Eddington

Director: Ari Aster
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Pedro Pascal, Emma Stone, Austin Butler, Luke Grimes, Deirdre O'Connell, Micheal Ward, Amélie Hoeferle, Clifton Collins Jr., William Belleau, Matt Gomez Hidaka, Cameron Mann, Rachel de la Torre
Running Time: 149 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

A local mayoral race turns ugly in writer/director Ari Aster's ambitiously bizarre Eddington, a film that holds a mirror up to all the social and political turmoil over the past five years. And for those who patiently waited for a big screen effort to tackle the pandemic and all the controversial chaos surrounding it, your day has come. Now with a little distance to reflect on that tragic absurdity, the creative mind behind Heriditary, Midsommar and Beau is Afraid responds with a gloriously inscrutable mess that ties viewers in knots trying to decipher its intentions. 

Part multi-character study, part Western, part crime thriller and all satire, it's set in a universe where everyone's a lunatic, regardless of where their beliefs or convictions fall. It's also unpredictable, surprising by just how much its initially limited scope expands once the complications pile on, revealing the worst in human nature. Not without its flaws and prone to flying off the rails, Aster entertainingly makes up for it with some wild performances and an off-the-wall premise that cleverly skewers the current culture wars.

It's 2020 and Mayor Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal) has implemented a lockdown in the town of Eddington, New Mexico in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, enforcing mask mandates supported by the Governor. This policy raises the ire of sheriff Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix), who believes it's trampling on citizen's freedoms and makes plans to run against Ted in the upcoming election, despite disapproval from his emotionally unstable wife Louise (Emma Stone) and her conspiracy theorist mom, Dawn (Deirdre O' Connell). 

While Joe unsuccessfully tries to maintain law and order alongside officers Guy (Luke Grimes) and Michael (Micheal Ward), Ted's son Eric (Matt Gomez Hidaka) and his friend Brian (Cameron Mann) join the town's Black Lives Matter protests to win the affections of progressively liberal classmate Sarah (Amélie Hoeferle). With protests getting out of hand, Louise and Dawn inviting enigmatic cult leader Jefferson Peak (Austin Butler) into Joe's home as he tries to derail Ted's re-election bid. But when a single, shocking act of violence occurs, more trouble arrives at Eddington's doorstep, unexpectedly threatening the lives of its residents.

That the film's first twenty minutes centers entirely around an ongoing argument over masks should give you an idea what we're in for. It's clear in the very first scene when Joe's reprimanded by neighboring law enforcement before getting into another confrontation with Mayor Ted at a bar and supermarket, lighting the fuse that further ignites their bitter rivalry. And they have a long history, most of which stems from Joe's inability to get over Louise's previous relationship with Ted. But once Joe clumsily declares his mayoral candidacy out of pure spite, all bets are off, just as Eddington spirals out of control following  George Floyd's murder. 

In taking us back to a year we still haven't really moved past, the narrative evolves into a feature length South Park episode where only extremes exist and every group's a target for mocking. Whether it's anti-maskers or white BLM protesters, Aster get his shots in, and while a lot of the characterizations are intentionally exaggerated for satirical effect, this wouldn't work without the recognizable truths accompanying it. But it's Joe's complete lack of impulse control and common sense that causes him to make a spectacularly stupid decision, opening the floodgates to hell for his small town.

Between murders, racism, anti-racism, police corruption, conspiracy theories, cults and Antifa, Aster throws everything he can at the wall and a lot of it actually sticks. Against your better judgment, it's tough to look way, especially during a violent, action packed shootout that recalls A24's other politically charged take on the times, Alex Garland's underappreciated Civil War. But where that film had a clearer, more sober mission statement, this fluctuates wildly between over-the-top satire and drama, often calling into question how it all fits. 

It's really the direction and performances that hold it together, further solidifying Joaquin Phoenix's twisted genius in the kind of quirky, eccentric role no one does better, flawlessly juggling the dangerous and comical at once. A somewhat underutilized Stone and Butler steal the scenes they're given while the perfectly cast Pascal justifies his alleged overexposure with a terrific supporting turn as this potentially crooked mayor in bed with big tech. 

Inching toward a violent conclusion with no absolutes and only shades of grey, this highlights just how far the political landscape has shifted since over a decade ago, when much of this material would have played as pure fantasy. Even if a twist late in the game forces viewers to reevaluate what they've seen in the context of a JD Vance or Kyle Rittenhouse origin story, attempting to extract a right or left wing agenda seems beside the point. While spitting out enough ideas to leave us wondering what it's trying to say, Aster instead captures the anxiety and paranoia gripping the country with an equally divisive film that's well worth the watch.                                        

The Bikeriders

Director: Jeff Nichols
Starring: Jodie Comer, Austin Butler, Tom Hardy, Michael Shannon, Mike Faist, Boyd Holbrook, Damon Herriman, Beau Knapp, Emory Cohen, Karl Glusman, Toby Wallace, Norman Reedus, Will Oldham
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

If it's hard enough adapting any non-fiction book into a feature film, one consisting entirely of black-and-white photos and transcribed interviews might seem impossible. But writer/director Jeff Nichols seems to have figured it out with The Bikeriders, a historical crime drama based on journalist Danny Lyon's mid-sixties stint as a member of the infamous Chicago Outlaws Motorcycle Club.

While going the documentary route may have been more expected, Nichols finds a different avenue to explore the humanity beneath this chaos, narratively dissecting the impact of a rebellious subculture that helped define an era that eventually passes them by. It really feels like the last gasp for these outlaws, evoking nostalgia for a period many watching never experienced, but probably wished they had.

In 1965, photojournalist Lyon (Mike Faist) interviews Kathy (Jodie Comer) about her time with the Chicago-based Vandals Motorcyle Club, which founder Johnny (Tom Hardy) was inspired to create after watching Marlon Brando in The Wild Ones. She recounts feeling out of place among a gang of rough and tumble riders at the Vandals' bar, until meeting the brooding, hotheaded Benny (Austin Butler). Immediately attracted to his cool, distant aura, he takes Kathy home on the back of his bike, camping across the street until her angry boyfriend moves out in a huff.

Benny and Kathy begin living together as she gets to know the rest of the club, consisting of reliable Brucie (Damon Herriman), mechanically inclined Cal (Boyd Holbrook), volatile Zipco (Michael Shannon) and bug eater Cockroach (Emory Cohen). But with Vandals chapters soon popping up all over the Midwest, Johnny's had enough, approaching a disinterested Benny to take over leadership duties. Unfortunately, it may be too late, as a new challenger emerges and angry, disaffected youths reeling from the scars of Vietnam come home. With change on the horizon, there's a good chance America's original generation of bikers will be left in the dust. 

Kathy is initially the film's entry point, but it isn't long before this whole interview format takes a backseat to the personal drama surrounding these bikers. It's actually a bit perplexing why the character of Lyon is incorporated to begin with since there's no noticeable on screen attempt to absorb him into the club like the journalist was in reality. Occasionally, Nichols cuts to him questioning Kathy in a biker vest, but that's about the extent of Mike Faist's role. It's a bit off putting at first, but once you're absorbed in the story, this inconsistent framing device isn't given a second thought.

The accuracy of regional accents will always cause debate but Comer really commits to her memorable Midwestern twang. Having no idea how realistic it is or isn't, there's no denying it adds an air of down home folksiness to a character who's supposed to be out of her element in this grungy atmosphere. But as much as the film attempts to put Kathy at its center, Butler owns the screen from the moment he appears in a performance not entirely dissimilar from his Oscar nominated Elvis turn, with a little James Dean mixed in. 

Butler's approach should seem overdone or cliche, but he's just too good to deny, capturing the essence of this introverted, self destructive loner capable of flying off the handle on a whim. He hints there's more bubbling beneath the surface, even as Kathy tries to figure out exactly what. Correctly surmising Benny needs to get out of this club before he gets himself killed, he'll do whatever he wants, even as we question whether that really will solve his anger issues. There's an equally strong chance his association with the Vandals might be the only thing left keeping him sane.  

Tom Hardy is the Brando to Butler's Dean, basically attempting a full-on impersonation of the iconic actor, which he pulls off pretty well, intimidatingly throwing his weight around to maintain some degree of law and order. But between a family and an actual 9-to-5 job, he's getting exasperated as his grip starts to slip. Even when they're not seeking it out first, violence has a way of finding them, but Hardy strikes the right balance between thuggish brute and fair, loyal leader with a heart.

The best scenes involve the Vandals picking fights, pulling pranks, riding through towns and sometimes just sitting around smoking and telling stories, as this loaded cast of recognizable faces distinguish their characters with unmistakably unique personalities. A subplot involving a group of youths led by a knife-wielding delinquent credited as "The Kid" (Toby Wallace) and the arrival of California hippie biker Funny Sonny (Norman Reedus) give the film an extra jolt as it barrels toward the finish line.

There's nothing particularly groundbreaking about The Bikeriders, but it is a well acted, impeccably shot adult drama that fills a needed niche by striving for authenticity. More Hunter Thompson than Cameron Crowe, it finds its voice through the relationships, camaraderie and turmoil among this ragtag gang of outcasts relegated to the fringes. They play by their own rules, until the real world intrudes. But like so many other touchstones, it's fun while it lasts, leaving a cultural footprint that doesn't easily fade.             

Dune: Part Two

Director: Denis Villeneuve
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Ferguson, Josh Brolin, Austin Butler, Florence Pugh, Dave Bautista, Christopher Walken, Lea Seydoux, Souheila Yacoub, Stellan Skarsgård, Charlotte Rampling, Javier Bardem 
Running Time: 166 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)     

Denis Villeneuve's adaptation of Frank Herbert's seminal sci-fi novel Dune always seemed intended as a giant, visually impressive spectacle that doesn't primarily rely on its story to succeed. You could even argue it benefits the viewer not to think too hard about the details for risk of ruining the experience. That definitely holds true for its 2021 predecessor, where Velleneuve overcame the challenges of introducing a world populated by characters who needed to hold our interest through two or more sequels. 

Most of that first film felt like setup, abruptly ending before the main course arrived. Now, after what felt far longer than a two and a half year wait, the sequel arrives. Only this dark, heady, somewhat odd property isn't your usual franchise tentpole, carrying the risk that some fans may find themselves playing catch up with the story. But with its mind boggling vistas, astonishing effects and flawless sound and production design, it does qualify as "epic" in every sense of the word, noticeably bigger and more ambitious than what came before.

Picking up almost immediately where the last film left off, Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) aligns with the Fremen following the destruction of House Atreides by House Harkonnen. Against his pregnant mother Jessica's (Rebecca Ferguson) wishes, Paul is taken in by tribal leader Stilgar (Javier Bardem) as "the chosen one," forming a close bond with Fremen warrior Chani (Zendaya). Now with friend and mentor Gurney Halleck (Josh Brolin) back by his side, Paul aims to avenge his father's death while the Harkonnens escalate their attacks to gain control of Arrakis. 

Meanwhile, the incompetent hothead Rabban (Dave Bautista) proves himself a failed leader of the Harkonnens, prompting his Jabba-like uncle Baron (Stellan Skarsgård) to transfer the reigns to ruthless younger sibling Feyd-Rautha (Austin Butler). And as Paul settles into his new role with the Fremen, Emperor Shaddam IV (Christopher Walken), daughter Irulan (Florence Pugh) and the Reverend Mother (Charlotte Rampling) brace themselves for retribution. With fighting between the two factions reaching its boiling point, only a showdown remains in determining Paul's final destiny.

Overflowing with plot and characters, you'd think this follow-up would lend credence to all the skeptics who still consider Dune one of those notoriously unfilmable novels. So it's to Villeneuve and co-writer Jordan Spaihts' credit that they manage to balance it all out and wrangle the themes into a straightforward, digestible package. If someone bypassed the 2021 entry and came into this cold they may not be completely lost, especially since the world itself is as much a draw as the actual narrative.

Paul's journey takes detours and excursions, but all roads leads to his gradual transformation. While we're given some voiceover from Pugh's Irulan, the opening hour mostly consists of his assimilation into the Freman, the burgeoning relationship with Chani and a handful of spectacular battle sequences. Originally, Chalamet was considered a divisive choice for the role, but everything about the character's arc in this sequel lends more credibility to his that casting, as the actor quietly builds on the groundwork laid out in the last film, paving Paul's path from insecure, reluctant outsider to burgeoning leader, despite Chani's legitimate reservations.

Zendaya further extends her 2024 on screen winning streak with her extended take on Chani, conveying just the right mix of stubborn skepticism and practicality opposite Chalamet. We detect her character's unease over what's to come and it won't be long before discovering just how right she is. And as the dangerous consequences of mixing politics and religion remain constant, Rebecca Ferguson's hooded, face tattooed Reverend Mother Jessica (who telepathically communicates with her unborn daughter) will come to represent the inflection point for that conflict.  

As everything converges in Empire Strikes Back style by its end, so too does the rise of the ruthless Feyd-Rautha, terrifyingly played by a pale, unrecognizably demonic Austin Butler. Tasked with stepping into the role originally filled by Sting in David Lynch's '84 attempt, he definitely makes it his own, especially during a black and white coliseum showdown stunningly shot by cinematographer Greig Fraser. 

The more our "hero" avoids fulfilling his prophecy the closer he gets, with that ongoing sense of inevitability hovering over every scene. By the time he eventually reaches his perceived goal, it won't come without major sacrifices he'll continue to weigh as this saga continues. Some of the metaphysical elements are a bit much, but at almost 3 hours, Joe Walker's masterful editing ensures there's no extra fat on the bone, as everything at least feels important and unmissable. Once pulled into this expansive, oddly hypnotizing universe, any uninitiated viewers' concerns should wash away, replaced with anticipation for where Villeneuve plans to go next.  

Elvis

Director: Baz Luhrmann
Starring: Austin Butler, Tom Hanks, Olivia DeJonge, Helen Thomson, Richard Roxburgh, Kelvin Harrison Jr., David Wenham, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Luke Bracey, Dacre Montgomery
Running Time:159 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Baz Luhrmann's Elvis definitely doesn't linger in one spot for very long, moving at a breakneck pace with frenetic editing and over-the-top theatricality as it charges through the milestones of Presley's life and career. With a dizzying, dazzling visual style and thrilling recreations of the King's stage performances (and the public's reaction to them) it's compulsively watchable and hard to look away from. That it's garnered such polarizing reactions is kind of a shock considering just how much it gets right, following the necessary beats, but doing so in an imaginative, flashy style that fits the one-of-a-kind performer it covers. 

Allegedly problematic elements, like a potentially awkward framing device and the criticisms of Elvis' appropriation of black music and culture, are not only seamlessly woven into the narrative, but addressed head-on. Presley's love of entertaining drives the action, with Luhrmann approximating for us the experience of watching him onstage and off. So while there are many bells and whistles, they add rather than detract from Austin Butler's electrifying lead performance in the title role. Radiating the King's innate charisma and magnetism, he gets even better as it goes on, with this eye-popping spectacle only enhancing the mythic presence Butler's called upon to convey. 

It's 1997 and Elvis Presley's (Butler) former manager, the now destitute Colonel Tom Parker (Tom Hanks) lies on his deathbed reminiscing about when first discovered the King of Rock n' Roll. Labeling himself the "snowman," Parker was a carnival huckster and opportunist, perpetually on the hunt for his own "Greatest Show on Earth" that puts him in the company of P.T. Barnum. He first meets Elvis while managing country singer Hank Snow (David Wenham), immediately recognizing the young man's crossover potential as a white artist who "sounds black." 

We flash back to Elvis' Mississippi childhood, having grown up poor with a mother, Gladys (Helen Thomson), who doted over him, and a father, Vernon (Richard Roxburgh), who did some time in jail. Finding refuge as a kid in comic books and his obsession with Memphis' African-American music scene, he later strikes a deal with Sun Records, but it's his memorable "Louisiana Hayride" TV performance that puts him on Parker's radar. 

With Parker guiding his career, Elvis becomes an overnight sensation in the face of politicians' complaints about his suggestive stage antics, further stoking racial hostilities and getting him into legal trouble. Upon returning from the Army to embark on a movie career, his new musical direction is eventually shaped by the social and cultural unrest of the '60's. Soon after marrying Priscilla Beaulieu (an excellent Olivia DeJonge), the possessive Col Parker's grip over Elvis tightens, turning him into a prisoner of his own fame. Despite a thriving comeback that pushes him far past his limits, prescription drug addiction threatens to derail it, all while Parker's true colors are revealed.

Having Col. Parker narrate his interpretation of events creates a perspective shift that greatly differentiates this from most biographical depictions of the King. But it does get off oddly, with a barely recognizable Hanks in a fat suit, buried under pounds of makeup and prosthetics speaking in a sometimes unintelligible Dutch accent most are probably unaware Parker even had. While all of this hardly seem necessary for one of our greatest actors and the image of a dying, hospital gown-wearing Parker dragging his IV pole across a hotel casino floor is quite a sight, Hanks' portrayal is far from the debacle it's been toted as. 

Once the immediate shock of that attention-grabbing dream sequence wears off, Hanks does bring kind of a devious charm to Parker, both as Elvis' father figure and eventual gate keeper. Physical appearance aside, Hanks does provide access to the man inside the suit, and at the risk of damning with faint praise, you do warm up to him as an antagonist. Plus, Luhrmann keeps the action moving at a fast enough clip that there really isn't time to complain about it, with Butler's exhilarating recreations of Elvis' iconic, show-stopping performances stealing most of the film.

Despite four credited writers, the script's far from unfocused, following a tight chronological order that never feels stifling or too paint-by-numbers because it's such a visual and auditory feast. The cinematography and production design has a predictably over-the-top sheen, but looks and feels period authentic, which is a must considering how many different eras it needs to span for a complete account.

Even those only vaguely familiar with Elvis' trajectory will notice that the story's structure revolves around maybe three or four key events. Most notable is the hysteria surrounding that first Hayride show with girls screaming, fainting and ripping off his clothes, effectively signifying that nothing will be the same for Presley again. As Elvis' hip swiveling and gyrating dance moves court controversy, Parker's attempt to clean up his client's image and go mainstream is the first sign of a developing rift between the two. It's also an early indication Elvis isn't someone who's ready to compromise his musical integrity to appeal to a larger audience, or appease an old school, brand conscious manager.       

Rocked by personal tragedy but newly married, Elvis is awakened to a world that's seemingly passed him by. It's here where Butler's performance kicks into overdrive and the film really finds its voice, connecting Elvis' upbringing to the tumult of the 60's embodied by the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert F. Kennedy. His rebellious spirit was established early so it makes sense he'd be able to carve out a new niche for himself in the hippie era, while also re-embracing the style of music he initially loved. It's also when things really start to go downhill with the controlling Parker, who's a step or two behind the times, but still taking credit for Elvis' best ideas. 

The Elvis Christmas television special intended by Parker to appease sponsors instead escalates tensions, signaling what should have been the end of their toxic, parasitic partnership. Instead it leads to a bitter feud which exposes Parker's true intentions. It's to Luhrmann and Hanks' credit that they do make the character somewhat more complicated than expected, even as Parker blackmails Elvis into the exhaustive, seemingly endless Las Vegas International Hotel residency that leads to his downfall. We know what's coming, but the film doesn't tastelessly dwell on it, with the focus remaining on Presley's adoration for the music, which Butler captures the essence of.

Finding an ideal outlet and subject for the unrestrained craziness some have found irritating in his previous work, this may be the best version of Luhrmann's style we've ever gotten. His polarizing, sensationalized approach feels completely organic to the story, lifting what should be an ordinary biopic about an extraordinary entertainer to even greater heights. In equal parts a human tragedy and the fulfillment of an American dream, it's a testament to the film's authenticity and power that the actual footage shown at the end becomes indistinguishable from what we've just watched. Exciting enough to reaffirm the devotion of lifelong fans while still converting the uninitiated, Elvis delivers on all counts, putting other pretenders in the genre to shame.