Tag Archives: 2024

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE (2024)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Matthew Rankin, Rojina Esmaeili, Saba Vahedyousefi, Pirouz Nemati

PLOT: The lives of a civil servant, a tour guide, two girls searching for a way to thaw a banknote frozen in ice, and a turkey magnate collide in a Winnipeg where everyone inexplicably speaks Farsi.

Still from universal language (2024)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Rankin’s icy fantasia is the premier (well, only) fusion of Canadian absurdism and Iranian neorealism.

COMMENTS: You’re a director infatuated with Iranian realist dramas, but you live in Winnipeg. What do you do? Round up every Farsi speaker in Manitoba and put them into a comedy set in Canada, obviously. Be sure to include a guy wandering around dressed like a Christmas tree, a shrine to an abandoned briefcase, and a turkey beauty contest-winner, just for that added note of realism.

Universal Language‘s plot is a woven Persian rug, composed of three major strands: two sisters hunt for a way to retrieve a 500 Rial note they find frozen under several inches of ice, a disillusioned civil servant returns home after an unhappy stint in Quebec, and a tour guide leads a bored group through the city’s bland attractions (“Winnipeg is a strange destination for tourism”). Most of the action occurs in a range from Winnipeg’s Beige District all the way to its Grey District, along bazaar-like streets bustling with street vendors. And surprisingly, despite its many detours though drag bingo parlors, Persian Tim Hortons, and shots of beautiful turkeys, in the end every plot corner clicks in place like a piece in a puzzle. It’s thoroughly comedic and absurd, but by the time Rankin turns sincere for the ending, it works, because the committed comedy of the earlier scenes seduces you into accepting this bizarre world as a real place.

Rankin’s debut feature, The Twentieth Century, was (to say the least) heavily indebted to (who Ranking calls “one of my cinematic parents”). Here, Rankin moves only slightly out of the shadow of Maddin, only to position himself under a canopy of other directors. Scenes like the guy who dresses as a Christmas tree, and other dreamlike comic surprises I won’t spoil, could have been dreamed up by . The bit where Matthew buys sleeping pills would fit comfortably in a sketch. Besides these, there’s all the Iranian directors, led by . (Several of Universal Language‘s plotlines are lifted from Iranian movies, although heavily warped and refracted by the narrative lens.) And in an interview included with the press kit, Rankin acknowledges everyone from to to the (among the less obscure names) as influences. In some sense, Universal Language nothing but a shameless pastiche of homages; but, because it reflects such specific tastes and obsessions, it creates a unique universe. And paradoxically, that very eclecticism is what makes the film so relatable. Rankin isn’t shy about his influences, which is refreshing. He’s working towards a cinema of tributes. And cinema is a universal language.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“By converting his drab hometown into an exotic land filled with nostalgia (albeit a very niche nostalgia, primarily for Criterion Channel subscribers), Rankin seems to be seeking out the universal language of cinema itself. In his own very weird way he manages to find it, turning an everyday place into something momentarily special — which is what all good movies are meant to do.”–Jordan Mintzer, The Hollywood Reporter (festival screening)

AND THE WINNERS OF THE 15TH ANNUAL WEIRDCADEMY AWARDS ARE…

In just a few hours, the telecast of the Oscars (or, as we refer to them, the “Weirdcademy Awards for squares”) will begin. We are happy to steal the Academy’s thunder by announcing cinema’s weirdest winners of 2024 now.

In the category of “Weirdest Short Film,” the sentimental favorite edged out a strong field of competitors, and overcame some vocal dissenters, as earns a posthumous award for his final released work, the music video for his own composition “The Answers to the Questions.”

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In the category of “Weirdest Scene,” the Weirdcademy Award goes to Megalopolis (in a nail-biter) for the scene where Jon Voight marvels at his boner (and some other crazy stuff happens afterwards).

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In the category of “Weirdest Actress,” the Award goes to The Substance‘s for her portrayal of an actress of a certain age who accepts an obviously Faustian bargain to timeshare a career with a younger clone-ish version of herself and winds up with her face on Hollywood Boulevard. Should Moore take home the Oscar, as Michelle Yeoh did in 2023 and did in 2024, this will mark the third year in a row (and the fourth time ever) that the Academy and the Weirdcademy have shared the Actress award. This gives us pause.

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In the category of “Weirdest Actor,” the award goes to for his performance as an Applejack salesman-turned-fur trapper-turned-beaver conspiracy frustrator in Hundreds of Beavers, and also for having the most names of any nominee.

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And speaking of beavers, was there ever any doubt that underground sensation Hundreds of Beavers would win the Weirdcademy Award for “Weirdest Picture”?

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Thanks to all voting members of the Weirdcademy, and see you again next year!

You can browse previous years’ winners here.

CAPSULE: LONGLEGS (2024)

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DIRECTED BY: Osgood Perkins

FEATURING: Maika Monroe, Nicolas Cage, Alicia Witt, Blair Underwood

PLOT: The FBI assigns Special Agent Harker to a 20-year-old serial murder case, triggering a serious of unsettling breakthroughs.

Still from Longlegs (2024)

COMMENTS: What’s that expression—Longlegs, short review? Some thirty-dozen reviews for this Cage-y bit of strange are out there, so let us dive quickly, and deeply, into the merits of Osgood Perkins’ latest outing. Be warned: we shall be heading far away into lands of the Pacific Northwest, and back in time to a magical period known as “the ’90s”.

The sights and sounds will be familiar to some; but none will be more familiar than the sight of Nicolas Cage being crazy-go-nuts. But come to think of it, he is rendered somewhat unrecognizable: invariably coated in off-white makeup, and buried beneath a chubbed-out face. Whenever Longlegs goes off on a spiel, though, we hear Nic busting out of this cage. Much of this film’s appeal manifests during the (shrewdly) intermittent dosing of this titular oddity.

What Longlegs gets up to is where the nostalgia comes in. (And—if I may editorialize a moment—not that tedious kind on display from a more famous filmmaker.) That special time, The ’90s, oozes from every pore—and wrapped within the main throw-back are bursts of the ’70s, as our baddy loves T. Rex, Lou Reed, and Duran Duran. Our heroine, Special Agent Harker (a spectacularly spectrometric Maika Monroe), lives up to her namesake: an eye for detail, quiet courage, a a pull toward the supernatural, and a fate that can best be described as “mixed.”

Satanic Panic, alas, can only be taken so lightly: in this corner of the US, Satan appears altogether too real. How does Longlegs do their thing? (I emphasize that pronoun: it’s not altogether clear just how Cage’s character views themselves.) However they do it, they perform their deadly spree amongst stark snow-lighting, cool-as-thriller interiors, and, one of my favorite flourishes, inside a house with twin-point front roofing which forms—you guessed it—the shape of longlegs legs.

So, bust out the Shark Bites, pop a straw in your Capri Sun, and take a dangerous walk through a valley of diabolic dolls.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Perkins combines the grisly realism of a crime-scene photograph with the startling surreality of a nightmare… Cage does his version of warbly-voiced weirdo crooner Tiny Tim – an affectation that would be bonkers coming from anyone else, but is just another day at work for Cage.”–Katie Rife, IGN (contemporaneous)

CAPSULE: LOVE ME (2024)

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Love Me is available on VOD for purchase or rental.

DIRECTED BY: Andrew Zuchero, Sam Zuchero

FEATURING: ,

PLOT: After the apocalypse wipes out Earth’s entire population, an AI-equipped buoy connects with an AI-equipped satellite that holds a digital record of humanity, and together they decide to recreate a human relationship in virtual reality.

Still from love me (2024)

COMMENTS: Love Me, the debut feature from real-life married couple Andrew and Sam Zuchero, debuted at Sundance in 2024 to underwhelming reviews, but managed to get a theatrical release a year later based on the strength of stars Kristen Stewart and Steven Yeun. The overall reaction to the film has been tepid, both from critics (who have tended to find it too obvious) and audiences (who have tended to find it too outlandish). Still, although not without flaws—including an unwillingness to pursue the most interesting ideas it raises—Love Me is original and adventurous enough to elevate it above the usual dreck that litters the romance genre.

Although the core romantic relationship inevitably falls into cliché (including the mildly offensive trope of a hysterical girlfriend who demands every detail be storybook perfect as a way of eluding her own insecurities), the film feeds off its high concept post-apocalyptic premise. The most interesting part of Love Me, in fact, is its nearly experimental opening, which shows a spinning globe briefly shrouded in a flash of nuclear flame, before zooming into the planet for a time lapse montage showing the passage of innumerable days. Stewart’s smart buoy, equipped with a scanner shaped like an eye, clicks to life and her speech module gets stuck on stutter mode as her programming resets, post-apocalypse. Meanwhile, Yuen’s satellite, a kind of eternally revolving monument to humanity containing  pedabytes of data, is already fully operational. The two beings connect and, via the satellite’s archive, try to reconstruct what it means to be a human being (in the 21st century, at least).

The film’s take on A.I. remains willfully unexamined (the movie is not about A.I. at all; the characters could just as well have been aliens). The answer as to how these machines developed emotions like loneliness and curiosity is a little thing called “willing suspension of disbelief.” Love Me‘s technological focus is more on current Internet culture and social media, and the take seems positive enough at first: the A.I.s effectively investigate human behavior through YouTubes and memes, encountering genuine human miracles like baby laughter reinforcement loops. As the film goes on, this attitude develops more a satirical edge, as it becomes clear that modeling a relationship on an influencer’s Instagram feed won’t lead to an accurate simulacrum of human connection. But the attempt creates a dual romantic metaphor for the film. On a shallow level, it’s a warning about the destructive influence of the unobtainable sanitized fantasies presented on social media as model lifestyles, as the buoy slaves to in vain to perfectly recreate a spicy quesadillas/whimsical onesie/”Friends” marathon date night video she’s seen starring an Instagrammer (also played by Stewart). On a deeper level, one on which the viewer must do most of his or her own work, Love Me can be viewed as an existential parable about persona and authenticity. The buoy and the satellite can only meaningfully interact in a shared virtual reality where they are represented by their chosen avatars—which is almost a religious scenario, when you think about it.

The film’s audiovisual elements are good, for the budget. Many reviewers complained about the midfilm virtual reality section being too long and repetitive; it’s easy to see where they are coming from, even if I don’t share their level of frustration. Once the movie shifts into live action for the final act, Stewart and Yuen show real chemistry and passion (as they must, since there are no supporting actors to turn our attention to). Josh Jacober’s solo piano accompanies the film throughout, in a fashion reminiscent of a silent movie score. And the film features a one-billion year fast-forward, which sets a record by exceeding even the eons-spanning smash-cut from 2001.

While there’s no question Love Me doesn’t soar to the thoughtful heights of similarly-themed movies like Wall-E, Her, or A.I.: Artificial Intelligence, it easily exceeds the low standards we expect from the romantic movie genre. While it’s not something I’d recommend actively seeking out, if you’re a couple who finds yourself with 90 minutes to kill on an evening, you could do a lot worse on date night (for example, mail-order Mexican food and a “Friends” marathon).

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a daringly weird debut, executed with real style and vision. It’s an oddity that’s bound to appeal to fans of similarly strange high-concept love stories, like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.”–Tasha Robinson, Polygon (contemporaneous)