Stories about the conflicts and difficulties of growing up within faith-based communities haven’t really been covered very strongly within American cinema, I don’t think — or at least not outside of engagement with Christianity. This West Coast-based film deals with a Black Muslim-American family and their daughter, who is struggling to reconcile this new identity with her life and her school-age peers. It didn’t entirely work for me, but there’s plenty to commend it all the same.
This film, although set in Los Angeles, is based on the writer-director’s experiences growing up as a young Muslim girl in Oakland (the setting for a number of recent excellent films touching on the Black experience in the United States). The performances from its actors are all uniformly excellent, not least Zoe Renee as the lead character, aspiring dance student Summer, whose mother Jade (Simone Missick) has converted to Islam. Summer finds herself drawn into her mother’s life and faith as a result, which provides the dramatic tensions for the rest of the film. It’s undermined a little by the at times didactic script, which creates a conflict between her and her mother, and has a lot of very pointed dramatic exchanges about being Black and Muslim in American society, about the nature of faith, and the struggles of the characters to find their way within the teachings of Islam (though as someone who has myself started participating in a religious community fairly late in life, I definitely felt some resonances). There’s a lot of judgmental behaviour, though the script ensures everyone gets their learning moment. Although I saw it at the London Film Festival with the producer and stars present to speak to the film afterwards, I think this film would work strongly on a streaming service (and given it never received a British cinematic release, I suppose that’s how most people will see it): it has likeable, interesting characters and develops its drama in a pleasing way, and I look forward to more stories from the director.
Director/Writer Nijla Mu’min; Cinematographer Bruce Francis Cole; Starring Zoe Renee, Simone Missick; Length 92 minutes.
Seen at Odeon Tottenham Court Road, London, Friday 12 October 2018.
Released last year in the States, and garnering most of its awards attention at that time, this teen film was released earlier this year in the UK. It at times has the feel of a film about the kids made by a sympathetic older brother figure, but the key is that it is sympathetic and not too judgmental about what is, after all, a very emotionally turbulent time.
I don’t know anything about being an 8th grader (which is I believe age 13/14) in the United States, and I’m too old to really understand the kids now, but this film captures some what we might nowadays call “emotional truths” of being at that age, just before reaching high school, the awkwardness and the desperation, which feel very real and understandable. In a sense, it’s the base of just about every American coming of age high school movie, about the cliques and the fitting in, and the dealing with your parents, but this is done not so much as a boldly-coloured satirical comedy, but as something a little deeper and more complex. It has a lot of laughs (although some of them are laughs of anxiety in the face of potential humiliation), but it’s also pretty gruelling at times. When I think about it, nothing particularly awful really happens, but the way it’s framed, it’s all turmoil and heartbreak and so every detail feels a lot more life-threatening than any individual one might be, and that’s where I think the strength of the film is. Also, there are lots of canny shots and nicely-realised scenes that make it seem as if the director has a great sense of how to set up these moments.
Director/Writer Bo Burnham; Cinematographer Andrew Wehde; Starring Elsie Fisher, Emily Robinson, Josh Hamilton; Length 94 minutes.
Seen at Curzon Bloomsbury, London, Sunday 21 April 2019.
Not all my favourite films of the year are new films, and I’m always discovering films from the past to love. The BFI ran a small season dedicated to French post-New Wave director Maurice Pialat, and this 1978 piece — a follow-up of sorts to his L’enfance nue of 10 years earlier — was one that I managed to catch on the big screen, though all his films that I’ve seen have had much to commend them.
The title suggests the (sadly rather well-worn) genre of ‘old man director wags his finger at the teens for not applying themselves’ and I suppose there would be something to that. After all, it’s about a bunch of late-teenage kids studying for their university entrance exams, who seem largely less than interested in such high-minded educational application and — as teens are in movies everywhere — more interested in making out with one another, or smoking, or just hanging out. Some of them have jobs (not great jobs), some of them have dreams and plans, some just settle down because there’s little else to do and very few options in their small French town. I’d say what elevates it above run-of-the-mill coming-of-age exploitation is the sensitivity with which these situations are played out, and (title aside) the general lack of judgement that seems to be passed here. Everyone is played naturalistically and there’s no forced narrative that pushes everyone into particular places. Indeed it feels like it evolves in an almost documentary manner, in a way that’s both true to the characters and ultimately satisfying, though without tying everything up neatly.
Director/Writer Maurice Pialat; Cinematographers Pierre-William Glenn and Jean-Paul Janssen; Starring Sabine Haudepin, Philippe Marlaud; Length 86 minutes.
Seen at BFI Southbank (NFT1), London, Sunday 10 November 2019.
Of all the recent success stories in Asian-American cinema, focusing on Asian diaspora characters (usually Chinese-American, but there are people of Singaporean, Korean, Malaysian, Hong Kong and Vietnamese extraction, amongst others, mixed in here), none has been more notable than the romantic comedy. Of course there are cinematic precedents, like Alice Wu’s touching and likeable Saving Face (2004). However, following Kumail Nanjiani’s well-received The Big Sick the year before, last year’s high-profile cinematic success of Crazy Rich Asians has been matched on the small-screen by the Netflix films To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before and this year’s Always Be My Maybe. I expect we’ll be seeing plenty more, and that can only be a good thing.
Continue reading “Three Recent Asian-American Romcoms: To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018), Crazy Rich Asians (2018) and Always Be My Maybe (2019)”
There are, I suppose, no shortage of films — no shortage even of woozy impressionistic documentaries — about the teenage experience of girlhood, but this one seems pretty engaged. Its New York-based subjects are, for example, hardly idiots (frustrating, piqued, flighty at times, but not stupid). Indeed, there’s some discussion amongst its (mostly white, mostly upper-middle-class) subjects of how young female voices are routinely mocked and ignored — an argument I’ve seen recycled quite a bit over this past winter of Teen Vogue‘s growing political ascendancy. Well, there’s no such danger here, as we watch this loose group of friends grow up and go to university (or not). It’s sweet, sad, and hopeful, often all at once. It’s also shot in tight close-ups, hazy in the camera’s focus, and always gorgeous to look at.
Director Jenny Gage; Cinematographer Tom Betterton; Length 79 minutes.
Seen at Curzon Bloomsbury (Bertha DocHouse), London, Saturday 25 March 2017.
I hope Kelly Fremon Craig gets to keep making movies, and I hope she takes over from Richard Linklater’s deeply boycentric visions, which I’m only reminded of because Blake Jenner must be going through the ‘sensitive jock’ phase of his career. But no, this is a film about Nadine (Hailee Steinfeld) and it’s wonderful. It has great timing and an ear for dialogue, whether comic or dramatic (and it does certainly run the gamut). The score isn’t too assertive, even if I did spend the first 10 minutes thinking it was a retro 80s film (fashions come around, I guess). I didn’t buy everything that happened, and the ending felt more than a little bit tacked on — the character cycle Nadine is trapped in doesn’t seem like it’ll have a happy resolution, but the film is above all generous to its characters. However, it felt particularly right in its character interactions and in the moves from angst (no Nadine, stay away from Jordan Catalano… or whatever his name is in this film*) to very droll comedy to lacerating drama, like any good coming of age film. And it’s definitely a good one.
[* It’s Nick, and he’s no good.]
Director/Writer Kelly Fremon Craig; Cinematographer Doug Emmett; Starring Hailee Steinfeld, Woody Harrelson, Kyra Sedgwick, Blake Jenner, Hayden Szeto; Length 99 minutes.
Seen at Cineworld Leicester Square, London, Tuesday 6 December 2016.
At one level this is a Swedish coming of age film, with intolerant school bullies picking on young women, who look to each other for love and support. However, it quickly becomes evident that one of them, Kim (Tuva Jagell), feels uncomfortable with her gender identity, while Momo (Louise Nyvall) has feelings for Kim. Via a fantasy expedient of a magical plant, the film allows the young women to transform Cinderella-like into men for a night, thereby experiencing facets of privilege and masculinist behaviour, in their interactions with a group of rebellious boys who go to their school. It’s actually done really well, at least from my admittedly gender-normative point of view. There’s a delicate artistry to the transformation sequences and it makes tangible, via its magical premise, some of the identity fluidity that’s (I think) natural when you’re growing up.
Director/Writer Alexandra-Therese Keining (based on the novel by Jessica Schiefauer); Cinematographer Ragna Jorming; Starring Tuva Jagell, Louise Nyvall, Wilma Holmén; Length 106 minutes.
Seen at Curzon Bloomsbury, London, Thursday 10 November 2016.
Criterion occasionally pulls out a vaguely exploitational B-movie from the vaults, and this is no less enjoyable than, say, Carnival of Souls or Blood for Dracula, and hinges on a similarly low-budget aesthetic that maximimises the scares by only obliquely referring to the terror at its heart. In this case, it’s the gelatinous threat of the title, and the film’s unsurprisingly hokey effects are pushed into the background by a story that focuses on “teen” couple Steve (McQueen) and Jane (Aneta Corsaut) and their friends in a close-knit small town. The teenagers aren’t the wild rebels that Corman had started to capitalise on earlier in the decade, but largely conservative law-abiding ones (they do all look firmly in their 30s, to be fair), and occasional moments of tension between them and the authorities are quickly subsumed by a shared desire to defeat the unknown threat. You get the sense, given the era, that this is allegorising any number of things, but most notably the Red Scare of Communism, meaning its outcome may never be in question but the ending has an amusingly provisional quality. Of course, if you remember anything, it’s likely to be the jaunty and goofy Burt Bacharach-penned title tune.
FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director Irvin S. Yeaworth Jr.; Writers Kay Linakar [as “Kate Phillips”] and Theodore Simonson (based on an idea by Irvine H. Millgate); Cinematographer Thomas E. Spalding; Starring Steve McQueen, Aneta Corsaut; Length 86 minutes.
Seen at home (Blu-ray), London, Sunday 10 April 2016.
Probably exactly the kind of film we won’t see much if we leave the European Union, it feels so quintessentially French, despite dealing with themes that seem to always be prevalent: the fear of young people and what they do in their spare time. There’s a certain prurience to the premise I suppose, but it’s all fairly artfully handled, with equal opportunity nudity for our youthful cast experimenting with sexual desires but actually using it to open the emotional wounds of growing up. There’s a slightly judgemental tone to the way it resolves but on the whole this is an earnest attempt to deal with teenage disaffection.
Director/Writer Eva Husson; Cinematographer Mattias Troelstrup; Starring Marilyn Lima, Daisy Broom, Finnegan Oldfield, Lorenzo Lefebvre; Length 98 minutes.
Seen at Curzon Soho, London, Wednesday 22 June 2016.
Sometimes I like to watch innocuous frothy light-hearted brightly-coloured romantic comedies, the kind of thing which has always been considered the dispensable filler and fodder of the film world. I don’t really ever expect much from them, nor do they always deliver very much either, except something aimlessly diverting. I don’t even expect the protagonists to be people I actually like or deeply identify with — the title characters here (played by Victoria Justice and Pierson Fodé respectively) are self-involved narcissistic young New Yorkers, which is fine by me but I could see it might grate with others. Ely is gay; Naomi is his BFF; and together they have a list of people they both have crushes on but who are out of bounds (hence the title). The main thing is that there be a lightweight off-hand feel to the way things spool out, enlivened perhaps by some enjoyable supporting turns. And that much is in place here, with a range of love interests, friends and roommates who — in a touch which is perhaps slightly too precious — have matching names (Girl Robin is played by High School Musical‘s Monique Coleman, and there’s a Boy Robin too; there are also a couple of Bruces), but all are played with brio. Stretching credulity is that the building’s doorman is also a hunky young guy, Gabriel (played by the winsome Matthew Daddario), but it points to the film’s genesis in Young Adult fiction. Indeed if there’s anything interesting about the film, it’s that it integrates gay characters and a three-way love plot with a somewhat Disney Channel/Nickelodeon-esque inoffensive brightness. Perhaps I’m too easy on it, but it passed the time.
Director Kristin Hanggi; Writers Amy Andelson and Emily Meyer (based on the novel by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan); Cinematographer Anka Malatynska; Starring Victoria Justice, Pierson Fodé, Matthew Daddario, Monique Coleman; Length 90 minutes.
Seen at home (Netflix streaming), London, Monday 29 February 2016.