A Seattle moviegoing lifestyle magazine
In what’s becoming an ongoing series of autobiographically-influenced autobiographies of influential poets, British director Terence Davies follows up his stirring 2016 portrait of Emily Dickinson (A Quiet Passion) with the story of decorated turn-of-the-century war poet Siegfried Sassoon.
Two years after it’s initially-scheduled release, the Top Gun sequel fires up its afterburners and buzzes into real, live, actual movie theaters this Memorial Day weekend. A rare case of a sequel that surpasses the original, this cinematic airshow was worth the wait. As much as a dose of propagandist fantasia might’ve tided us over during the spring 2020 “lockdowns”, this spectacle of military prowess rendered in air ballet really does benefit from the huge screen, big sound, rowdy audience experience. If you can set aside the many obvious reservations, give your brain a little vacation. The sky is dope, revel mindlessly in its majesty.
Less a feature film than an occasion to binge-watch a mini-season in a theater with friends who will cackle along at the cuttingly droll humor and gasp in synchrony with each revelation or faux pas, the new Downton Abbey is an utter delight of fan service. Just as some will pack the multiplexes whenever a bunch of Marvel heroes assemble, I will happily pile in with a bag of popcorn and peanut M&Ms whenever the Granthams and their sprawling team of indentured servants deign to get the gang back together for yet another round of utterly inconsequential drama that can be tidily wrapped up, two hours later, with an elegant bow.
It’s not often that you feel sorry for the world’s biggest studio Goliath having the misfortune to follow in the shadow of a plucky indie release, but here we are in the season of dueling multiverses at the multiplex.
Seattle rarely looks as good on film as when Zia Mohajerjasbi’s directing. Having made his name over a decade ago with breakout videos for Blue Scholars and Macklemore, picked up a Stranger Genius Award, and built a resume with short films, he’s returned to familiar geographies for his feature film debut. In collaboration with cinematographer Nicholas Wiesnet, he brings the rich textures of the city to the screen in a poetic narrative about the wayward path of an oversized suitcase on its way from the Central District to East Africa.
The overriding objective of Brettan Hannam’s film of self-discovery is conveying the multifaceted diversity of the Mi’kma’ki people and territory in Nova Scotia. While the plot armature to support that ambition is veers between melodramatic and creaky, it does succeed in presenting a rich array of compelling images and communicating heartfelt feelings.
In her feature film debut, Annika Pinske brings an insightful slice-of-life to the screen. Concerned with the intersecting identities of German woman, her nuanced portrait centers on a Clara, a philosophy PhD candidate in Berlin who’s creating a “second act” for herself on the precipice of turning forty.
Some things that we learn from Christoffer Sandler’s sweet-hearted coming-of-age story: there’s apparently no Swedish word for the concept of “easy going” and there are people in Sweden who fall through the social safety net and can’t get their prescriptions filled at the pharmacy. So much for the Scandinavian image of social democracy utopia.
Hark! Abandon expectations of logic and expedience all who pass through theater gates this weekend for the Northman. Indeed, Robert Eggers is back with another sprawling folktale drawn from days of yore, delving deeper into the past’s shadowy legends than ever before. With the help of Icelandic poet Sjón, the director who explored the dark forces and menacing sheep of an early America in the VVitch and the madness that befell men who crossed the wrong seagull while tending the Lighthouse, Eggers has returned with a tale of Viking vengeance. Even moreso than usual, ‘tis a realm where the veil between reality and the supernatural remains especially porous. I, for one, will never be mad about a wildly creative artist getting a bunch of money to realize their weird vision, and that’s exactly what Eggers does over more than two gnarly sprawling hours in a deep dive into gray Nordic psychedelia.
“Y.”, the Israeli filmmaker at the center of Nadav Lapid’s semi-autobiographical tale of overboiling frustrations has a lot on his mind. He’s in the the early stages of conceiving a new film about a Palestinian activist that takes inspiration in reaction to an incendiary tweet. His mother, who’s also happens to be his frequent collaborator and screenwriter who also happens to be his mother is gravely ill; and paid appearance in a tiny remote village to show his previous work for the Ministry of Culture has taken him away from both of these more pressing concerns.
