good time – UCL Film & TV Society

A Decade in: Directors

Alex Dewing — Sun, 15 Dec 2019 17:26:34 +0000

A selection of our writers reflect on the directors who stood out this decade; whether for their cultural contribution, the work they’ve done, or the personal impact they’ve had.

Denis Villeneuve

Though quantity certainly does not equate to quality, Denis Villeneuve’s output of six feature films this decade is nothing short of a exhibition of excellent craftsmanship. Captivated by Prisoners (2013), I found myself anticipating every new Villeneuve film, and he never disappoints. His impressive streak of films – Incendies, Prisoners, Enemy, Sicario, Arrival, Blade Runner 2049 – definitively affirms him as one of the breakout directors of the 2010s, as well as positioning him as an influential player in the direction and potential of sci-fi cinema to come. His continual exploration into trauma and violence coupled up with a frequent collaboration with Roger Deakins brings to cinema worlds that are cold, harsh, yet beautiful. The season of winter comes to mind: the frosty forest of Prisoners, Ryan Gosling’s K lying in the snow, the cool colour palette of Arrival, silhouettes against the dawn breaking in Sicario. Psychological isolation and existentialist dread persist throughout his filmography; qualities that, in my opinion, are reminiscent of this decade in the Western world.

Plus, the ending of Enemy alone speaks for itself.

Xinyi Wang

The Safdie Brothers

When I think of the Safdie brothers, I think of anxiety. Right before the 2010s began, Josh and Benny Safdie premiered their second feature, Daddy Longlegs, at the 2009 Cannes Film Festival. The film was heralded as setting a new standard for DIY cinema, a descriptor that would soon encapsulate the body of their work. Now at the end of the decade, with five more films under their belt – Lenny Coke, Heaven Knows What, Good Time, and the soon-to-be-released Uncut Gems – the brothers have established themselves as cult indie film royalty. NYC born and bred, their films embody a New York minute – urgent, colourful, everywhere at once. They cast first-time actors they find on the street, they film without permits, they edit, write, and direct all of their films; the brothers possess a particularly Millennial hustle that allows them to create content constantly, always on their own terms. They represent a new generation of filmmakers, kids interacting with cameras from day one who aren’t afraid to use them. Yet with each film has come a larger budget and increased acclaim, challenging the do-it-yourself attitude that drew them their initial cult following. As big studios clamour to fund their projects, an important question emerges: can the brothers maintain their creative integrity in the face of a hyper-commercial (and confining) industry? Creating meccas out of minutiae, the Safdies have shaped independent cinema over the past decade, while simultaneously representing the precarity of its future.

Maria Duster

Alejandro González Iñárritu

The 2010’s was a decade of many great directors but, in my opinion, none stood out quite like Innaritu. He started off the decade with the heavily-acclaimed Spanish language film Biutiful which cemented him clearly as a visionary and talented director and proved that Babel was not a one-time hit. But it was really his move to American cinema that changed everything. In 2014 and 2015, he directed two completely different kind of films in Birdman and The Revenant but somehow mastered the craft in both of them. He became the first person since Joseph L. Mankiewicz in 1950 to win two consecutive Academy Awards for Directing. While the Awards have been heavily criticized in recent years, both of his wins were absolutely well-deserved. The style of Birdman made it a real stand-out and perhaps one of his greatest feats was getting the best out of Michael Keaton for a fantastic performance. With The Revenant, he almost abandoned dialogue as he let Leonardo DiCaprio, and to a lesser extent Tom Hardy, do what they do best in a beautifully shot film, demonstrating human nature in its core. Both films were visually scintillating, showing Inarritu’s eye for the camera and were brilliantly crafted shot-by-shot. While he did not make another feature-length film this decade, his three efforts were more than enough to make him my pick for the Director of the 2010’s.

Kerem Uzdiyen

Ava DuVernay

When They See Us is a phenomenal television series. Thirty years ago, the boys accused of the 1989 Central Park jogger case were demonised by the American public. Now, their stories were sensitively and shrewdly presented by DuVernay to the world. With the five men exonerated legally and culturally, this is emblematic of what makes DuVernay one of the decade’s most relevant and best directors. She uses her artistic prowess to express the history and predicament of African Americans. My favourite aspect of her direction is how she frames faces and uses space. The audience is confronted with not only the character’s hardship, but her actors are given close-ups that emphasise their emotional journey. Her characters may be facing institutional persecution or a literal prison cell, and she frames them off-kilter to knock the audience off balance too. Although her filmography has reoccurring themes and ideas of black self-determination, social justice and empowerment, DuVernay has a strong hold on projects with different needs. While Selma was a historical drama which celebrated Martin Luther King, it was more spectacular than your typical biography film. Her documentary 13TH was a rigorous examination of the prison-industrial system but enthralling and never losing a watcher’s attention. Considering DuVernay’s initial career as PR in Hollywood, her current projects are a stark contrast.

Emma Davis

Taika Waititi

I would argue, it is impossible to not find utter joy in the work of Taika Waititi, who has stolen the hearts of audiences over the past decade with his deadpan humour and absolute charm. After dabbling in directing TV episodes (including my favourite Flight of the Conchords), this Kiwi actor / writer / director (/ infinitely cool human) truly found his footing during the last decade. There are few directors who manage to find the balance between intelligent humour and the downright silly when it comes to comedy, but here Waititi is a pro. Whether it’s his critically acclaimed Hunt for the Wilderpeople, the big-budget and bigger-studio Thor: Ragnarrok, or the cult-classic What We Do in the Shadows, Waititi evokes childish delight from the audience that never fails to make you smile. His films are bright and bold, and in an industry where films so often profit off being stoic and serious it’s refreshing to see someone unafraid to not take themselves, or their work ,seriously. This, of course, doesn’t mean there is nothing serious to be found in Waititi’s filmography, you need only watch Hunt for the Wilderpeople to know that this director can have you crying with tears of saddness one second, and laughter the next. A true master of humour and drama, this once indie director may have found a bigger fan-base but frankly, he’s more chaotic than ever and I can’t wait to see what he brings in the decade to come.

Alex Dewing

‘Good Time’ Review

Milo Garner — Wed, 06 Dec 2017 19:12:52 +0000

Milo Garner reviews the Safdie Brothers’ latest film.

Like the Safdie Brothers’ last film, Heaven Knows What, Good Time is primarily set on the streets of New York. But opposing the stark realism of the former is a neon-drenched nightmare in the latter, as we plunge into an ever-escalating heist thriller. The film opens with Nick Nikas (Benny Safdie, co-director) undergoing what seems to be some much-needed therapy, before his wayward brother Connie (Robert Pattinson) lurches into frame and pulls him out of the room. This is the falling of the first domino, setting into motion a series of events that neither might have predicted. What follows is an After Hours-esque escapade, and a night that refuses to end.

Complicating this initial scene is the nature of Nick and Connie’s relationship. Nick suffers from a nondescript mental disability, and is easily swayed by his despicable-if-caring brother’s influence. An alarm bell is immediately apparent upon seeing a director taking it upon themselves to act in such a role, but luckily Safdie manages a performance subtle enough to avoid any particularly egregious characterisations. Beside the opening section this character also spends most of the film’s runlength off-screen, which might well be for the best. Shortly after leaving therapy, the brothers are seen robbing a bank, apparently to fulfil a vague sort of plot to go off and ‘live in the woods’. Whether this is true or one of Connie’s many cons (whence his name derives, according to the directors) remains unexplored, but regardless, Nick is caught by the law, and thrown in prison. Being just about smart enough to realize prison is not somewhere someone with Nick’s condition will thrive, Connie takes it upon himself to get him out – through bail or otherwise – as soon as possible. And it is this mission that occupies him for the endless night to follow. While a sound plot in basis, this also presents a further issue in regards to Nick’s character. It positions him as a ‘damsel-in-distress’ equivalent, being an object to be saved, his defining characteristic in this instance being his disability. This is exacerbated by a script that essentially sidelines the brothers’ relationship beyond the film’s opening – but ultimately that isn’t what the Good Time is about.

This is Connie’s film. He is, at best, a mediocre criminal, but much worse a person. Nearly every person he comes across he exploits in some way, disregarding the interests of anyone other than himself. Even his brother, who he clearly loves, finds himself used to support Connie’s foolhardy schemes. Yet despite his unscrupulous nature, the Safdies imbue him with a certain charm. He is able to manipulate people through a palpable charisma, one emphasised by Pattinson’s Hollywood looks against the more prosaic appearances of those he interacts with. But Pattinson here is far more than a pretty face, with perhaps his very finest performance; taking into account the likes of Cosmopolis, this is no small achievement. As the film progresses he presents a character slowly crumbling, his edifice of confidence loosening to reveal an angry and aimless man beneath. While street-smart to an extent, his idiocy in a more general sense becomes ever more keenly felt. In one of the film’s final scenes said edifice collapses entirely, and Connie reveals himself in a self-reflexive attack on a fellow criminal: ‘you serve no function whatsoever.’ Critic Jake Cole puts it best: ‘he has [a] caged, self-immolation quality,’ much like the protagonists of Scorsese’s early films.

Both Cole and A.O. Scott (The New York Times) also recognise the essential thematic basis to the film, overlooked by many other critics, of white privilege. In Connie’s rampant exploitation of those around him, it is ethnic minorities who bear his brunt most obviously. The film’s most astute delivery of its thesis is also its best moment. The heist scene towards its beginning is notable for the masks the protagonists wear – not clowns or former presidents, but a sort of rubberized blackface. The distinctly uncanny valley look of these masks is off-putting enough as it is, but more so is the idea that the best disguise available to two white criminals is simply to be black. Connie later abuses the kindness of a Caribbean immigrant, both stealing her car and misleading her daughter; and finally beats and drugs a Somalian security guard. In every space he occupies, he takes command – using his knowledge of police injustice to further enable his adverse behaviour.

Beyond this grounded thematic base, Good Time is somewhat less stark visually. Aided by cinematographer Sean Price Williams, the New York of this film is saturated and luminous, available light channelled and exaggerated. Greens and reds splay across character’s faces, televisions brighten dark rooms, storefronts glow in the street. The camera itself typically functions in close-up, forcing a sense of claustrophobia and tension throughout. Some (such as Indiewire’s David Ehrlich) have compared the film to Enter the Void visually, but Good Time is rather more reticent with its psychedelic potential. There is a scene in which Connie searches a ‘haunted house’ ride for a bottle of liquid acid, but the Safdies don’t push this scene down the rabbit-hole. Their doing so would have been welcome. Supporting the ever-building tension is the soundtrack, by the ever-brilliant Oneohtrix Point Never. His progressive electronic music, reminiscent of the classic work of Tangerine Dream, ensures that no scene drops the pace and that the building pressure doesn’t let up.

It has to make up for a plot that sometimes isn’t quite as tight as a film like this demands. After being imprisoned for a little while Nick is, predictably, beaten up and transferred to a hospital. Connie attempts to break him out, but in his inexorable cocktail of bad luck and stupidity fails this task, so he resorts to a barely-related plot to sell a bottle of discarded LSD. While this section of the film is somewhat engaging in its own right, it lacks the immediacy or necessity that was apparent earlier. His brother is not in direct threat so long as he remains in hospital, so Connie’s urgency to sell his newly acquired gear is questionable at best. Yet despite this, and some other shortcomings, Good Time ultimately delivers on its title’s promise (to the audience, at least). Eminently stylish without losing its theoretic basis, it’s a film that anticipates greatness in the Safdie brothers, even if that lies a little out of reach for the time being. Watch this space.

7/10

Good Time is out now in UK cinemas. Trailer below.