Author: Corrina Lee

Sometimes, the best twists do not manifest as supernatural ghosts or as a long-lost relative. Sometimes, the best twists are not external but ones that were within the character all along. The characters of The Favorite think they know each other, inside and out. As members of Queen Anne’s court, Lady Sarah (Rachel Weisz) and Abigail (Emma Stone) vie for her favor and the power that entails. But Queen Anne (Oliva Coleman) is more than a figure to be manipulated. She, too, has a motive. As the three women pull and push each other, though, each one’s goals become more and more unclear. Director Yorgos Lanthimos reveals the characters as much to the audience as to themselves.

18th century England is a land of strict propriety, but Lanthimos finds the farce in it. The wigs and excessive make-up are treated as constant visual jokes. Even the extravagant palace settings are used more to make fun of than to glorify. Certainly, the entire film is visually fabulous, but all the gold veneers only serve to highlight the messiness of the lives within. The humanity of the characters and most of the supporting cast help greatly in grounding the film in emotion. Lanthimos does not want the audience to think of the character merely as plot points but as insecure bundles of nerves and feelings. No matter what Sarah and Abigail might say to themselves, they are vulnerable. And not even their impeccable table manners or frighteningly tight dresses will impede them from demonstrating how they feel.

This movie is a testament to each of the actresses’ choices, too. Stone is physically sloppy while being entirely emotionally composed. Weisz, too, schemes and maintains a careful exterior, but the few times she allows it to slip are the most touching of the entire movie. Together, the two characters engage in combat over who can win Queen Anne’s affections. It is a delicate political dance and a bruising fist fight. It is warfare and a promenade. It is women fighting women in ways only women can. The Favorite is message driven without being pandering. It allows its characters to explore issues without forcing the issues upon them. It is also easily one of my favorite movies of the year.

We hurried to the darkness of the theater even as the sunshine beckoned. We hurried, compulsively, because the newest Marvel movie, Captain Marvel, had finally been released for our eager consumption. We hurried without much contemplation for this was just the latest piece in an expanding narrative. I wonder when I will stop hurrying to MCU movies. I have watched them with my sister, my friends, even dragged my parents along to some. It used to be that such communal experiences would thrill me. Each movie spawned a conversation, one of the few that encompassed my entire community. Yet, I find myself balking now, twenty-one movies later.

This is, of course, not entirely due to Captain Marvel, itself. It is a perfectly serviceable movie that has a perfectly acceptable mixture of action scenes, inspirational montages, and banter. But Captain Marvel was never going to be judged entirely on its own merit. No Marvel movie can separate itself from the overwhelming pressure of living up to greater expectations. Each must reach outside of its own story to connect to its predecessors as well as serve as infrastructure for future entries into the pantheon. Perhaps it is here, where Captain Marvel stumbles the most. Set in the 90s, the movie is situated in an era far before the one most Marvel films take place in. Due to the difference in time period, it is often tasked with being a prequel to the rest of the cinematic universe. This is most evident in the excessive incorporation of Nick Fury (Samuel Jackson) into a movie that is ostensibly about Carol Danvers (Brie Larson). Instead of being an origin story for one character, it is the origin story for Nick Fury, and for the MCU in general.

With much to accomplish, it is Carol’s story that gets shortchanged. It takes half of the runtime even for her true name to even be revealed. She is instead introduced as Vers, a warrior for the Kree race in their war against the shape-shifting Skrulls. Vers is a dedicated soldier whose quips are as sharp as her blows. But beyond the occasional sarcastic turn-of-phrase, not much of her character is revealed. Brie Larson plays this initial version of Carol with a discomfort that doesn’t quite fit with the character’s brash confidence. It is, indeed, difficult to see her as a cocky, but selfless hero. It is a strange combination that the movie fails to justify with further backstory. Instead, the movie substitutes character development for easy montages and deus ex machinas. It allows Carol to fly before we even see her learn to run. It is a movie out of sync, which is ironic, for one that seems so concerned about continuity.

It is those that are invested in the Marvel Universe that will benefit most from this movie. We will be the ones that ‘get’ the references, the ones that understand the significance of Captain Marvel in a greater narrative. But as a movie unto itself, it does not understand the characters at its heart.

Some movies just leave you wondering: “Why?” That is all I remember thinking as I exited the theater following the film Vox Lux. Never has anything, not even my final exams, left me with such a general air of confusion. And most bewildering of all, it might have been intentional!

Vox Lux stars Natalie Portman as Celeste, an aging pop star. But even that might have been a sort of false advertising. For the film begins when Celeste is still a teenager, portrayed by Raffey Cassidy. Her career begins then, under the shadow of an enormous tragedy, a school shooting. Perhaps, it was the depiction of that tragedy that decisively turned me against the film. It was senseless and horrifying. Worst, it felt as if the movie was exploiting the chilling nature of the event to send a message. Whatever that message, I was certainly not ready to hear it, much less understand it.

This certainly obscured one of the best parts of the film, which was Cassidy’s performance as young Celeste. I was always left wondering what she was thinking. Alternatively, she acted her age and then well beyond her years. Contributing to this, was her odd demeanor, calm when she should be tense, prepared when she should be caught off guard. Celeste was a constant enigma that never ceased to intrigue me, at least when Cassidy was playing her.

Perhaps the greatest disappointment, then, was Natalie Portman’s performance. Whatever subtlety was created in the first few acts of the movie was completely lost by these last few parts. In fact, there seemed to be little connection between the two, which contributed to the overall lack of cohesiveness in the film. This adult Celeste has been jaded by years of public performance and has, at least outwardly, left the past behind. She is always looking to cover up her messes and make everyone as forgetful as she is. This is the philosophy that the film espouses best. The film, itself, wants to move as quickly as possible. It blurs everything together into a hyperactive montage of images. When there is so much information, none of it will matter.

It is a cynical stance that this film takes. But it is a cynicism about the 21st century that means nothing because we are no longer invested in any of the characters nor the world they inhabit. We don’t know what they want because they strive for nothing. We don’t care. Celeste doesn’t care. There is simply no weight in the film at all. Vox Lux is frenetic mess that sprints through scenes but ends up nowhere at all. Maybe that is exactly where it wanted to be?