NateWatchesCoolMovies
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David Cronenberg has dreamed up one hell of a fascinating high concept premise for his new scifi/horror The Shrouds: melancholy tycoon Karsh (Vincent Cassel) has patented a new and controversial technology that places tiny drone-like cameras into the caskets of deceased loved ones, allowing bereaved relatives to observe their decomposing remains in real time on screens built into the tombstones up top. 'GraveTech,' he calls it, and it comes complete with an app allowing people to remotely monitor the feed, as if the analog idea alone isn't enough to foster an unhealthy unwillingness to let the relatives go, smartphone technology adds fuel to the disconcerting fire. Karsh himself is hopelessly tethered to his dubious invention, clinging to the decaying remains of his wife (Diane Kruger), long passed away of cancer, and the spiritual reminder they imprint onto his haunted psyche. There is a dimly unspooling subplot about corporate espionage, grave vandalism by unsupportive fundamentalists and a muttering Guy Pearce as Karsh's twitchy techie brother in law but Cronenberg sifts through any pulse-raising intrigue and seems content to marinate alongside Karsh in his grief which, like anyone's, is a confusing and persistently non-linear process. David's most personal films have a funny way of dealing with human interaction and dialogue; scenes are mumbled monotonously but not in a half assed fashion, more so in a stylistically minimalist way, like the most analytical approach to dream logic one could hope to emulate onscreen. This one fully embraces that and if you do as well, you'll have a great time. I suspect most Cronenberg fans already surrender to that aesthetic vernacular and will gladly wallow in this hazy, half conscious science fiction parable that sneakily tried to pass itself off as a thriller in marketing, yet remains something decidedly more meandering and enigmatic upon absorption.
It has been just shy of three decades since Danny Boyle redefined the zombie genre (yes, they are zombie movies) with 28 Days Later and the same amount of time has passed within timeline of the lore as the UK, now a primordial, perennially quarantined wildland, has regressed anthropologically to a simpler way of life, if no less dangerous than it was at the outset of the rage virus outbreak. If there's one thing most impressive able this trilogy overall so far it's how radically different each of the three entries are; 28 Days was a grainy, panicked game changer with a surprisingly loose and narratively untethered third act, Weeks (still my personal favourite of the three) a family driven, unforgingly ruthless piece of visceral large scale spectacle and the closest these films have come to what we perceive as 'Hollywood' fare. Years is another beast altogether and Boyle is obviously striving here to make it so, adorning it with a balls-out last minute ending that is engineered to shock and gear up tonal dissonance. If there's one way this one excels the most it's in cinematography and music, with a stunning aria of verdant wilderness tableaus and arrestingly dynamic, elementally lit vistas that feel immersively tactile, almost alien in their otherworldly depiction through the lenses of multiple iPhones chosen to film on. The human story works best in the first half of the film as a young boy, born only into this post-outbreak world, navigates a threatening mainland realm via a tenuous umbilical land bridge from his island home, obscured by tides part of the time. Venturing out with his headstrong father (Aaron Tyler Johnson, definitely giving the best work of his career so far) feels like an odyssey into a new realm of existence as Boyle shoots the chases and zombie action with staccato editing choices and frenetic fluidity. Later on the boy journeys forth again with his ill mother (Jodie Comer, intense as ever) and the film is still strong in the back half, but not quite as... I don't know, there a reverent, hypnotic aura to that opening stretch that is ruptured a bit halfway through and although it doesn't hurt quality much, it's certainly perceivable.
What's scarier than being summoned up to the stage for a round of improv comedy? Going undercover in a ring of violent drug dealers? Such is the grimly hilarious reality in Deep Cover, an effective new action comedy that Amazon Prime, in all its infinite wisdom, has decided to randomly release with absolutely zero marketing or buildup, despite it having a pretty prolific cast. Three wayward, disparate struggling London actors (Orlando Bloom, Nick Mohammed & Bryce Dallas Howard) are recruited at their local improv dive by a shady DCI cop (Sean Bean) as part of a specialty undercover branch that uses improv actors to infiltrate illicit smuggling rings and gain intel. When their harebrained tactics literally land them in the trust and innermost ranks of a mid level heroin distributer (Paddy Considine, stealing scenes as usual) they are kind of forced to tough it out on their mission, which has become way more dangerous than ever anticipated. It's a very silly premise, as is any that crops up in a round of improv comedy itself but the film follows through on it admirably, with the lead trio finding ample bursts of comic inspiration, particularly Bloom who fancies himself a tough guy and gradually finds out that being one is kind of really stressful. Considine makes a super memorable character here as the scrappy thug who just wants out of the life, finding all the best bits of ironic humour in his lines. Also great is the ethereal Sonoya Mizuno as his weirdly angelic, trigger-happy lieutenant and the great Ian McShane positively devouring scenery as the head kingpin of the London underworld, his over pronunciation of an obviously intentionally silly Scottish accent a thing of deranged beauty. I'm not sure why they didn't market this at all, like whatsoever, but it's a fun bough time and all the actors are having a blast.
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