweighöfer does manage to imbue him with some compassion. Instead of coming across as a one-note villain, there’s a bit of humanity to the character.

The film excels at blending humor and tragedy into Rob and Fab’s story. That news reports would interrupt coverage of the United States’s war in Iraq to cover the “lip-syncing scandal” is the height of cultural absurdity. The tragedy comes in the fact that while this was a team effort, just as Rob and Fab were the faces of the group, so they were the scapegoats of its demise.

No one disputes that Rob and Fabrice were complicit in the deceit, but the price they paid seems too heavy compared to the producers, managers, and studio execs who claimed they were just as shocked by the news as everyone else. Their pockets were lined with the dollars of those fans who felt betrayed.

It’s an intriguing story that is as fascinating now as it was then.

The Same, but Different

Man of Reason

by Rachel Willis

Director and star Jung Woo-sung manages to craft his own take on the man with a criminal past trying to live on the straight and narrow in his film, Man of Reason.

Su-hyuk (Jung), newly released from prison after 10 years, finds much of his world has changed. What hasn’t changed is the expectation that he will resume a life of crime. However, an ultimatum from his ex-girlfriend (Lee Elijah) is all Su-hyuk needs to shun his former lifestyle.

But as we all know, walking away from a crime syndicate isn’t easy.

What follows is a predictable blend of attempted murder, fights, chases, and kidnap. Where Jung succeeds is the introduction of fun characters who enliven the action and the tension. Murderers-for-hire, Jin-ah (Park Yoo-na) and Woo-jin (Kim Nam-gil), are a hell of a lot of fun, despite their penchant for bombs and general mayhem. And despite their humorous inclusion, they still bring a measure of hostility to the film, especially Jin-ah, who is the colder and more calculating of the murderous duo.

As our silent, determined hero, Jung is fairly winning as Su-hyuk. In one of the best scenes, a car that was a gift from his former boss is used to great effect as a weapon against said boss. And while we often tread car commercial territory (frequent shots of the BMW emblem are front and center of several scenes), it doesn’t stop it from being a lot of fun to watch.

Of course, you know what will happen. Each beat unfolds in predictable measure. Whether or not you’re able to lose yourself in the movie and ignore the familiar territory depends on how much you like big action sequences. At this, Jung excels.

It helps that the actors are at their best, bringing the right level of humor, menace, and thrills. As you may also expect, a child at the center of the action raises the stakes, and little In-ba (Ryu Jian) is the perfect mix of adorable, sad, and precocious. Her dilemma is where most of the tension lies, and Ryu ably tugs at our heart strings.

While there isn’t anything new to find in Man of Reason, that doesn’t make it any less thrilling to watch.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhOiuEnxXwk

Lost Loot

The Outlaws

by Rachel Willis

Who stole the loot? It’s the question at the heart of The Outlaws, co-directed and co-written by Austen Paul and Joey Palmroos (with a third writing credit going to Andres Holmes).

This movie is a mess. Is it a case of too many cooks in the kitchen—or rather, too many writers with different ideas smashed together into one movie? From the unnecessary narrator to the jumps backward and forward through time, there are a lot of moving parts in a movie with such a short runtime.

That’s not to say that none of it works. Most of the backward jumps offer a glimpse of our characters and how they ended up in the present situation. That present situation being that after a train heist, the money goes missing, and it’s crook against crook while we watch the tension build (just not very well).

But there are also unnecessary time jumps that don’t add anything to the story nor move it forward. There are also fake outs that create confusion. At one point, the narrator spends time narrating a false ending with a line something along the lines of “this is one way the story could have ended but did not.” Really?

Our primary outlaws are Wild Bill Higgins (Arthur Sylense), JT Tulsa (Dallas Hart), Boone Collins (Jonathan Peacy), and Henriette Parker (Celeste Wall). You’ll hear both their first and last names a lot just in case you forgot them in the smorgasbord of characters. Of these four main characters, Boone Collins is probably the most fun, as Peacy brings a lot of life to this outlaw. The others are a mishmash of characters you’ve seen before, and it might be for the best that their names are repeated so frequently. They’re a forgettable lot.

The film is not helped by the late arrival of Eric Roberts as Bloody Tom. He’s about as menacing as a puppy, so his presence does nothing to amplify the non-existent tension. On occasion, Sylense imbues Higgins with some genuine menace, but it’s too inconsistent to elicit any edge-of-your-seat suspense.

This is one of those films that tries hard to thrill you but sadly falls very short.

Already Done Had Herses

Solo

by Rachel Willis

From the very first scene, Simon (Théodore Pellerin) grabs your attention and doesn’t let go in writer/director Sophie Dupuis’s film, Solo.

Make-up artist by day and drag queen performer by night, Simon’s world is filled with glamorous costumes and stunning performances. When Olivier (Félix Maritaud) arrives on the scene as a new performer, he and Simon have an instant connection.

Rounding out Simon’s life is his sister Maude (Alice Moreault), a designer who supplies Simon’s with his stunning stage wear.

Our first hint of trouble comes with the news that Simon’s mother is returning to Quebec after a 15-year absence. Having left the family to pursue her career, this is a cause for friction between the siblings. Simon professes to understand why his mother left, but as we watch him try to reconnect, it’s clear that her desertion has left a deep, devastating impression.

Pellerin is masterful at displaying a range of emotions, easily eliciting elation or despair in the audience. From his performances on stage (of which we’re lucky to get several), to his newly developing relationship, to the friction with his mother and sister, each moment feels as natural as if you were experiencing these things for yourself.

The supporting actors are equal to Pellerin, bringing a welcome depth not only to the film but to each character. As we dive deeper into Simon and Olivier’s relationship, we start to get subtle (then not so subtle) hints that things aren’t as sunny as they first appeared. Several montage moments of both drag performances and the drug-fueled parties serve to deepen the sense of the tempestuous relationship.

The montages start to feel like one too many, but the drag performances are fun to watch. So even while they don’t always further the story, it’s hard to mind their inclusion. However, it’s also hard not to want more moments of dialogue between characters. One less montage may have allowed for this, furthering any number of meaningful character interactions.

On the whole, Dupuis’s writing is masterful. Paired with Pellerin’s stunning performance, we’re given a film that encompasses joy, devastation, and hope. Solo is a beautiful, passionate film.

Kisses Are Hers and Hers and His

Chestnut

by Rachel Willis

Writer/director Jac Cron offers a slice-of-summer in a young woman’s life in the skillfully written film, Chestnut.

Annie (Natalia Dyer) is on the verge of moving across the country when she meets Tyler (Rachel Keller) and Danny (Danny Ramirez) at a bar. Tyler is the first to approach, and what begins as a shared drink becomes a budding romance.

Cron’s script is a subtle take on young men and women stumbling toward their futures, one uncertain foot at a time. Danny and Tyler work shifts at a high-end restaurant, spending their nights drinking at bars or dancing in clubs. Annie is easily caught up in this world, as she struggles with her fear of the future.

Though Dyer is the core of the film, it’s the scene stealing Keller is who draws most of our focus. Tyler’s dynamic presence is tinged with the unexpected. She keeps Annie off-balance, stringing her along in a way that may feel familiar to anyone who’s faltered in a new relationship. Annie’s joy and confusion is understandable. Tyler is often unknowable.

While Keller draws us in, Dyer often leaves us floundering. Her acting veers too often toward melodrama, which doesn’t fit the tone of the film. The awkward flirtation is awkward for the wrong reasons. Instead of coming across as realistic, it feels unnatural. It’s unfortunate the camera work seems to mirror Dyer’s acting, as neither are particularly interesting.

As Danny, Ramirez is left with less to do than either Keller or Dyer. However, he imbues the character with a certain unease that suggests there is more to Tyler than Annie realizes. His own relationship with Annie comes across more naturally, more honest, helping the audience understand what draws Annie into their lives.

Additional characters pass in and out of the film, each offering more to the picture of who Annie is. There are no overt realizations or narrative moments of clarity. Something much simpler and more interesting happens as Annie’s summer comes to a close.

As a whole, the movie has some hard-to-overlook faults, but the writing is good enough that it doesn’t really matter.

Ropes and the Reins, Joy and the Pain

Ride

by Rachel Willis

Modern-day cowboys are the focus of director Jake Allyn’s film, Ride.

Co-writing with Josh Plasse, Allyn has crafted an aching drama that explores the complicated relationships within a family struggling with several demons.

With his daughter ill, John Hawkins (C. Thomas Howell) engages in a desperate struggle to raise money to pay for treatments. His patience is thin as he fights with bureaucrats, hospital policy, and the outrageous amount of money needed to get his daughter the care she needs.

On top of the looming tragedy, Hawkins’s eldest son, Pete (Allyn, again, doing triple duty), has recently been released from prison. We’re given not-so-subtle hints as to what landed Pete in jail, but it’s compelling. Rounding out the family is the glorious Annabeth Gish, as the Hawkins’s family matriarch, Monica, who is also the town sheriff.  

A backdrop to the family’s personal struggles is the rodeo. The Hawkins family has a history in the sport, which offers us a glimpse into what a contemporary cowboy does in this world.

This is a tightly constructed film that has only one or two faults. Some of the drama treads too close to things we’ve seen before, but for the most part, things are handled in ways that speak to the rawness of a family in crisis.

It’s hard not to sympathize with John’s desperation. The money he needs is a crushing amount; that any family would be on the hook for such large sums to save a child is despicable. It’s not hard to understand the lengths a person will go to in their desire to do right by their family.

How far would you go to support your family? To save a child? It can be hard to imagine making some of the choices John makes, maybe impossible to imagine it. However, it’s not hard to imagine the desperation that leads a parent to make terrible choices.

It’s often crises that drive a family apart. Allyn skillfully raises the tension as Ride progresses. At times, the dialogue falters as we careen toward the climax, but it’s impossible not to be drawn in to this compelling, heartbreaking story of a family struggling to survive in a ruthless world.

Family Man

The Mattachine Family

by Rachel Willis

At the heart of director Andy Vallentine’s The Mattachine Family is a story about the families you build in life—the people who aren’t related to you by blood but may know you better than anyone else in the world.

Guiding us through this world is Thomas (Nico Tortorella). A photographer by trade, his images pepper the film, generally accompanied by long moments of exposition. The film opens with one of the longest voiceovers I’ve seen in a film, images flashing across the screen as Thomas introduces us to his story. It’s a curious way to establish characters, rather than letting the story unfold more organically.

Similar scenes periodically interrupt the film, taking you out of the moments developing between characters. This gives things an episodic quality, but the interruption and exposition never cover anything that couldn’t be conveyed in a more natural way.

Thomas’s central conflict is his relationship with husband Oscar (Juan Pablo Di Pace) and their debate over whether to bring a child into their lives. The characters spend most of the film separated, limiting our chance to develop feelings for Oscar’s side of the debate.

Despite this being Thomas’s story, he comes across as selfish, never really considering how his husband feels. There’s no sense of partnership, which is where the couple’s problem truly lies.

A bright spot is Heather Matarazzo’s turn as an internet influencer who chides her child’s father for not dressing him in the “right” outfit for a photo shoot. That the outfits are indistinguishable to an outside observer gives the film its only truly humorous moment.

The Mattachine Family tackles some interesting issues that come up in the lives of LGBTQ+ couples, but the conflicts aren’t effectively fleshed out. Dialogue repeats rather than enhancing how the characters feel, effectively sabotaging any feelings the audience might have for their struggles.

While narrative voiceovers can have a place in a movie (can even strengthen them), in this case we might have had a more relatable story if they weren’t relied on so heavily.  

Amorous Amigos

Guy Friends

by Rachel Willis

After Jaime (Kavita Jariwala) breaks up with her boyfriend of six years, almost every man with whom she’s shared more than one conversation suddenly professes their love for her in writer/director Jonathan Smith’s film, Guy Friends.

It’s a funny concept – the idea that men and women can’t be friends because all men want from their female friendships are relationships. Of course, just to throw us off our game a bit, Jamie’s closest friend is Ted (Justin Clark), who happens to be in love with Sandy (Katie Muldowney). In the midst of all the men throwing themselves at Jaime, Ted is a refreshing breath of normality. And Sandy provides the reality check Jamie needs to deal with her guy friends.

Smith’s writing is winning. The repetition of the men’s confessions of undying affection for Jamie lends itself to the bizarre nightmare Jamie finds herself in after her break up. She wants someone to listen to her as she mourns the loss of the man she thought was in it for the long haul, but these guys, these “friends”, all have tunnel vision. It’s as funny as it is annoying.

The overall feel of the film is less effective. The good script is hampered by a series of lackluster performances. Act breaks in the form of a documentary film interviewing women about their friendships are superfluous. They’re ham-fisted efforts to highlight the value of female friendship, something that’s balanced well in the actual film.

Jariwala bring a certain “every woman” quality to Jamie, but she’s not quite strong enough to carry the film. While most of the dialogue is great and aided by funny jokes, some of it stumbles over its unnaturalness. Several characters are introduced who aren’t given enough time to differentiate themselves. While this works for the guy friends (not ideal, but acceptable), it doesn’t work as well for the women who enter Jaime’s life. It’s hard to understand why they’re in the film in the first place.

But the film is enjoyable even so. Jamie is a well-rounded, believable character. Her confusion and innocence in finding out how her guy friends really feel is relatable. You’ve either been where Jamie is, known a guy like her guy friends, or have been that guy (even if you won’t admit it). Smith’s film is an imperfect but humorous look at how one woman deals with these guy friends.