IF, 2024. 

Directed by John Krasinski.
Starring Ryan Reynolds, John Krasinski, Cailey Fleming, Fiona Shaw, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Louis Gossett Jr., Emily Blunt, Matt Damon, Maya Rudolph, Jon Stewart, Bobby Moynihan, Sam Rockwell, Sebastian Maniscalco, Christopher Meloni, Richard Jenkins, Awkwafina, and Steve Carell.

SYNOPSIS: 

After discovering she can see everyone’s imaginary friends, a girl embarks on a magical adventure to reconnect forgotten IFs with their kids.

John Krasinski’s masterful A Quiet Place was horror built on the foundation of a strong, believable family dynamic. Here he skews towards a younger audience for a similar tale of a fractured family surrounded by fantastical creatures, but instead of striking terror in the hearts of viewers, with IF he has crafted a film that will fill them with joy and wonder. 

Not wanting to shy away from issues that have permeated some of the best children’s movies of days-gone-by, from the off Krasinski grounds his fable in grief and loss. It’s a brave opening gambit on which to build a story of colourful characters and magical events, but you can leave the complaints to the professional cynics, because the emotion is delicately handled, and narratively it pays off in spades.

That it achieves this fine balancing act is largely down to the superb cast. You might turn up for the purple thingies, a farting gummy bear, or a glass of water voiced by Bradley Cooper, but IF‘s driving force is the performance of Cailey Fleming. Brilliant in the final few seasons of The Walking Dead, here she runs the full gamut as Bea. Carrying the dramatic moments with aplomb, and thoroughly convincing during her interactions with the imaginary creations, Fleming brings a weight to her character which makes you invest in the story, one which from the outside might seem like a gimmicky summer family-flick, but which turns out to be so much more as the movie unfolds. 

Taking a back seat to her is Ryan Reynolds, who is restrained and charming as the Imaginary Friends’ human liaison. As Bea’s guide through this secret world full of manifested menagerie, he shares countless interactions with the film’s starry-voiced creations, of which Phoebe Waller-Bridge and Steve Carell’s characters leave the most indelible impressions. 

Waller-Bridge’s Blossom, an anthropomorphic butterfly with a penchant for tea, goes on a character arc which culminates in one of the most beautiful scenes of the year. It’s a sequence which sums up Krasinski’s film in microcosm, one which constantly catches you off guard with moments of heart-swelling happiness. 

Sharing more than a few positive similarities with Robert Zemeckis’ classic Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, spending time in the world of IF is also some of the most fun you’ll have this side of Toon Town. There is a bonkers tour through an Imaginary Friends retirement home which feels like an experimental night at Glastonbury, and ends with a smile-inducing song and dance number, and you’ll be hard-pressed to choose who your favourite IF is from the likes of Sam Rockwell’s ‘Guardian Dog’ or Christoper Meloni’s scene-stealing private-investigator ‘Cosmo’.

Ordinarily this kind of creative overload could result in hyperactive chaos, but held together by Michael Giacchino’s beautiful, comforting and immediately affecting score, Krasinski ensures that the focus never shifts from the relationships that join the dots between the characters, both real and imaginary, or the very human story at its core. 

Another one in the win column for Krasinski the director, IF is one of the first big surprises of the year. Go for the unicorns, dragons, and A-list cameos, but stay for the big beating heart and Cailey Fleming’s star-making performance. It will leave you glowing. 

Flickering Myth Rating – Film ★ ★ ★ ★/ Movie ★ ★ ★ ★

Matt Rodgers – Follow me on Twitter

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Sharon Stone, Liam Neeson and Stephen Fry are all voicing support for disgraced actor Kevin Spacey following a new documentary out of the U.K. containing fresh sexual assault allegations.

The “House of Cards” star disappeared from the public eye nearly seven years ago after he was accused of assaulting and harassing a number of young men. A variety of allegations from the United States and United Kingdom have been dropped or dismissed, or resulted in the actor’s acquittal, but “Spacey Unmasked” aims to revitalize the controversy with new allegations of inappropriate behavior from 10 men in Britain.

Spacey has denied the new allegations, but some of his peers were so outraged by the documentary that they spoke publicly to the Telegraph to offer their support for the actor.

“I can’t wait to see Kevin back at work,” Sharon Stone told the outlet. “He is a genius. He is so elegant and fun, generous to a fault and knows more about our craft than most of us ever will.”

Liam Neeson also reached out in alliance with Spacey, saying that “Kevin is a good man and a man of character. Personally speaking, our industry needs him and misses him greatly.”

Stephen Fry conceded that Spacey had been “clumsy and inappropriate,” but said that “surely it is wrong to continue to batter a reputation on the strength of assertion and rhetoric rather than evidence and proof?”

“Unless I’m missing something,” Fry said in criticism of the documentary, “I think he has paid the price.”

F. Murray Abraham and Trevor Nunn, who directed Spacey in productions at the Old Vic Theatre in London, where some of the incidents allegedly occurred, also wrote letters of support.

“I vouch for him unequivocally,” Abraham said. “Who are these vultures who attack a man who has publicly accepted his responsibility for certain behaviour, unlike so many others?”

Spacey, who won Oscars for best actor in 2000 for “American Beauty” and supporting actor in 1995 for “The Usual Suspects,” saw his legal troubles start in 2017 when Anthony Rapp accused the actor of molesting him at age 14. He was later cleared of those charges, but subsequent ones have kept him out of Hollywood.

Spacey himself told the Telegraph that all he wanted with regard to the allegations was “for people to ask questions and investigate” rather than rush to judgment. “And I am well aware that that did not happen.”

British auteur Andrea Arnold follows up her last feature, the poignant, non-verbal slice-of-farmyard-life that is the documentary Cow, with a new member of her cinematic menagerie: drama Bird, an uplifting competitor for Cannes’ Palme d’Or.

With mostly human characters and actual dialogue, in some ways this is taxonomically more like her gritty-as-asphalt, early social-realist work, especially Fish Tank and Oscar-winning short Wasp, which, like Bird, were shot in the southerly county of Kent, U.K., where Arnold grew up. But then suddenly, out of the milieu’s marshy semi-urban landscape of empty beer cans, cigarette butts, domestic abuse and despair, the film takes magical-realist flight and transforms into something unlike anything Arnold’s done before. Thanks to the director’s magisterial knack with actors (especially non-professionals such as terrific adolescent discovery Nykiya Adams, who, as the protagonist, is in nearly every frame of the film), the result is quite entrancing.

That said, at times this teeters on the brink of sentimentality, as if all that time Arnold has spent in the U.S. directing episodes of upscale television (Big Little Lies, Transparent, I Love Dick) has rubbed off and added a kind of American-indie-style slickness to the script — a tidy, over-workshopped tightness that the raw early films and American Honey mostly eschewed. But that may be exactly what some viewers will love about Bird. Given the presence of stars like Barry Keoghan and Franz Rogowski (both of them amping up the Barry Keoghan and Franz Rogowski-ness of it all to the max), this could be Arnold’s most commercial feature film.

Like nearly all of Arnold’s previous films, even Cow at a stretch, Bird takes pains to show all the beauty and the bloodshed, to borrow a phrase from Nan Goldin’s life, of working-class life. That means copping to the fact there is violence, addictive behavior and outright neglect within families, the sort of stuff middle-class folks primly call “bad parenting.” At the same time, “neglect” can also produce self-reliance and independence in children, who in this film are often seen running around the streets by themselves, playing unsupervised, older ones looking after younger ones, inventing their own games like “jump on the disused mattress in the front yard” and so on. All of it is exactly the sort of stuff kids got up to in the proverbial old days, the golden-hued mythical past that was also supposedly so much better than things are now.

Twelve-year-old Bailey (Adams) certainly has a remarkable amount of freedom, maybe a little too much. She lives in a large, squatted building in Gravesend, a ramshackle property — festooned with graffiti and furnished with furniture that looks like it was salvaged from a dumpster — that houses quite a few people in apartments on each floor, many of them animal lovers like Bailey and her family. On the floor Bailey lives on, she shares a space with her dad Bug (Keoghan, having an absolute blast), an unemployed party animal whose latest get-rich-quick scheme is to harvest the hallucinogenic slime off an imported toad, called “the drug toad” throughout. Bailey’s slightly older half-brother Hunter (Jason Edward Buda), who was born when Bug himself was only 14, also lives there, although he spends a lot of time with his “gang” (really just a bunch of kids) and his girlfriend, Moon.

As the film opens, Bailey learns that Bug plans on marrying Kayleigh (Frankie Box), his latest squeeze whom he’s only been dating for three months. The wedding is set for this coming Saturday, and when Bailey refuses to wear or even try on the sequined, pink, leopard-skin patterned catsuit Kayleigh has picked out for her and her own daughter to wear as bridesmaids, there’s a noisy row between Bailey and Bug that gets a little physical.

Later on, we meet Bailey’s mother Peyton (Jasmine Jobson), who lives in another house across town that seems perpetually full of high 20somethings in the living room. Upstairs in Peyton’s bed, there’s a monstrous new boyfriend named Skate (James Nelson Joyce). Peyton’s kids, Bailey’s three younger siblings (it’s not clear who their dad is), fend for themselves as best they can. Subtly dropped hints in the dialogue suggest Bailey went to live with Bug at a young age, and feels unwanted by her mother. Guilt, anger, recrimination and hurtful words drift all around this family, like poplar tree fluff in June.

It’s a crowded extended community where everyone kind of knows each other and Hunter and his buddies dish out vigilante violence to people rumored to have hurt kids or their friends. But one day, a stranger arrives among them: Bird (Rogowski). Dressed in a swingy skirt and a complexly cabled thrift-shop sweater, the German-accented Bird has a fey, otherworldly quality about him. Like the seagulls and ravens that Bailey is drawn to and often films on her cellphone (clearly she’s a budding filmmaker), Bird is enigmatic, itinerant, restless and fundamentally other. After doing a charming, flappy dance around a field for Bailey’s camera, he flounces off to town to look for his parents in a tower block. Gradually, he and Bailey become friends — or as much as two wild creatures of different species can be friends.

Arnold starts dropping little hints early on that some supernatural or fantastical force is at work here, and it would spoil the movie to reveal too much. It all gets quite plot-heavy for an Arnold film. For example, nothing much at all happens in American Honey for massive stretches, which was charming and tedious in equal measures. This one has last-minute dashes to stop people leaving on trains, a melodramatic backstory reveal, and even visual-effects-generated surprises involving visits from yet more members of the animal kingdom. (Spoiler: It’s an adorable fox!) Indeed, throughout, there are shots of bees, butterflies, crows and all manner of urban beasties, underscoring the fecundity of the Kentish landscape: a compellingly primal mix of wild estuarine marshes with factories, beaches fringed with lurid amusement arcades and unattractive attractions, a sense of faded, sticky and sand-flecked splendor gone to seed.

And yet, despite the palpable darkness in the corners of the story and the pervasive sense of melancholy, the film ends on a gloriously optimistic, cotton-candy-scented note of joy. Nearly the whole ensemble enjoys a line dance to “Cotton Eye Joe,” a needle drop almost as good as the opening electric-scooter ride sequence set to Fontaines DC’s punky, atonal song “Too Real.” As per usual, Arnold picks a killer soundtrack, and she loves to get her cast dancing.

Keoghan, of course, obliges, offering a little throwback to his end-reel naked romp in Saltburn. (A character can be heard at one point dissing that viral moment’s backing track, “Murder on the Dance Floor,” only for another character to confess he loves that song.) Rogowski, who threw a mean shape or two in such films as Disco Boy and Passages, also contributes a very physical performance, cavorting around Gravesend like a shy woodland faun or fowl. It’s enough to send an audience out feeling giddy and a smidge weepy in the best sort of way.