Reviews of selected general release films
Reconciling the two tones – that of the wistful last summer drama and the torture-deathtrap horror – is tricky, and not necessarily as marketable as favoring one over the other. But that’s a problem for the bean counters; creatively, it’s a risk that pays off, and captures the mood swings of a not-yet adult who rarely doubts her own moment to moment impulses.
Charles Mudede’s Thin Skin at HARLEM Film Fest REVIEW: Sees the Melancholy Side of Absurdity
The historical roots of many issues we face in American society presently are discussed in the film, ranging from segregation, race relations, and equity in education. At one moment in the film Baldwin Chiu makes the point that in school he never learned anything about the discriminatory laws that affected Chinese-Americans and other minority groups.
Utilizing stop-motion animation at pivotal moments, Olivia Peace’s inter-disciplinary talents are on full display. She uses artwork to convey the dramatic, often illusory feelings of late-stage adolescence. Along with nimble writing by Jess Zeidman and some astute observations, these moments lend credence to Olivia Peace as a promising filmmaker to watch, should she continue down that path.
Fairchild, who most recently appeared in Waves, has the face of life experience and the aura of someone who’s been undeservedly passed by. For Devi, it may be too late, For the actress who plays her, Freeland should get more than a little recognition.
But in the midst of all this madness, the real goal was for lesbian women to have a place where they could just be themselves. And the magazine helped pioneer that space. Listening to the recounting of what came before and how things transformed is pretty much summed up in one sentence from an activist’s interview: “They’ve wanted us to be political for so long that any type of visibility is political.” Yes, just walking down the street holding hands with your partner used to be a radical act.
Where Breaking Fast goes deeper is in the roots of the character conflict being so culturally specific. Mo assumes his own liberal take on Islam is the only right one, and homophobia in the religion merely an aspect of colonialism. Kal has his own family issues that make trusting hard. When they and their comic-relief best friends fight, they’re pulling at resilient weeds that have bedeviled far more patient cultivators.
So much of what makes this movie work is based around the genuine empathy on display and how this film gives voice to these people and whatever they have to say. It doesn’t need flashy kinetic typography or horribly gut-wrenching interviews of violence to make it’s point clear and it has a lot to say.
Director Rama Rau was a documentarian prior to this, and it remains her sole fiction feature to date. This likely gives her an edge in knowing what audiences will and won’t read as B.S. Yes, HONEY BEE understands narrative structure, and with careful editing and scoring, puts the viewer subjectively into Natalie’s head. But it’s not interested in creating artificial cinematic heroes.
Movies where you know the ending have to succeed on one major beat and that is the “what if” beat. “What if that police officer had been successful in talking Kenneth down?” It’s that last grasp at hope, the last chance to make everything right, boiled down to the slimmest possible chance. One wrong word, one wrong move and it all comes crashing down. We know it’s going to fail, but we hope anyway. This movie perfectly nails that narrative beat. I sat there and prayed it would all go right and I wouldn’t have to confront the real ending. When it’s yanked away from us the loss is felt even more profoundly.
