Dream Scenario

Director: Kristoffer Borgli
Starring: Nicolas Cage, Julianne Nicholson, Michael Cera, Tim Meadows, Dylan Gelula, Dylan Baker, Kate Berlant, Lily Bird, Jessica Clement, Marnie McPhail-Diamond, Paula Bondreau, Noah Centineo
Running Time: 100 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Nicolas Cage has taken on so many wild roles over the past decade it's easy to forget just how skilled he is at inhabiting average, everyday people trapped in circumstances beyond their control. In writer/director Kristoffer Borgli's black comedy Dream Scenario, we're reminded, which isn't to say Cage's bland, middle-aged protagonist doesn't have his fair share of quirks and eccentricities. But for the most part, he's almost painfully normal. At least until stumbling upon overnight fame for a really unusual reason, creating far more problems than it solves.  

In asking viewers to consider how they'd endure a similar situation, most of the film's surprises come from unfamiliar places. He might be the butt of the joke, but it's likely most couldn't handle things any better, as this sci-fi fantasy morphs into an existential nightmare that offers a scathing social commentary about the cost of fame. Once the public starts projecting their own ideas of him into the world, we get a story that wouldn't seem out of place in The Twilight Zone. And at its center is Cage, who isn't playing the agent of chaos this time, but its unsuspectingly hapless victim.

Socially awkward, mild-mannered biology professor Paul Matthews (Cage) can't seem to catch a break. An adjunct at a local university, his lectures on zebras bore students while his supportive wife Janet (Julianne Nicholson) and daughters Sophie (Lily Bird) and Hannah (Jessica Clement) roll their eyes at him. Desperately wanting to be published, the timid Paul halfheartedly confronts a former colleague (Paula Bondreau) over an allegedly stolen idea before encountering ex-girlfriend Claire (Marnie McPhail-Diamond), who confesses he's been inexplicably appearing in her dreams. 

After Paul grants Claire permission to write about these dreams for an article, strangers start coming out of the woodwork claiming to recognize him from their dreams. As his celebrity profile rises, he hires a forward thinking PR firm to help manage his suddenly limitless opportunities. But when everyone's dreams turn increasingly violent and sinister, an angry, unsympathetic public blame Paul, making him their number one target.

The one thing all these dreams (cleverly referred to as a "collective Mandela Effect") have in common is that this bearded, balding man's walk through role in them is limited to passive observance, no matter how dire or outrageous the situation. While irked by how closely that resembles his actual tendencies, there's still a large part of him enjoying the newfound fame, with the best scenes revolving around how his undersized personality conflicts with it. Previously defined by a small, anonymous existence, this strange phenomenon makes his world a whole lot bigger, flipping whatever life he had upside down. 

Paul's lectures are now not only well attended, but exciting, with students eager to pick the brain of the world's most recognizable face. But the gap between Paul's desires and people's expectations grow, most noticeably in his interactions with goofy, people pleasing public relations CEO Trent (Michael Cera) and the firm's smitten assistant Molly (Dylan Gelula) who becomes obsessed with recreating her explicit dreams of Paul, to disastrous results.

Paul becomes sort of an everyman symbol society can embrace until these dreams turn to nightmares. But what's most astonishing is just how far the script goes with this, depicting a cancel culture catastrophe where popularity hinges on fans' fickle whims. Their dreams aren't "real," but they're still emotional triggers, representing at least some piece of them or they view reality.

Borgli's even more interested in the concept of entering someone else's consciousness, culminating in a great visual payoff involving Paul's marriage that's as strangely moving as it is comical. There's also a heavy emphasis on how his plight connects to the ethical conundrum surrounding dream technology. If there's any drawback, it's that the film sometimes trips over itself in the delivery, unsure how to get this all out. Still, there are deep ideas in here that make a good enough case for subsequent viewings.    

Playing an introverted, unassuming professor battling perceptions of his more dangerous nocturnal counterpart, there are definite echoes of Cage's work in Charlie Kauffman's Adaptation, with the actor again proving why he's an ideal fit for off-the-wall parts that amount to more than they first appear. And given how he's resisted critics and audiences placing him in a box throughout his career, it's only appropriate he's playing someone trapped in such a predicament. But with as much to say about us as his embattled character, Dream Scenario rarely backs down when it comes to exploring the full ramifications of its oddball premise.                                  

Weird: The Al Yankovic Story

Director: Eric Appel
Starring: Daniel Radcliffe, Evan Rachel Wood, Rainn Wilson, Toby Huss, Julianne Nicholson, Spencer Treat Clark, Jack Lancaster, Tommy O' Brien, Thomas Lennon, Arturo Castro, Quinta Brunson, "Weird Al" Yankovic, Will Forte, Jack Black, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Scott Auckerman 
Running Time: 108 min.
Rating: TV-14 

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Maybe not surprisingly, Roku Channel's parody biopic Weird proves to be the ideal representation of iconic satirist Al Yankovic's career. You almost couldn't envision any other approach, as the Funny or Die fake trailer that provided the inspiration for this project is expanded into a full blown spoof befitting an artist who specializes in them. Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story may have covered similar territory, but this never feels like a retread since Al's long been the trailblazer for this brand of performance comedy. Co-writer and first-time director Eric Appel gets that, turning what could have been a one-joke sketch into a full-length feature that's just as subversive as the parodies Yankovic's been successfully churning out for decades. 

This movie is Weird Al through and through, with certain portions of truth lifted from his life, but twisted and exaggerated to the extreme. It also happens to be very funny in a gut busting kind of way, boasting an impressive number of jokes and gags that really hit their mark. Even his most casual fans will still appreciate the script's smaller details and its unironic commitment in presenting him as the biggest superstar on the planet.

While being popular enough to have major artists clamoring to be spoofed by him, the film takes the same digs at fame and celebrity as his songs, filled to the brim with cameos and off-the-wall gags. Al's fingerprints are all over this meta parody, placing special emphasis on how complaints about originality have followed him throughout his career. Of course, they haven't, but that only makes this funnier, as does the depiction of one of the friendliest, most straight-laced performers as an out of control trainwreck. 

As a child, Alfred Yankovic (Richard Aaron Anderson) is strongly discouraged by his disciplinarian father Nick (Toby Huss) from pursuing his musical interests and playing the accordian. But when Al's mom Mary (Julianne Nicholson) purchases him one and he's caught sneaking out to a polka party as a teen, his dad snaps, smashing "the devil's squeeze box" into pieces, along with Al's dreams. But when rooming with friends Steve (Spencer Treat Clark), Jim (Jack Lancaster) and Bermuda (Tommy O' Brien), inspiration strikes in the form of a bologna sandwich, as Al (Daniel Radcliffe) suddenly alters the lyrics of The Knack's "My Sharona."   

After an unexpectedly confrontational meeting with music executives Tony (Al Yankovic) and Ben (Will Forte) Scotti lead to Al securing a record deal, he enlists the services of his childhood idol, Dr. Demento (Rainn Wilson) as his manager. Enjoying a career explosion in the 1980's, Al becomes romantically involved with vapid opportunist Madonna (Evan Rachel Wood), who would do anything to get the career bump of Al parodying one of her hits, leading him down a dangerous path of alcohol abuse. Desperate to be taken seriously as an original artist, Weird Al must overcome his inner demons to regain control of his life so he can continue making music that entertains fans across the globe.

A scene where young Al sits at the dinner table with his parents sets the tone for what the film will continuously deliver for the remainder of its running time, as the boy's hysterically told to abandon everything that makes him who he is. With Al's dad taking out all his pent up frustration and disappointment on a hapless accordian salesman, he envisions a more respectable future for his boy working at the "factory." Al's form of rebellion is escaping to illicit polka parties, which sends his father even further off the deep end, unintentionally pushing the singer on his path to superstardom.

With an early, uproarious section that invokes musical biopics like The Doors, Bohemian Rhapsody, and Rocketman (though it may remind some more of Howard Stern's Private Parts) the movie really starts having fun when Al's career takes off and we're privy to the "inspiration" behind some of his highest charting hits. Even when only a tiny fraction of what's shown is true, the screenplay's clever in how it incorporates all these Easter eggs and real details from his actual career into a biopic that couldn't be more fantastical. Much of this comes from the origins of "Eat It," "Like a Surgeon," and "Amish Paradise," which are presented as stories in and of itself rather than just parodies.  

In his quest for musical respectability, Al's many brushes with celebrities include a pool party featuring a who's who of comedic actors playing the likes of Andy Warhol, Pee Wee Herman, Wolfman Jack, Divine, Alice Cooper and Tiny Tim. And that's not even including the other appearances sprinkled throughout, like Quinta Brunson as Oprah Winfrey, Arturo Castro as Pablo Escobar and even Weird Al himself in a bigger, more consequential role than you'd expect, playing it straight as record executive Tony Scotti. 

Rainn Wilson leaves an impression as the quirky Dr. Demento while Evan Rachel Wood is a flawless 80's era Madonna, nailing all the pops star's mannerism and expressions as she seduces Al down a dark, destructive path. But it's Radcliffe's film, delivering a delightfully wacky performance that teeters between wide-eyed innocence and unhinged comedic madness, putting an ingenious spin on the title character that justifies seemingly odd casting. The anchor around which all the chaos revolves, it's easily his craziest role since Swiss Army Man, and having Yankovic's voice dubbed over the performance and concert scenes is only fitting given the genre this is sending up.

The action-packed last act should seem like a wild departure, but given Yankovic's sensibilities, it instead feels completely on brand. A prankster until the end, he very literally goes out in a blaze of glory, while still finding time in the film's original song to remind the Academy to nominate him for original song Oscar. But at the very least he can claim to be the only musician to receive a biopic that's intentionally embarrassing, hilarious and inaccurate. Likely bound for cult status, Weird captures a one-of-a-kind entertainer the best and only way it can.        

Blonde

Director: Andrew Dominik
Starring: Ana de Armas, Adrien Brody, Bobby Cannavale, Xavier Samuel, Julianne Nicholson, Evan Williams, Toby Huss, David Warshofsky, Caspar Phillipson, Dan Butler, Lily Fisher, Sara Paxton, Rebecca Wisocky, Tygh Runyan, Scoot McNairy
Running Time: 166 min.
Rating: NC-17

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)  

Before you even get to the rape, physical abuse and talking fetuses, writer/director Andrew Dominik's pulverizing fictional biography of Marilyn Monroe, Blonde, starts at the very beginning. With Norma Jeane's mentally ill mother driving straight into a raging fire with her terrified daughter in the front seat. It may as well be a metaphor for the vitriol that awaited Dominik upon the release of Netflix's NC-17 adaptation of Joyce Carol Oates' 2000 novel, which is less an account of Monroe's life than speculative fantasy assembled from fractured puzzle pieces of it. None of those aforementioned events occurred as presented, whatever truth existing in them sensationalized and reshaped to facilitate Dominik's descent into the star's troubled psyche. 

Far from a straightforward biopic that could share a double bill with Baz Luhrmann's Elvis, it's closer to a surrealistic Lynchian nightmare many have already categorized as a cross between some lost Marilyn snuff film and The Last Temptation of Christ. She's victimized throughout, and though it's not based on historical fact, the specificity of events and unflinching manner in which her suffering's presented could lead some to falsely assume it was. Even if it doesn't endure as the definitive word on the star, she'll always be associated with it, shining the spotlight on a filmmaker's moral responsibility when tackling a real person's life.   

No one can watch this and say it isn't well made or that Ana de Armas doesn't give the performance of her career, empowering Marilyn with a depth and complexity everyone always suspected she had, even when Dominik seems to be going in an entirely different direction. But more than any other examination of the star, we really get inside her head, heavily exploring that marker separating Norma Jeane from her manufactured Hollywood alter ago. When the cameras aren't rolling, Monroe's still the wide-eyed, innocent we see at the film's start, playing make believe as a blonde bombshell. Her helpless upbringing required this survival mechanism, a detail Dominik drills into us for almost 3 hours with scenarios that reflect a sort of truth that's aggressively discomforting

Opening as she turns seven years old in 1933, a young Norma Jeane Mortenson (Lily Fisher) is shown a framed picture of a man her mentally unstable mom Gladys (Julianne Nicholson) claims is her father, a big shot Hollywood mogul. But when the police halt Glady's delusional plans to bring Norma Jeane up to see him in the middle of a fire, she snaps, leading to a violent breakdown that sends Gladys to a mental hospital and her daughter to an orphanage. Norma Jeane reemerges in the 1940's as pinup girl "Marilyn Monroe," aspiring to break into acting despite not being seen for anything other than her looks. 

After being raped by a studio president referred to as Mr. Z (David Warshofsky), Marilyn soon turns all the inner pain and childhood trauma toward acting, and as her film career ascends, she becomes romantically entangled with Hollywood offspring Cass Chaplin (Xavier Samuel) and Eddy Robinson Jr. (Evan Williams). Unsuccessful marriages to an ex-athlete (Bobby Cannavale) and a playwright (Adrien Brody) leave her emotionally shattered, while she's later dehumanized by an eventual affair with the The President (Caspar Phillipson). Through this, Marilyn still clings to the hope of meeting her mythical, estranged father, an increasingly unlikely prospect amidst the abuse, humiliation and mistreatment she endures from nearly every man who enters her doomed life.  

Since the entire film revolves around fictional events people already believed could be true, seeing it depicted on screen runs the risk of further substantiating them. The fact that the actual names of some major players weren't used (likely for legal reasons) does speak to a certain double standard, reinforcing the idea that's she's still being exploited long after her death. But as unfair as it may seem, the creative license Dominik takes isn't far off from what was seen in something like The Social Network, with the only difference being that the subject here is deceased and and has a history of being dragged through the mud by the media.

Dominik isn't making attempts to alter any preconceived notions, instead taking a fever dream approach to the material that was bound to polarize. In certain instances, his timing couldn't have been worse given the current climate, especially those scenes involving abortion and miscarriage. But while he invites these controversies with his "anti-biopic," little of that has any relevance to the film's actual quality, as it's beautifully made and compulsively watchable. Dominik's no stranger to celebrity deconstruction, having already helmed The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, a movie as long as its title. This is even longer, and even while flirting with repetitiveness, it's edited well enough not to feel at all like a slog.

None of that makes this any easier to watch, not that it's intended to be. It leans further into the idea of men viewing Marilyn as a sex object than was even anticipated, no matter how much trauma and genuine emotion she poured into her craft. The moments where she's portrayed as a student of the game with unlimited intellectual capacity are fleeting since everyone saw "Marilyn Monroe" instead. The framing device involving her estranged, Clark Gable lookalike father is another fabrication, but it's Blonde's best, intrinsically tied to a stuffed animal that emerges as the film's answer to Citizen Kane's "Rosebud." And for anyone who didn't get the memo she has daddy issues, her incessantly calling all her lovers "daddy" should quickly clear that up. 

Alternating between monochrome and color and shifting aspect ratios, cinematographer Chayse Irvin gives the film a stylized look that compellingly reflects the dueling identities of its subject, with Nick Cave and Warren Ellis' hypnotic score matching that disorientation. An early Marilyn audition scene is enthralling to watch, before turning painfully uncomfortable and hopeless when we see the male studio executives' reaction to it, reaffirming that even behind her back she's enduring some form of abuse. Dominik also comes up with some unnerving visual tricks that further convey Marilyn's  objectified existence, with ogling, cackling, distorted faces leering her down, horrifyingly transforming the Some Like it Hot premiere into a lost Twilight Zone episode.

Dominik covers a lot of ground with Marilyn's relationships and marriages, while impressively needing only a few scenes to convey how they develop and quickly end. She probably seems "happiest" and least burdened with the celebrity twins, at least before the tidal wave of fame comes crushing down. If first husband DiMaggio (well played by Cannavale), reveals himself to be a controlling, abusive brute, Arthur Miller's an anomaly for being the only kind male figure in Marilyn's life who outwardly recognizes her humanity. Brody's performance as the hyper intellectual Miller is subtly exceptional and there's something special about this section that even the film's most vehement opponents would admit is its high point. Unfortunately, by the time Marilyn weds him, she's already drowning in prescription pills and alcohol, prone to wild mood swings. 

While the talking CGI fetus has been heavily criticized for pedaling in tasteless shock value, the circumstances and fallout surrounding Marilyn's decision to abort aren't brushed under the rug and it's highlighted as a traumatic, life-altering event she understandably can't move beyond. The plot would be offensive only if the screenplay relegated it to an afterthought, even as it's easy to recognize none of this is a pleasant sit. Equally unpleasant is Marilyn's affair with JFK, here is encapsulated in a one night rape when she's literally dragged to the President's suite like a slab of meat by Secret Service. 

On content alone, this doesn't deserve an NC-17 (it's easy to name check numerous film titles with more nudity, sex, violence and language), but you needn't look further than the JFK scene to understand why. It's just a bridge too far for the MPAA, whose members probably scoff at consensual sex scenes, much less a non-consensual one as discomforting and disturbing as this. But few directors would have the guts to even fictionally depict the 35th President as a rapist, dispelling accusations that the movie is some kind of Marilyn hit job. Still, it's not hard to believe the rating designation is at least partially responsible for throwing gasoline on the furor that was already erupting over the picture.

Under different circumstances, Ana de Armas would be a strong Best Actress contender, and still could be. Strangely enough, it's the Marilyn performance everyone's always wanted, just not in the film we envisioned it would occur. It's hardly noteworthy when her Cuban accent occasionally slips through, but amazing how she simultaneously captures the breathy, seductive qualities of Marilyn and the insecurity and pain tormenting Norma Jeane, sometimes within a single scene. And it's also surprising how much de Armas does physically resemble her in certain iconic Monroe moments where you nearly have to do a double take. As disturbed mother, Gladys, Julianne Nicholson is haunting, going on an absolute tear in the film's opening section, then again later when her character returns in a far different capacity. 

A more extreme escalation of the horror and isolation of last year's Spencer than a snapshot along the lines of My Week With Marilyn, Dominik vaguely operates within the guardrails of an acceptable chronological timeline while incorporating the sensationalized events of Oates' novel. The biggest bone of contention will be that Marilyn had a troubled life, just not this troubled, and there are aspects to her that go ignored. But the film's an adaptation so any argument regarding its truthfulness should probably be settled in an actual court rather than one of public opinion. It succeeds in painting a nightmarish, hypnotizing portrait of the star's hellish existence from her own perspective, leaving no doubt how far this intends to go in its final, unrelenting minutes. 

If all Marilyn wanted was to be was respected for her intellect and acting skills, it's cruelly ironic that this film's release may have just permanently derailed that, no matter how impressive the filmmaking. There seems to be a disconnect amongst viewers regarding what they felt the goals should have been going in, as this is undeniably difficult and definitely not for everyone. But a safer, more grounded approach that's superficially respectful to Marilyn's memory could have easily resulted in the kind of safe biopic everyone complains about anyway. Blonde is far less forgettable, taking the gloves off and in the process starting a controversial conversation about how celebrities are perceived and consumed.     

I, Tonya

Director: Craig Gillespie
Starring: Margot Robbie, Sebastian Stan, Allison Janney, Julianne Nicholson, Bobby Cannavale, Paul Walter Houser, Caitlyn Carver, Ricky Russert, Mckenna Grace
Running Time: 119 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

There's this moment that comes in Craig Gillespie's biopic, I, Tonya, when disgraced figure skater Tonya Harding, years removed from the infamous event that would define her life and career, turns to the camera to tell us this is part of the story we've been waiting for. It's why we're here. Or the "incident," as it's referred to. More time is spent on it than you've been lead to believe, which includes everything from the planning to the botched execution and even more seriously botched cover-up. But I, Tonya isn't about any of this, while still also managing to be completely about it at the same time.

It becomes nearly impossible to separate the accompanying media narrative pushing Harding as this victimized anti-hero from the film itself. If the full extent of Harding's involvement in the 1994 attack on rival Olympic figure skater Nancy Kerrigan will always be subject for debate, what isn't is the fact that her actions and associations did lead directly to it. And with all that being true, it also needs to be acknowledged that she lead a mostly terrible life defined by physical and psychological abuse.

The toughest aspect of the movie is how it uncomfortably forces all those aforementioned elements to co-exist in a way they haven't before, perhaps in the end landing at the conclusion that Harding, no matter how you feel about her, never stood a chance. That any success she had was indirectly bred from misery and that feeling of never fitting in would persist, regardless of her talent or accomplishments. If you're Team Kerrigan, as I was at the time and still remain, there's relief in knowing that it's okay to empathize with the title character of this film, while not extending that same courtesy to the real person on whom it's based.

While filled to the brim with its fair share of detestable losers, it's also really cleverly conceived, told in a fourth wall-breaking, quasi-documentary style that suits the twisted subject, featuring flashbacks and interviews that carry a satirical tone, assuring the absurdity of the situation and its delusional characters is rarely lost. That combined with the two perfectly calibrated performances make for one of the more intriguing entries into the sports movie genre, as if there's even a correct way to categorize this. But whatever it is, it's definitely not what anyone expected.

It's the 1970's when three-year-old ice skating prodigy Tonya Harding is pushed by her abusive mother LaVona (Allison Janey) to train in her hometown of Portland, Oregon under the guidance of coach Diane Rawlinson (Julianne Nicholson). Seeing her daughter's astounding talent as merely a quick cash-in, Tonya (Margot Robbie) continues to rise up the ranks into her teen years, rapidly becoming one of the best figure skaters in the country. But even as she does this on pure skill alone, she faces resistance from those within the skating committee who take exception to her "poor white trash" reputation, which manifests itself on the ice with her costumes and rock music choices, not to mention the constant swearing at judges over scores.

Off the ice, Tonya does herself even fewer favors, associating with the likes of Jeff Gillooly (Sebastian Stan), whom she began dating at 15, and eventually marrying, much to LaVona's disapproval. It's a relationship that proves to be nearly as destructive and toxic as that with her mom, who continues to verbally cut her down as a failure well into young adulthood, while Gillooly's volcanic temper soon leads to violent beatings. The better Tonya's skating gets, the more hellish her personal life becomes, with all roads leading to the 1994 attack on Olympic rival and teammate Nancy Kerrigan (Caitlyn Carver) by Gillooly stooges Shawn Eckhardt (Paul Walter Hauser) and Shane Stant (Ricky Russert). Unfortunately, the rest is history.

While it's easy to accuse Gillespie and writer Steven Rogers' screenplay of piling on the trauma that followed Harding throughout her life, too much of it actually occurred to effectively hurl that criticism. And all of it came from her mother, who's played here by Janney in her Oscar-winning supporting turn as just about the most detestable parent and human being one could imagine existing, constantly lashing out at her daughter for no good reason other than to mitigate her own failures.

Making Tonya feel as worthless as possible isn't just an everyday occurrence with the vulgar, chain-smoking LaVona, but her life's mission, poorly disguising it under the mask of "tough love" as she brags about the sacrifices she's made for her disappointment of a daughter. As driving force and chief antagonist of this entire story, I'd love to report she's a deeply complex, nuanced character, but the fact is she's just plain awful. This comes as a relief in some ways, completely in line with the film's darkly comic viciousness, as the script makes no apologies or excuses for her monstrous behavior.

Many detractors are right in assessing that Janney is hitting one note and LaVona is a caricature, but anyone who's seen footage of the real woman (who actually does have a pet parakeet on her shoulder) would tell you that's exactly what she is. And given the semi-ironic tone the picture's going for, any attempt to humanize her would probably be a major mistake. It's a telling moment when during one of the many videotaped confessional moments, Harding expresses confusion as to why so many people would care about Nancy Kerrigan getting hit once when she was beaten her entire life. It takes a second to realize the statement is true, before realizing what that says about Tonya for making it. And none of it's flattering.

In addition to completely transforming her physical appearance, effectively adapting her mannerisms and style of speech and believably inhabiting the figure skater from her early teen years into nearly middle age, the biggest accomplishment of Margot Robbie's outlandishly great lead performance is how it gives you peeks into this tragically troubled athlete's psyche. If her mother has no hint of humanity, Tonya does, putting the work in to reach the top only to have her demons destroy the only thing she ever loved and excelled at: skating.

Despite possessing considerably more raw talent than her rivals and becoming the first woman to nail the triple axel (in one of many believable, masterfully edited competition scenes) it still wasn't good enough because she couldn't "play the game." And that's important in a sport that revolves around class and elegance, something ice princess Kerrigan had in spades but Tonya's upbringing made it impossible for her to fake, even if she was willing to. And she was never willing to, in so many ways setting up this dichotomy that existed between Harding and Kerrigan that went beyond sport and competition, serving instead as media catnip.

The genius of the screenplay is how their feud isn't explicitly explored (Kerrigan hardly appears), but its cultural implications nonetheless permeate through every frame of the film, even reaching back to when Tonya's a little girl. It's crass vs. class. The smoking, swearing rebel vs. the sweet girl next door. And as skilled as Hollywood writers are, none of them could have crafted a better story than the real one that took viewers into Lillehammer in 1994 when for a few short months figure skating became bigger than the Super Bowl. Wisely, Gillespie doesn't attempt to replicate that, instead focusing on its most controversial participant, with even the classic rock soundtrack selections inseparable from Tonya's head space, as well as the lowlifes she surrounded herself with.

Most of the picture's second half revolves around her relationship with Gillooly, played by Sebastian Stan in an underappreciated performance. Initially presenting himself as meek and quiet, he eventually assumes the mantle of the new chronic abuser in Harding's life, as their toxic on-again, off-again relationship is filled with nonstop verbal and physical altercations, including a particularly memorable one involving a firearm. And it's in a pathetically desperate last ditch attempt to prove he "loves" her that Gillooly calls in a favor from his buddy Shawn Eckhardt, perhaps the most pitiable and inept character in this entire saga, with actual assailant Shane Stant running a close second.

What begins as an anonymous threat against Kerrigan careens wildly out of control, and what's most surprising about how Gillespie depicts the infamous incident is how it's hilariously played as total farce. And that's exactly what it was. An episode of "World's Dumbest Criminals" that happened to have very real, deadly serious consequences. Did Tonya know?  Does it even matter? While the script doesn't present any additional information to come to a concrete conclusion one way or another, Tonya Harding is responsible. Or rather irresponsible, just by her association with Gillooly. In other words, by the time the knee clubbing occurred, the crazy train already left the station for Tonya, and the screenplay does an excellent job detailing how her life would inevitably lead to disaster. If it wasn't this, then there's a good chance it just would have been something else.

While it's clearly irrefutable that justice was served in the ruling to ban Harding for life from figure skating and TV ratings can be cited as the only reason she was at the Olympics instead of in jail, there's another defining event in the film that lingers longer in the mind. It comes in the only moment LaVona seems to display something resembling an actual soul, before the curtain is pulled back to reveal more heinous motivations. It's may be easy to argue whether Harding did or didn't deserve her lot in life, but few would claim she had that betrayal coming, especially at the hands of her own mother.

While criticisms will continue to persist that Gillespie is really making fun of these people with the mockumentary approach he takes, it's a story that's probably impossible with a straight face anyway, or at least without occasionally winking at the audience. It's the perfect approach because the situation is just too absurd to do otherwise, especially when the harshest skewering is reserved for the media in the form of Bobby Cannavale's Hard Copy tabloid TV producer. At one point, Harding's contemplative and brutally honest, if not particularly self-reflective, narration acknowledges how shows like that are now the news thanks this event and the O.J. case. But I,Tonya delves even deeper by attempting to explore how much a person's actions are guided and shaped by socio-economic circumstances extending beyond their control, and whether or not that  should matter when life's final score is eventually tallied.