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Kicking Blood: Kicking the Habit

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“You gotta kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight” – Leonard Cohen

To be fair, Cohen’s words were likely never meant to connect with vampire films. But they certainly apply to Kicking Blood.

Kicking Blood tells the story of Anna (Alanna Bale), a young vampire who must feed on the blood of others to survive. Together with her brood, they feed nightly off of toxic men and thrive off the high they feel after doing so. However, when she meets a humble alcoholic named Robbie (Luke Bilyk) who tries to get clean, Anna begins to wonder if she can kick her own habit of consuming blood as well, even if doing so could kill her.

Directed and co-written by Blaine Thurman (The New Pornographers), Kicking Blood has a surprising amount of bite to its story. Tightly the written and executed, Blood may be brief but also has something to say. Clocking in at a paltry 75 minutes, Thurman’s film takes a much more metaphorical approach with its storytelling. Although the film fully leans into its horror elements, Blood is equally as interested in exploring the trauma of abuse and its relationship to addiction as well. In this world, death is a dark and mysterious place… but what does it mean to live? Is it possible to begin again when what came before is so broken? These are the questions that are embedded within Thurman’s tale of blood that make it worth exploring.

At first, Blood feels very much like revenge film. As Anna chooses her victims, we quickly notice a pattern beginning to form. Each prey that she targets has been some form of predator. Whether adulterous or abusive, each of Anna’s victims reveals their sins. As such, she appears to justify her kills as an act of vengeance against the darkness of man. (Who’s going to miss men who have hurt others like that, right?) In this way, her feedings are given shades of justice as she fights on behalf of those who have been hurt. If these victims cannot stand up for themselves, she will do it for them.

When she meets Robbie though, things begin to change. Broken by alcoholism, Robbie is ready to die and suggests that he is willing to let Anna take his life. However, in doing so, she sees something different in him. His humility and repentant soul are different than the other men that she has fed upon. In this way, there’s a complexity within their relationship that complicates this tale of vengeance. As Anna’s instinctive desire to feed battles a burgeoning compassion, suddenly she struggles to bring herself to end his life. 

Unlike the others, Robbie may worth saving.

However, her experience with him also begins to show her things about herself. It’s here that Blood’s metaphor begins to shift. Whereas once feeding took on an element of justice or revenge, now it seems to point to addiction. For Anna, her desire to inflict violence masks an inner rage that she carries within her. While each kill may be necessary for her to live, it also gives her an energetic high that keeps her going. Even so, her experience with Robbie challenges her to choose a new path for herself. While her friends feed for the rush, Anna decides to try and break free from the painful pattern that rules her life.

Whether or not that’s possible for her is another story.

Dark and edgy, Kicking Blood makes good use of its runtime to prove its point. Using vampires as a metaphor for addiction and abuse, Blood takes one of the darkest of classic villain tropes and uses it to explore what it takes to find hope and healing at a time when it feels most elusive. 

After all, as the man says, when darkness falls, Blood reminds us that we can kick against it.

Kicking Blood is available in select theatres on Friday, April 15th, 2022.

Scarborough: The Vulnerability of Community

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In Scarborough, we follow the stories of three children whose families are trying to navigate their various life situations in the neighbourhood. Bing (Liam Diaz) endures bullying at school while his mother, Edna (Ellie Posadas), works to get back on her feet after leaving an abusive relationship. On the school bus, Bing befriends Sylvie (Mekiya Fox), a carefree girl whose mother, Marie (Cherish Violet Blood), juggles taking care of her, her differently abled brother Johnny (Felix Jedi Ingram Isaac) and her recovering father as they search for permanent housing for their family. The third child we follow is Laura (Anna Claire Beitel), a quiet younger girl living with her parents’ neglect. Their paths all cross eventually at an after-school literacy programme run by Ms Hina (Aliya Kanani) who finds herself caring about more than the children’s literacy and lends herself as support to their lives. 

The high regard that author and screenwriter, Catherine Hernandez, has for the Scarborough community is evident in the way each character comes off on screen – leaving the audience feeling for even the most ‘antagonistic’ of characters. It is also a treat to see what a melting pot of cultures that Scarborough is on screen and how each culture put its own stamp on their neighbourhoods and feeds into the other as they are in such close proximity.

This film just about broke me for a variety of reasons. First, the kids! The actors did such an amazing job portraying the difficult life experiences their characters were having while also retaining this innocent joy that kids have. In this way, it was great to see most of the movie through their eyes; the hope they are able to possess even in hardships and the intentional love they are shown throughout the film that gives us an assurance that these kids will turn out amazing if given the chance to grow.

But, aside from the fact that I happen to currently live in Scarborough, something else I loved about this movie (and what I would consider its heart) is what Catherine Hernandez says about it: “This film is not just about Scarborough, it’s about community.”

If you had heard me speak last year, you might have heard me talk about missing home. For me, the pandemic highlighted the gold that I did not realize I had in the Nigerian community that I grew up in — with extended family always minutes away; being present for the big moments in people’s lives; and friends constantly dropping in unannounced and being available at midnight when your family suddenly has an emergency.

In Scarborough, community is highlighted as this thing that, in many ways, helps keep these families afloat. From providing meals, to doing hospital runs, giving advice, watching kids, standing up for each other and going through grief together, the film reminds us just how rich our lives are when we allow other people to be a part of them. More specifically, through the character of Laura’s Dad, Cory, it also shows that to truly and meaningfully let people be a part of our lives, we need to embrace vulnerability and be open to people not seeing us at our best selves.

There’s such a strength in the kind of community that sees you at your worst and is there for you anyway. One that creates a space for the hope mentioned earlier to flourish and give way, with the right tools, to an even better community for the next generation.

To hear our interview with screenwriter/author Catherine Hernandez, click here (podcast).

Scarborough is available in theatres on Friday, February 25th, 2022.

Compartment No. 6: Strangers on a Train

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“You never know what might come around.” – Compartment No. 6

Compartment No. 6 tells the story of Laura (Seidi Haarla), a Finnish student who has been studying in Moscow. When Laura has the opportunity to explore the petroglyphs of Murmansk, she is willing to leave her lover and set out on her own. However, while making the long trek on a train through Russia’s frontier, she is disappointed to share her tiny compartment with Ljoha (Yuriy Borisov), a gruff Russian mine worker who has little interest in making Laura’s trip a comfortable one.

Directed by Juho Kuosmanen, Compartment No. 6 is a quiet but passionate character journey into the harsh Russian winter. Filmed almost entirely on an actual train, Kuosmanen makes good use of the claustrophobia atmosphere. Tight hallways, limited spaces (like the repeated use of the dining car) and tiny compartments all highlight the awkward tension that exists between characters who cannot escape one another. As such, Kuosmanen manages to put a much stronger emphasis on the immediacy of the moment that his characters are facing. Although they’d rather be somewhere else—or with someone else—they simply have nowhere to go and must make the best of this together. 

This moment is about survival.

By taking this approach, Kuosmanen must rely on the strength of his cast and thankfully, the chemistry between Haala and Borisov is solid. Both strong performers on their own, putting the two of them together provides the driving force for the film and provides some truly wonderful moments. As Laura, Haarla provides an innocence and intelligence that offsets the harsh exterior of her travel partner. Even so, Borisov never allows Ljoha to feel entirely inaccessible, despite his struggles. Within his character, there is a fear of connection that drives him until Haala eventually draws it out of him. 

Thrown together out of sheer coincidence, Laura and Ljoha have little in common and struggle to communicate. Broken-hearted because of the separation from her lover, Laura remains focused in her drive to see the famed petroglyphs. At the same time, Ljoha has no such drive or passion, focused only on surviving until his destination. Clutching her camcorder for the memories it contains, she clings to the past while he remains locked into the present. 

Regardless of their differences though, a certain sense of comradery develops between them. Laura’s welcoming spirit cracks Ljoha frozen heart. At the same time, Ljoha becomes an encouragement to Laura about her mission and even provides help in accomplishing her goals. Though their time together is brief and their knowledge of each other is limited, the connection that they share is very real.

As a result, Compartment speaks to the people who leave an impact on our lives in unexpected moments. Laura and Ljoha only spend a fraction of their life together, yet they value those moments. A deep affection develops between the two unexpected adventurers where they seem devoted to one another yet also remain individuals. (It’s also worth noting that their relationship is surprisingly non-sexual, as any sort of advancement in that area seems to threaten what develops between them.) Although this one train ride is only a portion of their lives, the effect that they have left on each other will endure.

Charming and enjoyable, Compartment No. 6 is a wonderful character drama with some surprising twists along the way. Anchored by a fascinating duo in Haarla and Borisov, the film is a testament to the fact that the moments we share with one another need not be significant in order to leave a significant impact.

Because you never know what might come around.

Compartment No. 6 is available in theatres on Friday, February 11th, 2022.

Flee: Running from Your Life

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Amin Nawabi had never told this story to anyone. Until now.

Directed by Jonas Poher Rasmussen, Flee tells the incredible true story of Amin Nawabi (a pseudonym), an immigrant to Denmark who fled Afghanistan as a young man. Over the course of a journey that included relying on human smugglers, almost drowning at sea and fake identities, Nawabi and his family were willing to take every possible avenue available in order to start new lives. Now an adult living with his partner, Nawabi he has chosen this format to tell the struggles that made him the man that he is today, including being separated from his family and coming to terms with his sexuality at a time of oppression.

It has become popular to hype stories by making claims that ‘you’ll never believe what happens next’ or the like but, in Nawabi’s case, it’s a true statement. This is the story of a man has never had the strength to explain anything about his life prior to his experience in Denmark yet has finally chosen to unlock the floodgates of his past. In this way, Rasmussen has absolutely struck narrative gold. As Nawabi unveils his riveting and terrifying story, you will remains transfixed by the tale. From his oppression as a child to his many attempted escapes, the openness and candor that Nawabi shows in sharing his life story is remarkable. Given the levels of trauma that he has experienced throughout his life, it is no wonder why he struggled to share it with anyone before. However, in Flee, he seems completely willing to open the vault of his life with both courage and strength.

By telling the story through animation and stock footage, Flee has a unique feel. This style of storytelling somehow manages to allow the narrative to pop onscreen visually without taking anything away from the storyteller himself. However, the animated style also filters the truth. For example, while the film itself plays out like a memory, so too does it also remain one that we can’t fully see for ourselves. No matter how traumatic an event is or how much it resonates within our soul, memory is something that cannot always be trusted. Perhaps it’s too painful for the storyteller. Perhaps events have been shaded by youthful eyes and memory. As such, the story remains both truth and fiction. While we trust that Nawabi is being honest, we are also allowed the opportunity to see that it is an interpretation of the truth.  In this way, the animated style allows the viewer to keep a safe distance from the story that Nawabi wants to tell while providing a sense of safety for the storyteller himself. 

Visceral and emotional, Flee highlights the painful realities of those who live in the Middle East. Through his (limited) use of archival footage, Rasmussen grounds his story in reality. While the exact details of Nawabi’s story may be in question at times, the global situation is never in doubt. Even when the animated style allows you to keep a distance from the story, the footage provides necessary historical context. Whether or not every detail is accurate becomes almost irrelevant. What matters most  is what was happening around him.

In Flee, we see quickly that his story is not an isolated one.

At the same time, the film also demonstrates the power of owning our stories. Despite the fact that these events have shaped his life, Nawabi has remained unable to speak about them, as if they were events that belonged to someone else. They have affected his relationships and the way he views the world yet his partner and friends remained unaware of the horrific moments that have caused fear and trepidation within him. Now, by sharing his story, he is giving himself the chance to take back what was taken from him. Where there once was disconnect with his soul, now he can begin to become whole. 

Passionate and personal, it’s quite possible that you may have never seen a documentary quite like Flee. With creativity and style, Rasmussen creates a visual treat for the eyes that accentuates his narrative. However, the real story here is not the format. The most powerful aspect of Flee is Nawabi himself as he bears his soul with honesty and humility. With each reveal, one senses that Nawabi has taken a more difficult path with the potential for massive reward. 

By sharing his story in Flee, he has chosen to no longer run from his past… and he is giving himself the chance to heal as a result.

Flee is available in theatres on Friday, December 3rd, 2021.

Julia: For the Love of Cooking

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Some people love cooking while others cook for the sake of love.

Beginning with her conservative childhood, the new documentary Julia explores the life and love of television icon, Julia Child. After her time in the military, Child married and moved to France. It was here that her life was changed forever. From her first meal in a Parisian restaurant, she knew that she would ‘never turn back’. Enrolling in Paris’ Le Cordon Bleu, Child’s passion became creating quality meals in the home and passing that knowledge onto others. With her distinctive voice and bubbly personality, she quickly became an unlikely television star at age 50 but, in doing so, also found herself battling the gender barriers of the time.

Practically perfect in its tone and execution, Julia is a heartwarming and sweet film with a little bit of extra space added in. Directed by Julie Cohen and Betsy West (RBG), Julia demonstrated the life and impact of a woman who may be misunderstood by many. At first glance, Child may appear to represent an era dominated by toxic masculinity as the stereotypical ‘woman cooking in the kitchen’. However, Julia’s exceptional storytelling paints a very different picture of her by shining a light on her rebellious and courageous spirit.

With enthusiasm and energy, the film celebrates Child’s desire to break down gender barriers by using her platform in the kitchen as a symbol of equality. For example, when she began her career, her presence was considered controversial due to the fact that most French kitchens were dominated by men. As she began her culinary education, her presence was not welcomed by the men in her peer group. Even so, she persisted, demanding that they view her as one of their own. In this way, Child became one of the first feminists to break through in an industry dominated by men. She was passionate about women’s rights reproductive and was fierce in the board room. Though she was brought up in a staunchly Conservative home, she challenged people to discuss issues difficult topics such as sexuality at a time when it was not considered ‘proper’ to do so. By way of her refusal to be treated differently, Child quickly became an advocate for women everywhere.

With charm and intellect, Child had the unique ability to make the complex seem simple and, in doing so, changed the way that people viewed meal preparation. During an era when TV dinners and convenience dominated the home, Child suggested that anyone could cook and wanted to empower them to do so. Like the French masters that taught her, she understood that the ability to prepare a meal was not only an art form. It was also a celebration of life. What’s more, she also believed that cooking was not merely a necessity but a pleasure and a delight. Inspired by the deep love that she had for her husband, Child believed that cooking was one of the best ways that a person could make a home healthy. (Incidentally, her philosophy of the ‘Three F’s’ is surprisingly hilarious.) For Julia, one cooked for others as an expression of love, not merely obligation.

There was a joy of creation within it that she wanted all to experience.

In the end, Julia is an absolutely delightful meal for the senses. With sizzle and fun, the film is an utter celebration of a woman who’s impact on the industry changed the way that the world understood the kitchen. Even so, her greatest contribution lay beyond the cutting boards and sauce pans. Instead, Julia reveals that Child’s strength and determination were her true superpower as she also fought to open doors for women everywhere.

Julia is now playing in select theatres.

The Power of the Dog: Poisonous Image and Personal Courage

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Trying to maintain an image can be exhausting. In The Power of the Dog though, we see that trying to live up to public expectations can also kill the soul.

Although they have built a successful ranch together, brothers George and Phil Burbank could not be more different. Elder brother Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) maintains a rough and dirty exterior who consistently praises his masculine mentor, Bronco Bill. Meanwhile, George (Jesse Plemons) is a sensitive soul who wants to be a part of the cultural elite. When George meets Rose (Kirsten Dunst), he is immediately smitten by her. After they wed, he welcomes his new bride and her son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee) back to the ranch. However, as family secrets begin to surface, tensions between Phil, Rose and Peter begin to rise, threatening the family dynamics.

Directed by Jane Campion, The Power of the Dog is a return to form for the director. In her first directorial effort since 2009’s Bright Star, Campion’s latest is a stirring character drama that operates on a slow burn amidst the heat of the desert. Bleaching the screen with pale, warm colours, Campion uses the land to visually display the emotional dryness that her characters are experiencing. Although they live and work in this land, this is a place of death and parchedness of the soul.  

Led by a cast that includes Dunst, Smit-McPhee and the always rock-solid Plemons, it should be no surprise that Dog features some great work from everyone involved. However, the most noteworthy performance comes from Cumberbatch who absolutely transforms himself as Phil. Known for his affable charm and smile, Cumberbatch fully leans into the sexually-confused curmudgeon that he plays and offers one of his best and most unique performances. Although Phil maintains a rough exterior, Cumberbatch also manages to break through his beastliness and infuses his character with humility and even fear. 

Somewhat unexpectedly, the film takes its title from Psalm 22:20 but the allegory becomes quite appropriate. In this particular Biblical passage, psalmist David is mourning that his life is under constant attack from his enemies. Crying out to God for salvation, he pleads “Deliver me from the sword, my precious life from the power of the dog.” There is an anguish and anxiety that pervades this passage that reveals the fear of its author at the hands of his adversaries. As a result, Campion subtly uses this text to establish the sort of inner suffering that her characters experience, especially Phil Burbank.

While the ‘gay cowboy’ trope has admittedly become a cinematic staple since Brokeback Mountain broke down barriers, Power of the Dog is more of an exploration of masculine culture than it is a love story. Set at a time when gender roles were supposed to be clearly defined, Dog speaks to the damage that can be done to the soul when who we really are fails to meet those expectations. In almost every case, the characters within this film have an image that they seek to maintain. George insists on giving the impression that he is of high society. Rose desperately wants to keep people from seeing her alcoholism. Most importantly though, Phil is a brute who desperately seeks to cover up his own homosexuality. Here, every primary character is living some form of lie that prevents them from being who they fully are.

As a result, in an interesting twist, the most powerful character in the film may actually be the one who is perceived to be the weakest. As a young artist who dresses flamboyantly, Peter is looked down upon by the brutish cowboys that work on the ranch. However, he is also the only one who is not trying to hide who he really is. Comfortable in his own skin, Pete dresses how he likes and is willing to stand out of the crowd. 

Peter’s self-empowerment draws Phil’s attention with an ire that stems from admiration. In other words, although Phil begins by bullying the young man, its fairly easy to tell that these aggressive acts are merely over-compensation and rooted in his own envy of Peter’s confidence. For his entire life, Phil has admired his idol, Bronco Bill for the power and masculine dominance that he demonstrated. Staring off into the mountains for the proverbial dog, Phil recognizes that his life means more than what others can see yet he seems powerless to experience it. However, in Pete, Phil discovers a wholeness and sense of self that creates a new form of respect in him. 

Whereas Phil remains trapped within his own harsh image, Pete is free to be himself. 

With heat and affection, Campion’s Power of the Dog is a subversive examination of masculine stereotypes and their toxic effect on the soul. By subverting the tropes of the western genre, she opens a space for conversation surrounding what it means to lean into who you really are, even if it defies expectations of the dominant culture.

The Power of the Dog is available in theatres on Friday, November 17thth, 2021 and will make its debut on Netflix on December 1st, 2021.

Spencer: Freeing the Ghosts of Camelot

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Christmas with the family can be a challenge for anyone. However, in Pablo Larrain’s Spencer, it becomes an absolute nightmare.

Set during the three days surrounding Christmas, Spencer focuses on the emotional journey of Princess Diana (Kristen Stewart) as she struggles to survive her holidays with the Royal Family. With her marriage crumbling and knowledge of Charle’s affair with Camilla now public knowledge, Diana arrives at Sandringham emotionally exhausted and looking forward to time with her sons. However, as she is forced to endure soul-draining traditions that leave her empty, she continues waste away internally. Broken and weary, Diana begins to rebel against the decorum that she has come to despite, raising the ire of a new employee (Timothy Spall) who has been hired to keep her under his strict watchful eye.

In Spencer, director Pablo Larrain weaves a tale that feels more like gothic horror than it does a tale of royalty. As his follow-up to the superb character drama Jackie, this film takes a more thematic approach to its narrative than it does factual recreation of events. In other words, rather than tell a traditional biographical story, Larrain blends both whimsical elements and factual events into a mixture entirely his own. (For instance, the opening text informs the audience that this is a ‘fairy tale based on actual trauma’.) In doing so, he is able to create his own reality that also still feels true to Diana’s emotional stress over her last few years in the Royal Family. 

Of course, anchoring the film’s success is a truly remarkable performance by its star. Kristen Stewart has always excelled when she plays characters who are struggling to cope. Even so, to play Diana requires so much more of her. As one of the most identifiable and beloved characters of the 20th Century, the role of the Princess of Wales would pose an incredible challenge to any actress. However, Stewart provides a memorable performance as the People’s Princess that feels authentic to the icon. As Diana, she does an excellent job recreating the mannerisms and voice that made her recognizable around the world. Yet, she also fuels her performance with a sadness and confined rage that takes the focus off of the glamour and reveals the pain of her soul. (However, it’s also worth noting that the moments that are most memorable come when she’s allowed to laugh and have some fun. These brief glimpses of joy are the moments that truly allow Stewart to sparkle onscreen.)

Opening with a shot of a bird being rolled over by military convoy, Spencer is another tale that takes place in the middle of the life of a fallen hero. Taking place over three days over Christmas, Larrain structures the film around a time for family and celebration, yet this is hardly a time for levity. At every turn, this is a reminder of how this beautiful bird was trampled under the weight of tradition and masculine pressure. When she arrives at Sandringham, she is ordered that she must weigh herself before the weekend to be able to measure how much enjoyment was taken from the meals. She is told that she is viewed as ‘currency to be traded’ and that that is where her value lies. Then, when she finally confronts Charles, she is refuted, being told that she needed to be two people. Very much the victim of systemic abuse and control from the powers that be, Diana is forced into an emotional box by Royal traditions and etiquette. (“It’s just a bit of fun after all,” she is repeatedly reminded.) As a result, she struggles to cope with the unreasonable expectations placed upon her that steal pieces of her soul and quietly descends into her own madness. (Incidentally, while the film maintains a slow pace throughout its runtime, this is undoubtedly intentional. Like the ticking of the clock, Larrain wants the viewer to experience time as Diana does while she endures the horrors of the holiday.)

In order to further exemplify this, Larrain visually leans into the mystique of the Monarchy while also heavily accentuating its darker edges. While there are those who would view the hallowed halls of Sandringham Estate as a modern-day Camelot filled with royal servants and quaint traditions, Spencer takes a decidedly different view. Instead of emphasizing Elizabethan charm and mystique, Lorraine imbues the country house with an ominous sense of oppression and dread. Despite its size and grandeur, Lorraine makes the buildings feel claustrophobic. Patterns on the wall feel like prison bars. Morning fog creates an atmosphere of captivity rather than captivation. No matter the time of day, the manor appears suffocating.

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As these traumas unravel, Diana is shown to be a woman who is being haunted by ghosts, both figuratively and literally. Plagued by appearances by Anne Bolin, she is reminded of the toxic nature of her relationship with her husband. Stuck in a dead relationship, Diana aches for the simple life and wishes to be the person that she was 10 years ago when this all began. She yearns to find the joy that she wants held that has been stripped of her and wants to protect her children in the same way. However, despite being held under the watchful eye of the Monarchy, Diana gradually begins to kick against the culture of repression. Pressured by the power of the monarchy to conform, Diana’s inner strength begins to bubble to the surface and she begins to take matters into her own hands. (Never has drapery taken on such significance within a film.) For Diana, pleasing the system that surrounds her is not as important as the health of her soul and so she looks for opportunities to give herself space to breathe again.

In the end, Spencer is a unique look at toxic oppression and its relationship to the soul. While this fable may not be based on actual events, Larrain’s film still feels like an authentic representation of reality. With elegance and patience, he constructs thoughtful piece that gives voice to a young woman who had hers taken from her by a system designed to maintain the image of perfection. While others may view it as ‘little bit of fun’, Larrain shows that, in the case of Diana, it’s no laughing matter.

Spencer is available in theatres on Friday, November 5th, 2021.

The Electrical Life of Louis Wain: Caring and Connecting Through Cats

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Whether or not you consider yourself a ‘cat person’, there’s something electrical about the life of Louis Wain.

Set in Victorian London of the 1880s, The Electrical Life of Louis Wain tells the story of Louis Wain (Benedict Cumberbatch), an academy-trained artist who earns his keep by drawing portraits of animals from the county fair. Living with his mother and five younger sisters, Wain was committed to supporting his family yet constantly seemed to find himself at odds with the rest of society. However, his demeanor changes when he hires Emily Richardson (Claire Foy), a loving and inquisitive governess to care for his sisters. Despite their class differences, romance blooms between them. As such, their relationship frustrates his sister Caroline (Andrea Riseborough), causing tension within the family structure.

Directed by Will Sharpe, The Electrical Life of Louis Wain is an engaging and heart-warming piece that celebrates one of arts most unique voices in the last 150 years. While the structure follows standard biopic structure, Sharpe’s use of colour helps give the film a very different style that blends reality with the art world itself. Backed by another all-around solid performance by Cumberbatch, Louis Wain feels surprisingly earnest for a film that focuses on a man that spent much of his life painting cats. Nevertheless, there’s something joyful embedded within the film that simply charms (and even makes you appreciate cats a little bit more).

It’s worth noting that Cumberbatch is having somewhat of a moment in his career this year. With Oscar buzz regarding his performance in The Power of the Dog and his upcoming appearance in this December’s Spider-man: No Way Home, his name is everywhere right now. However, in Louis Wain, Cumberbatch gives one of his most delightful performances in recent years. When given the opportunity, Cumberbatch can either sparkle or simmer and Sharpe’s script gives him the opportunity to do both. Although the subject matter may seem odd at first, the story allows him to show his range from silliness and flamboyance to idiosyncratic to quiet pensiveness. In light of this, while Dog is gaining much of the awards attention thus far, Louis Wain may be a better showcase for his incredible talents.

There’s simply a beauty in this story that blends the energy of art leading into the everyday. Through his use of brightly coloured matte paintings and filtered shades, Sharpe plays with reality consistently and thoroughly throughout the film. There is a moment early on where light hits a prism, allowing colour to burst forth everywhere. As this blast of colour brightens up the room, so too does Sharpe use this to become an accurate depiction of the life of Louis Wain himself. In many ways, he was a man who saw the ordinary and extraordinary ways. Although social conventions forbid it, he decided to marry a woman who is both older than him and of a lower class. At a time when cats were seen as common trash, he viewed them as treasured pets. His life was one that sparked a unique flavor of joy, even if it went against the customs of the day.

At the same time though, Louis Wain was a man who carried an incredible burden underneath the surface. Although those around him primarily focused on his idiosyncrasies, there was a much deeper resonance within his soul. Despite the fact that much of his art focused on cats, he himself had a profoundly unique way of viewing the culture of his day. Primarily, Louis Wain saw the world through relationship. It’s worth noting that the ‘electricity’ to which the title refers is not about a scientific experiment but instead points to those things that bind and connect us. Wain could feel the energy in the room and believed that that was the currency of life. In fact, his love of cats stemmed from his belief that they were creatures of energy and eclecticism that was a spark to the human experience. Like his feline artistic muses, he too carried an energy that was misunderstood by those around him. Even if he was the only one in the world who felt this way, Louis Wain understood the power of relationship and the vibrancy that can enliven people who are loved by others.

With a strangely cryptic title and enthusiastic adoration of cats, The Electrical Life of Louis Wain is an unexpected joy that speaks to the value of everyone, especially the outcasts. By giving himself the freedom to bring Wain’s art to life, Sharpe creates a world that is energized by its style and invigorated by its star. In the end, Louis Wain becomes a film which begins with a love of cats and ends with a deeper appreciation for those around us. 

The Electrical Life of Louis Wain is be available in theatres on Friday, November 5th, 2021.

Snakehead: In Dai Mah, We Trust

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The most heartbreaking thing about the American Dream is to discover that dreams simply aren’t reality.

Set on the mean streets of New York City’s Chinatown, Snakehead tells the story of Sister Tse (Shuya Chang), a young mother whose daughter is adopted by a Chinese American family during her time in jail. Recently released from incarceration, Tse hires a human trafficker to get her to America, determined to reunite with her daughter. When she arrives, she finds herself in insurmountable debt and refuses to work in local massage parlours in order to help pay it off. Because of her tenacity, she draws the attention of local crime boss Dai Mah (Jade Wu) and quickly rises up in her organization, creating tension between her and Dai Mah’s oldest son, Rambo (Sung Kang).

Directed at Evan Jackson Leong, Snakehead is an effective crime thriller that fully immerses the viewer into its dark, brooding atmosphere and character journeys. Through his use of filtered colours and shadows, Leong gives power to his characters who live in the shadows. Inspired by the real life story of human-smuggler Cheng Chui Ping (aka Sister Ping), this is a world where the light of hope fails to penetrate the soul and the immigrant population. Suddenly, though they had come here to escape the traumas of home, these newcomers are forced to find ways to survive. In short, this is a place of failed dreams where the ones who find their way are the ones who have embraced the nightmare.

As Sister Tse, Shuya Chang does an excellent job providing the necessary focus and intensity that fuels her character. However, while Chang may be the one who carries the film, it’s Wu’s performance as Dai Mah that proves to be the most memorable. With quiet ferocity, Wu is simply incredible as mob boss Dai Mah, imbuing the character with both sympathy and a sinister edge. In every scene she inhabits, Dai Mah simply owns the room and Wu is an absolute joy to watch in the role.

Though the film takes the shape of a gritty crime actioner, Snakehead also critiques the falsehood of the American Dream. As she ventures to the US in search for her daughter, Sister Tse’s vision of life in America is quickly shattered. Billed as a land of opportunity, Snakehead reveals that new life in the United States is unwelcoming to many. However, in a world filled with smuggling, massage parlours and human trafficking, the criminal underworld is shown to open their doors for people who are looking for a way to survive. 

And survival is a key theme to the film.

In the world of Snakehead, everyone is simply trying to stay ahead of the curve by any means necessary. This is a world where morality is subjective to your situation and people are willing to step over each other just to make ends meet. (“Your survive my way and I’ll survive mine,” Tse is reminded.) In an effort to make it through the day, we mourn the stories of those who have had to debase themselves just also feel empathetic towards their journeys. These are people who were sold an image of hope and freedom yet find themselves trapped by a new type of slavery and chaos.

However, having said this, it’s this tension of survival that makes the rule of Dai Mah so interesting. In a (literally) cut-throat environment, Dai Mah stands as its most powerful figure. However, instead of simply ruling with fear, she carries the respect of her community. Though she’s willing to do whatever’s necessary to keep her power, she also builds an atmosphere of support, especially with new immigrants and refugees. To her, they are people who need help and support and she creates a ‘safe’ space for them to operate. As such, she seems to live two distinct yet indistinguishable lives. On the one hand, she is a force to be reckoned with. On the other, she’s created a family.

A toxic family based on darkness… but a family nonetheless.

While the concept of family is hardly new to stories about criminal activity, Snakehead links it to survival in a way that feels different than other films. Dai Mah genuinely cares about those in her community, yet so too does she demand respect if you want to remain under her protection. By becoming the only real hope in the neighbourhood, she leaves few options for those who are attempting to start a new life. 

In this corner of New York, survival and joining the family are the same thing.

While the film will go unnoticed by many, there’s a lot to like about Snakehead. Led by solid performances from Shuya Chang and Jade Wu, the film has the style and tenacity necessary to keep crime thrillers intriguing. Moreover, by sitting in the shadows of the immigrant experience, Snakehead also exposes the lies of the American Dream and begs the question of what it really takes to survive.

To hear our interview with Jade Wu, click here (YouTube) or here (audio)

Snakehead is available on VOD and Digital on Friday, October 29th, 2021.

Last Night in Soho: Only Murder in the Building

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The scariest thing about the present is that it may not be that different from the past.

Last Night in Soho tells the story of Eloise (Thomasin McKenzie), a young woman who moves from the English countryside to study fashion in London. Struggling to adjust to life in the big city, Eloise feels ostracized by the school elite and its hierarchy of cliques so she decides to rent a flat in Soho. Here, her life is changed forever when she becomes psychologically linked with Sandy (Anya Taylor-Joy), a vibrant and energetic singer who lives in 1966. Passionate about the era’s music and flair, the 60s have always inspired Eloise and the experience invigorates her work in the present. However, as Sandy’s dreamy lifestyle is revealed to be a nightmare, the present and past collide into a vivid swirl of horror. 

Directed by Edgar Wright, Last Night in Soho is both visual treat and terrifying trauma at the same time. In Soho, he has created a story that is entirely unique and speaks to the power of the ghosts that haunts us. Visually and sonically, Soho is an absolute delight. Edgar Wright has always had a way of creating pop fizz with style and substance and this is no exception. Though the past is viewed at first with a lens of affection, Wright never allows the viewer to get too comfortable there. An ode to psychedelic filmmaking of a bygone era, Wright strips the style down into its horror elements as reality and the dream world blur together and unravel. Whereas the 60s are first shown with bright colours that carry a certain swing and panache, Wright gradually allows those shades to gradually bleed out into oversaturated madness.

One of the staples of 60s nostalgia is the sound track and here he has created something truly special. Similar to his previous effort in Baby Driver, music sets the tone for the film and even becomes a character within it. However, rather than simply offer the more well-known version of the era’s pop hits, Wright instead substitutes lesser known versions such as Sandie Shaw’s “(There’s) Always Something There To Remind Me” or Jamie Ray’s “Got My Mind Set On You”. In doing so, Wright builds a bridge between eras by offering you what you think you knew but then spinning it into the unfamiliar.

For Wright, carrying nostalgia for the past becomes both enthralling and disturbing. For instance, Eloise is a young woman who is never truly comfortable in the big city of the modern era. In short, she simply doesn’t fit. Yet, when she steps into the 60s, the experience invigorates her. Stepping into the life of Sandy, Eloise feels confident, beautiful and powerful. Increasingly, Eloise becomes a woman who yearns for the simplicity and style that the 60s represent to her. Burdened by the pain in the present, she is invigorated by the pop styles from the past. 

However, the true horror of Soho is that all of the joys and fun that she imagined that era to exemplify are stripped away when she discovers the seedy underbelly that lies beneath. Suddenly, the 1960s are no longer her safe haven but a place of terror and pain, especially for women. This is an era of toxic masculinity at its worst, especially for aspiring young women who want to leave their mark. (Incidentally, Matt Smith excels in this type of role where he’s allowed to exhibit his charm with an edge of vicious madness underneath.) Muted by the endless parade of men in her life, the struggles of young Sandy have been silenced for over 50 years and Eloise is determined to let her speak.

As such, Last Night in Soho is very much a film that wants to elevate the stories of women of the past, especially those who have experienced trauma in a male dominated society. Co-written by Kristy Wilson-Cairns, Soho seeks justice for those who had their voices stolen from them at the hands of others. (However, without spoilers, it is also worth noting that the film’s finale almost calls this clarity of direction into question.) As Eloise ventures more deeply into the story of Sandy, her heart breaks for the sparkling young vision of a woman who lost her innocence. For Eloise, uncovering the story of Sandy becomes a mission of mercy. Although no one knows who she is today, her story still matters. 

No matter how much time has passed, Sandy still matters.

As a result, Last Night in Soho manages to both celebrate and confront an era which holds a unique place in pop culture history. Known as the era of the Beatles, Woodstock and social change, the 1960s carry an energy that charms youth to this day. However, if we are truly honest, revisiting that time also reveals a darker side to history. Despite the romantic charm of the era, Soho serves as a reminder of the poison that bubbled underneath the pop nostalgia and that that same toxicity still exists to this day.

Last Night in Soho is be available in theatres on Friday, October 29nd, 2021.