May December is uncomfortable viewing – rightly so

It would be all too easy to get the tone wrong in a film about grooming and child sex abuse, but Todd Haynes’s May December makes for uncomfortable viewing in just the right way.

Gracie Atherton-Yoo is a notorious woman after having groomed and seduced a 13-year-old boy, Joe, when she was 36. Discovered in flagrante delicto in the storeroom of the pet shop where they both worked, she was sent to prison, where she gave birth to a girl.

Fast forward 23 years. She and Joe are married and have three children. Honor is at college, while twins Mary and Charlie are set to graduate from school.

And Gracie’s story, which scandalised the nation, is set to be retold in an independent film, where she will be played by Julliard-educated Elizabeth, who is famous for a light TV role and is looking to push her career further.

Elizabeth is visiting Gracie and the family in preparation for the role, with the latter hoping that this movie will ‘set the record straight’, unlike the tacky tabloidesque TV film that we see in the background of one shot, and all the sensationalistic, gossipy magazine stories that the former has gathered as part of her research

Based on the real-life case of Mary Kay Letourneau, Samy Burch’s screenplay is at once high camp, in the fashion of All About Eve, for instance, but also deeply serious.

By the end, there is no obvious resolution to the story; when is Gracie lying/gaslighting and when not, for instance? How much can we trust her word? What will happen to her and Joe now that all their children are leaving the nest – and he is still only 36?

Yet we see, throughout the film, her microaggressions of bullying and control on all her family – including Joe. There’s a scene where she and Elizabeth are in a shop, as Mary is selecting a dress for her graduation, Gracie ‘compliments’ her daughter for having the ‘bravery’ to select a dress that shows off her upper arms. Result? Mary backs down and selects a different dress.

Late on, we learn that Gracie had been abused by her elder brothers – a classic path to becoming an abuser oneself and it is important that the film acknowledges this. Yet she denies it to Elizabeth – suggesting she is gaslighting her own son from her first marriage who gave Elizabeth this information in the first place.

Who – and what – do you believe? It’s a superb look at gaslighting and at personality disorder, and at the effects of abuse on all those around whom it happens.

Julienne Moore is superb as Gracie; brittle and vulnerable and threatening all at the same time.

Natalie Portman is equally good as Elizabeth. The theme here of performing roles – not least, our socially expected ones – are important throughout the film.

Charles Melton, as Joe, has already won a number of awards and it is no surprise why – he manages a poignant subtlety that acts as a stark and important contrast to the campness mentioned earlier. This is a painful performance for him.

And the ending should harrow, in terms of what it suggests – well, what you as the viewer decide to read into it.

It is a really very fine film.

The Boy and The Heron is an utter joy

A “big fantastical film” written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki, legendary co-founder of the legendary Japanese Studio Ghibli, The Boy and the Heron is yet another stonkingly good release at the end of the year.

It’s 1943 and 12-year-old Mahito Maki’s mother Hisako is killed in a hospital fire in Tokyo, as he sees the building collapse in flames.

Mahito’s father Shoichi, an air munitions factory owner, marries his late wife’s younger sister, Natsuko, and a year later, the pair move to her estate in the countryside, where she is attended by several old women. But Mahito is indifferent to the affectionate overtures of his pregnant new mother.

A grey heron, behaving in a way never seen before, leads Mahito to a derelict tower on the estate, which was sealed after its architect – Natsuko’s eccentric granduncle – disappeared inside.

Meanwhile, Mahito finds a copy of How Do You Live?, dedicated to him by his mother. There's big meaning stuff here – the novel was by Genzaburō Yoshino, published in 1937, and is the Japanese title of this film.

When Natsuko goes missing – Mahito had seen her walking toward the tower – he realises that, for all his indifference toward her, he has to find and save her.

Entering the tower, he moves into a series of alternate worlds. In one, he encounters bubble-like spirits called Warawara – reminiscent of the Adipose in the Doctor Who 2008 episode, Partners in Crime – but all of these worlds have levels of threat and complexity.

Ultimately, he is faced with the choice of – in effect – becoming a god (and would he be a good god or a bad god?) or returning to his own world, even though he hates the state of where that is (WWII).

It’s a brilliant, beautiful, complex film. The animation completely recalls for me that ‘golden age’ of Disney – glorious watercolour backgrounds and simpler characters/foregrounds.

I saw the dubbed version and voice talents include Mark Hamill as the granduncle, and Dave Bautista as the king of vastly overgrown – and monstrous – parakeets (no, I’m not having you on).

The music by Joe Hisaishi is well worth noting – a beautiful soundtrack.

Having lost my husband in September – and with so much of what I’ve seen since seeming to involve grief and how people deal with it – I found it immensely moving, but also invigorating.

It’s an absolute joy to watch – the look is sensational – and it has an ultimately positive message about how we have to move forward from loss.

Bradley Cooper is a maestro with this Leonard Bernstein biopic, but Carey Mulligan is outstanding

If you’re not careful, “you’ll die a lonely old queen”. That’s a warning from Felicia Montealegre to her husband, iconic American , composer and conductor Leonard Bernstein, in the second half of Bradley Cooper’s extraordinary new film, Maestro.

And sexuality is a hugely important part of this latest feature from Cooper.

I haven’t seen his take on A Star is Born – I am only really familiar with him as Rocket Raccoon – forgive me! But on the basis of this, he is a seriously creative director and writer, and a very fine actor too.

It’s less about Leonard Bernstein as a composer/conductor, and more about his relationship with his wife, Felicia.

That was complicated, because although he very clearly and genuinely loved her, he was also bisexual and not monogamous. She accepted this – and in way that was not passive. In terms of that quote at the top of this review, what struck me so forcefully is that it’s only in relatively recent years that ‘bisexual’ has been more regularly used (though the word was coined in the 19th century).

For many, if attracted to the same sex, it was assumed that, even on spectrums, they were still ultimately and essentially ‘gay’.

A bit like the phrase ‘non-binary’. And if you don’t have the words to describe yourself, how do you understand yourself?

And in the case of Lenny and Felicia, how do they navigate both the sexuality issues and those of non-monogamy?

Though the politics of the times they lived through are also dealt with. Early on, it’s suggested to Bernstein that he drops the ‘stein’ from his name in order to ‘get’ an orchestra.

The cinematography is superb, with filing in both black and white and colour, and in different proportions dependent on when the scenes are set. It’s a joy to look at and Cooper ensures that we get the time to linger – including on faces as they register emotion (which means subtle acting is required). This is not some cinematic equivalent of fast food.

The music is great – and not just Bernstein’s own. There’s Mahler and Beethoven too. And Broadway, since Bernstein transcended genres. Watch for the stunning On the Town rehearsal/fantasy sequence.

Cooper is simply superb as Bernstein, but Carey Mulligan steals it from under his feet. She is outstanding as Felicia – and must be a favourite for the Oscars. I couldn’t recommend it more.

 

Barbie – so much better than expected

A Sindy child myself – albeit more on the basis of my mother’s choice rather than mine – Barbie was not a film I expected to want to see. And then I viewed the trailer and read the early reviews.

My actually seeing it, though, was to be jinxed. Twice, I booked for myself and The Other Half to go and see it, but then on both occasions, he didn’t feel well enough to go. He urged me to go on my own, but it wouldn’t have felt right to do that.

 

Before my first Christmas on my own, I looked for where to stream it, but couldn’t find anywhere (Sky Cinema was overwhelmed with seasonal films), so ordered a 4k ultra HD disc of it.

 

And here, a brief diversion. At the end of 2022, The OH and I decided to pull our metaphorical fingers out and get a new DVD/BluRay player, since the old one was coughing and spluttering to the point of extinction.

 

He sorted one via Richer Sounds – all 4K ready etc – and we went down to Borough to collect. So far, so good. Oops. But it didn’t go with our telly. At that point I started looking up compatible TVs, because that would probably be less angst than returning the disc player. First, we were astonished at how affordable they were and second, we started considering size.

 

We got the tape measure out and played around with it. In the end, we concluded that we could go from 32 inches to 42 inches – without overwhelming our small living room.

 

Reader, we did it. And that 10-inch difference, with the 4K resolution etc, transformed our viewing. Suddenly, the idea of ‘home cinema’ was more than a mere idea. To add, we also invested in a soundbar. So, some pretty serious kit, which makes watching film (and sport) at home a seriously different proposition that previously.

 

Since the OH passed away in September, I have found that this is helping to transform my film watching. I’m not a big TV programme viewer in general, but the set-up makes it so much more enjoyable to watch the footy and stream films or watch them on disc. On Christmas Day, for instance, I made the centrepiece of my time watching Maestro on Netflix. For me, 42 inches seems to be the size of screen at which home viewing is where you can feel a sense of the cinematic scale of a movie.

 

Anyhow, back to Barbie.

 

Just before Christmas, feeling glum with a brutal cough and cold, the disc landed on the doormat. Perfect ‘cheer-up’ material.

 

And it is.

 

You’ll all be ahead in terms of the plot. Barbie lives in Barbieworld, where Barbies rule the roost and Kens are pretty much decoration. But then Barbie starts having negative thoughts because there's a rift in the space-time continuum (or something like that) and she has to travel to The Real World to sort it out.

 

Greta Gerwig has done such a good take with this, in terms of examining patriarchal attitudes, but also the counter to that – in effectively asking, ‘what is it to be a man?’

 

And it also makes quite clear that women can be bitches to other women, often in enforcing/trying to enforce patriarchal ideas of how women should look. 

 

The bubble gum look works so well to help this – and of course, harks back to the doll itself and all the accessories you could buy (and it was the same for Sindy).

Very funny, very clever. Beautifully filmed and directed by Gerwig, who co-wrote the screenplay with Noah Baumbach.

As for the cast, Ryan Gosling is excellent as ‘Ken’ and Margot Robie is is just so good as Barbie.

Absolutely loved it. And I suspect that, if you haven’t seen it yet, you will love it too when you get around to it.

Wonka is a (Paddington) bear hug of a movie

Paul King has found a formula – and it’s every bit the equal of any chocolate treat that Willy Wonka can confect.

Having hit the jackpot with the Paddington films (Paddington in Peru comes next year), King teamed up with Paddington 2 co-writer Paul Farnaby to create a Willy Wonka origin story. And it’s an absolute joy.

We meet our titular hero as he arrives by sea in an unnamed European city (hints of both France and Germany though mostly filmed in England), armed only with his magical abilities with the cocoa bean and the dreams that his mother, who steered a narrow boat up and down canals, told him were so important.

She herself made wondrous chocolate – this feels reminiscent of Joanne Harris’s iconic novel, Chocolat, not least in a sense of magic being involved – but died before she could impart the secrets to her son.

The problem for Willy though, is that the town he has chosen in which to launch his products on the world is effectively run by a cartel of three unscrupulous chocolatiers who want this threat to their power gone – and that follows having fallen prey to the dreadful Mrs Scrubitt and her henchman Bleacher, after the latter offers a homeless Willy a roof over his head, without mentioning the hidden costs that will drive him into captivity and forced labour.

Calah Lane as Noodle

But Willy makes new friends, including the orphan Noddle, and they all – eventually – engage with his plans of how to free themselves and defeat the cartel.

A few commentators have suggested that Willy is such a nice character, it’s hard to believe that, in his future lies a less charming approach.

But there are hints here that his inherent mischievousness could develop a darker side. And Timothée Chalamet captures both that and the naivety of the character in a completely convincing way.

He also has a very pleasing singing voice that does full justice to the great new songs from Neil ‘The Divine Comedy’ Hannon. It’s also a delight that the film includes new versions of Pure Imagination and The Oompa-Loompa Song from the classic 1971 Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley score.

I’ve already effectively said that Chalamet is very good indeed – he is utterly convincing and has charm by the bucketload, and can sing and hoof brilliantly. Teenager Calah Lane as Noodle is simply wonderful in what is sure to be her breakthrough role.

Everywhere else – as with the Paddington films – is a wonderful ensemble cast. Sally Hawkins as Willy’s mother, Jim Carter, Natasha Rothwell, Farnaby and Rakhee Thakrar as his new friends are all excellent.

Matt Lucas and Mathew John Baynton as two of the triumvirate of the chocolate cartel are also great, but do rather lose out to a wonderful turn from Paterson Joseph as the third of their corrupt number. And this is before we mention Rowan Atkinson as a dodgy priest, Olivia Colman as Mrs Scrubitt, Tom Davis as Bleacher and Keegan-Michael Key as a corrupt chief of police.

Ah… and then there’s Hugh Grant, who risks stealing the entire show with his Oompa-Loompa (left), as he did when playing Phoenix Buchanan in Paddington 2.

Anything else to add? It looks gorgeous. And after a really tough personal year, it was the hug of a movie that I needed. There is a scene involving flamingos and balloons that had me blubbing for sheer joy.

And that seems to be King’s great skill: he can create films like this, without a shred of cynicism, but always avoiding over sentimentality or mawkishness. A great big (Paddington bear) hug of a film!

Bernarda Alba – a warning from Spanish patriarchy and fascism

Frederico Garcia Lorca completed The House of Bernarda Alba, his final play, in June 1936. On 16 August, he was arrested by the fascists and, two days later, murdered by a firing squad. One of those thought responsible, a distant relative, boasted that he had fired “two bullets into his arse for being a queer”.

The play was banned in Spain until 1963. That was partly because of what it suggested politically, about the nature of dictatorships and the inevitability of their ultimate failure, but also because the behaviour and language of the characters was regarded as shockingly immoral in a country that was still a fascist dictatorship.

Indeed, it was not until 1978 that the Spanish constitution gave men and women equality under the law, effectively ending the Franco regime’s system of guardianship for single women. In Francoist Spain, motherhood was the very definition of womanhood.

It’s not difficult to see why the play was considered ‘problematic’ in Spain then, and this latest production, a new adaptation by Alice Birch at the National Theatre in London until early January, reveals once again not only its power, but also reminds us that it is still completely topical.

The titular character has just become a widow and has stated that her five daughters will observe a years-long period of official mourning for their father. The exception, we learn, is the oldest daughter, Angustias, who is 39 and already engaged to local village hunk, Pepe El Romano.

The trouble is, while she doesn’t love him, she knows it’s her way out of this household – but two of her sisters do hanker after him and the youngest, Adela, is already having an affair with him.

As Poncio, Bernarda’s maid, tells Adela brutally: be patient – at such an age, Angustias is likely to die in childbirth and then Pepe will be free to marry her. However, Adela isn’t prepared to wait and moves forward with her rebellion.

Here is a work that, on the cusp of the Spanish Civil War and the triumph of Spanish fascism, railed against the country’s deeply patriarchal society – a society where the Catholic church would link arms with a fascist regime to promote and enforce exactly such patriarchal views.

Never mind these women having sexual needs and desires, one ‘crime’ in the play is having a white fan rather than a mourning black one.

While it was written just before the civil war, Lorca foresaw dictatorship; Bernarda is a dictator in her own home. She is quite prepared to openly and physically torture one of her own daughters for stealing Angustias’s photo of Pepe – yet persists in saying it was a ‘joke’ and refusing to accept that the daughter in question is actually in love/lust with Pepe too.

So much of the power of this work comes from the fact that there is no male voice heard. Pepe El Romano appears, but only ever silently. This is women policing each other according to patriarchal rules. Sisters telling on sisters; servants fanning the flames. There is, of course, a storm – a reckoning – coming. Or is it? Will what happens really change Bernarda and how she rules her daughters with a rod of iron? Lorca – and Birch – leave that open, though only just.

But ours is a time when author Margaret Atwood finds herself frequently reminding people that The Handmaid’s Tale was “not a manual!”

US states are banning abortion and making contraception access much more difficult. In Iran, people (predominantly but not exclusively women) are being murdered by the state because they will not cover their heads for a ‘morality’ law. In Afghanistan, the Taliban closes beauty salons.

In the US and UK there’s a pearl-clutching obsession with trans women (it’s never trans men, note) and whether they are ‘real women’ and/or a danger to (real) ‘women and children’.

In the UK, we can see an increasing influence from those with similarly conservative religious and socially political positions.

For example, in May this year, British Conservative Party MP Miriam Cates, a religious fundamentalist herself, claimed that the UK’s low birth rate is the most pressing policy issue of the generation and is caused in part by “cultural Marxism” – a far-right, antisemitic dog whistle if ever you wanted one.

She was addressing the National Conservatism conference. It was in London – though run by a US-based right-wing thinktank. Ms Cates frequently speaks out against trans people, was a congregant of an evangelical church that has carried out conversion ‘therapy’ (she denies knowledge of this) and has linked with a charity, The Christian Institute, that wants Section 28 back and a higher age of consent for homosexuals.

She is far from alone. Add in the likes of Danny Kruger MP (Tory), Kemi Badenoch MP (Tory secretary of state for business and trade), Rosie Duffield MP (Labour), Joanna Cherry MP (SNP and a lesbian) and House of Commons Alba party leader Neale Hanvey MP – himself gay – and you get an idea of where we are. And they are not alone.

A short while ago, over on X/Twitter, I found this in my notifications.

Presumably, either my views on sexuality and gender render me ‘male’ or some people (or AI) think that my avatar cannot possibly reflect someone who was ‘assigned female at birth’. A year ago, at the theatre for my last birthday, I was challenged by a woman (I assume) as to whether I was in the right queue for the toilets.

In other words, I wasn’t ‘womaning’ enough.

This is men – and women – policing how women look and behave. This is men – and women – enforcing patriarchal views. As Bernarda Alba does. Remember that I said this production is timely?

But back to the production itself. The first half in particular is simply stunning theatre, as the female cast range around a series of rooms in a set that never represents a home, but suggests a prison/convent. All the bedrooms are hung with crucifixes. A rifle hangs in the living/dining room, suggesting the tragedy to come, and the walls are not solid, affording no privacy to any of the inmates. Merle Hensel’s set is a claustrophobic wonder.

Rebecca Frecknall’s direction is excellent. It requires the audience to concentrate so hard to see and understand all the individual stories going on, overlapping, all at the same time, yet offers huge rewards for doing so.

Pepe El Romano (James McHugh) never speaks, but his arsenal includes dance to suggest the erotic as his mere presence – albeit beyond the locked gates of the Alba household – stirs all the daughters imprisoned inside.

And then there is Harriet Walter (left, with Rosalind Eleanzar as Angustias), whose casting essentially made me book for this, on my birthday, after just becoming, myself, a widow.

She is superb as the eponymous Bernarda. Steely, hypocritical, vicious and without a shred of humanity as she rules her household. Utterly bound up in ‘respedctability’.

Of the daughters, particular mention to Imogen Mackie Walker, who had to step in to play Adela the night I saw it. She was excellent. Plaudits also go to Rosalind Eleanzar as Angustias, Eileen Nicholas, as Maria Josefa – Bernarda’s dotty old mother, who her daughter tries to keep imprisoned in her room – and Thusitha Jayasundra as Poncia.

This really is a stunning adaptation and production of an iconic play that, almost a century after it was penned, remains – tragically – absolutely one for our times.

Drag as protest in award-winning doc Queendom

“I just hope people get it and don’t think I’m some sort of propaganda freak,” says Gena Marvin, as they prepare to take their performance art onto the streets of their home town Magadan, an old Soviet gulag.

“I think drag’s always been political,” responds their friend, who is filming the performance for social media. “Totally!” says Gena.

Queendom is an award-winning documentary film from Agniia Galdanova that should be seen by as wide an audience as possible.

Gena is a 22-year-old queer artist who was already using their art to make statements against the homophobic, nationalistic Russian regime.

Seeing the film, just days after a ruling by the Supreme Court of Russia stating that the “international public LGBT movement” – whatever that is – is “extremist,” and effectively outlawing any public LGBT-related activity, adds further context.

As Gena discusses the “exaggerated” nature of drag, they observe how that obviously means it draws attention to itself, and how “all important issues deserve attention” – in this case, the Russian war on Ukraine.

Brought up by their grandparents after their parents died, Gena is abused, physically and verbally, by residents in Magadan – and verbally by their grandfather – before leaving to study in Moscow. There, they joins protests against the war.

A scene where they watch through a car window while travelling through the Russian capital, with scores of police in riot gear heading in the same direction, on foot, is just a single example of many powerful ones.

They create their own costumes, largely from junk and tape, often with a resulting otherworldliness. Indeed, early on, they express how, even as the film was being made, they were still exploring where they fitted in any kind of the boxes/labels that ‘normal’ society tries to impose on everyone.

In today’s Russia, Putin uses the ‘traditional family’ as a distraction from other issues and to maintain the support of ultra-orthodox Christian leaders in the country. It’s no coincidence either that the Supreme Court statement came on the cusp of a presidential election year.

Gena is thrown off their course for “using” the colours of the Russian flag in a protest costume, on the grounds that that “violated federal law”.

The film offers a great appreciation of what performance art can do. Gena disappearing below a raft of bodies clad in plastic tape colours of the Russian flag is incredibly powerful.

In the course of all the harassment and brutality that faces them, Gena maintains dignity.

The film also illustrates the bravery of anti-war protestors in general, facing baton assaults as police claim that arrests are to “stop the spread of COVID-19”.

Galdanova’s film is, at all times, calm – surprisingly so, given what the camera records. It’s no surprise that it’s been seen at a number of film festivals and has already won a number of awards.

With a limited cinema release, it can be streamed via watch.dogwoof.com.

Updated: Queendom will be screening tonight (12 November 2024) on BBC4 at 10pm.