Arts Reviews

The news that Alec Baldwin has been charged with involuntary manslaughter, following the fatal shooting of Halyna Hutchins with a prop gun on the set of Rust, has come as a genuine shock to the film industry. Since the accident in October 2021, Baldwin has loudly protested his lack of culpability, even going so far as to sue the filmmakers for failing to check that the gun was not loaded. His career did not seem harmed in any noticeable way: he has several films either in production or awaiting release, and even made a brief vocal cameo in the much-acclaimed Tár last year.

It turns out that my personal axiom "Never trust a man in a fedora" remains undefeated. I recently finished the latest season of Survivor, the long-running CBS reality show, and decided to hop on Reddit to see what other fans thought of the finale. Amid the season analyses and contestant drama was a rather disturbing allegation: according to one Redditor, one of Survivor's most infamous villains was scamming people out of thousands of dollars. Russell Hantz is an oil worker from Texas who has competed on Survivor three times. He has never won, but has twice been voted America's fan favorite contestant, earning him $200,000 in winnings.

There’s a bit of moviegoing conventional wisdom that says January is the dumping ground for Z-list schlock films, all the genre fare not good enough for the holiday or summer seasons. And that’s why M3GAN — directed by Gerard Johnstone, and boasting story and production credits from legendary horror/thriller director James Wan — is such a pleasant surprise. It’s a nasty little cinematic bonbon packed with memorable images, and one that manages to say a few interesting things about modern life. After eight-year-old Cady (Violet McGraw) witnesses her parents’ deaths in a horrific auto accident, she’s sent off to live with her single aunt Gemma (Allison Williams).

Relatively few rock musicians would care to replace Eric Clapton in a band, or to veer spectacularly off course to record a free-form jazz-inflected album that defied prediction to sell two million copies, or for that matter to laughingly turn down an invitation to become a fully fledged member of the Rolling Stones. The British guitarist Jeff Beck, who died this week at the age of 78, did all of these things and more. A brilliantly gifted instrumentalist, he never kept still musically. To call Beck the David Bowie of the guitar world would be to confer a somewhat misleading sense of consistency on a maverick who seemed to reinvent himself with every album, and sometimes every song.

In the era of boring Hollywood-Marxist blockbusters like Avatar: The Way of Water, it’s quite refreshing to see Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, a half-a-century-old masterpiece of European art cinema, proclaimed the best movie of all time by the 2022 Sight and Sound poll. Chantal Akerman’s 1975 film reached the top after a long delay, thereby confirming the fact that each present era retroactively rewrites its past. Jeanne Dielman is fourth in the series of Sight and Sound's best films, preceded by Eisenstein’s Potemkin, Welles’s Citizen Kane and Hitchcock’s Vertigo. The film’s triumph is, of course, the result of a well-planned campaign to promote a woman to the top position.

If horror films today are largely read as political satires or commentaries, then the “moral” of Gerard Johnstone’s M3gan, about a sentient robot doll unwisely invited into the family home, is clear enough. Playing on our fears of the AI technology increasingly being used as “labor-saving devices,” M3gan is a tale of bad mothering and the price to be paid by career-oriented millennial women if they try to “have it all.” This may make it catnip for trolls and conservative commentators who love to chide women for any parenting style that doesn’t involve frilly aprons and a plastered-on smile. But you need to squint a bit to see this latent message. If you do, you’re missing a more complex (and more horrifying) story.

"I’ve had an extraordinary life, I must make an extraordinary film," Madonna told Variety in July, as she described her decision to helm her own biopic as a "preemptive strike" against the men who wanted to tell her story. That was last summer, when there were reports of a months-long "Madonna bootcamp" led by casting director Carmen Cuba, which included eleven-hour choreography sessions, where everyone from Florence Pugh, Alexa Demie, Bebe Rexha, Odessa Young and Sky Ferreira auditioned to play the "Material Girl." Madonna said she wanted the role to go to someone who could "convey the incredible journey that life has taken me on as an artist, a musician, a dancer...the focus of this film will always be music.

Auteur director Darren Aronofsky has never made the same film twice. From the grainy mathematical horror of Pi to the romantic fantasy-drama of The Fountain to the sprawling biblical vistas of Noah, each of his films sharply diverges in style and subject matter from the one before it, pressing forward into strange new genres. That said, his movies certainly share some common motifs — particularly a piercing sense of longing for transcendence, for the eternal. Every single film he’s ever directed has this quest at its center. Almost as ubiquitous across his work, though, are ferocious depictions of the body in pain, pressed to its limits and beyond in pursuit of the infinite’s perfection.

At a private liberal arts college in Minnesota, art history is now Islamophobic. In October, an art history professor at Hamline University was teaching Islamic art, a segment that included two depictions of the Prophet Mohammed in fourteenth- and sixteenth-century paintings with significant historical value. The professor alerted her students beforehand, careful to ensure that observant Muslims who object to the depiction of their prophet would not have to see him on screen. It seems that the professor had done everything right: providing images of famous paintings for her students’ edification but allowing students to opt out of viewing them if doing so ran contrary to their religious beliefs. But who are we kidding? This is a liberal arts college in the twenty-first century.

The screen begins on black; a slow reverse zoom reveals that we're looking at a laptop screen during a Zoom meeting. We think we’re watching a film reflecting the realities of Covid. But it’s 2016, and the black screen in the middle (reading “instructor” in the lower right-hand corner) belongs to our protagonist, Charlie (Brendan Fraser). He’s teaching an online English class, going through the motions of a job that means very little to him. His world is dark and painful; he doesn’t want to let anyone in. After he logs off, we see his enormous body masturbating to gay porn. His orgasm triggers a heart attack that feels like the punchline to a cruel joke, but it plays as anything but that.

For those with a love of history who remember what the History Channel once was, its current state is a travesty. What was once populated with interesting documentaries is now home to Ancient Aliens and Swamp People. Despite the channel being quite literally called the History Channel, history was not bringing in the dough. Now Netflix is joining the party. In early November 2022, the streaming platform released Graham Hancock’s eight-episode series, Ancient Apocalypse. Hancock believes that there was an advanced civilization that was destroyed at the end of the last Ice Age, around 10,800 BC. Its members supposedly circumnavigated the globe, built wondrous feats of architecture, and may have left signs for future civilizations warning of coming catastrophes.

Half an hour or so into the new Whitney Houston biopic, I Wanna Dance with Somebody, two bros sitting next to me asked, “Why is gay Whitney in Black Panther?” They were in the wrong movie, but based on the other audience members screaming at the screen, the lone straight men weren’t alone in finding director Kasi Lemmons’s new film shocking. Sony promoted I Wanna Dance with Somebody as the feel-good biopic of the year. The trailer starts with the hook of the titular song and goes on to show Houston (Naomi Ackie) dancing to “How Will I Know” and singing her iconic rendition of the “Star-Spangled Banner” at the Super Bowl. Houston rarely speaks, but when she does, she talks about music: “My dream,” she purrs, “sing how I want to sing.

As a film critic and historian who's written for Sight and Sound since 2011, I like to think that the greatest films of all time are always on my mind, but, in truth, they were particularly on my mind last summer. Last July, I received the official word that I was among the select group of critics picked to partake the Sight and Sound critics' poll to decide the greatest films ever made; a survey the British magazine first convened in 1952 and has repeated on a once-per-decade basis ever since. In the weeks before my deadline to vote, I meditated on what constituted a great film with unusual intensity and self-reflection.

Quiet in the feature film world since the 2018 release of First Man, Damien Chazelle returns to the Hollywood-centric beat that brought him success in La La Land for Babylon, perhaps his most ambitious film yet. Opening in a raucous Hollywood party at the height of the Roaring Twenties, through a series of tracking shots, Chazelle introduces us to the three central characters of the film. Manny Torres, played by Diego Calva in his breakout role, attempts to navigate the atmosphere as an aspiring, wide-eyed Mexican immigrant who dreams of leaving his lowly assistant work to become something more. This allows Manny to serve as the surrogate for the audience.