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Friendship is a bit of an enigma. It's not a film for everyone, but its commitment to being weird will certainly win it favors with the right crowd. The main character, Craig Waterman, played by Tim Robinson, is aggressively unlikable. Craig is often random and expressive in an almost impressionistic way. The choice to center a whole movie around him is baffling, but bold. Fans of Robinson's sketch show will be used to his mannerisms and penchant for yelling, but the uninitiated may not find his particular brand of humor amusing.

The premise of the film is simple, a lonely man finds companionship in his charismatic weatherman neighbor Austin, played expertly by Paul Rudd. This premise is not exactly novel, there are many films about oddball friendship pairings, but the manner in which the film depicts the depths of Craigs delusional adoration of Austin is captivating. A traditional comedy would not make half the decisions the director Andrew DeYoung makes, the film is brooding and dark while obliviously having the intention of making the viewer laugh. While the disparate hodgepodge of comedy and sinister undertones may alienate casual viewers, those who strap themselves in a soak in this film will find it an entertaining experience. I was brought to tears in certain scenes, once you allow yourself to wince freely, you can begin to laugh wholeheartedly.

For Craig, navigating his interpersonal relationships is much like wandering around a dark, dank sewer. He roams around his life able to occasionally act like he belongs, but never quite getting there. Even when he has the ability to sit down with his wife a kids and enjoy the pleasure of family, he yearns for male camaraderie that constantly eludes him. Friendship is something easily taken for granted and the absence of it, even in one so abrasive as Craig, is harsh.

Thematically exploring the depths of social alienation the film employs a great deal of introspective shots and slow building pans that do not traditionally produce comedic effects. Instead the camera lays bare Craig's life and forces him to experience one ridiculous circumstance after another. Craig can be seen as a tragic figure because he does bring most of what comes to him on himself, but the film first and foremost is a comedy, and in that respect it never stops succeeding.

The King dissects what it means to be a leader in a convoluted and amorphous bureaucracy more than it seeks to depict historical events accurately. It is easy to see why anyone who has a particular interest in the time period might be put off by some of its decisions, but I found it both an interesting period piece and a surprisingly deep character study of a man burdened and bolstered by privilege. The film begins with a kind of trite prodigal son narrative as a young Henry V, played by Timothy Chalamet, drinks to excess while cursing his father, King Henry IV, silently and aloud blaming him for the state of England. More interestingly, England is wrought with conflict, rebellions arise against the king and he is begrudged by many of the nobles who ideally should be united under his banner.

The opening shot is one of my favorites in the whole film, it subtly establishes the setting and tone. When the film is as it is in the opening scene, it is superb, letting the cinematography do most of the storytelling. The shot begins slowly panning up and over a battlefield littered with corpses as several knights wander through the carnage. One knight, who we will later discovery is a noble by the name of Percy the Hotspur in service of Henry IV, walks helmetless as the sun sets behind him. He notices a wounded and suffering man crawling on the ground and approaches him. He speaks to the dying man in a calm tone, telling him he is crawling in the wrong direction, the wind he feels is coming from England, Scotland is in the other direction. He then strikes down killing the man with a stoic yet strained expression on his face.

The scene displays several things at once in a concise and brilliant manner. Hotspur's amor is decorated and stands in stark contrast to the unarmored dying man, he is a knight putting down a rebellion of unarmored peasants, this fight should not be if England was under stable leadership. His exasperation indicates he shares something in common with the man he just felled, disappointment with his King. His brutality can be seen as a mercy but also displays how hardened and violent life is during this century. A violent time will demand violence from its king. England is divided, its nobles and peasants unhappy alike, and the sun is setting on the Henry IV's reign. All of this is displayed tightly in just under two minutes.

The scene is excellent, but then we get to the biggest weakness of the film, its length padded by unnecessary dialogue and sequences explaining what otherwise was, or could be, subtly expressed. While expertly directed and with compelling set design and performances, the script could have been tighter and respected the audience to a much greater degree. The reiteration of all the subtlety of the first scene takes place a few scenes later when Percy Hotspur directly airs his grievances during an audience with King Henry IV. All the subtext of that first scene becomes pure explicit text in the confrontation scene. Henry IV even says that Hotspur will betray him, and then of course Hotspur does. The film makes several compromises like this that are totally unnecessary.

The cinematography and dedication to the period make the film an engaging watch, but the Shakespearean drama plot is made more digestible and less intricate to a broader audience through the conversion of slow and dramatic implication into actual explicit dialogue. A prime example of this is a conversation shared by Henry V and his sister after he takes the throne, in which she explicitly states the primarily conflict of the film, as if people watching up to that point could not intuit it. A tight one hour and forty five minute (1:45) movie is stretched into a two hour and twenty minute (2:20) one, and the film is a weaker and less intelligent because of it.

What makes the film compelling despite this is Henry V's struggle and the dedicated performance of Chalamet. The central theme is that of intense isolation that Henry V experiences as he assumes the throne. Chalamet conveys much with his struggled expressions and outbursts. He is a young king, he was used to having friends to drink and celebrate with, not advisors and noble courts all assailing him with different mentalities and perspectives. He seeks to correct his father's mistakes and unite England, but unlike the real Henry V, he seeks to do this through peace, rather than conflict. Circumstance betrays him.

The central issue that drives the plot is France's perceived taunts and insults towards Henry V as he assumes the throne. The bloodlines of the nobility of both countries overlap, some in England wish to make a common enemy of France to unite the country and create a stronger national identity. The question Henry V must grapple with is how he can secure his young rule and justify his reign to all manner of parties both within and without. He leans on the counsel of several members of his court, but can he trust these people, each with their own differing ambitions and goals? Is the posturing of France legitimate, or is he seeing what someone wants him to see to stoke the flames of conflict?

This intrigue is fascinating, and like Henry V, the viewer cannot be sure of what is and what isn't, who can be trusted and who cannot be trusted. The power of the throne attracts all manner of challenges. When the film erupts into actual bouts of violence, the tension of the drama overflows and is viscerally engaging. Henry V's duel with Percy the Hotspur is a real highlight and I would have liked a few more scenes like it, or just more battle sequences in general because the armor and weaponry appeared to me quite realistic. When Henry V gets to France, the film picks up momentum with the introduction of Pattinson's villain, the prince of France, who was entertaining to watch if somewhat cartoonishly evil. He is portrayed with an exaggerated menace which I think played into the addled justifications of Henry V's conquest. The battle of Agincourt is also compelling and really exemplifies how combat would often be a brutal melee rather than an organized affair.

I think the film's only major error yet to be discussed in my opinion is that the ending could not rest on the ambiguity of its earlier drama. There is a confession, and an illumination of real occurrences, which brings closure to that chapter of the King's life. It felt too tidy for the rest of the film, and quite honestly felt generically Hollywood in an otherwise unique feeling film. However, The King was still an excellent watch, full of amazing performances, breathtaking shots, and contains a moody and severe atmosphere that is unlike much of the other period pieces I have seen. If you can forgive the historical inaccuracy and the longwinded runtime that at time treats the audience without intelligence, you will find much to appreciate. Heavy lies the crown, not from the weight of it, but from the burden of the body politic, a fascinating throughline for a film, executed excellently and worth a watch.

My Own Private Idaho is of two natures. Its DNA is made up of one part Shakespearean drama while the other more sophisticated part is made up of a poignant emotional interrogation of how people who fall between the cracks of society can be used and abused. Gus Van Sant has a colorful, often breathtaking vision that he brings to life with incredible natural shots and orchestrated play like sequences, but the real lifeblood of this movie is River Phoenix's performance, which is nothing short of incredible. Phoenix plays Mike Waters, a rudderless Teen abandoned by his contemptable family, constantly searching for his mother. He desperately desires some kind of love to cling to, to lift himself from the street, but is forced to turn tricks to eke out some kind of existence.

To make matters worse, he also suffers from narcolepsy, making him even more downtrodden. He is constantly robbed and taken from one place to another in this state, meanwhile his narcoleptic dreams fixate on his youth where he felt the warmth of his mother's embrace. His best friend Scott Favor, played adequately by Keanu Reeves, lives the life of a streetwalker as well, but only as a way to rebel against his privilege and powerful father. His birthright gives him a safety net that Waters does not have. Favor is a tourist, while Waters is a permanent fixture in the life. Waters covets, Favor indulges.

The misery and homelessness Phoenix displays in something as simple as a tepid look down an empty road engenders a kind of empathy that goes beyond Van Sant's relatively straightforward messaging. The film clearly critiques American individualism and privilege as older and more well off members of society continually prey upon younger people with no recourse available to them in a disparate and rudderless society. It does this bluntly even at one point going as far as having one off characters monologue about times they were abused working against their will in the sex trade. These stories have no bearing on the actual plot but serve as likely real world examples of how those without a proper support structure or family home end up harmed without any recourse. I usually am not a fan of movies that so bluntly and without nuance convey their message, but this film makes other interesting creative and honestly risky decisions that make me forgive it.

An example of a bold creative choice is the robbery sequence that feels straight out of a Midsummers Night's Dream with how fanciful and unbelievable it is. Characters often trail off into Shakespearean diatribes that, though remind the viewer of the artifice of the medium, feel refreshingly different. The movie could have been relentlessly bleak and dark, but there is a levity to its construction that makes it a more memorable experience. The fluctuation in pacing and the idiosyncratic scenes don't accurately portray all aspects of life on the street, but it makes for an interesting watch.

Van Sant also expertly uses color to fill out the tonally varying sequences. Color pallets swaps and lighting fluctuation contrast the dark and unkempt streets with the lush and windswept plains. The insides of apartments are often stylized and minimalistic. My favorite scenes are the choppily cut dream sequences where Waters withdraws into his inner Idaho metaphorically traveling the never-ending road to his unknown home. The film flexes its confident and competent construction especially when the writing and plot structure become more fantastical and unreal.

Some of the choices here I felt conflicted with the overall structure of the movie. The best example I can think is the final sequence, which could have ended on an incredibly powerful line from Waters and a beautiful shot of his internal Idaho, the thesis statement for the movie, starting and ending at the same point running along the same axis of Waters' mind's eye. However, it extends itself, beyond this in a way that I found redundant and lacking nuance.