Meewella | Critic

According to P

Tag: Maya Hawke

QuickView: Inside Out 2 (2024)

“Riley’s life is more complex now. She needs more sophisticated emotions than all of you. You’re just not what she needs anymore.

Anxiety

In 2015, Inside Out’s anthropomorphised emotions were a rare beacon of creativity in the midst of a Pixar slate populated by sequels. Now itself a sequel, Inside Out 2 loses some of that freshness — as well as director Pete Doctor, who went on to helm Soul — but it builds effectively on the original’s premise with a meaningful story to tell. With Riley now 13, puberty brings a flood of new teenage emotions — Anxiety, Envy, Embarassment, and Ennui — coinciding with a trip to ice hockey camp. The external coming of age story is familiar and rote; inside, Anxiety and Joy vie for control, with competing ideas about the person Riley should be. Despite a handful of cast changes, the voice acting is wonderfully engaging throughout. Visually, Inside Out 2 replicates the inner world of its predecessor without showing much new. The notable exceptions are two characters in Riley’s memory depicted in different art styles — a 2D children’s cartoon parody and a moody videogame protagonist. Their brief inclusion, whilst humourous, seems almost perfunctory and it stands in contrast to the cleverly blended animation styles found in titles like Across the Spider-verse or The Mitchells vs the Machines. This is an enjoyable but lesser sequel, then, but it contains a worthwhile message for adolescents that personality is multifaceted, a holistic reflection of our experiences and emotions.

7/10

QuickView: Asteroid City (2023)

“I still don’t understand the play.”

Augie Steenbeck

Wes Anderson’s recent films have begun to feel like pastiches of his own work. Asteroid City trades his usual literary trappings for theatrical ones, a meta narrative providing monochrome sequences — narrated by Bryan Cranston — about a play that is represented by a full-colour film in traditional Anderson style. The increased artifice makes it more difficult to connect with these characters who are now characters being portrayed by actors who are played by actors (with nothing quite so pithy as Tropic Thunder’s “I’m a dude playing a dude disguised as another dude.”). Ironically the most nuanced performance within the play is probably Scarlett Johanson’s… as a famous actress. The location, a desert town known only for its crater, feels less like a populated location than the empty shell of a theatrical set. It is unclear whether the 60s-era sci-fi technology is a deliberate anachronism or simple suited to Anderson’s aesthetic preferences. Although he blurs the edges at times, Anderson’s approach is neither as convoluted nor as ambitious as, say, Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York. That makes it easier to switch off and enjoy the contrivance for what it is, but there is little substance here.

6/10

QuickView: Maestro (2023)

“There are many things stopping me, but fear is not one of them.”

Felicia Montealegre

A musician is again the subject of Bradley Cooper’s second directorial outing, a biopic of Leonard Bernstein, the first American conductor to receive international acclaim. Although Cooper plays the titular maestro, it is Carey Mulligan who receives first billing for her powerful performance as his wife, Felicia Montealegre. Cooper uses the couple to explore the multifaceted nature of humans, the complexity of forging an identity from disparate parts, and and the strain that can place on a single partner. In his career, Bernstein refuses to be constrained, retaining his Jewish surname and embracing musical theatre composition in additional to more respected orchestral fare. Montealegre provides Bernstein with understanding and support to explore all of himself but begins to feel isolated by his lack of discretion in relationships with men. Like Oppenheimer, it now seems in vogue for biopics to eschew chronology, and Maestro jumps around repeatedly, using black and white and varied aspect ratios as the primary indicator to the audience. This structure leaves the film feeling fractured, without particularly aiding the underlying themes. Cooper again collaborates with Matthew Libatique (also Darren Aranofsky’s preferred cinematographer), who dazzles early on with his black and white composition like a face shrouded in shadow, only an eye glinting in the light. Cooper’s Bernstein is expressive under Kazu Hiro’s impressive prosthetics, and he embodies duality of the extroverted performance of the conductor (“I love people so much that it’s hard for me to be alone”) and the isolated creativity of the composer.

8/10

"A film is a petrified fountain of thought."

(CC) BY-NC 2003-2023 Priyan Meewella

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