Vox Lux

The reviews and trailer for this film promised a strong performance by Natalie Portman as a troubled pop star. While some of the praise for her role in "Vox Lux" may be somewhat overhyped, she does give a generally good performance in this drama directed by Brady Corbet. She plays Celeste, a now-famous pop star who survived a school shooting in 1999. The film gives viewers a grip on how those who get too all-consumed in the superficiality of pop music culture can lose control over their lives, although sometimes the dialogue and writing during these scenes can sometimes feel almost too on-the-nose to be truly impactful on the viewer.

The film is stunningly shot, and its score is often stirring and potent. Jude Law's supporting performance is outstanding, providing a powerfully subdued complement to the main narrative as Celeste's manager. With the exception of the memorial song sung by a young Celeste at a vigil for the shooting victims about ten minutes after film's commencement, the rest of the film's songs (which are pop-based) are generally not too appealing. However, this is likely intentional, as Corbet's direction is intended to make the viewer critique popular culture and its effects on music and society, as well as the possibility that our social obsessions may breed tragic and wretched acts. Despite such potentially-thoughtful commentary, it's not clear by the end of the film what Corbet really wants to say or offer as a message to the narrative besides simply saying that excess tackiness is bad. While superficiality is an important topic, for a film that poses far deeper, existential and angst-filled questions, the film's attempts to thread loose ends of its messaging before the film's finale (a pop concert) feel somewhat skimpy. The film's stronger elements would make it worth of recommending to those who like Natalie Portman and can appreciate sometimes-audacious and challenging films. 7/10

I waited nearly 4 days to write this review/reaction because I genuinely wasn't sure how I felt after seeing Vox Lux. I'm not the first one to say this but it's quite the pairing with A Star is Born for what could be the best double feature of 2018, with both portraying such a vastly different take on rise to stardom. Much like other 2018 films Hereditary and 22 July, there are a few scenes in Vox Lux that I will never forget in that they are some of the most haunting and terrifying sequences I have ever seen on film. However, a film like 22 July had an easier plot to follow and a much more direct narrative, whereas Vox Lux is a dark interpretation of fame, and an interpretation that doesn't give the clearest clues as to how your supposed to feel after viewing. The performances are extraordinary, including yet another star-making turn from Raffey Cassidy and expectedly great turns from Jude Law and of course, Natalie Portman. Even if I'm not totally sure on how I feel about this film, I know that I want more films to be this bold and daring.

7.4/10

Especially when it comes through being a literal survivor of a despicable act - something I had no idea was going to happen, but sets quite the mood for the movie. We have different stages here and this might work as a good double bill to a documentary called "F... Fame". Well I don't think I have to spell the F word out for you to understand.

This works as criticism about how society views celebrities, fame and how this might change everyone involved. But it is quite slow in its pace and it is rather subtle in its message too. So while the performances might seem over the top at times, that does not go for the understanding of the movie or what it represents. Which might and will feel frustrating to watch for quite a few people - I'm split too on my verdict as you can see. Can't blame the actors who really do their best

The sophomore effort from actor turned director (boy is this becoming a trend) Brady Corbet is dying to be inventive. The ambition to break conventions certainly plays as charming, but in the "look at the adorable child ad libbing this karaoke song" brand of charming. His experimenting begins early on with half of the end credits appearing over a long shot documenting a static scene of our protagonist bathing in the tragedy that will ignite the jumpy life events shown later. This is only a couple scenes deep into the movie, and it is also ineffective (partially because there's no apparent intended effect). Even so, this quirk remains the most forgivable of Corbet's decisions.

The voice of Willem Dafoe acts as a Virgil figure narrating Celeste's (Natalie Portman) fortunate misfortunes that led to her pop stardom. Celeste's crucible event occurs in a middle school classroom with musical notations plastered all over the walls. She sits attentive and diligent, eager to be trained by her clarinet-totting teacher. A boy adorned in glam mascara and eclipsed eyes enters, interrupting the roll call with more than words. What follows has been labelled as "birth" by a handy title screen demarcating the film's Act One. Divided into a prologue, two acts, and a finale, we're hardly treated to an essential utilization of the segmented narrative that filmmakers such as Lars von Trier have perfected.

Teenage Celeste is played by the rather mechanical Raffey Cassidy, who also plays (drum roll, kind sir) Celeste's daughter Albertine. This would initially appear as rather cunning way of allowing a substance-dependent adult Celeste to be maternally reminded of her squandered youth and innocence, however, the film makes no effort to support this surrealist reading. In fact it has the gumption to re-use yet another actress once the timeline shifts from 1999 to 2017. Eleanor, Celeste's older sister, is played by the less rigid Stacy Martin both as a teen and a 30 plus year old adult. To recap: Celeste gets to hop into a Natalie Portman body after 18 years, but Eleanor stays put. Much credit to Martin here for differentiating teen from adult in tastefully understated ways; the growth and grime that Celeste shoves her through shines through as adult Eleanor withstands verbal barrages one moment, then caresses her tormentor sister's head backstage in the next.

The young sisters compose a song to perform at a prayer vigil being held for the community torn asunder by the act of evil that has placed Celeste in a neck brace, an accessory that will change into scarfs and chokers as her fame blossoms. Eleanor deserves total writing credits, but Celeste is the one being wheeled out onto the church's stage. Local news recording the vigil cracks open the lid of possibilities, and the sisters have an anthem on their hands once they adjust the lyrics changing "the I's to we's". Immediately (and I mean immediately; no transition) the girls are led into a recording studio by The Manager (Jude Law). This is actually how he is credited, signifying how one-minded he acts in relation to Celeste. He uses all means necessary to build and maintain Celeste's pop royalty. Celeste's father appear once, and his face is obscured nailing in the reality of no parental nurture available to the budding star.

Her legal guardianship is ultimately pushed onto Eleanor, who will also take on that role for Celeste's own daughter. The film plants this as one of several consequences when one decides to sell their image. This act of self-marketing is compared curiously to radical nihilism with Dafoe decoding the film's intent over well executed camcorder montage footage implemented to advance the sister's slide into a vicious cycle of reliance upon one another. Celeste is nothing without Eleanor, completely unstable without her caring touch and intimate knowledge of her sister's greatest curse. Eleanor, however, is entirely supported financially by her hollow sister, and Albertine might be the only daughter she may ever have. All of Eleanor's talent and wisdom isn't stolen by Celeste, but given away freely. Reminiscent of the documentary Whitney revealing the relentless blood pact within the Houston family, the sister's entanglement carries the emotional heft of a film that otherwise blindly stabs at shocking imagery.

I will briefly mention an intriguing reading introduced by the narrator in the film's closing minutes. Without giving any detail, it's one of those scapegoat twilight revelations that can give Corbet an out for some of the issues I have expressed here. Strangely enough, I am grateful for this bit of spice for it allows the mind to wonder, combing through all the previous events. You're encouraged to view them with a surrealist lens, and some devious theory might pop up. This by no means corrects all the prior flaws, but it does allow you to imagine a better film within the otherwise static one that was ultimately delivered. Special mention to the pop songs crafted for Celeste by Sia, providing the vapid lyrical representation of a genre designed "to make people feel happy". What is unknown is that these hit-makers are far from happy.

This film suffers from the same kind of poor choices which would cause someone to, say, make a 9/11 disco musical. It wields an enormous subject and chooses to focus on the most irrelevant aspects of any reaction to that subject.

It doesn't really matter what you want to say - the bizarre, unresolved context for the setup feels faintly obscene and eventually bankrupt. If the point of the film is to illustrate the shallowness of reactions to terror and violence, then it failed to say that. Instead, it looks more like a statement about the parallels between self-expression, terrorism, self-obsession, or losing your identity to celebrity, or something... By the end of the film I was deeply annoyed.

Hats-off the all of the professionals who clearly know how to make an impressive film here. But this story however, is a mess of intensity looking for a point. I believe that it fails eventually because of the indigestible premise.