Review: THE KINDERGARTEN TEACHER (2018) [Leeds International Film Festival]

Maggie Gyllenhaal is one of a handful of actors that can compel me to go see a film simply by virtue of their name alone. Such is her mercurial talent and on-screen charisma, whether its playing the timid but sexually-awakened titular character in Secretary (2002) or a commanding but conflicted peer in The Honourable Woman (2014), Gyllenhaal has carved out a niche for playing interesting and withholding characters both on TV and in cinema. Her draw then, extended to yet another title role, this time The Kindergarten Teacher, written and directed by Sara Colangelo. 

Due to the increasingly intense nature of the story, I’ll keep the synopsis brief: Gyllenhaal plays Lisa, an unfulfilled teacher begins to claim the spontaneous poems spouted by a young pupil in her class as her own for her poetry class. It’s a simple but intriguing set-up, and being based on a 2014 Israeli film of the same name, it has a lot to do to make the remake worthwhile.

Five year-old Jimmy, played by Parker Sevak is also an impressive but unnerving presence. Much like his character, Parker seems unaware of his talent, displaying a placid exterior but perhaps slightly weary of his teacher’s unwarranted attentions. As Lisa becomes more and more compromised, we’re left feeling concerned, perhaps even terrified, for the genius child’s welfare. I can’t remember feeling more scared during a swimming scene since Leave Her to Heaven (1945)

Almost immediately, however, you are lulled into the narrative, and the indie touch to the domestic and school scenes are matter of fact, unshowy and believable, even if the teenage children are merely ciphers to demonstrate the generational stalemate that adds to Lisa’s unsatisfied life. Almost all of Gyllenhaal’s lead performances could be classed as a career high, but as the alarmingly determined Lisa, we are never on safe footing, but party to a performance that shakes with ruinous mid-life frustration. A fellow film writer, Rhys Handley termed this as “Maggie Gyllenhaal’s own Taxi Driver” and I couldn’t have summed it up better. Damn. 

Yet again another masterclass from Gyllenhaal, reaffirming her position as one of the boldest actors out there. If you can handle having your stomach in knots for pretty much most of the third act, then give The Kindergarten Teacher a go. 


Review: SUSPIRIA (2018) [Leeds International Film Festival]

Viewed at Hyde Park Picture House as part of #LIFF2018.

It would be remiss of me to not mention that Suspiria is gory. While the original poured deep red colours into its set design and cinematography, the gushing blood red in this incantation of Suspiria are reserved only for the acts of body horror that occur. The violent body transformations are shocking and nauseating, and dreamlike fast cuts of disturbing imagery have a trance-like, subliminal power. Certain scenes will last for a long time in the memory, that’s for sure.

Welcome to Luca Guadagnino’s reimagining of Suspiria, a 30-year ambition finally realised and hot off the heels of his evocative  2017 sun-drenched tale, Call Me By Your Name. A switch to horror and a ‘remake’ of a Dario Argento classic befuddled many, but with a stellar cast, an updated but equally unforgiving plot and flashes of gore, Suspiria tantalises and mystifies in equal measure once again.

Set in Berlin in 1977 at the prestigious Markos Company dance school, Tilda Swinton is Madame Blanc, the austere but brilliant principal who is immediately drawn to new American student, Dakota Johnson’s Susie Bannion. As Guadagnino has been keen to point, Swinton also plays Lutz Ebersdorf as Dr. Josef Klemperer, a kindly psychiatrist that is more or less the emotional centre of the film.

Chloë Grace Moretz’s cameo as Patricia looms large over the opening acts, a young student targeted by the teachers within their secret coven, but determined to escape their grasp. Johnson, previously seen in Guadagnino’s A Bigger Splash (2015) alongside Swinton, is mesmeric as Susie, unknowable and seeming naive to the real trade of the Markos Company. Johnson and Swinton’s scenes together, even those as they stare at one another within a mirrored rehearsal room or appear to be talking without speaking across a crowded restaurant, are electrifying.

As points of view shift, the well-worn narrative of ‘an American in a strange country’ is left behind as Susie soon becomes a dancing conduit for the coven’s sadistic spells. Contorting, tribal dancing are never too far away from seeming like demonic possession and the camera, and Madame Blanc’s gaze, lingers on Susie’s unexpectedly libidinous movements. We are left to wonder if this is just her dancing style or has her time at the Markos Company transformed her already?

A history of the coven’s acts are hidden deep in the bowels (wrong choice of words there) of the school, horrific antiquities and weapons of choice such as the swift metal hooks that swipe as Thom Yorke’s haunting soundtrack swells. Berlin in 1977, the backdrop of the film seen on TVs or echoed through a radio, is a turbulent time that saw the hijacking of a plane and kidnappings by the Red Army Faction. The real world events act as a counterpoint to supernatural violence and its struggles for supremacy. Female autonomy, expressed through cruelty and occultism subterfuge, is attainable, if only as a result of atrocity and suppression. Taking place in a decade that rode the wave of radical feminism and when Germany continued to grapple with its position as a post-war nation, the coven’s secrets mirror the setting’s overwhelming struggle for normalcy. The coven’s power is an affirmation of the period’s feminist movement operating on the fringes of mainstream society.

The abuse of power is an overwhelming force throughout Suspiria, from the long-lasting generational guilt and Vergangenheitsbewältigung, to the coven’s secret manipulation and disposal of unsuspecting students. The school’s faculty are like a rubber band, stretching and contorting between the need for secrecy and culpability. As Susie, Patricia, Sam and Dr Klemperer become further entangled in the dance school/coven’s acts, the more they become manipulated, enlightened and repulsed by the coven’s violent tyranny.

A warped, unsettling and nihilistic film that slips from grasp just a handle on it seems within reach, Suspiria is likely to frustrate as many as it is devilishly delights. Immaculately directed and designed, Guadagnino shows once again why he is a contemporary master at period detail and sensuality on screen.







Review: THE HATE U GIVE (2018)

“I’m very aware of the fact that the young people I write for today, will be politicians with Twitter accounts tomorrow. I can’t do anything about the current politicians with Twitter accounts, but if I can affect them and I can reach them right now, then maybe, just maybe, 10, 20, 30 years from now, we won’t have to say ‘Black Lives Matter’, it’ll be understood.” 

So said Angie Thomas, the writer of the source material at the heart of George Tillman Jr.’s adaptation of The Hate U Give, at its premiere at the BFI London Film Festival 2018. The Hate U Give (2018) is hopefully having a wider impact than Angie currently imagines right now. Released before the US goes to the polls for the midterm elections, probably the most important and decisive election in recent years, The Hate U Give feels like a rallying call for young and old alike, transcending its YA bracket and being both an important text and film for our times.

Witnessing the murder of her childhood friend by a police officer, Starr Carter (the incredible Amandla Stenberg) is catapulted into the centre of events that unveil the disharmony and inequality of her surroundings, from her predominately black local area to the privileged white majority private school she attends in the next town over. Starr takes us through her daily routine of code switching at the opening of the film, all the while juggling a new relationship with her well-meaning if slightly misguided white boyfriend and formative friendships.

Daunting themes are tackled deftly throughout and handled with such maturity that you are often left breathless at the close of vital scenes or conversations. Breaking the boundaries of the typical ‘teen movie’ genre, a label that does not portray the varied subjects and issues that a film with teenage protagonists can and ought to depict (note The Miseducation of Cameron Post this summer), The Hate U Give is a powerful and an oftentimes difficult watch, succeeding in not shying away from the experience of being a person of colour in America, at any age. The film starts as Starr and her siblings are being instructed how to behave when stopped by police by their authoritarian but loving father, played by Russell Hornsby. A shocking but unsurprising exchange that informs the rest of the film at key, harrowing points.

The narrative remains firmly with the family, switching from Starr’s witty and insightful voiceover to the parents’ conflicted discussions, sometimes heard by Starr or watched from afar as she sees those around her remain beholden to a menacing local druglord, played by Anthony Mackie. The Hate U Give lingers on the struggles of living with and moving on from the mistakes of generations past, and as Starr grapples with high school life, her conflicting identities, and a new political and moral awakening in the harshest of circumstances, the Carter family are a compelling unit that offer laughs, warmth and solidarity throughout.

The “politicians with Twitter accounts” of tomorrow are the activists of today and as  events unfold, Starr is given an uncompromising view of a broken, divided America. Over the course of the film, she is tasked with picking up the pieces, eventually turning to activism when the system fails her community, leading into the final few scenes that will stay with the viewer and inspire many. A radical teen movie for our troubled times, I recommend you take the time to see this gem.