Eavesdropping At The Movies

Horror tropes pervade I'm Thinking of Ending Things, Charlie Kaufman's oddball drama about a girl doubting her relationship, but it can't be considered a traditional horror. Instead, it turns these tropes inwards, likening a controlling, toxic relationship to an isolated, threatening, haunted house. It's a fascinating and brilliant idea, but despite the film being well-observed and intriguing, it's not engaging enough, and offers little opportunity for confident interpretation. Mike has little sympathy for its developing surreality; José wants more humour. Still, it's an ambitious, interesting film, and worth delving into. Recorded on 27th September 2020.

Birmingham's full-size IMAX cinema closed in 2011, having proved unprofitable (the independent venue it became, the Giant Screen, closed four years later for the same reason), so it's off to the Manchester Printworks, home of the second-largest screen in the UK, for our second viewing of Tenet. We ask whether the full IMAX experience is worth it, Mike comparing the feeling of the images offered to those he saw in Dunkirk and The Dark Knight; José argues that it's detrimental to the film to be exhibited in different cinema formats, as shooting in IMAX's 1.43:1 aspect ratio, where the film is supposedly best seen, with the knowledge that it'll be cropped for conventional cinema screens for its wide release and home media, means that artistic, interesting composition is impossible - you can't compose well for two frames at once. Mike suggests that an easily overlooked pleasure of Christopher Nolan's cinema is turning his films over in your own head, playing with the logic, asking questions of it and trying to u

After a long wait and three delays, Christopher Nolan's latest high-concept blockbuster, Tenet, has finally arrived in British cinemas. This description is a spoiler-free zone, but the podcast is decidedly not, so tread carefully before you listen: We spill every secret the film has to hold. The ones we could figure out, anyway. Following our revisitation of five of Nolan's massive flicks - the Dark Knight trilogy, Interstellar, and Inception - we're keen to see how Tenet fits amongst its brethren. We consider, as we have done repeatedly, Nolan's action direction, the aesthetic design, the tone, the concept that drives everything, how it's explained, what we love, what let us down, and, well... to detail anything further would be indecent. Mike is gobsmacked by it, finding brilliance in some of the film's execution, though is keen to make more than a few criticisms. José is much colder towards it, dismissing it as no more interesting than comic books for children - can Mike's enthusiasm rub off on him? Tene

What She Said: The Art of Pauline Kael gives us the opportunity to reflect on a woman who, for José, stands above all other popular film critics, and whose work has always remained resonant. Pauline Kael effused about, excoriated, and defined an era of cinema and the culture that surrounded it, and changed the way films were written about. Through interviews with other critics, filmmakers and her daughter, Gina James, What She Said tells the story of Kael's life, work, philosophies, and controversies. And not very well. The documentary doesn't ask interesting enough questions about Kael's life, glossing over areas that just beg to be explored, such as the relationship that produced Kael's daughter, which is handled only with a cursory line of superimposed text. José finds fault with the use of Sarah Jessica Parker to recite excerpts of Kael's reviews, feeling it to be wasted time; Mike argues that we're here because of her work, so it's sensible to include examples of it, and the use of appropriate film clip

An ambitious, large-scale Netflix production, The Old Guard throws special ops, behind-enemy-lines-style action together with intriguing superhero-style mythology. Charlize Theron leads a team of immortal warriors, ranging from hundreds to thousands of years old, who find themselves on the run from corporate and military-industrial pursuers. José is captured by the film from the beginning, his love for Theron's action stardom and the film's mysterious setup pulling him in; Mike takes an age to warm up to it, his inherent suspicion of all things Netflix keeping him wary. But when the story develops its romantic side, he softens, and both agree on what the film does best: the defiant declaration of love from one man to another, surrounded by armour-plated, heavily armed police. The Old Guard approaches representation of different sexualities and ethnicities in heartfelt, open ways, and the prospect of sequels that develop that further - perhaps even a universe - is promising. Ultimately, José loves The Old Gu

Could we have found a Christopher Nolan film that José actually enjoys? We explore the brilliantly imagined and executed Inception, a heist movie set inside the human mind, talking up the intelligence and creativity with which the central concept is used, the elegant and effective intercutting and structure, and the noirish, expressive romance that underpins the entire affair. We've had some disappointments with Interstellar and the Dark Knight trilogy, but Inception was just the antidote. Boy, are we fired up for Tenet now. Recorded on 14th August 2020.

We finish off Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy with The Dark Knight Rises, the most entertaining and enjoyable of the three films. In a Gotham free of crime thanks to the draconian Dent Act, passed in the wake of Harvey Dent's murder at, so the story goes, the hands of Batman, who hasn't been seen since, the intriguing, intimidating, revolutionary figure of Bane arrives to terrorise and occupy the city. A recluse since the events of The Dark Knight, the threat of Bane gets Bruce Wayne back in his cowl, but he finds he's met his match. We again question the film's politics, Mike arguing that its fascism isn't so much particular to this series as a core component of Batman in principle, and that maybe the most a Batman story can do is ignore it, rather than fix it. Its aesthetics come back into focus too, in its cinematic style and militaristic sensibility, José taking issue with both, though he loves the opening set piece. He finds a new appreciation for Michael Caine, and we take pleasure in the new additi

Having established a muted tone in Batman Begins, Christopher Nolan's Batman series receives a welcome injection of flair in Heath Ledger's Joker, the villain and main attraction of 2008's The Dark Knight. Ledger's Joker captured imaginations and helped the film to a billion dollar box office gross, back when hitting that milestone was rare. José, as with Batman Begins, never got The Dark Knight, while Mike was so hyped for it that he saw it twice in IMAX before its official release. We discuss what holds up today and what doesn't, what the appeal is, the 70mm IMAX cinematography, how and why the film became a cultural meme, and what ideologically drives it. Recorded 5th August 2020.

Planet Earth is dying, dust storms are wiping out crops, and all-American single dad, former NASA pilot and corn farmer Matthew McConaughey is our last hope for survival. A "ghost" appears in his daughter's bedroom, appearing to communicate by affecting gravity, and decoding the messages leads our hero to discover the last remnants of NASA, their observations of a wormhole near Saturn, and their journeys through it to planets that might be able to sustain human life. Eventually convinced of the plan's value and necessity, McConaughey agrees to lead a mission through the wormhole himself, leaving his family behind, but hoping to rescue them in the long term. Mike was moved and surprised by Interstellar upon its release in 2014, but on this second viewing moves significantly towards José's unimpressed response, wondering whether it was simply the novelty of seeing new things to which he responded so positively. He compliments the film's scientific literacy, but complains that its dedication to incorporating sc

Cineworld's reopening brings socially distanced screenings of past hits while the studios figure out their strategies for new releases, and with the highly anticipated and imminent release of Christopher Nolan's new sci-fi, Tenet, his previous blockbusters are once again showing. José chooses Batman Begins, hoping to understand what he didn't get when he first saw it in 2005, and why it matters. To Mike's generation and demographic, Batman Begins is, if not a great film, an important one, as its muted aesthetic and attempt to render Batman and Gotham as plausible entities, capable of existing in the real world, signalled a significant difference from the outlandishness of both previous and contemporary comic book adaptations, and its tone conveyed a seriousness of purpose - how honestly or successfully is up for debate - that contributed to the idea that superhero films could begin to be taken seriously and even considered as Oscar contenders. And, although his previous three films had all been successful, B

Our exploration of William Friedkin ends almost where it began, with his second collaboration with Tracy Letts, who, following the adaptation of his second play, Bug, adapts for the screen his first, Killer Joe. A key film in Matthew McConaughey's career, one of the first in what would become known as the McConaissance, Killer Joe sees his seductive, charming romcom persona repurposed to threatening, chilling effect in the ugly world of trailer parks and contract killing. We discuss THAT scene with the chicken leg, and compare and contrast it to THAT scene with the crucifix in The Exorcist, asking what might be outrageous about one but not the other. We ask what we're missing in Letts' screenplay that others see, and José argues that Friedkin has throughout his career been drawn to second-rate source material - material that here is unquestionably elevated by the cast, who are almost all excellent and believable, in particular Gina Gershon, of whom demanding things are asked, and Juno Temple, who carries wit

No exploration of William Friedkin would be complete without The Exorcist, 1973's iconic horror about a little girl possessed by a demon, and so watch it we do. We watch the theatrical cut, which Mike's excited to see, since the only one he's seen before is "The Version You've Never Seen", the extended cut released in 2000, and he finds this version superior, with better pacing and fewer distractions. José has always had a significant problem with the crucifix scene, and we go into why, and he argues that the film exhibits a desire to shock above all else that is typical of Friedkin. Mike argues for the sympathy we feel for Father Karras and his centrality - Max von Sydow's Father Merrin is in theory the eponymous exorcist, but is that actually the case? And we think over much more besides, including the thrill of the special effects, the disparity between how Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells is used and its subsequent iconic synonimity with the film, whether the film should be clearer about the boundaries of i

As likeable as it is incoherent, Jade oozes style and steaminess. David Caruso's assistant district attorney, searching for the killer of a businessman, finds himself delving into a world of kink, prostitution and power, in which Linda Fiorentino, his former lover, is embroiled. William Friedkin's attraction to the taboo is at home in the world of the erotic thriller, but as enjoyable as Jade is, it's a film you watch with one eye on its substantial problems. It's a film in which everything is done for effect, and damn the consequences - especially the final twist, which turns the film's sexual liberation and power dynamics on their head, for no good reason. Still, it's a film we were both happy to watch twice, and as superficial as it may be, that surface is highly polished and glossy. Recorded on 23rd July 2020.

To Live and Die in L.A., William Friedkin's 1985 neo-noir, is kinky, colourful, offbeat and as much a Los Angeles film as The French Connection is a New York one. A young and androgynous Willem Dafoe plays a notorious counterfeiter pursued by two Secret Service agents, one by the book, the other corrupted. We discuss the film's style and tone, its subject matter and setting in L.A.'s liminal, casually confrontational criminal underworld, its sensuous cinematography, and how it reflects and contrasts with The French Connection, particularly in the context of the films' morally cloudy protagonists. José has a soft spot for To Live and Die in L.A. despite acknowledging several problematic facets to it; Mike can't say he loves it, finding little satisfying to bite on other than the extraordinarily expressive imagery and Dafoe's captivating presence. Still, it's a bold, evocative work of very, very Eighties noir, and deviant enough to keep you on your toes. Recorded on 19th July 2020.

William Friedkin remakes Henri-Georges Clouzot's The Wages of Fear, telling four strangers' tale of their two-hundred-mile journey through the South American jungle, transporting dangerously explosive cargo for a US oil company. Though a flop upon its release, we find some nice things to say about Sorcerer. It's impressively narrated, largely wordlessly, although we wouldn't have minded some character development, and Friedkin's preference for spectacle over depth is on display: as with The French Connection, the end leaves us asking, "is that all it's about?" The treatment of South America and its people is lazy if not worse, the central characters ending up in this hell as a form of cosmic punishment for their sins. But there's a keen sense of pace to Sorcerer, despite how long it takes for the journey to even begin, some memorable images, and one outstanding, stunning set-piece. Its present-day reappraisal is understandable, and despite its problems, it's worth a look. Recorded on 19th July 2020.

A classic of Hollywood crime, The French Connection paints a bleak picture of life and justice in America, as Gene Hackman's Popeye Doyle demonstrates that no matter how low the drug dealers he pursues, he can sink lower. We ask what its depiction of New York's underbelly and the accuracy of Doyle's hunches despite his revolting behaviour says about the filmmakers, and consider Pauline Kael's assertion that the film is "what we once feared mass entertainment might become". Underneath the iconic style and unforgettable chase, is there anything meaningful to The French Connection? Recorded on 14th July 2020.

Adapted from Tracy Letts' 1996 play of the same name, 2006's Bug, directed by William Friedkin, sees two lonely people with traumatic histories connect and share a descent into madness. It's a bit of an experiment, its theatrical roots obvious, some questions left unsatisfyingly unanswered, and it's not until the final act that it takes off. But it's interesting, features strong performances from Michael Shannon (who also played the role on stage) and Ashley Judd, and is essential viewing for anyone interested in Friedkin, Shannon, Judd or Letts. Recorded on 5th July 2020.

Spike Lee's latest joint sees four US Army veterans, the Bloods, return to their former battlefields in Vietnam in search of two things: the body of their fallen comrade and leader, Stormin' Norman, and a cache of gold bars, intended during the war to pay the Lahu people for their help fighting the Viet Cong, but taken and buried by the Bloods for themselves. Set in the modern day, exploring the history of black oppression and racism in the USA, and released on Netflix among a backdrop of Black Lives Matter protests around the world, Da 5 Bloods could hardly be more relevant. But is it successful? No, argues José. Spike Lee is in full-on propagandist, pamphleteer mode here, delivering lessons about racism and class, warfare and imperialism, black martyrs and heroes, but inartfully and clunkily. Although his direct address is striking and powerful, the Rambo-esque action adventure story to which it's married lacks imagination and intelligence, and really functions only as a frame from which to hang the film's

A slow, careful drama, Vitalina Varela - named for the non-professional actor at the centre, who plays a version of herself - tells a story of grief, anger, and discovery. Vitalina, abandoned by her husband in the 1980s, travels to Portugal from Cape Verde to confront him, but finds that he has passed away just days ago. She is left to explore the house he has left empty and the life he led without her for some forty years, and the film gives ample time to the feelings and questions that arise within her. We discuss the economic situation depicted - this is a slum in Lisbon, built into the ground, feeling a world away from the vibrant, wealthy capital nearby - and Varela's visual power, her performance one of presence as much as acting, as she moves slowly through the town like a ghost. Leonardo Simões' cinematography is extraordinarily beautiful, thoughtfully composed and intricately lit, and Mike remarks upon how the edges of the 4:3 frame blend into the blackness of a widescreen television, giving a feeli

A film dear to Mike's heart since childhood, and a large blot on Steven Spielberg's career despite its financial success, Hook imagines a world in which Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie's flying boy who never grows up... grows up and forgets how to fly. When the adult Peter, a workaholic corporate lawyer unaware of his origins, travels to London with his family, his children are kidnapped, forcing him to return to Neverland, confronting his past, his attitude, and his erstwhile adversary, Captain Hook. Hook is a chunky, colourful family film with flaws all over the place. Its action is unexciting, its plot composed of several disparate strands and themes that never cohere elegantly. José takes issue with Dustin Hoffman's accent and John Williams' score, finding the former pointless and unsuccessful, the latter prescriptive and overbearing. But Mike defends them, finding charm in them, and appreciating as an adult what never stuck in his mind as a child, in particular the central emotional conceit: that for all the co