Eavesdropping At The Movies

Sony's Spider-Man Universe has given us a charming Venom origin story, a rather less charming Venom sequel, and now another film about a well-intentioned man inadvertently possessed by something that demands he feed on humans. In Morbius, Jared Leto's brilliant scientist finds a cure for the blood disease that has tormented him and his best friend throughout their lives - except that it comes with a side of vampirism. In short, Morbius is not a success. José describes it as what people who claim to hate Marvel, which has produced some very good films, truly do hate. It's as blunt, CGI-laden and uninvolving as that kind of criticism implies. Mike tries to be fair to it - the hallway bit isn't too bad - and we agree that there's one actor to like in it, although we disagree on which one that is. José accuses the film of failing to appreciate that one thing a star should deliver is physical appeal; Mike accuses José of shallowness. But as fun as it is to tease José, Morbius is not a fun film to have to sit thr

Director Adrian Lyne, who made the Eighties his erotic, thrilling playground with Flashdance, 9½ Weeks and Fatal Attraction, returns with the erotic thriller Deep Water, his first film in twenty years. Repeatedly delayed and eventually denied a cinema release due to COVID, it's available on Hulu in the US and Amazon Prime everywhere else, and is easy to recommend - until the last act kicks in. José contends that Ben Affleck has never been better as the quietly but increasingly jealous husband of a wife who publicly and aggressively displays her unfaithfulness to him - as whom Ana de Armas gives a star-making performance. We discuss their interplay and how it grounds the film, as well as the use of setting and lighting - that dank, grimy shed in which he spends time with his snails, buried within the vision of his perfect mansion, is a wonderfully expressive metaphor for Affleck's character. We put the film's mixed reviews down to its abysmal ending, which Mike finds it hard to ignore, but don't let them put

A Palme d'Or-nominated millennial comic drama from Norway, whose lead, Renate Reinsve, won Best Actress at Cannes last year, The Worst Person in the World explores universal themes of how to find a direction in life, our expectations of our own lives and others', falling in and out of love, and how to handle the twists that life throws our way. But it speaks to José and Mike differently. To the older of us, it's a great film, one that articulates its themes with complexity and develops its characters expressively. To the younger - a millennial, to whom it should speak more directly - it's a film that's difficult to connect to, that occupies an emotional register to which he doesn't relate. We discuss that register, the ways in which the characters behave and respond to one another, the use of chapters to structure the story and narration to tell some of it, and the imagination and life of certain scenes. Many of The Worst Person in the World's qualities are obvious, but we don't agree on its greatness. As th

Referential and reverential of classic slashers from decades past, Ti West's X is likely just the sort of thing the dedicated horror fan wants to see - but to Mike, it's a pretty unsophisticated and tedious imitation of much better films, and to José, it's unpleasant, racist, sexist, and ageist. But on the plus side, no film has made him - a man who is decidedly not delighted by being frightened - jump and yell with the kind of regularity and energy that X inspired, which really livened things up for Mike. Unfortunately for you, José won't be watching it a second time, and if you can't drag him along, it's not worth it. Recorded on 28th March 2022.

In the high-concept mould of Speed and Unstoppable, Michael Bay's Ambulance gives us an ambulance, hijacked by bank robbers, that isn't allowed to stop moving. It's a real throwback to the era of genuine stunts, cars flipping over on fire, helicopters flying under bridges, and charismatic villains - with much less charm than you'd like, insultingly mechanical use of archetypes to manipulate your feelings, and low expectations of its audience. We discuss how well or badly it balances its actors, tells its story, uses its milieu to offer a portrait of the society in which it's set, and more. Recorded on 27th March 2022.

The latest in a long line of Batman reboots, The Batman claims the definite article for itself - and deserves to. Richly shot, dark, romantic expressiveness spilling from every frame, The Batman leans in hard on bringing the noir of the source material to the screen with unabashed sincerity. It's the best Batman film of them all. Recorded on 15th March 2022.

The latest in a long line of star-studded adaptations of Agatha Christie's murder mysteries, Death on the Nile sinks without trace under the weight of Kenneth Branagh's all-consuming ego. Failing to understand that one of the pleasures of such films is the attention given to the impressive cast, he instead gives his focus entirely to his own performance as Poirot, engaging in mythmaking and heroics at the expense of everybody else. In its limited capacity, the focus on Poirot in Murder on the Orient Express worked for Mike - here, there's no defending it. Recorded on 21st February 2022.

Having gone through fourteen years of development hell, the first of Sony's planned videogame adaptations arrives - Uncharted, starring Tom Holland, turns the famously cinematic action-adventure treasure-hunting puzzle-solving games into surprisingly enjoyable action-adventure treasure-hunting puzzle-solving cinema. Well, "famously" is relative - Uncharted is an enormously successful blockbuster series with which Mike is familiar, but José didn't even know there was a series on which the film was based. With the benefit of his experience, Mike discusses how the film adapts five games' worth of material and the expectations he had, and we consider the characters' relationships and personal stakes, conceptualisation of the action, the similarities and differences to Indiana Jones, and Antonio Banderas' villain. Recorded on 21st February 2022.

As Birmingham's Electric reopens following a protracted period of uncertainty as to whether it was gone for good, it turns to a programme of classics to invigorate its audience. We catch The Apartment there, Billy Wilder's dark romantic comedy, which Mike has never seen and José not for years, to discuss corporate alienation, whether the suicide story structure works, the cynicism in Wilder's work and his personal history that it can be seen as a product of, the appeal of Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine, and the takers, those who get took, and the mensches. Recorded on 3rd February 2022.

Kenneth Branagh writes and directs a drama based on his own childhood in Belfast, at the time the Troubles began. We discuss the portrayal of a happy family, the lack of effect almost every visual decision has, problems with the storytelling, and the nostalgia that runs throughout the film. It's not a skilful film, but it is a likeable one. Recorded on 3rd February 2022.

We explore 1947's Nightmare Alley, directed by Edmund Goulding, and compare it to Guillermo del Toro's new adaptation of the material, which we find superior in almost every way. Mike in particular finds, in the reflection of Goulding's version, useful ways to appreciate del Toro's, which at first blush he found uninspiring. We discuss the portrayal and use of the geek, the differences in the introduction of the protagonist (played by Tyrone Power and Bradley Cooper in the old and new films respectively), del Toro's greater focus on mood and scene setting, and how thoroughly Goulding's film adheres to the noir genre. And we express our joy at seeing del Toro's version at the grand reopening of the Electric, the UK's oldest working cinema, which we completely forgot to do in the last podcast. Recorded on 23rd January 2022.

We talk swoony visuals, alcoholism, a femme fatale pastiche, moral descent, Bradley Cooper's sexual presence and more in our discussion of Nightmare Alley, Guillermo del Toro's adaptation of William Lindsay Gresham's 1946 novel of the same name. Recorded on 21st January 2022.

José gives Mike a history lesson on the Spanish Civil War, the scars it left on Spanish culture and society, and filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar's own relationship to it and the dictatorship to which it led, under which he grew up and which fell in the few years prior to his ascent to prominence. His new film, Parallel Mothers, inspires this review of the past, embroiled as it is in confronting Spain's modern history and, José argues, adapting elements of it to the melodrama of motherhood that forms its primary plot - a plot which is used to explore questions of lies, psychic violence, and instrumentality that are part of the film’s critique of Spain’s Pact of Forgetting, its political and cultural agreement to avoid confronting the legacy of the Civil War and Franco's dictatorship, which the itch to scratch historical memory is seen to disturb. It's a film with serious flaws, and a disappointment given Almodóvar's estimable body of work, especially the masterpiece that was his most recent film, Pain and Glory, bu

We talk feminism, body horror, monsters, trans tropes, masculinity and more in our discussion of writer-director Julia Ducournau's shocking, transgressive, and surprising Titane. Recorded on 13th January 2022.

We're remotely joined by filmmaker, previous guest, and, crucially, Mike's brother, Stephen Glass, for a discussion of Paul Thomas Anderson's period romance, Licorice Pizza. Stephen last helped us explore Anderson's previous film, Phantom Thread, and again brings his knowledge of and passion for the director's work to our discussion. We consider the efficiency with which Anderson creates rich portraits of characters and their lives from few details; how the blossoming love between the protagonists, a boy of 15 and woman of 25, avoids feeling exploitative or uneasy as the age difference suggests it might; how the film is able to feel loose and free despite conforming to its genre; the likability, or otherwise, of the setting and era; Anderson's focus on faces and use of reflective surfaces; and whether one particular running joke that begins as hilariously, stunningly outrageous, overplays its hand and ends up in the realm of the unacceptable. Licorice Pizza is a sweet romance draped in a loving portrait of

Maggie Gyllenhaal's debut feature as a director, The Lost Daughter, paints a powerful portrait of Leda, a middle-aged woman for whom motherhood never came naturally, and whose exposure to a young family on holiday ferociously reminds her of her experience of raising two daughters. It's a film that bravely and forcefully repudiates the notion that motherhood should be natural to women, the key expectation of them, and joyful. We discuss Olivia Colman's performance and the appealing ordinariness she's conveyed on television and in film for two decades, and Gyllenhaal's direction of a script she wrote, which arguably omits too much context for some of what we see, but which is at its core devoted to telling its story visually, taking opportunities to spend time exploring Leda's state of mind - although it could work through some of Leda's behaviour more convincingly. Nonetheless, The Lost Daughter is a striking, expressive film that tells a story we don't often hear, about a kind of person we don't often see.

We talk subverted expectations, how an artificial performance makes sense on a character who's pretending to be something he's not, the way in which forty years of oppression eats into a person's soul, rejection of familial expectations and the performance of unspoken fraternal duty, and more, in our discussion of Jane Campion's fascinating, complex, and beautiful drama, The Power of the Dog. Recorded on 4th January 2022.

We've enjoyed Adam McKay's previous couple of films, The Big Short and Vice, in which he dramatises real events in a pointed, opinionated, satirical manner. He now brings the same attitude to the apocalypse, painting a picture of a world in which an asteroid is headed on a collision course with Earth, poised to end the human race's existence unless something is done... and nobody cares. We debate its merits and failures, agreeing that it's a comedy with few laughs, but José arguing for its place in the national theatre of ideas that cinema has always been in America, and as a response to that question we've been hearing asked for several years now - how can you satirise a reality that's this absurd to begin with? Mike asks why McKay's previous films worked where this fails, and suggests that it's an inability to be indirect, to work in poetic ways - something that's effective when being openly sarcastic, as in The Big Short and Vice, but that falls short in Don't Look Up's appeal for earnestness and depth of

Paolo Sorrentino reaches into his childhood to tell a story that's in equal parts comic and tragic, with access to the off-kilter and fabulistic, in The Hand of God - whose title references that infamous goal scored by Diego Maradona, who Sorrentino semi-seriously credits with saving his life - as he dramatises here. We discuss the imagery, the familial banter, the curious opening scene, choosing Naples over Rome, and an oddball friendship with a happy-go-lucky smuggler. Recorded on 28th December 2021.

After eighteen years away and vast changes in the blockbuster landscape in which it once broke incredible new ground, the Matrix series is back with a fourth film, The Matrix Resurrections. Keanu Reeves' Neo is once again plugged into the Matrix as Thomas Anderson, but having trouble separating reality from dreams of events that happened twenty years ago... if dreams are what they are. We discuss Resurrections' endless self-reflexivity, how it uses motifs and themes of the previous films, updating them where necessary and bringing more out of them (Mike is glad of the much improved use of mirrors). We also consider the film's inclusivity, which is key to the Wachowskis' work, and an uncomplicated joy here - it's not difficult for people from a range of ethnic backgrounds and situated in different places along sexual and gender spectra to coexist in a blockbuster with no particular importance placed upon their identities, as Resurrections proves. You just have to want to do it, and the world that results is b