 by Jacob Jones Ladies, gentlemen, those who identify otherwise, we have arrived. The industry’s kick-off to awards season, a.k.a. the Golden Globes, took place last night, and what a whirlwind of a night it was. Following stand-up comic and show host Nikki Glaser’s stellar opening monologue in which she thankfully avoided the tired cliché of joking that a movie was too long, the new Globes leadership got right to work reminding everyone that this is not the same voting body of years past – the kind that would have nominated The Tourist for multiple awards without ever having seen the film, or boosted Emily in Paris’ profile following a string of bribes from the production. Instead, the night begat a healthy mix of both expected winners and surprise victors in multiple categories, largely on the film side (though television did have at least one upset). Emilia Pérez was the big winner of the night, taking home four statues, including one for Best Picture (Musical or Comedy), and Best Supporting Actress for Zoe Saldaña. In second place came Brady Corbet’s mid-century epic The Brutalist, which took home the other Best Picture award in the Drama category, as well as Best Director, and Best Actor in a Drama for Adrien Brody, who now shoots to the front of the line for an Oscar win (it would be his second, following his work in 2002’s The Pianist). Beyond these wins, however, things start to look a little more spread out on the film side.  Conclave bested Anora in the combined screenplay category, Demi Moore won her first ever acting award in Best Actress (Musical or Comedy) for her performance in The Substance in a stunning blow to Mikey Madison’s awards campaign (also for Anora), and Sebastian Stan managed an upset in the Best Actor (Musical or Comedy) category as well for his incredible work in A Different Man, boosting his profile for the Academy Awards and shouting out The Apprentice – for which he was also nominated – in his acceptance speech. The animated film Flow bested DreamWorks’ The Wild Robot in Best Motion Picture (Animated), effectively shutting the latter out of an Oscar win if it doesn’t pick up some serious momentum soon, and even Fernanda Torres proved that awards pundits have been underestimating her as a serious contender with a win in Best Lead Actress (Drama) for I’m Still Here, which is Brazil’s official submission in the International Feature category at the Oscars. Beyond all of that, Challengers proved that its club dance-esque score by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross is far from dead in the water despite having missed the BAFTA longlists, and Wicked’s only win came in the form of the Cinematic and Box Office Achievement Award. Apart from those wins, the big story of the night was the complete and total shut-out of Anora, which raked in exactly zero wins despite front-runner status in multiple categories. If these new Globes are meant to now be a significant indicator of where the Oscar race is heading, those who have Anora at the top of their winner predictions may want to ease off the gas a bit.  On the television side (which I won’t spend too much time covering), Hulu and FX’s Shōgun cleaned house in the Drama Series categories, picking up wins for Best Series (Drama), Best Actor (Drama) for Hiroyuki Sanada, Best Actress (Drama) for Anna Sawai, and Best Supporting Actor in Any Series for Tadanobu Asano. The Comedy or Musical and Limited Series awards were a bit more spread out, as Max Original Series Hacks took home the awards for Best Series (Comedy or Musical), as well as Best Actress in a Comedy Series for Jean Smart. Over on the Limited Series side, Netflix’s Baby Reindeer racked up two wins for Limited Series and Supporting Actress in Any Series, which went to Jessica Gunning. The big surprise of the night for television was Richard Gadd’s loss to Colin Farrell in the Best Actor (Limited Series) category, the latter of the two winning for his work in HBO’s The Penguin. Jodie Foster and Jeremy Allen White also won their respective categories, Best Actress in a Limited Series and Best Lead Actor in a Comedy Series for their work in True Detective: Night Country and The Bear, respectively.  Overall, it was a solid show this year. Emilia Pérez’s Best Picture win notwithstanding, almost all the winnings were richly deserved, and the shake-ups to the Oscar race make this one of the most unpredictable and interesting races we’ve had in quite some time. We’ll have to see which direction all the guild awards such as SAG-AFTRA, the DGA, the WGA, and the PGA go, but for the time being at least, the starting lineup is tremendously exciting. A full list of all the 2025 Golden Globe nominees and winners is below.  FILM Best Motion Picture (Drama):
Best Motion Picture (Musical or Comedy):
Best Actress in a Motion Picture (Drama):
Best Actor in a Motion Picture (Drama):
Best Actress in a Motion Picture (Musical or Comedy):
Best Actor in a Motion Picture (Musical or Comedy):
Best Supporting Actress in Any Motion Picture:
Best Supporting Actor in Any Motion Picture:
Best Director (Motion Picture):
Best Screenplay (Motion Picture):
Best Motion Picture (Animated):
Best Motion Picture (Non-English Language):
Best Original Score (Motion Picture):
Best Original Song (Motion Picture):
Cinematic and Box Office Achievement:
TELEVISION Best Series (Drama):
Best Series (Musical or Comedy):
Best Limited Series, Anthology Series, or Motion Picture Made for Television:
Best Actress in a Television Series (Drama):
Best Actor in a Television Series (Drama):
Best Actress in a Television Series (Musical or Comedy):
Best Actor in a Television Series (Musical or Comedy):
Best Actress in a Limited Series, Anthology Series, or Motion Picture Made for Television:
Best Actor in a Limited Series, Anthology Series, or Motion Picture Made for Television:
Best Supporting Actress in Any Television Series:
Best Supporting Actor in Any Television Series:
Best Stand-Up Comedy Performance:
What did you think of the Golden Globes this year? Did they live up to your expectations? Surpass them? Which surprise win was you favorite? Let us know in the comments section below, and thanks for reading!
- The Friendly Film Fan
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 by Jacob Jones On Tuesday, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) unveiled their shortlists for ten below-the-line categories at the 97th Oscars, revealing which films voters had selected as finalists for a nomination in each. Shortlists are a hallowed tradition for the Academy’s voting body and for awards prognosticators, who use these lists as a means of more accurately predicting what will be competing for those coveted gold statues come January. Wicked and Emilia Pérez were the big winners of the day, taking up 4 and 6 shortlist spots each in a strong bid for both movie musicals from Universal Pictures and Netflix. Though there were no major surprises in most categories, a few inclusions (and exclusions) stood out amongst the rest. Notably, Hans Zimmer’s score for Dune: Part Two was deemed ineligible for competition by AMPAS’ music branch – who determined that it contained too much previously published music to be considered original to the film – but the score for Wicked, which adapts Act One of the iconic Broadway musical for the silver screen, does make an appearance in the Original Score shortlist (which includes 20 shortlisted competitors, the most in any category), leaving awards pundits scratching their heads about how it remains eligible, given that much of the music seems to find its origins in the stage version. Other surprises included Alien: Romulus showing up not only in Visual Effects, but also in Sound and Original Score (two categories it was not expected to be competitive in), as well as the film Waltzing with Brando sneaking into the Makeup & Hairstyling lineup for its transformation of Billy Zane into the titular movie icon. Even the corpse of the ill-fated Joker: Folie à Deux managed to eek out a single nod in Best Sound. On the losing side, the unfortunately underseen Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga – George Miller’s follow-up prequel to six-time Oscar winner Mad Max: Fury Road – went entirely ignored, missing key chances to remind Oscar voters and viewers of its potential as an awards contender in the craft categories. Less similarly, though still notably, Alex Garland’s Civil War landed a shortlist spot in Best Visual Effects, but not Best Sound, where most awards pundits had predicted it could appear given that the sound editing in the film is frequently lauded as its greatest accomplishment. The Golden Globe-nominated Miley Cyrus song “Beautiful That Way,” which appears in The Last Showgirl, missed the cut for its designated category as well, in a swift reversal to its new awards season momentum, leaving at least one more chance for Kneecap’s “Sick in the Head” to make a surprise appearance. All in all, however, despite the shortlists’ miscarriages of justice towards George Miller and company, they remain full of strong contenders, any number of whom would be worthy of a nomination come announcement morning. A full list of the 2025 Oscar Shortlists appears below. Best Documentary Feature:
Best Documentary Short:
Best International Feature:
Best Makeup & Hairstyling:
Best Original Score:
Best Original Song:
Best Animated Short:
Best Live-Action Short:
Best Sound:
Best Visual Effects:
What do you think of these shortlists? Are there any films you’re surprised made an appearance? Any you’re shocked or disappointed are missing? Let us know in the comments section below, and thanks for reading! - The Friendly Film Fan *"Forbidden Road," from Better Man, has been disqualified from Oscar competition. Its inclusion here is reflective of its appearance in the original iteration of these shortlists.
 by Jacob Jones The year in movies has been rougher than expected at its outset. The double-whammy of Dune: Part Two and Challengers releasing within a month of each other seemed to signal great things in store for 2024’s cinematic output, and yet to this point, no film has felt truly special enough that it could rise above all others as a bastion of where the American cinema not only is in its present context, but where it needs to go. Summer was an overall critical bust – but for a few bright spots holding things together – as the shadow of 2023’s SAG-AFTRA strikes loomed ever larger – and the lead-in to November held a number of significant disappointments from long-expected awards candidates, while the smaller releases began to shine brighter than ever. Still, even amongst those smaller diamonds being chiseled out of Hollywood’s metaphorical coal mine, and despite the excellence of some of the year’s larger releases, none had emerged as yet that one might consider a true masterwork, a brightly shining torch leading the way forward not only for the American cinema, but for cinema as an art form. All of this – in my view – changes with the release of Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist.
The film stars Adrien Brody as László Toth, an architect from Budapest whose family flees post-war Europe in 1947 to witness the birth of modern America. Upon arrival, he is swiftly put to work by a mysterious and wealthy land owner (Guy Pearce), who wishes László to build a multi-use community center in honor of his late mother. As complications mount and tensions rise between those who wield power and those whose work comes about through passion, the idea of the American dream is put to the test, if indeed there was any dream at all for the immigrant at the mercy of the wealthy. The film also stars Felicity Jones, Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy, and Alessandro Nivola. It’s been three days now since my having seen The Brutalist at a Talk Cinema program put on by Louisville, KY’s Speed Cinema curators, and I find myself entirely unable to think of almost anything else with respect to this year’s awards race, or indeed the state of cinema as a whole. The poster for the film, as well as the trailer, describe it as “monumental;” a more apt descriptor is unlikely to be found in the English language. Indeed, if there is a word in any language to describe just how monumental this film feels, it is only the cinematic language created by Brady Corbet here as the director imbues his awards contender with a level of craft no other theater experience this year can match. Grand-scale, operatic, and above all consequential both to itself and the world around it, this film feels like a shift in the American public consciousness, at least when the viewer is engaged with it in the moment. To give you an idea of what that means, reader, the screening was so full that myself and my partner were seated in the very front row on the end, and yet not for one second could my eyes leave the screen to the left and in front of me. I was witnessing movie history, and I knew it intrinsically. Everything about The Brutalist – including some of its more complex narrative conceits introduced in the film’s second half (which is preceded by a 15-minute intermission) – works despite not always working. That is to say, even the choices made that seem out-of-place or challenging to the film’s momentum remain interesting to unpack no matter their nature, and within that unpacking lies the film’s true power, to generate not only discussion but examination of meaning, of intent, of theme. Films that invite such discussion are so rare now that it can be an intoxicating effect to witness one in real time, but even if there were many to choose from now, The Brutalist would remain a standout amongst the distinguished crowd. The film’s central thesis, at least in my view, seems to concern the fact that art and artistry – passion – will always triumph over and outlast power, both as respectively manifested by Adrien Brody and Guy Pearce’s characters, and that either the promise of the American dream is a lie or is in desperate need of re-definition. From a crafts perspective alone, the movie is immaculate, as Lol Crawley’s camera captures not simply the scale of the literal frame, but also of the film’s ideas – sweeping without being broad, roaming without being distracted – while Daniel Blumberg’s magnificent score blares in the viewer’s ear, announcing a generational talent in Brady Corbet as his thorough direction brings the narrative to bear. And this excellence is reflected in the performances as well, Adrien Brody not simply playing László as naturally as he’s ever played any character, but lending such pathos to him behind the eyes that one could swear that László is simply a pseudonym for a life Brody has actually been living. The same could be applied to slightly lesser degrees for Guy Pearce and Felicity Jones, respectively, though it’s the latter whose performance almost feels like an actor’s showcase rather than a lived-in character, despite how excellent that showcase is. All three of them should not simply be considered this awards season, but lauded, and Brody should be front of the line to win his second Oscar. One thing that’s been on my mind ever since seeing The Brutalist is not only “when can I see it again,” but “when can I travel out to a 70mm screen to witness the Vista Vision photography and hear the score and see the performances the way they deserve to be seen and heard?” If I believed there would be no challenge, I would drive to one tomorrow simply to have the experience of watching this in a theater again, no matter the distance – that’s how monumental this movie feels. There are still many films to get to before the year is out, but I have serious doubts about anything taking the top spot from this. If anything from 2024 is to be called a masterpiece, The Brutalist is it. I’m giving “The Brutalist” a 10/10. - The Friendly Film Fan  by Jacob Jones Awards season is in full swing as the Golden Globes unveiled their nominations this morning for the best in film and television, having followed a slew of critics group and other indie organizations’ nominating and win ceremonies, which began with the Gotham Awards earlier last week. The Gothams handed out a major surprise in Best Picture, handing the trophy to Aaron Schimberg’s dark self-image comedy A Different Man – which received no other awards that evening – while the National Board of Review selected Wicked as Best Film, also electing Jon M. Chu the Best Director prize despite the musical adaptation not appearing in the NBR’s official Top 10 for the year. Neither NBR nor the Gothams are typically expected to exert major influence over the Oscar nominations in January, but smaller films such as A Different Man and Sing Sing (which took home two Gotham Awards) can be offered a much-needed boost to keep them front of mind for industry voters. In all truth, the first major domino to fall in any awards season is usually the Golden Globes, whose imperfect but notable impact on many films’ awards season prospects warrants a bit more attention than organizations like the Los Angeles Film Critics Association, the Boston Society of Film Critics, or the New York Film Critics Circle, all of whom selected their honorees within the last week (The Critics Choice Awards is the most consequential of the critics groups overall.) Globe nominations don’t always translate to Oscar glory – category distinction by the Globes and the lack of available slots at the Oscars are just two major factors preventing some of the more fringe contenders from appearing on the AMPAS’ honorees list – but they can act as an important bellwether for what direction things are likely to be going. It was a very good morning for films like Anora, The Brutalist, Emilia Pérez, and Wicked, all of which are expected to be major players in the Oscar race going forward, the first two competing it seems neck-and-neck for the top prize of Best Picture, though Anora – Sean Baker’s excellent comedy about a Brooklyn sex worker who marries the son of a wealthy Russian oligarch, for which Baker was nominated for Best Director and Best Screenplay – does seem to currently have the edge. The day was also not without its surprises, both good and bad, as Paramount’s September 5 landed a twist nomination in the Best Picture (Drama) category over A24’s Sing Sing, while The Substance walked away with no less than five nominations, including Best Picture (Comedy or Musical), Best Director (Coralie Fargeat), Best Actress (Demi Moore), Best Supporting Actress (Margaret Qualley), and Best Screenplay in a much-needed supercharge to its awards momentum. Unfortunately, Dune: Part Two missed two key nominations in Best Director for Denis Villeneuve, as well as Best Screenplay, though the film did show up in Best Picture (Drama), and Best Score for Hans Zimmer, whose music was deemed officially ineligible for Oscar competition by the Academy yesterday. Sing Sing and Piano Lesson hopefuls Clarence Maclin and Danielle Deadwyler were also absent from their respective Supporting performance categories. The larger crop of nominations in both the film and television categories more or less followed the expected trends with limited exceptions, but we’ll have to see just how consequential those trends become in the months ahead. A full list of the 2025 Golden Globe nominees is below. FILM Best Motion Picture (Drama):
Best Motion Picture (Musical or Comedy):
Best Actress in a Motion Picture (Drama):
Best Actor in a Motion Picture (Drama):
Best Actress in a Motion Picture (Musical or Comedy):
Best Actor in a Motion Picture (Musical or Comedy):
Best Supporting Actress in Any Motion Picture:
Best Supporting Actor in Any Motion Picture:
Best Director (Motion Picture):
Best Screenplay (Motion Picture):
Best Motion Picture (Animated):
Best Motion Picture (Non-English Language):
Best Original Score (Motion Picture):
Best Original Song (Motion Picture):
Cinematic and Box Office Achievement:
TELEVISION Best Series (Drama):
Best Series (Musical or Comedy):
Best Limited Series, Anthology Series, or Motion Picture Made for Television:
Best Actress in a Television Series (Drama):
Best Actor in a Television Series (Drama):
Best Actress in a Television Series (Musical or Comedy):
Best Actor in a Television Series (Musical or Comedy):
Best Actress in a Limited Series, Anthology Series, or Motion Picture Made for Television:
Best Actor in a Limited Series, Anthology Series, or Motion Picture Made for Television:
Best Supporting Actress in Any Television Series:
Best Supporting Actor in Any Television Series:
Best Stand-Up Comedy Performance:
What do you think of these nominations? Are there any you’re psyched to see, or bummed out not to see? Let us know in the comments section below, and keep your eyes peeled for more awards season content, coming soon! - The Friendly Film Fan
REVIEW: “Wicked” – Jon M. Chu Adapts Act One of Beloved Stage Musical to Astoundifying Effect11/20/2024  by Jacob Jones For nearly twenty years, Wicked has been one of the theater world’s most popular and enduring productions. People come from all over just to catch a glimpse of the now iconic story on the stage, with all its bombast and belt-worthy musical numbers carrying the audience through its jam-packed three hour odyssey about the Wicked Witch of the West. Multiple Tonys (though not the big one), countless cameos from the original stars in nearly half of all musical-related media still produced, and a cultural staying power thanks to both the books (and Best Picture-nominated film) from which it pulls the bulk of its inspiration have given the musical mega-hit a sort of untouchable quality when it comes to cinematic adaptations. To pull this off would be an act of defying gravity in itself. And yet, in watching the film play out the first act, one might never have suspected the story’s finding its origins in any other medium.
The central conceit, for those unfamiliar, is an origin tale centered on the iconic Wizard of Oz villain, the Wicked Witch of the West, whose name is Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo). Following a traumatic home birth which saw her father scorn her for having green skin, she grows up ostracized from her community and is considered a shame to her family, to which her parents have added a paraplegic sibling named Nessarose (Marissa Bode). Partly raised by some of the family’s talking animal servants, partly by their parents, life for Elphaba is a constant struggle of inward repression and outward temperament. After her sister is eventually accepted to Shiz University, the magical wizarding school, Elphaba is tasked by her father with looking after her, and by an accidental show of magic, is also enrolled at the school at the request of Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh). It is here where she meets Glinda (Ariana Grande-Butera), a popular girl with all manner of privilege, and the two begin a love-hate relationship that would ultimately come to a crossroads after a fateful meeting with the Wizard (Jeff Goldblum) himself. Suffice it to say, my expectations for Wicked were tempered to say the least. From its washed-out, practically colorless trailers, to the introduction of an unlikely popstar not known for theater as one of the story’s central figures, if not a tad uninspired. Would it look like every other MCU or Disney project coming out now, with their copious amounts of poorly-rendered green screen and overuse of soundstages, or would it rise to the occasion as a cinematic work in its own right? After all, both of director Jon M. Chu’s previous films took place in reality; they don’t exist in fantasy worlds. Would his direction translate well to the demands of that kind of film? Well, dear reader, after a twenty-year wait, I’m surprised and delighted to say that not only is Wicked a more-or-less faithful adaptation of the beloved stage musical’s first act, but a genuinely cinematic translation of the story, complete with everything it needs to feel as though this translation was not only necessary, but crucial to understanding just how grand the audience was always meant to feel watching it. I was already familiar with the story of Wicked prior to this film’s release, as most of its core audience is likely to be, and yet I remained shocked at just how often the film found new ways to surprise me even amidst my familiarity. Impressively-crafted from its very first frames as the overture soars overhead, the grand scale of the film begins to overtake the screen rather quickly, the camera following a pack of flying monkeys over a waterfall and into a wonderful world full of color and stunning production design that feels as physical and lifelike as it could ever be. Even the color-grading from the trailers – which still has some issues in both directions depending on which scene one is watching – was far less obtrusive than I expected, and the direction from Jon M. Chu feels as grandiose as the world of Oz is, the cinematography rising to meet the occasion and capturing not only the scale of the production, but the monumentality of having successfully pulled this off. Even some of the more noticeable soundstage sequences are chock full of tangible set designs that feel as though one could step into them at any time, and the visual effects on the animal characters look just right without being over-reliant on realism. There are a few instances where the film falters in some of its visual fidelity (not every scene’s blue screen effects translate well to smaller-scale moments), but by and large, the film is a stunning display of incredible craftsmanship worthy of multiple Oscars should the Academy have any extra to give out. And that same quality extends to nearly every performance the film contains. Jonathan Bailey, Marissa Bode, Michelle Yeoh, Peter Dinklage’s vocal turn as Dr. Dillamond – everyone came to play for their parts. Truthfully, the only performance that doesn’t quite impress is Jeff Goldblum’s turn as the Wizard; he’s more or less playing himself as a wizard, rather than transforming into the part, but given the Wizard’s characterization in this story, it’s something I’m willing to look past. (He’s still Jeff Goldblum after all.) In true Wicked fashion, though, no one outpaces the two superstars at the story’s center. Both Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande (credited here as Ariana Grande-Butera) not only turn in their best screen work to date, but unlock new levels of performance for themselves, each leaning on each other’s ability so that neither performance can feel or even remotely be considered inessential to the other. Erivo is particularly impressive here, able to pull of both notes of meekness and steely resolve within the same expression and carry her songs vocally with an unbelievable confidence in her pitch, even when the story calls for her character to be distinctly insecure. She manages all the right notes at such a rate that there’s no need for showing off range, and yet when it happens, I remain captivated by what she’s able to do with her face alone. The biggest surprise though, it turns out, is Ariana Grande-Butera’s absolutely magnetic turn as Glinda the Good Witch. I couldn’t imagine not predicting her for an Oscar nomination for this part. Following the overture and the beginning of “No One Mourns the Wicked,” she arrives in Munchkinland with an already grieved look on her face; those familiar with the show will know the origins of this look within the story, but it’s nonetheless a uniquely impressive skill the pop star pulls out in the film’s opening moments. In every close-up, every medium, every wide shot, one can see a quiet sadness behind her eyes as she holds back some underplayed tears in assuring the people of Munchkinland that the Wicked Witch is, in fact, dead. It was somewhat already a given that Grande-Butera would shine in the musical/poppier sequences in the film – her pop star persona off-camera is no small help in that department – but it’s in these quieter moments away from all the pomp and circumstance where one can see that she truly has that screen-worthy X factor that every actor so deeply covets. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her win her first Oscar for how good she is here. There are other elements of Wicked I’m dying to discuss here before wrapping this all up, but they may have to wait for a spoiler review before they can be appropriately addressed. Suffice it to say, this is not simply one of the best movies of the year, but the best movie musical we’ve been treated to in quite some time. Fans of the Broadway show will love it, musical skeptics will at least like it (I think), and Wizard of Oz fans all over the world will be delighted to find themselves in that fantasy world once more. I can’t wait to return to Oz when Wicked: Part Two opens next year. I’m giving “Wicked” a 9/10. - The Friendly Film Fan  By Jacob Jones The act of adaptation can be a particularly tricky line to walk; stray too far from the source material one is adapting, and your product is either regarded as a failure by those familiar with such material, or a triumph by those who deemed it too bland to be interesting on its own. On the other hand, stay too faithful to the story being told, and the adaptation becomes traditionally boring, wherein the lack of alterations to a tale whose origins are mediocre at best then reinforce that mediocrity as it appears on screen. The most audacious adaptations – The Godfather, Arrival, No Country for Old Men, Killers of the Flower Moon, etc. – elevate their source material (regardless of how good it already was on its own) to new heights by switching up approaches, changing plot details so as to make them more accessible to a wider range of people, and filtering all of the character details found in book pages through exceptional performances by remarkably skillful actors and masterful direction. But not every adaptation can reach the same heights, and sometimes all one needs for an adaptation to be successful is a faithful approach to quality source material. This is where Conclave comfortably sits.
Based on the book of the same name by Thomas Harris, Conclave’s story finds its center in Ralph Fiennes’ Cardinal Lawrence, who – in the wake of the Pope’s unfortunate death – is charged with running a new Conclave in which all eligible Cardinals will vote to select the Holy Father’s successor. Once one Cardinal receives a two-thirds majority of the vote, that person will become the new Pope, and the face of universal church. Sometimes these elections can take mere hours; sometimes they take days, and with no less than three front-runners making plays for the throne, anything can happen. With the world and the church’s place in it on the brink of total collapse, it is imperative that the Conclave swiftly and decisively select the right representative, both for God, and for the millions of faithful around the globe. This film also stars Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, and Isabella Rossellini. How films like Conclave land for someone is all about the approach to watching it. If you go in blind, you’re likely to have a greater reaction to its myriad of plot turns and twists, but you’re also less likely to forgive how the film essentially skips getting to know its characters on a personal level, apart from their individual interactions with Cardinal Lawrence, whom the film is content to have the audience become familiar with through Ralph Fiennes’ layered, deeply understated performance. Having finished Harris’ book mere hours before seeing the film for the first time, I was able to pinpoint in Fiennes’ eyes where all of the character’s internal thoughts came through in the story as outlined in the original text, but for those who haven’t read it, I would imagine that this is a difficult element to understand without any sort of clue given by the film itself. Fiennes is such a skilled actor that in order to play this part right, it requires an almost anti-theatricality, and he nails every beat perfectly, if one knows where to look for them. The same could be applied to both John Lithgow and Stanley Tucci’s characters as well, although we do get to know them more thoroughly through conversations, whereas with Lawrence, the audience is left to simply accept whatever it is about him they can glean from his subtler demeanor. As for Rossellini, while she does feature in one terrific scene towards the third act of the film, the rest of her performance is largely hidden by the needs of the plot, relegating her to more of a background character than a genuine supporting player most of the time. To assuage any doubts that may have arisen: Conclave is a good movie. It’s well-mounted, the no-frills approach to adapting the book works, and all of the performances are played at exactly the right pitch for the story being told. While some of its production elements can feel a tad formulaic at times, they serve their respective purposes in making the story feel coherent, dramatic, and occasionally quite funny, and there are moments of genuine greatness among them, particularly in the cinematography and the costume designs. But herein lies my question: is Conclave a good movie only because the book it’s based on is a good story? Berger’s approach to viewing the Conclave less like the most important thing that could ever occur in a religious sector of the world and more like an overly gossipy workplace meeting that we seem to be in on imbues the film with a sense of fun it may otherwise have lacked, but given its near one-to-one translation from the source material, how much of that credit can be truly given to Berger, and how much goes to Harris’ original text? For me, most of it goes to Harris. Berger is a skilled filmmaker, as evidence by Netflix’s adaptation of All Quiet on the Western Front in 2022, but if one is going to adapt books as famous as those Berger has helmed thus far, every production element needs to be firing on all cylinders in order to elevate the director above the material he chooses. As it stands, Conclave is the sort of movie I wish we had twenty of every year. A gripping mystery, told by skilled filmmakers, with some of the best performers in the world chewing the scenery as though they’d not eaten since their last screen test. Even without the level of craftsmanship it would need to be truly competitive in most awards categories (and with one book scene missing that I feel would have elevated it beyond just being very good), it’s a delightfully fun time at the movies, and it’s nice to see that the mid-budget thriller driven by dialogue and character, rather than spectacle, is making a handsome comeback. I’m giving “Conclave” a 7.8/10 - The Friendly Film Fan  by Jacob Jones Saturday Night Live is as ubiquitous to American television culture as sports channels like ESPN and syndicated network dramas like CSI or Grey’s Anatomy. In fact, so widely known is the variety sketch comedy series that the acronym “SNL” doesn’t really need explaining at all; most people just know what it is. So many of today’s great comic talents – from Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Maya Rudolph to Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell, and even Bill Murray – either got their start on or had their careers boosted by appearing on the show, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Almost anyone who’s previously appeared as an SNL cast member has gone on to have an illustrious career in either film or television (sometimes both), and eventually become known as “one of the greats.” From Andy Samberg to Kristen Wiig to Eddie Murphy to Julia Louis-Dreyfus to Joan Cusack to Chris Farley to Jimmy Fallon to Billy Crystal and even Robert Downey Jr., the sheer number of awards and accolades for which NBC’s late-night hit could take credit if it so chose is staggering. But it wasn’t always that way. For one thing, the show didn’t add “Live” to its title until the season 3 premiere – hosted by Steve Martin – due to ABC’s rival comedy show at the time being called “Saturday Night Live with Howard Cosell.” More importantly, however, the SNL we know and love today, the one responsible for so much of entertainment culture’s brightest and funniest minds, almost never happened.
Saturday Night, directed by Jason Reitman from a script by Reitman and co-writer Gil Kenan, chronicles the chaotic frenzy of the ninety minutes immediately before Saturday Night Live’s debut and follows producer Lorne Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle) as he strives at all costs to get the show on the air. Along the way, he has to drum up a live audience to attend the show, wrangle a litany of stars from Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith) to Dan Aykroyd (Dylan O’Brien) to Gilda Radner (Ella Hunt) to Andy Kaufman and Jim Henson (both played by Nicholas Braun) to name just a few, finalize the production credit of his partner Rosie Shuster (Rachel Sennott), quell the anxieties of producing partner Dick Ebersol (Cooper Hoffman), figure out how to lock a finished script for air time and finish the set build, and most challengingly, get a less-than-enthused John Belushi (Matt Wood) to sign his contract. And all of this has to be done before 11:30 p.m.; if not, the network pulls the plug. The film also stars Emily Fairn as Laraine Newman, Lamorne Morris as Garrett Morris, Jane Curtin as Kim Matula, Andrew Barth Feldman as Neil Levy, Jon Batiste as Billy Preston, Kaia Gerber as Jacqueline Carlin, and Finn Wolfhard. Even for those more familiar with the deeper history of SNL, Saturday Night is a wild ride. The inherent chaos of live television production in any context would be enough to fill ninety minutes of screen time with a whole host of interesting set pieces, but for a variety sketch comedy series so singularly unique that for years it was the only one in its Emmys category, that chaos is compounded tenfold. Lights break, sound systems go down, cast members are nowhere to be found, props are introduced and then abandoned, sketch orders are swapped and then scrapped and then re-implemented, with some bits getting removed entirely. And yet in journeying with us through all of this, Reitman never wears out the audience or so convolutes his script that the plot is lost entirely. As director of photography Eric Steelberg’s fluid camera follows Lorne through all manner of backstage hallways, green rooms, dressing rooms, elevators, and sound booths, we never lose sight of what his ultimate goal is or what we are here to witness. For all the quick movement and constant shifting from location to location, the staging and immaculate choreography of it all keeps us centered so that we always know where we are and what we’re doing. And that controlled chaos is what gives the film its quick pacing as it tells its story more or less in real time. That and the reliably great performances of its stacked ensemble of young stars (the real new Hollywood A-list, if you will), all of whom turn in work which is lacking in impressionism but full of pathos and a clear understanding of who they’re playing. Still, as fun as the film is to watch, there are moments where one does wish it reached for something deeper than what it’s offering. At one point in the film, Lorne posits that one of the main appeals of “Saturday Night” is that it’s the first live television show made by a generation of people who grew up watching television. But this is the closest the movie gets to developing and putting forward a thesis about its own existence, or indeed the existence of the show it’s valorizing. There’s a clear reverence throughout the movie for what SNL is, and a recognition of just how revolutionary it was to the television landscape, but there’s not much in the way of exploring what all of this actually means, or why this particular show was so important at the time of its inception. As Lorne struggles against the network executives and fights for the show to go ahead, we’re rooting for him to succeed, but there’s not really a clear purpose as to why this matters. Why does it matter that it’s SNL, and not another sketch comedy show years down the road? Is it just that it’s the first of its kind, or is there some deeper reason for Lorne Michaels – and by extension us, the film’s audience – to need this success? Saturday Night unfortunately doesn’t seem to know the answer. Even if all Saturday Night is is a narrative examination of just how insane it can be to produce live television or get a new show off the ground, that alone would be enough to whet the appetites of just about anyone – including myself – with a modicum of interest in how the entertainment business works. To the film’s and Jason Reitman’s credit, it largely succeeds in that pursuit. It’s entertaining as hell, driven by great performances and fast-paced dialogue, and is chock full of terrific hair and makeup work. No, there’s not really anything deeper to glean from its myriad of chaotic sequences or its deceptively simple plot, but even at its weakest, a theatrical experience like it is worth the time. I’m giving “Saturday Night” a 7.8/10 - The Friendly Film Fan  by Jacob Jones Were one to inquire of the many, many people who went to see Todd Phillips’ Joker back when it premiered in 2019, one would most likely find a swath of largely binary responses, with a few notable variations. At the time it was either beloved or disliked, with little – if any – room for middle interpretation, and the public response bore that out. Between its billion dollar worldwide box office gross (it remains the only R-Rated film to pull that off) and its mixed critical reception, there was no movie released in 2019 as publicly divisive, nor one as unstoppable when it came to an awards season run. Garnering a whopping 10 Oscar nominations, 2 of which became wins, Todd Phillips’ origin tale of Arthur Fleck’s descent into madness stirred up so much buzz that theaters beefed up security in the event of possible shootings inspired by its titular character (thankfully, no such event occurred). As the years have come and gone, some opinions have shifted up or down, but most seem to have only become more entrenched. For myself, while I continue to flip back and forth on whether Joker is actually good or not, I find it to be an interesting experiment in the realm of comic book storytelling and a well-mounted – if not entirely novel – approach to adapting the Joker character for the screen. (The King of Comedy and Taxi Driver – its two main inspirations – are far better films.) All of this to say, with a billion dollar gross and a character that popular, a sequel was inevitable. But how were Phillips and company meant to pull off a comic book sequel to a film that was originally designed not to have any follow-ups at all? What possible angle was there left to use on a character whose cinematic history held no less than five different interpretations? Joker: Folie à Deux’s answer to this question should have been its saving grace. Instead, it may well be the film’s defining flaw.
Positioned as a jukebox musical – regardless of what the cast continues to deny about it on press tours – Joker: Folie à Deux picks up not long after Joker left off, with Arthur Fleck still in Arkham Asylum after two years, awaiting trial for the murder of the three New York subway accosters and television host Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro). While living amongst Gotham’s most notorious criminals and preparing his case with his lawyer, Arthur is invited to participate in a music class, where he meets Lee (Lady Gaga), and the two form a connection based on their shared madness, hence the film’s subtitle. Together, the pair engage in a whirlwind of various musical sequences across the film’s runtime as both prepare for the first-ever live broadcast of what is being dubbed “the trial of the century,” and civil support for Joker continues to grow ever stronger in the Gotham streets. If you were to give me fourteen guesses as to where the Joker sequel would go back when it was first announced, “jukebox musical” would have never made the top forty-five guesses I had. Regardless, it was a bold move to turn what was more-or-less a Scorsese rip-off story into something no one has ever done at this scale before, and the addition of Lady Gaga as Harley Quinn to the mix is a genius bit of casting for this interpretation of those characters. That said, if the story synopsis above sounds too vague, it’s because, frankly, there’s not much of a story to Folie à Deux at all. In some manners of speaking, it is in fact the antithesis of its predecessor – boring, drawn out, repetitive, and thematically murky, to the point where the addition of the musical sequences become not a fresh new angle by which to push the story forward, but the main thing sapping it of any real energy or narrative momentum. Each time a character breaks out into song, which – unlike most musicals – just happens for the sake of happening, regardless of how little sense it makes narratively, the movie stops dead in its tracks, and this happens over and over and over again. The music is decently performed, and there are one or two numbers that are genuine hits in terms of how they’re mounted, designed, etc, but they do nothing to advance what little story there is. By the time these sequences roll around, the story is already where it was going to end up anyway, and the music more or less only reminds the viewer what we’re already watching happen, without deepening its meaning or offering any greater weight to the performances. The introduction of Lady Gaga as Harley Quinn – as stated – is a genius bit of casting, and she does what she’s able to, excelling particularly in the film’s musical moments, but the script offers her little to chew on in terms of her relationship to Arthur, making her seem like more of a crazed fan than a devoted fellow psychopath. There are some greater specifics to that idea that I won’t spoil here, but suffice it to say, she doesn’t get a lot of interesting things to do, and the character is too underdeveloped for what the script asks of her. As for Joaquin Phoenix as Arthur Fleck, he’s given less grimy material to chew on, which leads his performance to run more or less the same lines as his pre-Joker personality in the last film. Luckily, he’s still quite talented – even a little more interesting as a character – in that bit of the last film, so even when the film’s not working, he is working within the confines he has. The unfortunate side effect of a movie like Joker, when a sequel is greenlit, is that all the worst defenders of it as some masterwork of comic book storytelling are hoping for the least interesting approach to the follow-up. In that manner, I can absolutely understand what Todd Phillips and company set out to do when crafting a narrative that investigates not only whether the Joker character is in fact a sympathetic figure in this universe, but whether the decision to mount the character in that way previously was ever a good idea, an idea Folie à Deux confronts directly. Unfortunately, this angle just didn’t work. The storytelling is repetitive, the narrative is disengaging, and even the small surprises the film has in store are too little, too late to fix what’s broken here. I’m giving “Joker: Folie à Deux” a 4.2/10 - The Friendly Film Fan  by Jacob Jones When I was approximately 8 years old, I watched Superman: The Movie for the very first time. To my memory, my father had rented it from the local video store at my own request after my having seen the cover art. It was the origin of my experience with superheroes and with superhero movies, as well as one of the first cinematic ventures on which I voluntarily journeyed. Though I was too young then to understand what any of it meant, I – like so many others when the film was first released – saw for the first time that a man could fly through the air without the assistance of wings or other devices for support; he could soar high above the ground, traveling from place to place at lightning speeds, accompanied by an epic musical score (courtesy of maestro John Williams) and a set of dynamic additional superpowers that allowed him to do all sorts of miraculous things. He instantaneously became, and remains to this day, my favorite superhero. I remember distinctly printing out a paper Superman logo, cutting it out with scissors, and taping it to my blue-shirted torso while I wore a bright red velcro cape we had lying downstairs in the toy chest. I would then go to jump on our neighbor’s trampoline and pretend that I, too, could fly. What I was unaware of at this time, and what I wouldn’t come to fully grasp until my late teens/early 20s, was just how much of the hero I so adored was informed by the man who wore that bright red cape with the symbol on his chest, nor how soon the world would lose the man who made us believe that he could fly.
When I was 9, Christopher Reeve passed away due to sepsis, following a long struggle with full-body paralysis after a tragic horse-riding accident fractured his upper spine, leaving him unable to breathe without a respirator or move without assistance. Though many more pieces of Superman media would be produced to varying degrees of success, including 3 more live-action movies, and though I wouldn’t understand the impact of this sentiment until much later in life, to most of the world, their Superman had died. And yet to a much smaller corner of the world, Christoper Reeve the actor, the father, the activist, the human being had passed on. For all the theatrics and celebrations about what it meant for him to be Superman, and for the legacy he left in having carried that mantle, there was still so much more to Reeve than what the silver screen allowed people to know. What Super/Man – which comes to us from directors Ian Bonhôte and Peter Ettedgui – sets out to do is both recognize the superheroic iconography of Reeve as an actor, and celebrate his more human-bound struggles as a man. Much as the Superman character acts as a comic-book stand in for the Christian figure of Jesus (i.e. both God and man), the filmmakers’ aim is to examine the duality of the Super and the Man, ultimately assembling a portrait of a hero in both senses. To those who were aware of Christopher Reeve’s public life outside of his work as Superman, as well as his disability activism following his accident, most of what The Christopher Reeve Story has to offer won’t be especially surprising, nor is the film itself any kind of revolutionary act within the documentary space. There’s no upending of documentary structure, nor rug pulls of information about which the public was previously kept in the dark. It’s largely full of archival footage of Reeve at various stages of his life, interspersed between testimonials of his three children and other working professionals who knew him. In terms of the sheer importance of the documentary to the world stage, and the story it aims to tell, there’s nothing in the film that elevates it above most films like it. But for those to whom Superman means something more personal, and especially to those like myself who were unaware of much of Reeve’s life and work outside of the costume, the portrait painted is a relatively full one, which is buoyed by excellent pacing throughout its two halves. Though both sections of the Christopher Reeve Story are told between flashes to key dates in the timeline of his struggle with paralysis, the first half – which moves at a slightly more rapid pace – is much more concerned with Reeve’s life as a man and an actor as it follows his origins in the theater and coming from a broken home to his screen testing for the Superman part, and on through his eventual falling out with both the role and his longtime partner Gae Exton, with whom he had his first two children. It also chronicles his friendship with former Julliard roommate and comic icon Robin Williams, about whom actor Glenn Close muses “if Chris [Reeve] were still around, maybe he [Robin] would still be alive.” Finally, the upper section essentially ends following Reeve’s partnership and eventual marriage to Dana Morosini, with whom he had his third child, and to whom he stayed married until his passing. (Dana is featured more prominently in the film than just as part of a first-half break – in fact she’s one of the movie’s sort of mainstays throughout – but in terms of structure, their marriage acts as a cut-off point.) The second half of the film more closely follows Reeve’s activism in the disability community, from his controversial ad wherein his search for a cure to full spinal paralysis lead to his walking again, to his advocacy for stem cell research, to his friendships with other people in disabled spaces. This is the half where viewers are able to witness Reeve’s heroism outside of the costume, and though it moves at more of a clip than the first half, and so has a little bit less fun with the story it has to tell, it is the more compelling section of the film, and it’s in this second half where we also learn of Dana Reeve’s tragic passing due to stage four lung cancer so soon after Christopher Reeve’s death. If the film has an emotional low point, it’s when Alexandra Reeve Givens and Matthew Reeve, Christopher’s first son and his daughter, put it quite succinctly that Will Reeve lost his father, grandmother, and mother all within a 24-month timespan. Still, all three children held onto hope and to the legacy of their parents, following in their footsteps at the Christopher and Dana Reeve foundation, continuing to fight for the disability community as both Christopher and Dana did right up to the end. As a sort of counter to the emotional lows of loss that followed the Reeve family, the filmmakers also note that Christopher’s regaining of limited movement in some of his limbs before his passing would go on to inspire others with spinal cord injuries to hold onto hope, eventually resulting in regained mobility. To hear his assistant tell it “people are literally walking because of him.” Whether Super/Man will compete for or is worthy of awards consideration is a subjective topic, but it’s also not the question being asked of viewers who venture out to the theater to see it. The entire goal of The Christopher Reeve Story is laid out plainly in the film’s marketing: “you will believe in a hero.” To some, that may mean being reminded of just how meaningful Reeve was as Superman; to others, it may mean learning about his work as a disabled activist and advocate for change. There are no allusions about Christopher Reeve’s being a perfect man or living an idealistic public life, but the life he did live became an inspiration for many, and whether or not one considers him super or just another man, this film makes no mistake about it: he was, and always will be, a hero. I’m giving “Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story” an 8.9/10 - The Friendly Film Fan  by Jacob Jones Horror, as a genre, has somewhat defined 2024 as a movie year. It seems every month some new thriller has come along, and every other week some new trailer drops for an upcoming horror film due to be released in a month or so. For all the handwringing people love to do about the lack of original filmmaking being pushed by mainstream Hollywood studios (handwringing from which I’ve not historically been exempt), the horror genre has been pumping out both franchise I.P. and strikingly original work left and right for the better part of a decade now. In fact, this year marks the 10th anniversary of the original poster child for the “elevated horror” canon: Jennifer Kent’s iconic psychological trauma film, The Babadook. (Luckily, in 2024, the term “elevated horror” has gone all but extinct.) In 2024 alone, Abigail, Longlegs, Alien: Romulus, Strange Darling, Cuckoo, Trap, Blink Twice, Immaculate, and MaXXXine all received large-scale theatrical releases, and only two of those films come from pre-existing material. However, while most of these aforementioned works may at least adequately represent 2024’s killer craze, almost none have felt as though they could truly define it, until now.
When horror enthusiasts look back on 2024, two films will ultimately stand as the most definitive of the movie year. The first is Longlegs, directed by Osgood Perkins, which drips in atmosphere and soaks in dread until its final images have long seeped into viewers’ collective memories. (A full review is forthcoming.) The other will be director Coralie Fargeat’s searing body horror takedown of beauty standards and female performance expectations, The Substance. The film follows Demi Moore as Elisabeth Sparkle, a once-lauded fitness media sensation who becomes increasingly obsolete in the eyes of the company for one very pointed reason: she’s aging out of their preferred business model, and out of collective audience memory. When the sleazy, slimy studio executive in charge (Dennis Quaid) decides to let her go without a second thought in the pursuit of someone “younger and hotter,” Elisabeth takes matters into her own hands, electing to try The Substance, a liquid compound that unlocks the DNA of its user, resulting in a younger, “hotter” of Elisabeth named Sue (Margaret Qualley). The only real catch? Both Elisabeth and Sue can only exist outside of each other for exactly seven days at a time, and must always remember that they are still one entity. As each begins to resent the other, the balance starts to spiral out of control, and Elisabeth/Sue are forced to confront the consequences of resisting the ultimate truth: you can’t escape from yourself. When a movie has as much to say about its themes as The Substance does, it’s typically praised for the ways in which it can do so subtly, without making a big show of what the filmmaker’s thesis is, or being too obvious in its commentary. Not so with this one. In fact, so aggressive is director Coralie Fargeat’s messaging in The Substance that no one would ever mistake its loudness as anything but the very point it’s trying to make. What begins as a mere examination of beauty standards and the burden society places on women to age perfectly rather than gracefully (much less realistically) soon transforms into an all-out rage fit against the very idea of those standards, holding responsible the overtly patriarchal system holding the keys to the kingdom where the decisions get made about what those standards are. It’s an all-out scream, meant to be guttural, inescapable, a bracing attack on the self-loathing that society beats into women from a young age so that it sticks around as they get older that’s as boisterous and gross as the men within the film are allowed to be without a second thought. This very idea is manifest in Demi Moore’s career-best performance, which simmers with a boiling grudge against the very system that makes women stars and then tells them to change everything about themselves in order to stay one. There’s a clear injection of personal experience into the character of Elisabeth from her end, as the character examines herself in the mirror, looking at by any measure an objectively beautiful, normal body, and can only seem to resent its aging process due to what Dennis Quaid’s “Harvey” (in a delightfully skeezy turn by the once venerated actor) and the system around her has beaten into her head. By contrast, her younger self, which Margaret Qualley has a ton of fun playing up to 11, is only resentful of her other body, which she fears and actively attempts to avoid returning to, once more due to the system’s treatment of how women age. The film takes advantage of every opportunity to remind the viewer exactly what it’s trying to say, often in manners even the toughest of body horror fans may find shockingly audacious. Body horror, as a subgenre, is one I admittedly don’t have a lot of experience covering, but work of this quality is simply undeniable even if one has never seen a body horror film in their lifetime. The makeup work alone, were the Academy not practically allergic to the horror genre at this point, would be leading the awards season conversation in any just world. There are sequences featured in this film that make the elevator scene from The Shining look tame by comparison, as grotesque manifestations of female self-hatred are borne out of men’s needs for women to look and stay as perfect as they possibly can because the performances that cater to men’s desires are those that get rewarded. The physical craft of the film, from the makeup to the effects, to the score, to the sound design, is as loud as the themes found within, and yet never misses a step, such is the skill of a writer/director like Fargeat at the helm. Even as the year has gone on, so many horror films have come and gone that have felt as though they simply wouldn’t leave a lasting impact on the genre, despite how fun or well-crafted they’ve been. But when I think about The Substance, when I consider all it has to offer to the body horror subgenre, and the risks it takes in casting off subtlety or gracefulness in favor of something bolder, meaner, more commanding, I’m left with the impression that it genuinely could fundamentally change the subgenre in some ways. Love it or hate it, there’s no denying its sheer power, and that power is something horror fans will be talking about for a long time to come. I’m giving “The Substance” a 9.3/10 - The Friendly Film Fan |
