Movie Reviews
Bonjour Tristesse: Stilted Summertime Sadness (Early Review)

As far as niche sub-genres are concerned, the “Summer When Everything Changed” film has certainly proved itself a reliable little lane for up-and-coming filmmakers to traverse, affording them the space to discover their own styles just as their subjects begin to discover themselves. Sometimes, the significant change depicted comes from a moment of subtly depicted life-altering trauma; sometimes it’s a moment of sexual awakening; oftentimes it’s both, but the power always comes from that synergy between art and artist—that feeling that the film exists as an inescapable piece of the filmmaker’s own past brought to the screen.
Perhaps this is where a film like Bonjour Tristesse deviates somewhat from expectations, for while the bones of this story could very well have spoken personally to debuting director (and writer) Durga Chew-Bose enough to send her towards this material in the first place, the material itself has been around since long before her own adolescent crossroads. An adaptation of a 1954 novel by Françoise Sagan—itself already adapted four years thereafter by none other than Otto Preminger—Chew-Bose’s film already has a steep hill to climb beyond the scope of her own memories (as is so often, though not always, the case with these films), and so the challenge becomes less one of recapturing subjectivity and more a challenge of creating it from scratch.
The subject of this well-worn tale of ennui is Cécile (McInerny), a teenage girl spending her summer in the south of France with her widowed father Raymond (Bang) and his French girlfriend Elsa (Nailila Harzoune). Cécile’s days are filled—as is the case with most films of this ilk—with meandering trips to the beach and cozy games of solitaire on the couch with a glass of wine, all in between courting her first love affair with a local boy, Cyril (Aliocha Schneider). It’s not until an old friend of the family, Anne (Sevigny), arrives to share in this vacation that the malaise of summertime gives way to more concentrated bouts of interpersonal horn-locking.
The first thing one may notice about Bonjour Tristesse, as is typically the case with films of this quietly crushing sabbatical nature—think Call Me By Your Name, Aftersun, Falcon Lake—is a concentrated emphasis on atmosphere. These films understand that to communicate what is so inarticulable to the child’s mind means communicating it, oftentimes, without words at all, instead letting the blistering heat of the sun or the invasive hum of cicadas fill the dead air that so often accompanies stolen glances. Chew-Bose is definitely privy to this notion, as her film makes a concerted effort to shoot the seaside of the day and the lofty trees of the night with equal emphasis to the words shared in their space.
It’s a concept that Drew-Bose understands, but not one that she executes all that effectively. This is mainly because Bonjour Tristesse, for all its emphasis on what can be communicated without words, seems entirely determined to undermine that notion at every turn with an endless stream of stilted, overworked dialogue exchanges. Nearly every line in the film feels written as though it was thought-up with the expressed intention of becoming an out-of-context pull-quote for teenagers unwilling to sit through a film this sparse to begin with—“Be wrong sometimes… it’s less lonely,” or “I love this time of day; there is so much possibility before lunch”—which may be an effective tool to make some characters appear more vapid or constructed than others, but doesn’t really serve a film of this tone when everybody speaks that way.
This may very well be a byproduct of the film’s literary origins—not only is Bonjour Tristesse based on a book, but Chew-Bose’s own prior artistic experience comes from writing a book compiled of essays—in which sensory experiences and complicated, contradictory thoughts must, by necessity, be expressed in words. If anything, though, this further emphasizes the challenge that comes with adaptation, and the laudable efforts of those who manage to adapt to the work to the silver screen and make that sensory experience more… well, sensory. Even the presence of Sevigny (in an ironic twist, an actress who made her bones on independent films becomes the most recognizable name in this one) does little to elevate the film, controlled as she may be in her grasp of the film’s stilted aura. Chew-Bose may very well have found something viscerally relatable in Sagan’s source material to warrant yet another adaptation, but rarely has the feeling of a warm summer day felt so foreign and frigid.
In the end, Bonjour Tristesse never quite lives up to its interest in harnessing the malaise of a quiet and confused summer, mostly due to its over-reliance on fatigued dialogue and thin characterization.
Score: 47/100
*still courtesy of Elevation Pictures*
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Movie Reviews
‘Highest 2 Lowest’ Review: Denzel Washington and Spike Lee Reunite in Dazzling Thriller Suffused With Lush New York City Vibes

A single card credit at the end of Spike Lee’s hugely entertaining crime thriller Highest 2 Lowest reads: “Inspired by the master, Akira Kurosawa.” That tribute feels not in the least like someone paying lip service. Reinterpreting the giant of Japanese cinema’s 1963 classic, High and Low, a tense police procedural with a sharp dissection of social class structures, Lee and screenwriter Alan Fox handle the material with the utmost care and respect. At the same time, they transpose the narrative spine to an environment Lee knows intimately, allowing the director to make the film his own, with wit, high style and kinetic energy to burn.
Highest 2 Lowest is Lee’s first feature set and shot in New York since 2012’s Red Hook Summer, and that absence seems to have reignited his love for the city as a visual playground in ways that vibrate throughout.
Highest 2 Lowest
The Bottom Line All highs, no lows.
Venue: Cannes Film Festival (Out of Competition)
Release date: Friday, Aug. 22
Cast: Denzel Washington, Jeffrey Wright, Ilfenesh Hadera, A$AP Rocky, Aubrey Joseph, Dean Winters, LaChanze, John Douglas Thompson
Director: Spike Lee
Screenwriter: Alan Fox, based on the novel King’s Ransom, by Ed McBain, and the Akira Kurosawa film High and Low
Rated R,
2 hours 14 minutes
That impression is planted instantly by the stunner of an opening — set to “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’” from Oklahoma! Cinematographer Matthew Libatique’s cameras glide in swoon-inducing wide shots around Manhattan and Brooklyn, kissed by pastel morning light. Conspicuously, the frame catches a large all-caps pink neon at the top of a building that reads simply, “WELCOME,” which might be a subtle nod to the pink factory smoke in Kurosawa’s otherwise B&W original.
The mobile camera eventually settles on a luxury apartment block in Dumbo, panning up to find Denzel Washington, as music industry mogul David King, talking business on his cell on the penthouse balcony. Right away we can see he’s a man bristling with confidence, beaming from ear to ear about what he believes is a sure-thing deal set to go through.
This is Washington’s fifth movie with Lee, and they clearly have a shorthand that helps them dance to each other’s rhythms. The collaboration this new movie most recalls is another foray into genre filmmaking, the 2006 heist caper Inside Man, less for the crime elements than the precision-tooled plot engine, snappy pacing and crackling energy.
The talented Libatique also shot that film, but his work here is next-level; it’s a great-looking movie with a sumptuous visual sheen that looks the way good cashmere feels. Lee shakes up the compositions with playful flourishes like wipes using the logo of David’s record company, split screen with a row of guns as the dividing line, and a stylized insert conceived like a music video and performed by a singer behind bars in an orange jumpsuit, magically flanked by twerking backup dancers.
When David’s elegant wife Pam (Ilfenesh Hadera) asks him for their usual fat-check donation to a city museum whose board she sits on, he tells her to hold off and rein in expenses for a while. This is not something she’s used to hearing.
Their teenage son Trey (Aubrey Joseph), however, is used to hearing disappointments and broken promises from his dad. David hasn’t gotten around to listening to a demo for a female artist that aspiring music manager Trey hopes he will sign, and he offers a pat apology when he rushes off to a business meeting rather than staying to watch Trey and his best friend Kyle (Elijah Wright) at basketball practice. (In one of several winks at fellow basketball junkies, Lee casts former Boston Celtics and L.A. Lakers player Rick Fox as one of the team’s coaches).
The meeting that pulls David away is an audacious plan to up his shares to a majority stake in Stackin’ Hits and take back control of the company he spent 25 years building up to chart domination, peaking in the early 2000s. Needing to psych himself up, he tells his driver, Paul (Jeffrey Wright, Kyle’s father onscreen and off), “I need a theme!” Paul obliges by blasting the evergreen McFadden & Whitehead disco hit “Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now” on the car stereo.
Wearing a sharp suit and killer shades, he strides into the company’s office building as if he already owns everything. But he meets opposition when veteran board member Patrick (Michael Potts) informs him they have decided it’s time to sell to a larger music biz outfit that has been circling for a while. He later reveals to Pam, who’s skeptical, that he’s mortgaged the penthouse and their house in Sag Harbor to take out a hefty loan and wants to pursue the deal, despite the wishes of the uncooperative board.
But when a call comes, revealing that Trey has been kidnapped, the company takeover bid gets nudged aside by the family crisis. A team of detectives — led by Earl Bridges (John Douglas Thompson), Bell (LaChanze) and Higgins (Dean Winters), the latter a smug white dude who immediately causes friction with David — sets up operations in their dining room to trace calls. The kidnapper demands a $17.5 million ransom, otherwise threatening to kill Trey.
Pam says of course they’ll pay and David agrees. But when Trey is found and it emerges that the kidnapper got the boys mixed up and took Kyle instead but has not changed his terms, David hesitates, $17.5 million being a lot to pay for someone else’s kid — even his godson, the child of his right-hand man. Far more than halting David’s business plans, that amount of money would wipe them out.
Among the most significant changes is the reconception of the driver character. In Kurosawa’s version, the chauffeur was an exceedingly meek man who got down on the floor to beg his stern shoe-manufacturer boss, played by the great Toshiro Mifune, to save his son. Paul is pugnacious, especially with the detectives when his criminal past prompts them to question him as a subject. He’s also not one to bow and scrape with David, even though he’s indebted to him for giving him a job and a fresh start.
One of the key themes of Fox’s screenplay is attention as currency. This plays out on social media with an outpouring of love for beloved industry figure David when his son appears to be in danger, but shifts abruptly when the full story emerges, generating unfounded headlines like “Nepo Kid Trey Set Up Friend for Kidnapping.”
David does eventually agree to pay, based on the assumption that the cops will catch the criminal and retrieve the money. A dolly zoom underscores what a sobering risk this is for David, especially with the suits at Stackin’ moving to strongarm him out of the company and even threatening legal action.
The second part of the movie kicks into high gear with an exhilarating train set-piece that might represent some of Lee’s most technically astounding direction. The kidnapper demands that David handle the cash drop-off himself on a Manhattan-bound 4 train, with further details to be communicated on his cell.
Lee makes the action more propulsive by staging it against the backdrop of Puerto Rican Day celebrations, with hundreds dancing to a live performance by Latin music great Eddie Palmieri and his orchestra, blocking access to a strategic subway stop. The situation on the train is equally chaotic after a noisy mob of baseball fans get on at Yankee Stadium.
The exchange doesn’t quite go as planned, and the kidnapper and his crew are way more organized and forward-planning than the detectives anticipated, repeatedly throwing them off the trail with decoys and swaps between motorcyclists all clad in the same head-to-toe black. It’s a tremendously exciting sequence, expertly sustained.
The kidnapper honors his promise to release Kyle, who turns up dazed but otherwise unharmed in a Bronx skate park after being bound and gagged somewhere in a basement bathtub for days. He’s unable to help much with clues, but he is able to hum a few notes of a rap tune that was thumping through the walls on repeat.
This proves invaluable to David, with his famous ear for music, but when he traces the singer through a shady contact of Paul, the cops are dismissive of his findings, Higgins more than anyone. David and Paul decide to track down the singer — one of countless struggling artists denied a foot in the door at Stackin’ — on their own, without waiting for law enforcement to catch up.
Of course, the movie swivels onto familiar Hollywood ground when Washington’s character becomes almost an action hero, despite prickly edges and an unsympathetic demeanor that make him almost an antihero. But damned if it doesn’t make for gripping fun, ushering in an amusing turn from Isis “Ice Spice” Gaston and a blindingly charismatic one from A$AP Rocky, playing characters best not discussed, for spoiler reasons.
One scene sure to be an audience favorite has David and his antagonist facing off on either side of the glass wall in a recording studio, sparking a hilarious impromptu rap battle of sorts. The dynamic is echoed soon in a prison visit, in which Lee narrows the height of the frame to squeeze the characters’ tense interaction.
The film is packed with great music, starting with Howard Drossin’s mood-shifting score, which ranges from melancholy piano to cascades of jazz, and two electrifying performances that add a massive charge. One of those is the title song, a big-build power anthem belted to the heavens by singer Aiyana-Lee. And the cast is top-to-toe excellent, with special honors to Washington, Jeffrey Wright and A$AP Rocky, who follows his work in If I Had Legs I’d Kick You with further proof of a megawatt scree presence.
Lee’s adaptation doesn’t match the complexities of class and hierarchy and even dynamics in a marriage that are such a fascinating part of the Kurosawa. Then again, he’s not trying to, and this is a universe away from the disappointment of Oldboy, his 2013 remake of the Park Chan-wook thriller. The director is in the role of the flashy, panache-y showman here, and he plays it to perfection, delivering a big, highly polished chunk of movie that’s pure enjoyment.
Movie Reviews
Review | Magellan, conqueror of Philippines, as we’ve never seen him before

4.5/5 stars
The Cannes Film Festival may be hosting yet another virtual-reality programme this year, but the most immersive event on the Croisette in the French seaside city so far has been the premiere of an old-school, two-dimensional, three-hour movie filmed in the classic 4:3 aspect ratio.
Revolving around its titular Portuguese explorer’s expeditions to Southeast Asia in the early 16th century, Magellan is relentlessly engrossing – an epic in which viewers witness the distress, death and destruction brought about by one man’s delusions of colonial conquest.
Interestingly, Magellan also sets out to undermine the narrative about the explorer’s misdeeds in Diaz’s home country as well.
Rather than sticking to the orthodox view of Magellan’s death in the Philippines as a glorious victory against colonialism, Diaz depicts indigenous chieftains as scheming manipulators who use this pigheaded white man as a pawn for their own politicking.
Movie Reviews
Romeo S3 Movie Review: A formulaic masala fare that lacks focus

Review: Director Guddu Dhanoa’s action thriller follows a fiery cop, Sangram, who goes undercover to infiltrate a drug cartel and expose its masterminds. At the same time, he is investigating his mentor’s murder and grows convinced the two cases are connected. The story takes an unexpected turn, unfolding into a larger conspiracy involving a deadly virus—its only antidote in the hands of the self-proclaimed ‘monster’ mafioso, Jayant Makhija (Aman Dhaliwal). In the midst of this chaos, Sangram must also rescue investigative journalist Tanu (Palak Tiwari) after she’s abducted by Jayant and his father.
Written by Shailesh Verma, the film is an out-and-out potboiler that suffers from a formulaic plot, an unfocused screenplay, and a meandering narrative. It’s riddled with unexplained plot points, underdeveloped characters, and implausible twists—like Sangram’s transfer being stalled simply because a video of his vigilante-style justice against rapists goes viral.
Despite the below-par narrative, the film’s first half maintains an even pace and keeps you somewhat engaged as Sangram outsmarts the cartel. The film’s production values and overall look are serviceable, even if not standout. There are a few well-choreographed action sequences, though the film leans heavily on the tried-and-tested formula of slow-motion entries, car chases, and blowing up vehicles. The narrative is further weighed down by a one-sided love angle, with Tanu falling for Sangram, and songs that interrupt the flow.
Thakur Anoop Singh handles the action scenes well and has a decent screen presence, though his characterisation and performance often echo Ranveer Singh’s Simmba. His emotional moments, however, don’t always land. Palak Tiwari is passable as Tanu, but her character is severely underwritten, and she never quite convinces as an investigative journalist. Aman Dhaliwal enters in the second half and is excessively over-the-top as the menacing Jayant.
With too many plot points crammed into a single narrative, most of them unconvincing and half-baked, the film loses focus and impact. While a few action sequences manage to grab your attention, they aren’t enough to salvage the overall experience. Romeo S3 tries to deliver a massy action thriller but ends up as an over-the-top masala fare with little payoff.
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