One of the worst mistakes a film can make is not knowing what it wants to be. Without a clear vision, the script becomes muddled, the actors have nothing to base their characters on, and the tone can wildly shift from scene to scene. Although it is certainly not the only or even the most common reason for a film to fail, it is one of the most sure-fire ways to sink a movie. George Clooney’s Suburbicon is a text-book example of this- it tries to be three kinds of movie at the same time, and consequently fails at all three. 
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Our story is set sometime in the 1950s, in the model suburban community of Suburbicon. It’s a seemingly idyllic place, full of kind people and friendly neighbors and wholesome families. However, that tranquility is shattered by a pair of shocking events. First, a woman named Rose Lodge (Julianne Moore) is murdered, leaving her husband Gardner (Matt Damon), son Nicky (Noah Jupe) and twin sister Margaret (also Juliane Moore) behind. Secondly, an African-American family moves into town, prompting anger and fear by the majority of the (otherwise all white) citizens. But it soon becomes apparent that not all is as it seems with the Lodge family, and racial tensions within the community reach a boiling point. 

Directed by George Clooney and co-written by the Coen Brothers, Suburbicon seems to have a split personality. At first, it seems like it’s trying to be a Fargo-style dark comedy satirizing the idyllic vision of 1950s suburbia. However, after about 25 or 30 minutes, most of those ideas are dropped from the script and vanish from the screen, never to return. And to be fair, there are some pretty funny moments in this first section. However, their abrupt disappearance is disappointing not only because most of the humor of the film is lost, but because what replaces it is no better. 

The rest of the film delves into the murder-mystery ‘who dun it’ type stories. But there’s a few problems with this. First, it’s not really a murder ‘mystery’ because it very quickly becomes obvious who killed Mrs. Lodge. And second, without spoiling anything, I think its safe to say that most audiences will not appreciate who the killer is. Dark, depressing murder stories can certainly work if they are well-written, keep you guessing, or darkly comedic, but sadly Suburbicon is none of these things, and consequently the film becomes a chore to get through.

And finally, the film also deconstructs the nostalgic idea of 50s suburbia by illuminating the racial segregation and violence which lurked just under its surface. While I think this is a laudable goal and could have made for a very interesting movie, the problem is that the subplot with the African American family has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the plot. It feels extremely tacked-on and meaningless, even if it is one of the more interesting sections of the film. It could have vastly increased the suspense and complexity of the murder plot if they had been woven together, but instead they remain bizarrely segregated in a strange reflection of the times the film is set in. 

There are the seeds of three really good movies in Suburbicon. And if those seeds had been nurtured and intertwined more carefully, than this might have even been a great movie. But they weren’t, so instead we’re left with a film/three films floundering to find their place. So if you’re passing by the town of Suburbicon on your way to the theatre this weekend, stay on the road until you arrive at a something more worth your time. 

Grade: D

2016 was an excellent year for dark and wacky comedies. From Deadpool’s comedic ultra-violence to the outrageous animated Sausage Party to the surreal yet oddly poignant Swiss Army Man, we got our pick of all the weird humor that both major and independent studios could muster. And among these films is a little-known gem called The Lobster. Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, it is a masterfully dark, cynical satirization of the compulsive human need to form relationships wrapped in some truly horrible black comedy. So when I heard that Lanthimos was releasing another film this year, I jumped at the chance to see it. Unfortunately, The Killing of a Sacred Deer does not measure up to his previous effort.
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Doctor Stephen Murphy (Colin Farrell) is a surgeon specializing in open-heart operations. He has a beautiful wife named Anna (Nicole Kidman), herself a medical professional, and two children named Kim (Raffey Cassidy) and Bob (Sunny Suljic). But Stephen also has a secret: several years ago a man died under his scalpel due to a mistake resulting from Stephen drinking before the operation. Although he consciously denies it, Stephen feels guilty about the death and tries to make up for it by mentoring the man’s son, Martin (Barry Keoghan). But when Bob suddenly develops an unknown disease, Stephen finds that his sins are beginning to catch up to him. 

Unlike his previous film, The Killing of a Sacred Deer is for the most part a drama film rather than a comedy, although it still possesses the occasional dark comedy moment. Otherwise, it shares many of the same characteristics as The Lobster- a premise/setting which is essentially magical realism, a highly affected and dry performance style from the cast, and a deep underlying sense of unease and disjointedness. Also like The Lobster, it is unceasingly and unflinchingly pessimistic about human nature. 

However, this last element is also this film’s great weakness. The Lobster’s dark comedy thrived because it made us laugh at the absurdity of human relationships. The Killing of a Sacred Deer’s drama fails because that same pessimism becomes all consuming. Not only is there really no one to root for in the film, but the any seeming lack of any theme in the plot (other than that humans are awful) means that by the credits roll you feel like you just spent two hours getting to know a cast of terrible people for no purpose. 

There are many ways to make a film with a completely unlikable cast and dour tone enjoyable, or at least interesting to watch. You can use it to say something meaningful about human existence, like American Psycho. You can make the characters complex and compelling, like The Hateful Eight. And of course you can make the whole thing funny, like The Lobster. But The Killing of a Sacred Deer does not succeed in any of these things. The film says nothing about the human condition other than that people are the worst, which is apparent from the first ten minutes. The characters almost all come off as creepy and unlikable and don’t give us any reason to root for them. And although it has a little bit of comedy, it’s nowhere near enough to carry the rest of the film. 

In short, The Killing of a Sacred Deer is a slog to get through, and there simply isn’t enough pay off to make that slog worth it. Its certainly not a horrible film- its not even the worst film I’ve seen recently. Its simply not worth the investment in time, ticket money, or mental fortitude required to watch such terrible characters. Stick to something more fun, or at least something more interesting. 

Grade: C-

​The title of director Sean Baker’s latest film since breakthrough Tangerine (2015) references Disney’s in-house name for the Orlando resort and theme park. It’s tongue-in-cheek that the title also references the motels-turned-housing projects outside the aforementioned Disney park in Kissimmee, Florida. The hotels and motels along the state’s infamous highway 192 are the setting of The Florida Project, an extremely confrontational look at capitalist exploitations in the sunshine state of America. Baker maximizes emotional pull by placing Kissimmee’s children at the forefront, chiefly the everyday summer adventures of 6-year-old Moonee (the outstanding Brooklynn Kimberly Prince).

Moonee’s adventures revolve around The Magic Castle, the extended-stay motel she and her single mother Halley (Bria Vinaite) call “home.” Despite the pastel purple paint job, The Magic Castle is a dump, shrouding the troubles of an economically unstable region behind it’s closed doors. “The man in there gets arrested a lot,” Moonee casually details as she gives a tour of the motel’s many rooms to her friends for the day. In another scene, Moonee and her friends watch as lost newlyweds learn they booked a stay at The Magic Castle instead of the similarly-named Magic Kingdom of Disney, and the couple express their shock of the setting as if it’s the most abominable place they’ve ever seen. The phrase Baker has used to describe the motel’s community is the “hidden homeless.” These residents aren’t living on the street, but they’re not far from it either. 

“You know why this is my favorite tree? ‘Cause it tipped over, but it’s still growing,” Moonee explains to her friend Jancey on one of their adventures where they share strawberry jam sandwiches and sit in trees. In spite of their situation, the children always make the best of it by spending their summer days spitting on cars or taking long strolls to the local Twistee Treat. Cinematographer Alexis Zabe perfectly composes her shots to frame the children walking amongst the novelty shops that populate Highway 192, as buildings shaped like half an orange or signs that proclaim “MACHINE GUN AMERICA” provide more than just backdrop to their everyday lives. Scenes hold on the kids lapping up ice cream in the hot sun, twerking and yelling obscenities they don’t understand, and the unbridled joy is rarely portrayed as effectively and as modern as it is here.

The best part of The Florida Project lies in the juxtaposition of these children and their setting, where society happens. We are a society that turns our cheek to the homeless asking for help, we say “no” to the cashier who asks if we’d like to round up for charity, we actively look past Moonee’s living situation and struggling mother to admire her bright outlook on life, despite how loud and colorful that setting establishes itself. Kissimmee, FL is just a glance at the marginalized communities that exist all over America and the systems put in place to keep them that way. Baker excellently faces the audience with this reality, to the point where I found myself purposely looking away from the screen even during scenes where nothing happens because I couldn’t help but feel so bad. That Baker is able to evoke such empathy is what makes The Florida Project an essential watch.  

Grade: A-