Drive My Car (2021)

Direction: Ryusuke Hamaguchi
Country: Japan 

This strangely affecting drama directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi produces a flash of quiet brilliance that resonates steadily throughout the engrossing three-hour session. Slowly mesmerizing, Drive My Car brings many rewards in what is an interesting adaptation of a short story by the Japanese writer Hakumi Murakami. Hamaguchi, who co-wrote with Takamasa Oe, modified it with cleverness and gave it extra depth by virtue of delicate gestures and a timeless grace. 

The self-aware and fluid storytelling is at the base of huge moments of cinema, bringing personal life drama and professional theater together, as we follow the sad path and ultimate liberation of Yusuke Kafuku (Hidetoshi Nishijima), a theater director and actor consumed by loss and guilt. This man lost his beloved wife (Reika Kirishima), a respected screenwriter, shortly after finding out she was betraying him with a younger actor, Koji Takatsuki (Masaki Okada). Two years later, the director takes the latter as his student during a residency in Hiroshima. Chekhov’s play Uncle Vanya is to be performed. Despite the painful memories this situation brings, he finds some relief in his competent new female chauffeur, Misaki (Toko Miura). She is a 23-year-old from a small village in Hokkaido with a complex past and a similar trauma to heal.

This is Hamaguchi’s 2021 double achievement, after having drawn attention with the anthology romantic drama Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy. Despite of the possible traps in the material, he was able to maintain a rigorously unsentimental tone here, and mounted each scene like a virtuoso of restraint with the assistance of cinematographer Hidetoshi Shinomiya.

The film won the Best Screenplay award in Cannes, a totally deserved accolade for setting an incredibly subtle example of cinematic virtuosity and poetry.

Son of Monarchs (2021)

Direction: Alexis Gambis
Country: Mexico / USA

It’s not entirely by chance that Son of Monarchs, the sophomore feature film by the French-Venezuelan writer-director Alexis Gambis, employs biology and experimentation as notable elements surrounding the core drama. The director is a biologist as well as the founder and artistic director of the Imagine Science Film Festival.

The story revolves around Mendel (Tenoch Huerta), an up-and-coming Mexican biologist living and working in New York, where he researches and modifies pigments, scales and patterns of butterflies’ wings. His passion for and commitment to these animals come from childhood. In his Michoacán hometown village, he was often transfixed while observing a whole bunch of monarch butterflies in the company of his older brother, Simon (Noé Hernández). Regretfully, he and his brother broke ties since he departed to the US.

Many years have passed since then, and only the death of his dear grandmother (Angelina Peláez) compels Mendel to return. His brother is still resentful, and the traumas of the past promptly surface. They’ve been serious obstacles in his life, and we are told that in two occasions: when his work lands on the cover of a prominent science magazine and when he meets Sarah (Alexia Rasmussen) in New York, a woman he’s attracted to. Mendel’s volatile mood rings true. He seems unable to fully enjoy his achievements without resolving the inner complexities that have been tormenting him. 

There's a poetic rhythm and sensitive touch to the bittersweet melancholic tone, and the fact that the film displays less perspective shifts than many films within the genre is not a problem. What works less well in this hybrid slice of life is the articulation within the structure and the reconnection scene between the brothers, whose awkwardness removed any sort of emotion.

Nonetheless, I slouched back with my head resting on the top of the seat because this is not a stressful watching but a contained, introspective experience that stresses issues like social identity and trauma. Considering all the facts, the low-key Son of Monarchs is passable.

Prayers For the Stolen (2021)

Direction: Tatiana Huezo
Country: Mexico

Turned into a remarkably straightforward and effective drama film by the El Salvador-born documentarian Tatiana Huezo (Tempestad, 2016), Prayers for the Stolen is a successful screen adaptation of Jennifer Clement's novel of the same name. The film tells the story of Ana (Marya Membreño) and her two friends - Maria (Giselle Barrera Sánchez) and Paula (Alejandra Camacho) - who are strictly forbidden to act and dress like girls. They are forced to cut their hairs like a boy and need to hide underground whenever cars approach their houses. 

This infuriating story, set in the Mexican mountain village of San Miguel (where they explode the mountains and the telephone signal is limited to the outskirts), set mothers and daughters to be incessantly alert against savaging kidnappers, rapists and extortionists who operate beyond the law. The kidnappings of young girls are recurrent, and their absent fathers, all living and working in bigger cities to send money home, are not there to defend them. Ana’s mother (Mayra Batalla), a worker in a small poppy field who is often consumed by sadness, has to show a firm hand as she trains her daughter to prevent and escape threatening situations. There’s a special language between them but that’s not always a guarantee. 

The restlessness of Prayers for the Stolen never ebbs and that makes for a thoroughly entertaining, if somewhat exhausting, 110 minutes. Brilliantly composed, it finds beauty as well as ugliness in this part of Mexico, a place where the cartel enforcement and the violence steal the innocence of the local female teens, depriving them of freedom and a proper life.

Nitram (2021)

Direction: Justin Kurzel
Country: Australia

Given a clinical treatment by the Australian director Justin Kurzel (The Snowtown Murders, 2011; Macbeth, 2015), Nitram is a slow, suffocating psychological drama based on the 1996 mass shooting that occurred in Port Arthur, Tasmania, where 35 people were shot by a mentally unstable young man. 

Caleb Landry Jones (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, 2017; Get Out, 2017) stars as the title character (the nickname Nitram is Martin spelled backwards), a troubled, formerly bullied boy who, even on medication, sometimes doesn’t know what to do with the loneliness and infinite sadness he experiences in a daily basis. All the same, there’s something inherently evil in him, and his parents know it. Whereas his patient father (Anthony LaPaglia) always tries to ease things up, the mother (Judy Davis) doesn’t seem to know how to react properly to his defiance, usually showing coldness and strictness or pushing him to the edge. We’re talking about a person with fixed ideas - fireworks, guns, surf - who’s not capable to measure the danger in particular situations. 

Unexpectedly, his pain is substantially eased and his mind pacified when he meets Helen (Essie Davis), a wealthy and much older woman who, like him, lives a solitary life. When everything seemed to go so well, an accident reverts every improvement he had made. 

You know what's going to happen at the end, but Kurzel, who worked from a screenplay by Shaun Grant, gives the audience precious details that help shaping the protagonist with faultless depressive realism. This unsettling account works like the implacable pull of a bad dream, and comes stripped of any possible sentimentality associated with the criminal act itself. 

It will likely lodge in your head for a while, thanks to the rigor with which it was mounted, and the top-notch performances from Landry Jones and Judy Davis.

The Humans (2021)

Direction: Stephen Karam
Country: USA

Lebanese-American playwright and first-time director Stephen Karam adapts his own one-act Broadway play (a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize and a Tony Award winner) to the screen, relying on a fine ensemble cast to compose a family scenario with a fine line to walk between multifaceted wit and depressive comfort.

An old apartment in lower Manhattan is the place where The Blakes will celebrate Thanksgiving. Erik (Richard Jenkins) has to keep an eye on his Alzheimer-stricken mother (June Squibb) but doesn’t waste a chance to make lugubrious speeches and talk about eerie dreams; his wife, Deirdre (Jayne Houdyshell), casually complains about her 40-year stint as an office manager; their daughter, Aimee (Amy Schumer), is trying to cope with the end of a relationship, which is aggravating her health problems; on the contrary, their other daughter, Bridgid (Beanie Feldstein), is delighted with this haunted apartment in need of repairs, where she’s about to move in with her laid-back boyfriend, Richard (Steven Yeun).

A strange energy is felt in the house, and tensions start to emerge slowly, exposing fragilities and secrets among the members of the family. Filled with signs that everything could go wrong any minute, the film is actually never jaw-dropping and none of its characters is unique or memorable. But I was pleased with the metaphoric finale and the paranoia-induced state to where the film takes us. It’s an indescribably human drama that probes some beyond-human atmosphere. 

Admittedly, by making the camera an observer (lurking in corridors, corners and through door frames) we get a perspective that often comes out of horror movies. The narrative advances with an equal share of slightly ominous phantasmagoria and natural conversation. Most of it rings true, especially during those ripe moments when people relax and reveal themselves. 

Hence, even not packing a gut-punch, the film tickles then pinches, advancing confidently toward a satisfying conclusion.

House of Gucci (2021)

Direction: Ridley Scott
Country: USA

2021 has been a busy year for the acclaimed English director Ridley Scott (Alien; Blade Runner). On the heels of the medieval conspiracies and the fierce battles of The Last Duel, he makes a u-turn into the fashion world with House of Gucci, a biographical portrayal of the Gucci family, starring Adam Driver, Lady Gaga, Al Pacino, Jeremy Irons and Jared Leto. Despite the marvelous cast, a likable male central character and the elegant outfits, there's something wrong in the cinematic design of House of Gucci, whose script, adapted from the 2000 book by Sara Gay Forden by Becky Johnston and Roberto Bentivegna, is partially accountable for the infrequent pleasures and major disappointments found. After a promising start, the narrative flow becomes crippled by pace and inarticulation. 

Gucci is a brand recognized and admired around the world, and Maurizio (Driver), a demure yet distinctively smart member of this Italian family, happens to be humbler than his actor father, Rodolfo (Irons), more discreet than his cunning and domineering uncle Aldo (Pacino) and more empathetic than the latter’s silly son, Paolo (an unrecognizable Leto). The story begins with the romance and consequent marriage between Maurizio and Patrizia Reggiani (Gaga), a woman from a lower class whose inordinate ambition becomes an obstacle in her marriage. 

Rarely as playful or fluid as it hopes, the film declines instead with pacing fluctuations in its middle section - when it mostly relies on Paolo’s idiocy and excessive Italian-accented speech to amuse - and an unemotional conclusion that definitely fails to elevate the account into something satisfying. Scott is heedless in his leadership, seeming unable to point out the best direction to the members of the cast, from which only Driver and Pacino stand out. House of Gucci is unlikely to gain any traction, even among those interested in the story of the family.

A Cop Movie (2021)

Direction: Alonso Ruizpalacios
Country: Mexico 

Alonso Ruizpalacios’s A Cop Movie is a didactic docufiction that brings to the center two Mexican police officers from Mexico City. The film doesn’t play with stereotypes, preferring an experimental approach that, blurring the line between reality and fiction, leaves the viewers questioning what’s to be a “true" cop and what’s their role in the society.

By making a clever use of structure and employing an artful narrative, Ruizpalacios (Gueros, 2014; Museo, 2018) offers a raw, sometimes funny glimpse into the discredited Mexican police force, stressing their (de)motivations and daily struggles in the performance of their jobs. 

Teresa (Monica del Carmen), whose apparently dismissive father was also a cop, is 34 and spent half of her life as a police officer. Her partner in life and at work, Montoya (Raul Briones), is unsmiling while on duty and only joined the law enforcement unit because of his brother. In addition to depict them in several difficult situations in the streets - including a stagey arrest, a strained childbirth, an altercation with a big shot, and dealing with bribery - the film also addresses their family problems, emphasizing the joys and the pathos of living and working together.

The first two acts are competently mounted and astutely joined; the third - about the couple - is the most redundant; while the last two - when the actors reveal themselves and the real-life officers speak truth to power - are precious. 

There’s a clunkiness to A Cop Movie, which, nonetheless, delivers a unique 107-minute distraction.

7 Prisoners (2021)

Direction: Alexandre Moratto
Country: Brazil

Following his debut with the Brazilian writer-director Alexandre Moratto in Socrates (2018), the young actor Christian Malheiros stars again in the latter’s sophomore feature, 7 Prisoners, a realistic hostage thriller about modern slavery, human trafficking and corruption. The film co-stars Rodrigo Santoro (Carandiru; 300) as the antagonist. 

Leaving the audience with a bitter aftertaste, this disquieting and harrowing tale follows Mateus (Malheiros), an 18-year-old from a small village in the countryside who gladly accepts a job in a junkyard of São Paulo to provide a better life for his poor family. He and three other teenagers will work under the supervision of Luca (Santoro), becoming victims of an exploitative work system. With their IDs and phones confiscated and their families threatened, the prisoners try but fail to escape. 

Mateus, the cleverest of the boys, has to find other ways to guarantee he’s comfortable and make his family proud of him. How far can he go? The line between victim and accomplice can be very thin, raising complex moral dilemmas. 

It's not great filmmaking from Moratto, but this horrific rite of passage touches crucial points, so one can have the idea on how these exploitation schemes work, often headed by greedy politicians and linked to a corrupt police force. The denouement gets an extra half-star for its surprising implications.

Freeland (2021)

Direction: Mario Furloni, Kate McLean
Country: USA

Filmmakers Mario Furloni and Kate McLean have been sharing writing and directorial efforts since 2011, the year they released the short documentary Pot Country. Ten years after, inspired by that short, they expand the idea into a fictional feature film - their debut - which stars Krisha Fairchild as an aging weed farmer from Humboldt Country, California, who sees her work and daily bread threatened by progress.

Devi (Fairchild) has been in the business for 32 years with no major problems, but from the moment that a nuisance abatement notice was issued by the local authorities, the open air of the surroundings gradually becomes oppressive and Devi’s life goes from sunny to intolerably burdensome. The legalization of cannabis farms is an extremely expensive process with no guarantee of approval. In a minute, Devi’s sales end abruptly, her name is on the newspaper as an illegal dealer and the money dissipates quickly.

She's forced to renegotiate with the three employees hired for the ongoing harvesting season - college student Mara (Lily Gladstone), the cunning Josh (Frank Mosley), and the low-keyed Casey (Cameron James Matthews) - and nostalgically bids farewell to Ray (John Craven), a long-time partner from the times she belonged to a hippie commune.

Skillfully shot (kudos to Furloni’s cinematography), Freeland is lyrically scenic, handling the subject with a muffled cry of despair and a raw, natural methodology that recalls Kelly Reichardt’s filmmaking style. This is a totally convincing ride in which the magnetic performance by Fairchild doesn’t need words to convey what’s in her mind and chest. You feel it just by looking at her. 

The film’s patient progress is driven and tensed, and seeing those solitary roads wiggling through the woods at the sound of William Ryan Fritch’s apt score, only increases one sense of loneliness and despair. It’s painful what we see; memories of a happy past, the acute awareness of a dark present and the fear of an unknown future.

Beans (2021)

Direction: Tracey Deer
Country: Canada

Beans is a semi-autobiographical coming-of-age drama set in 1990 Quebec, during an over two-month standoff between Mohawk protesters and the Canadian authorities. The debut feature of Mohawk writer-director Tracey Deer is motivated by her personal experiences, and she chronicles this piece of history through the eyes of Tekehentahkhwa (a.k.a. Beans), a 12-year-old girl living in the Kahnawake reserve with her parents (Rainbow Dickerson and Joel Montgrand) and younger sister (Violah Beauvais).

While a land dispute escalates into an armed conflict in a neighboring reserve, Beans (first appearance and central role in a feature for the young actress Kiawentiio) figures out a way to become tougher as she bonds with April (Paulina Alexis), whom she considers a brave warrior. Within a short period of time, she shifts from laid-back and obedient to an angry and rebellious teen.

Interspersed with TV footage, the shots eschew poeticism, telling the story through a frame of reference shared by harmed communities turned combatants and activists. It's a shame that Deer’s noble intentions got so obstructed by a patchy narrative, overdramatic acting - especially during the freaking moments - and a banal score. In my perspective, she missed the opportunity to make this story appealing on the screen, making instead a film too fragile to carry its own weight on its shoulders. 

The director has all my respect for what she went through and for trying to do something with it, but there’s so much room to improve here in terms of filmmaking and storytelling.

King Richard (2021)

Direction: Reinaldo Marcus Green
Country: USA

Will Smith gives a tremendous performance in a plainly told biopic documenting the ascension to stardom of tennis-playing sisters Venus and Serena Williams through the eyes of their controversial father and mentor, Richard Williams (Smith).

Scripted by Zach Baylin and directed by Reinaldo Marcus Green (Monsters and Men, 2018; Joe Bell, 2020), King Richard is basically the movie you except to be, although slightly elevated by strong performances. Smith couldn’t be more convincing as an obstinate man, whose commitment in turning two of his five daughters into tennis world champions is no less than extraordinary. The rigid discipline he demands of them is often mistaken for abuse by a neighbor, but that's nothing when compared, for instance, with the story revealed in I, Tonya (2017), where Craig Gillespie limns the toxic relationship between the American skater Tonya Harding and her mother. 

In this case, he’s just a super protective father who wants to keep their children out of Compton's rough streets, refusing to make them pro without being kids first. This is an unrelenting man with a plan, who, having never played tennis in his life, was able not only to predict but also to help building a brilliant future for his daughters. 

Despite inordinately familiar in tone and structure, this crowd-pleaser is not a bad Hollywood biopic. The family arguments, especially between Richard and his wife Brandy (Aunjanue Ellis), are the most genuine moments of the film, while much of the fun lies in Richard’s personality - how he thinks and reacts to every situation and detail. 

King Richard is no classic but rather a respectable entry in the sports movie genre. This stupendous story deserves to be told.

Nine Days (2021)

Direction: Edson Oda
Country: USA

Have you ever thought about the possibility of a psychological evaluation in a pre-life state? Well, the Brazilian-born writer-director Edson Oda did. 

His feature debut, Nine Days, was executive produced by Spike Jonze (Being John Malkovich; Her) and tells about a nine-day selection process - including behavioral assessment, interviews and tasks - of several unborn souls considered to fill a vacancy to become a living person. All procedures and evaluations take place in a house located in a desolate place, and the judge of everything is Will (Winston Duke), whose painful past as a human being suddenly surfaces because of a distinctive, positive and free-spirited candidate named Emma (Zazie Beetz). This very perceptive woman never answers his questions but has a special chemistry with and the support of Will’s assistant, Kyo (Benedict Wong), a soul who had never experienced human life.

The international cast is very strong from top to bottom and the plot’s interesting concept takes a route that goes from intriguingly spiritual to deliberately theatrical. This last part, however, is when the film loses some strength. Yet, even getting a little tiresome and hokey toward the end, the ride is not that bad if this is the kind of psychological unearthly mysteries you are after. 

Everything feels very human and surprisingly artistic in this simplistic depiction of ‘life’ before life. We shall all agree in the end that to live is a blessing, but can be painful too.

Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn (2021)

Direction: Radu Jude
Country: Romania 

Romanian writer-director Radu Jude (Aferim!, 2015) fabricates a subversive parody adapted to the pandemic era and peppered with explicit sex. Following an atypical narrative structure, the film comprises three distinct parts with situations that are not particularly comic but rather wrapped in furious criticism and objection of the country’s social and political states. 

A tepid first part, pelted with unattractive images of Bucharest, discloses that Emi (Katia Pascariu), a dedicated History teacher, has her job in jeopardy due to a sex tape leaked on the Internet after her computer was taken to a repair shop. Part two puts the main story on halt, presenting a sequence of ironic sketches that doesn’t spare the country with observations and considerations about politics, culture, family, sexual assault, and even global warming and social distancing.

Things heat up a bit during the third chapter, when the protagonist argues back fiercely in the presence of wrathful parents who demand her dismissal. This teacher-parents interaction is deliberately silly, navigating through a zillion of topics such as personal privacy, kids accessing adult websites, the definition of fellatio, bribery at school, conservative hypocrisy, conspiracy theories about the Holocaust, homophobia, and many more. In her turbulent defense, Emi even recites one of Eminescu’s erotic poems.

When the film was feeling already too long, we are presented with three possible endings, the last of which offering deplorable derision. 

Unapologetically, Jude gives the middle finger to the Romanian administration and hypocrite society, sending a wave of mutilation to engulf the crooked system they have created. But on the other hand, the way he found to get attention to his cause was with an excessive anarchy that brings nothing smart in it. Purposely beyond the good taste, this is one of those cases where the satiric catharsis is too severe to be likable.

Last Night in Soho (2021)

Direction: Edgar Wright
Country: UK 

British writer-director Edgar Wright, known for his penchant for genre hybridity, delivers a ghostly, psychological horror film with the indomitable energy, fast pacing and dark tones that characterized some of his memorable comedies (Shaun of the Dead; The World’s End). 

You might choose to go with his beat here, which, by the way, is from the 60s in terms of soundtrack and looks - but the plot is purposely convoluted with occasionally forced twists and false hints that only serve to mystify the audiences. Last Night in Soho, his seventh fictional film, has an auspicious start but is later turned into repetition, just to definitely trip and get lost in the unfathomable, obscure last third, where the narrative is sacrificed for hasty sensationalist tactics.

The story follows the young Eloise Turner (Thomasin McKenzie), who leaves the English countryside to go to London and pursue her dream of becoming a fashion designer. Eloise possesses a sixth sense, often seeing her late mother, who died when she was seven. In London, she first stays in the school’s dorm but falls victim to the derisive commentaries and late parties of her roommate. Wishing peace and quiet, she rents a room for herself in an old house owned by Ms. Collins (the late Diana Rigg). That’s when she starts having vivid dreams with Sandie (Anya Taylor-Joy), an aspiring singer in the 60s, as well as creepy visions of that time. Figures from the past and present get often blurred in her head. 

This flawed horror-movie pastiche with references to the zombie and giallo canons is no novelty but can still provide some fun for those in the right mood.

Finch (2021)

Direction: Miguel Sapochnik
Country: USA 

A dying engineer (Tom Hanks as the title character), a spirited robot (Caleb Landry Jones) and a sympathetic dog make the peculiar team at the center of Finch, an average post-apocalyptic sci-fi road trip that straddles between pitiful dramatics and comedic manners. 

Repo Man-director Miguel Sapochnik crafted the film with the help of some striking imagery and sterling effects, and his screenwriters - Ivor Powell (also producer, who worked with Ridley Scott) and Craig Luck - even got the robot right, with a sharp tongue, funny movements and often risky initiative. However, the core of the story is too flimsy and the result a tad predictable. 

As one of the few survivors of a cataclysmic solar phenomenon, Finch Weinberg doesn’t trust people at all, preferring the company of his faithful dog, Goodyear. He roves about in desolated places, where the temperature and the level of radiation are extremely high, to get the supplies that will keep them alive -  superstorms can last weeks when they hit. But Finch becomes sicker everyday that passes. He needs someone to take care of the dog when he’s gone, so he creates a robot, who calls himself Jeff, for that task. Teaching this metallic fellow the ways of the world and making that he and Goodyear become buddies are his next challenges.

A lot of data is missing from the powerless script. Many questions are kept unanswered; many situations are unexplained; and we get the impression that this film only wants its audience pleased at all times. Despite the sweetness and affection demonstrated in the relationships, the film lacks twists and - just like the chatty robot - feels artificial.

Passing (2021)

Direction: Rebecca Hall
Country: USA

Rebecca Hall, a British actress most known for her roles in Vicky Christina Barcelona (2008), Christine (2016) and the recent The Night House (2021), deserves praise for her directorial debut. Passing is a remarkably poignant drama based on the novel of the same name by Nella Larsen. She adapted this meaty story with a slow-burn intensity, building it with cleverness and elegance to a shattering conclusion.

The story, set in the 20s, hits the stride when two mixed-race childhood friends bump into each other in New York after 12 years with no contact. Irene (Tessa Thompson) and Claire (Ruth Negga) apparently managed to have the life they’ve ever wanted, even taking opposite directions. The former is responsible, transparent and reserved, and still lives in Harlem as an upper-middle-class black woman with her doctor husband, Brian (André Holland). The latter, ambitious and outgoing, “passes” for white, and moved to Chicago after marrying John (Alexander Skarsgård), a wealthy white businessman with racist inclinations. This unexpected reconnection brings rapture and adversity in different proportions.

The film raises the flag on racial discrimination and class differences, but adds something more; something about the true nature of a person. The cast is faultless, with Thompson and Nagga at their best, while Hall reveals a surprising maturity behind the camera. The shots, consistently ravishing, are perfected with the beautiful tonal contrasts of Eduard Grau’s black-and-white photography. Together with the emotional strength and quality of the story, they make Passing an unshowy, instant classic not to be missed.

Yara (2021)

Direction: Marco Tulio Giordana
Country: Italy

Italian director Marco Tulio Giordana is most known for an epic historical drama film called The Best of Youth (2003). Now, working from a crippled script by Graziano Diana, the filmmaker delivers an unthrilling film based on a true crime/investigation that took place in a small town in the province of Bergamo, north of Italy, in 2010. 

Around 6:30 AM, 13-year-old gymnast Yara Gambirasio (Chiara Bono) vanishes without a trace when walking the short route (less than half a mile) that takes her from the local sport center to her home. The case gets wide media attention, and several possibilities are considered: did she run away from home? Was she kidnapped? Maybe a possible vendetta against her father? A lift from someone she knew?

Three months after, her body was found in a grassy field in an advanced state of decay. The public prosecutor, Letitia Ruggeri (Isabella Ragonese), only has some DNA traces to help her reach the murderer.

Apart from scattered pointed commentary about how the Italian authorities deal with this kind of cases, or the silly dispute between the police forces and the Carabinieri (Italy’s gendarmerie), the film is marked by predictability and ennui, barely scratching the surface of other mystery-crime thrillers with a similar topic. The uncharismatic actors don’t make a strong impression either, and nothing but a big yawn is elicited from this flat, heavy-handed TV-like movie.

The Souvenir Part II (2021)

Direction: Joanna Hogg
Country: UK

The sequel of the critically acclaimed The Souvenir picks up exactly where the first one left off. Set in 1980s London, the film finds Julie (Honor Swinton Byrne) trying to come to terms with the death of her boyfriend while working on a graduation film whose topic inevitably shifts toward her loss. This option brings a therapeutic effect that is fundamental for the strong-willed Julie be able to move on with her life.

Hence, the British writer-director Joanna Hogg, who wrote the script based on her real-life experiences, makes a film about grief but also delves into the world of filmmaking and filmmakers with wit and grace. 

Depicted with subtle optimism and real humanist heft, The Souvenir Part II presents a delicate balance between grief-induced reminders and reserved comedic moments. It’s certainly more cheering and funnier than the first part but also less engrossing, despite the intimacy and artistically bold concepts behind it.

Tilda Swinton is efficiently low-key; Richard Ayoade stands out during the short time he’s on screen; and Byrne - Swinton’s real daughter - acts with emotional enlightenment as she impersonates Julie with assurance. This determined character knows exactly which path to take despite the adversities that might come her way, like when her teachers questioned the quality of her work, or people didn’t understand her script, or when a cameraman showed his frustration with several last-minute changes.

Maybe the most admirable aspect in this self-portrait of the young artist is that it doesn’t shy from feelings. Hogg’s meticulous direction manages to bring all the emotions, certainties and hesitations to the fore.

The Harder They Fall (2021)

Direction: Jeymes Samuel
Country: USA 

Boasting an African-American cast in its vast majority, The Harder They Fall is a very musical if unadventurous contemporary western that presents physical and gunned showdowns at the sound of hip-hop, reggae, R&B and funk. If the soundtrack is absolutely gorgeous and the execution qualified, then the narrative reveals problems of its own, following excessively caricatured characters. 

British filmmaker and singer/songwriter Jeymes Samuel (known in the music field as The Bullitts) had already probed the western genre in his unnoticed debut feature, They Die by Dawn (2013). Curiously, his new effort, places the same historical characters at the center of a fictional story orchestrated with flamboyance. His grasp of the rhythms and the accented notes of the Western idiom is undeniable. However, the plot is invested in so many components that becomes wobbly in its intentions. Although there's enough action, the film is clearly in need of a judicious editing and a bit more of sobriety. It’s a messy vengeful affair that only sporadically works; a wild fun that feels exasperatingly two-dimensional.

The extremely feared criminal Rufus Buck (Idris Elba) is set free by his terrorizing gang while transferred from one prison to another. On the rampage, he re-conquers Redwood but his intentions are thwarted by the notorious outlaw Nat Love (Jonathan Majors) who wants to take revenge on him for the death of his parents.

More showy than effective, The Harder They Fall dives into far-fetched shootouts before a dramatic finale with an added twist. Putting all things in perspective, it has nothing particularly engaging worth recommending.

Spencer (2021)

Direction: Pablo Larraín
Country: UK / USA / other

The ever-inventive Chilean director Pablo Larraín (The Club, 2015; Neruda, 2016; Ema, 2020) returns to the psychological biographical drama with Spencer, a “fable based on a true tragedy” that fictionalizes the moment when Diana, the late princess of Wales, decided to end her marriage with the unfaithful Prince Charles. If in Jackie (2016), Natalie Portman was cast to play Jackie Onassis with a glare, then Kristen Stewart impersonates Lady Di here with class. The role suits her very well and the resemblance is quite successful. 

The year is 1991, and Diana, fed up with the monarchic British traditions and eager to gain her freedom, drives herself to Sandringham Estate to celebrate Christmas with the Royal Family for the last time. A complete misfit, this rule-breaker feels like drowning in cold cynicism, strict etiquette and ceremonial rituals that show that no one is above tradition. There are these hushed, boring meals during which she struggles to hide her bulimia, as well as some dazzling, suffocating moments - recalling Cassavetes - when everything seems to fall apart. 

Although there’s an exaggerated buoyancy at times, giving a few scenes a somewhat foolish aspect, the film is not without imagination. Still, Steven Knight’s script hits a few bumps, and Larraín seems undecided now and then if he should emphasize the drama or the comedy, compromising the results with an unbalanced mix of the two. 

This artful, well-acted alienation is both clean-cut and oblique, as well as frivolous and amusing in spots. A celebration of freedom after all, arranged with majestic settings and dazzlingly filmed with arresting cinematography by Claire Mathon (Portrait of a Lady on Fire; Atlantics).