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Don’t Worry, Darling: Haunted by Toxic Nostalgia (Spoilers)

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Within certain sectors of American Christianity – particularly those on the Nationalism side of the fence – is a huge enamoring of 1950’s – mid 1960’s culture. In their minds, those suburban Leave It To Beaver days was America at its most perfect. Perfectly manicured homes. Beautiful landscaping. The dinner parties. The laughter. Girls were girls and men were men…

…unlike 2022 when women were finding success as doctors working 30 hour shifts, CEO’s, managers, project directors and countless other careers. These women are thriving. Some of their men, not so much. Job opportunities run dry. Passion is lost. They let their hair grow out and just sit in front of the computer salty and jealous because their women have lives of their own and they don’t. 

And that is the plight of Jack (Harry Styles); who watches his wife Alice (Florence Pugh) working those shifts with a simmering rage and jealousy. One day while searching the internet, he finds a podcast ran by Frank (Chris Pine), the leader of the Victory Project. Victory promises Jack the life that he wants – where he can be THE MAN and Alice can be the dainty little girly wife he wants her to be. 

So…as with all 2022 era movies, he arranges the both of them to be put into…a 1950’s metaverse. In said metaverae, Alice is the perfect wife. Dinner prepped every night. Ballet classes daily to practice uniformity. Clothes immaculate. Swinging and swanky dinner parties. Passionate PASSIONATE sex. It all seems perfect…

…except for Alice being haunted. Haunted by memories of a forgotten past. Haunted by her neighbor who has caught on the deception. Haunted by an overwhelming sense of being trapped and suffocated. 

Here’s the kicker about Don’t Worry Darling: the first 90 minutes of the flick are all in the metaverse. We don’t find out what REALLY happened – as detailed in the first section of this review – till the last 30 minutes or so. The moment we find out just what the heck is going on, I grinned. 

Why?

Because I thought about those Nationalists. I thought about those pastors who have been outed for their indiscretions. I thought about those men who lost their careers over #metoo #timesup and others. 

I thought about the vitriol I’ve seen from Christian communities, social media pages and comments from 10001 posts that shame our sisters for rising up and taking their authority as women of God AND women of modern society. I remembered the jealousy. The mocking. The sneering. The hate. The blaming of “woke” and “liberal culture.” The tweets I saw from Christian leaders and influencers that insinuate that women who pursue careers and college degrees are being deceived by Satan in an attempt to destroy God’s plan and design for family. To them, true deliverance is to go back to a modern day hybrid of that 1950’s utopia with Jack in his board meetings having cocktails after work and Alice in her SUV/Minivan shuffling off to school dropoffs, Target runs, soccer practices and all that…while she’s secretly haunted by memories of the woman she once was; the woman she STILL wants to be. 

Yeah. I thought about all that. Amazing how Olivia Wilde and team packed all that allegory into this movie. This is one of those “either you get it or you don’t” kind of movies. I got it. And every time I think about it – and the truth and lies that it exposes, I can’t stop grinning!

Don’t Worry Darling is now available in theatres.

TIFF ’22: MURU

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Written and directed by Tearepa Kahi, MURU tells the story of ‘Taffy’ Tawharau (Cliff Curtis), a Maori police sergeant who spends his time in relative quiet. Caring for his ailing father and driving a school bus, Taffy is a respected voice in the community. Though, unbeknownst to Taffy, trouble is brewing as the government has their area under surveillance for potential terrorist threats. The current focus of their investigation is Tame Iti, a Maori rights activist who yearns to help his people reclaim their identity. Meeting around the campfire to inspire those who will listen, Iti is believed to be the leader of a home-grown terrorist cell and the tensions bubbling under the surface soon begin to boil over. 

Based on the true story of the raids against New Zealand’s indigenous population, MURU is an intense thriller that demands attention and response. From start to finish, Kahi unleashes his story with passion and heat. This is a film with a heart for justice that’s packaged in the form of a gripping action piece. Although the film plays with some of the historical nature of the events, MURU reveals the damage caused by an oppressive government over the past century that have left irreparable scars on the Moari people.

Leading the way are some wonderful performances by its cast, especially that of Curtis and Jay Ryan. As Taffy, Curtis reveals the humility and humanity of his character as he attempts to reconcile his own emotional conflict. At the same time, Ryan brings a conflicted strength to military leader, Gallagher. Gallagher is a man whose responsibility is to the job yet, as the film progresses, he, too, must decide with the ramifications what he is willing to do when the mission no longer makes any sense. As things begin to escalate, the chemistry between the two actors helps draw out the brokenness of the situation by exposing the unfair 

In a lot of ways, MURU is a rallying cry for an indigenous population that continues to fight for their voice to be heard. Misunderstood by the military and the government, they are viewed as criminals through the lens of toxicity and racial bias. This is a world where carrying a broom to clean up your mess can be considered a concealed weapon and family disputes are viewed with ire by a government that does not understand. Interestingly, MURU is wise to be told in both English and their native language, as this is very much a film about the damage created by a lack of communication. Armed by their own flawed perceptions, the New Zealand government had created their own narrative about live amongst the Indigenous population long before the raids began. Although they espoused the desire to ‘keep the peace’, their selfish interests and false beliefs shaded their judgment and prevented any opportunity for them to build bridges between the two cultures. MURU catches this tension beautifully by highlighting misunderstandings that escalated into violence instead of creating spaces for conversation. 

What ensues is a tension that causes issues between both worlds and several of its main characters appear torn between two sides. The best example of this within the film remains Taffy, the indigenous police officer whose life is torn between his culture and his badge. Although he believes in justice, what he witnesses forces him to make a choice. Caught between his demands as an officer of the law and his commitment to his people who are being oppressed, Taffy wants to live with integrity yet struggles to know what that means. As MURU blurs the lines between right and wrong, so too does it acknowledge the need for police protection while also showing the horrific reality of police brutality. 

In this way, MURU wears its heart on its sleeve, crying out for justice in a place where there is none. 

To hear our conversation with Tearepa Kahi, Cliff Curtis and Jay Ryan, click here.

MURU premiered at TIFF ’22. For more information, click here.

TIFF ’22: My Policeman

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Directed by Michael Grandage, My Policeman is a love story that wants to demonstrate the height of passion yet leaves the viewer disappointed. Despite its willingness to show graphic scenes of sexuality, the film feels less like a breakthrough for the LGBTQ community and more of a failed opportunity to process the pain of the past.

Set in the 1990s, married couple Tom and Marion (Linus Roache and Gina McKee) live a contented and quiet life. However, their tranquility is threatened with their friend Patrick (Rupert Everett) suffers a severe stroke that requires Marion to invite him into their home to care for him. When she tells him of her decision, Tom is furious at his wife and refuses to speak with their old friend. Sitting in their grief and anger, Tom, Marion and Patrick reflect upon their youth (played by Harry Styles, Emma Corrin and David Dawson) and the complex and complicated relationships that set their world into motion.

In many ways, the most divisive aspect of Policeman will remain its cast. Led by Styles and Everett, the film has a certain sense of chemistry within the two groupings that helps their performances on screen. However, at the same time, there’s also seems to be something missing. 

Written by Ron Nyswaner, Policeman has an excellent opportunity to explore the injustice of oppression against the homosexual community. Set primarily during a time when homosexuals were thrown into prison for their behaviour, the film highlights their desire to express their love without fear or persecution. At this time, to be known as a homosexual meant imprisonment or worse and they are left to find one another amongst the shadows. Even so, within Nyswaner’s script, this potentially compelling conversation settles for bland romance and leaves its cast adrift in the process.

So, unfortunately for this viewer, the verdict is still out.

My Policeman premiered at TIFF ’22. For more information, click here. 

TIFF ’22: How to Blow Up a Pipeline

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Written and directed by Daniel Goldhaber, How to Blow Up a Pipeline begins with Xochitl (Ariela Barer) slashing the tires of a nearby SUV in order to send a message. Committed to environmental protection, she believes that it is her responsibility to punish those who care little about the planet, especially if the law ignores them. Frustrated and hurt by the damage left by the climate crisis, Xochitl begins to recruit a team of like-minded people who are willing to take matters into their own hands by targeting a West Texas pipeline in an effort to garner some justice.

Set amidst the dry heat of Texas, How to Blow Up a Pipeline is an absolutely gripping thriller about a team of young environmentalists who set out on a mission to save the planet. Brilliantly executed by Goldhaber, Pipeline throws you into the action from the outside and never lets go. Following its characters with a broken narrative style, Goldhaber keeps the emphasis on the moment while also never forgetting the individual journeys that brought them together. As a result, he is able to reveal the motivations of his characters in ways that actually add to the overall storytelling and augmenting the heist itself. 

With fire and fury, Goldhaber demonstrates both the personal and environmental urgency of their convictions. Having all been broken by the recklessness of environmental destruction, the emphasis on their stories helps us to empathize with the convictions of each character, giving us the opportunity to support their acts of violence. Their interest lies solely in making the corporate world suffer for their actions without the cost of any human life in the process. In doing so, Goldhaber acknowledges that illegality of their actions yet justifies it as an act of rebellion for the greater good. 

How to Blow Up a Pipeline premiered at TIFF ’22. For more information, click here.

TIFF ’22: Corsage

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Set in Vienna in 1877, Corsage tells the story of Empress Elisabeth of Austria (Vicky Krieps) as she celebrates her 40th birthday with her husband Emperor Franz Joseph (Florian Teichtmeister). Elisabeth lives a life of luxury, yet there is an ache in her soul. Feeling imprisoned in an loveless relationship, she goes largely ignored by her husband. What’s more, as rumours and whispers emerge, her reputation becomes sullied by quiet accusations of infidelity. As she moves to Bavaria to find a new beginning, she quickly discovers that, even in a new location, she will never be free.

Written and directed by Vicky Kreutzer, Corsage is the true story of one woman’s fight for strength at a time of oppression. At the hands of toxic, masculine power, Elisabeth’s life was one of tragedy as she was forced to take on a role that was far beneath her. As the wife of Emperor Franz Joseph, her place was meant to be one dominated by male power. In the same way that her bodice around her is gradually tightened, so too is Elisabeth become increasingly strangled within her own home. 

With a deep frustration and an inner rage, Krieps portrays Elisabeth as a woman on the edge. Krieps imbues the Queen with a claustrophic strength that is waiting for the opportunity to explode at any moment. Through her performance, the viewer understands that Elisabeth was a woman of strength who is willing to do whatever it takes to experience life yet remains without room to breathe. Questions of sexuality, indiscretion and speaking out of turn hang over her head, leaving her in the crosshairs of others in the regime.

Yet she continues to kick at the darkness.

Corsage premiered at TIFF ’22. For more information, click here.