Aurelia Butler

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    ‘My Name Is Alfred Hitchcock’ Review: Director’s Commentary

    A richly detailed essay film imagines Hitchcock commenting on his own oeuvre over a mesmerizing daisy chain of clips.Alfred Hitchcock’s voice remains indelible, like a droll bloodhound trying to hypnotize you over tea. Mark Cousins’s richly detailed essay film “My Name Is Alfred Hitchcock” imagines the director commenting on his own oeuvre over a mesmerizing daisy chain of clips, with an insider’s knowledge of filmmaking.Lest that premise induce suspicions of artificial intelligence: The impressionist Alistair McGowan reproduces Hitchcock’s plummy drawl. But the insights belong to Cousins, a world-class close reader known for his mellifluous journeys through film history and cinephilia. Over sinuously edited, high-quality clips, his Hitchcock addresses playful and piercing observations to the audience in virtuosic variations on themes: escape, desire, loneliness and so on, from both famous and lesser-known films.Hitchcock’s work here suggests a series of dreamlike passageways through seemingly ordinary worlds where desire and danger open new doors. A typical riff mingles the cinematic and personal: Hitchcock’s “escape” from his British stomping ground to America; the escapist painterly countrysides that recur in his films; and the narrative traps his characters must cheat, like when Paul Newman flees a theater by shouting “fire” in “Torn Curtain.”The resulting director’s commentary from beyond the grave should send any viewer supermarket-sweeping Hitchcock titles onto the queue. Yet whereas scenes like Ingrid Bergman murmuring “you love me” to Cary Grant in “Notorious” are still jaw-dropping, the voice-over conceit can become stifling, and arguably limits our critical point of view.But as Alma Hitchcock reportedly encouraged her creative partner and husband: “Be interested.” Cousins’s attuned eye and ear keep us interested afresh in the Hitchcock magic.My Name Is Alfred HitchcockNot rated. Running time: 2 hours. In theaters. More

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    ‘Magpie’ Review: An Unhappily Married Woman

    Daisy Ridley plays a time bomb with a simmering fuse in this slow yet gripping adultery thriller.Sometimes, all it takes is pancakes. When you’re Anette (Daisy Ridley), a frustrated, stay-at-home mother of two, even a simple breakfast food can snap your last nerve. Anette’s instability, though, has been building for some time, as Sam Yates’s “Magpie” gradually reveals by way of brief encounters and deceptively casual conversations. There’s nothing offhand, though, about her mounting fury.A lean, mean revenge thriller that knows exactly what it’s about, “Magpie” has little originality but an invigorating clarity of purpose. Struggling to deal with the isolation of her countryside mansion outside London, Anette feels unsupported by her selfish, controlling husband, Ben (Shazad Latif), a celebrated writer who treats her like the help. Ben’s affections stray even further when the couple’s young daughter (Hiba Ahmed) lands a supporting role in a historical drama whose alluring Italian star (Matilda Lutz) proves too tempting to resist.A movie about female rage and the imprisoning loneliness of motherhood (Anette’s desperate attempt to reconnect with her former boss is derailed by the screaming infant that Ben has declined to babysit), “Magpie” is flimsy and unsubtle, yet oddly gripping. Scattering small signs of marital trauma — Anette’s newly shorn hair, the way she grimly trashes an uneaten, perfectly cooked dinner — the script (by Ridley’s husband, Tom Bateman) urges us to scrutinize Anette’s eerily menacing composure. Is she dangerous, or just dotty?We have our answer soon enough. But, until then, the film’s enigmatic mood and chilly visuals perfectly complement Anette’s tightened jawline and frozen smile. The pacing is slow to the point of sluggish, yet Ridley’s performance is so magnetic — and Latif’s so convincingly despicable — that the ending might just make you stand up and cheer.MagpieRated R for adultery in the offing and a fiddle in the shower. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘La Cocina’ Review: The Melting Pot Boils Over

    This drama by Alonso Ruizpalacios takes a bitter look at the American dream from the perspective of the workers at a fast-paced diner.“Somebody tell us a dream,” says Pedro (Raúl Briones), a charismatic line cook at a Times Square diner. He’s on a smoke break with co-workers — “the United Nations,” quips one of them, referring to their diverse origins. Nonzo, a Brooklyn-born dessert chef (Motell Foster) responds to Pedro, who is from Mexico, waxing philosophical about an immigrant who spends his sad, long days after passing through Ellis Island working at a pizza joint.“La Cocina,” a kitchen drama shot in velvety black-and-white, is the first English-language movie by the Mexican director Alonso Ruizpalacios. But the kitchen staff’s Spanish takes up nearly as much of the dialogue, fueling the film’s cultural and political tensions.Ruizpalacios adapted the script from Arnold Wesker’s play “The Kitchen,” which was set in London. He keeps the central romance between Pedro and Julia (a waitress played by Rooney Mara), and also explores the realities of undocumented immigrants and worker exploitation in New York City.The film starts from the point of view of the new cook, Estella (Anna Díaz), and then skips around the ensemble’s various dramas: a white American cook (Spenser Granese) is fed up with the Spanish speakers in his midst, an abusive manager (Eduardo Olmos) is tasked with finding a thief and Julia is at odds with Pedro over an abortion. In one scene, the soda machine breaks, flooding the kitchen during a lunchtime rush; the workers look like sailors on a sinking boat.Hellish moments like this help explain why everyone’s a bit cruel and calloused at work. Imagine such pressure — and, for many undocumented workers, the knowledge that you won’t be hired anywhere better. But Ruizpalacios diminishes these hard truths with flashy bids at profundity. The film’s epic finale feels stagy — while these real-life frustrations are anything but.La CocinaRated R for sex and physical violence. Running time: 2 hours 19 minutes. In theaters. More

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    Circe and Muse No Longer: A New Opera Reconsiders Alma Mahler

    “Alma,” premiering this week at the Vienna Volksoper, views its often-vilified protagonist through a feminist lens: as a thwarted composer and mother.At the end of 1901, the budding composer Alma Schindler received a 20-page letter from Gustav Mahler laying out the expected terms of their future life together.She was 22 years old; he was nearly two decades older, an established composer and the director of the Vienna Court Opera. She had to stop writing music, he wrote, because “if we are to be happy together, you will have to be my wife, not my colleague.” Later he added: “You must surrender yourself to me unconditionally, make every detail of your future life dependent on my needs.”Soon after, the couple wed. Looking back years later, she wrote of the incident: “The iron had entered my soul and the wound was never healed.”Ella Milch-Sheriff’s opera “Alma,” which premieres on Saturday at the Vienna Volksoper, positions this decision as a turning point in the life of Alma Mahler-Werfel. She outlived Mahler by more than 50 years and came to be associated — as a lover, a supporter, an object of obsession or an inspiration — with some of the best-known artists of the 20th century, including Walter Gropius, Franz Werfel, Arnold Schoenberg and Oskar Kokoschka.“When she gave up her composing, she, in a way, killed her own soul,” Milch-Sheriff said in an interview at the Volksoper. “After that, she didn’t feel she deserved to have children because she’d already killed her own children, which were her future creations that were never born.”“Alma” unfurls in reverse chronology, with acts focusing on Mahler-Werfel’s lost children.Lisa Edi for The New York TimesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘Your Monster’ Review: Beast Intentions

    An aspiring Broadway musical star (Melissa Barrera) taps into her inner anger with some help from the creature who lives in her closet.Caroline Lindy’s debut feature, “Your Monster,” claims to present a “true-ish story.” Presumably, the “true” aspect refers not to the monster, but to the cascading cruelty of the plot’s inciting breakup: While Laura (Melissa Barrera), an aspiring Broadway star, is recovering from cancer surgery, her boyfriend, Jacob (Edmund Donovan), a theater director, abandons her, then freezes her out of the lead in his new show, which she helped develop.Rather than exploding in a rage, Laura cries her eyes out in a montage that finds her repeatedly ordering boxes of tissue from Amazon. But there are strange thumps in the house, and she soon learns why: A monster (Tommy Dewey) who has lived in her closet since her childhood is still there and is, for a monster, pretty affable, eager to kick back with takeout and watch “Night of the Living Dead” on TV. With his brutish ways, he can also conveniently teach Laura the catharsis of smashing dinnerware.Monster — the only name he’s ever given — turns out to have an artsy side: He has a knack for Shakespeare and a thing for Fred Astaire movies. And he stands by warily when Laura takes a consolation role in her still-smarmy ex’s ensemble.Inner anger, watchful protector, possible love interest? Lindy’s monster won’t win points for metaphorical coherence. But “Your Monster,” while falling short of the Critic’s Pick status that Jacob vociferously covets for his show, has its charms, namely the backstage intrigue, onstage songs by the Lazours (of the current Off Broadway musical “We Live in Cairo”), and a disarming lead in Barrera.Your MonsterRated R for sex and violence. Running time: 1 hour 38 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘Venom: The Last Dance’ Review: A Long and Winding Tongue

    Playing both Eddie Brock and the alien parasite who possesses him, Tom Hardy gives another roiling one-man-band of a performance in this third installment of the franchise.With the 2018 film “Venom,” Tom Hardy locked himself into a three-picture deal, giving his time, talents and torso to this saga about a man named Eddie Brock possessed by a fanged, body-snatching alien parasite named Venom who pops in and out of his skin like a hyper-violent prairie dog. The overly plotted “Venom: The Last Dance,” written and directed by Kelly Marcel, concludes the trilogy by hammering home all that Eddie has sacrificed to merge with this impulsive, smack-talking goo blob. In the first movie, Eddie was an ambitious San Francisco investigative journalist with a fiancée played by Michelle Williams; here, he’s a filthy drifter on a Mexican bender who’s lost his career, his woman and his reputation. Forced to go on the lam to flee a murder accusation, Eddie makes a running joke out of the fact that he can’t even hang on to a pair of shoes.In glimpses, this is a drama about a drunk who finds himself unbearably lonely despite being conjoined with a garrulous monster. Hardy voices both reedy Eddie and gravelly Venom and his roiling one-man-band of a performance continues to be the only reason to keep up with the films. Highlights here include the herky-jerky chaos Eddie/Venom causes as he mixes a Michelada while grooving to “Tequila,” and the moment when he’s suctioned to the fuselage of an airplane like a Garfield plushie and sighs, “It is so unpleasantly cold.” Eddie and Venom even detour to Las Vegas, the capital city of self-destruction, and dub themselves Thelma and Louise.But these mild pleasures are overwhelmed by a barrage of underdeveloped supporting characters — Chiwetel Ejiofor as a general, Juno Temple and Clark Backo as Area 51 scientists, a hippy family headed by Rhys Ifans — plus a nifty spidery nasty who gobbles its victims like a scuttling wood chipper and, when sliced up, stitches its long limbs back together. There’s also a barely introduced major villain named Knull (Andy Serkis, the director of 2021’s “Venom: Let There Be Carnage”) who seems to exist only so that the studio can bridge this finale to some other future comic book flick.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘The Remarkable Life of Ibelin’ Review: More Real Than Reality

    An unconventional documentary tells the story of a Norwegian gamer — and of how we live life on the internet.Almost from the start, the internet scrambled our sense of reality. You could never really know if whoever you were talking to was the person they said they were. Now it’s hard to know if they’re even a person.This is destabilizing and frightening, and also the premise for a good movie. But there has to be more to the story than just the scary parts. No, we don’t exist physically on the internet, but our virtual selves do things that have real-world consequences, and our emotions and minds, in some phenomenological way, extend into cyberspace, too. For better or worse, the internet is a place in which we live and love and rage and mourn. We bring our humanity with us, the bad parts but also the good ones.Movies haven’t always captured this aspect of 21st-century life well, in part because rendering the internet visually is weird and tricky. I loved Joe Hunting’s 2022 documentary “We Met in Virtual Reality,” filmed entirely inside a V.R. platform, for how it captured love and generosity in virtual space. And now we have Benjamin Ree’s “The Remarkable Life of Ibelin,” which is a rare and beautiful thing: a moving documentary that excavates the question of the “real” in a profoundly humanistic and unconventional way.“The Remarkable Life of Ibelin” is about Mats Steen, a Norwegian man who died in 2014 at the age of 25. Mats lived out his final years nearly immobilized, the result of being born with Duchenne muscular dystrophy, a rare inherited disease which presently has no cure. Mats’s family knew him as smart and loving, but grieved while watching him grow more withdrawn as his symptoms progressed. He would spend most of his waking hours on his computer, playing games. “Our deepest regret was that he would never experience friends, love, or make a difference in other people’s lives,” his father, Robert, tells Ree.Mats’s family were loving, attentive and supportive of him to the very end. But they were wrong about the friends and making a difference part. Oh, were they wrong.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘Memoir of a Snail’ Review: Escaping the Spiral

    An animated tragicomedy for adults tells the story of a woman breaking out of her shell.First things first: “Memoir of a Snail” is not, in fact, the memoir of a snail. It is the memoir of an Australian woman named Grace Pudel (pronounced “Puddle”), who loves snails very much. Grace is voiced by Sarah Snook and rendered in slightly lumpy clay by Adam Elliot, who wrote, directed and produced this stop-motion animation film. It is a weirdly affecting tragicomedy, full of Dickensian turns and eccentric figures. (It is also, lest you be confused by the whimsy, definitely not for children.)We meet Grace, who wears a knit cap sporting two little eyeballs on the ends of stalks, by the bedside of a wiry-headed woman who’s moaning and groaning toward death. The woman is named Pinky (Jacki Weaver), and within moments, she has actually given up the ghost. Soon after, Grace brings Pinky’s ashes outside to the garden, after which she sits on a bench and sets a jar full of snails free. One of them, Sylvia, has always been Grace’s favorite.But snails move slowly, and so Grace has the time to tell Sylvia her life story as the skeptical snail inches away at the appropriately named pace. This life story, too, is full of death: Grace’s mother, a malacologist and lover of snails, dies giving birth to Grace and her twin brother, Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee). Their father, a French juggler, becomes an alcoholic, and eventually he dies too. Grace and Gilbert are split up and sent to equally bizarre foster families — her to a negligent but nice-enough couple in Canberra who spend their weekends at key parties, and him to a cruel family of cultlike religious apple farmers in Western Australia.Tremendous numbers of bad things happen to Grace as she moves into puberty, then adulthood. She shrinks slowly into herself over her lifetime, which includes becoming a hoarder, marrying a horrible man and, blessedly, meeting Pinky, a strange older woman who becomes her friend and mentor. With every blow, Grace recedes into her home a little more, which she fills with small snails on every shelf, because they make her feel safe. But in recounting the stories of woe to Sylvia the snail, Grace always seems upbeat.Elliot’s style of animation feels a bit like what Tim Burton would have gone for in his own animated films, if his style were far more deranged and grimy and possessed by the spirit of Edward Gorey. It’s also, at times, sexual and violent and somewhat explicit (and, at one point, vaguely weird about weight). His animated figures are people with desires and terrors, some quite twisted. They are haunted. They can be gross.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More